I Made You My First

by Threadgoode, Ciara

  I gently pushed away from him, so I could see his eyes. “Irish, you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. This isn’t something either of us should be sorry about. It’s our life. It’s our custom-made miracle. I love you and I am so unbelievably lucky to have you love me in return. I owe you.” My eyes filled with tears and although I couldn’t see his face through my tears, I finished, “I’m the luckiest person on the planet, and I don’t tell you that nearly enough. You’re way more than I ever dreamed of and I thank the heavens above that you waited and picked me to love.” And I paused to wipe the tears from my cheeks.

  “So you close your mouth. You say not another word and let me try as hard as I can to be good enough for you,” I wiped my eyes and tried to focus on his face.

  He was smiling and leaned in, kissing my cheek. “I think you have that backwards, Jurnee.

  I’m the lucky one here.”

  I smacked his shoulder. “No, you aren’t Irish.”

  “Is this our first fight?” he whispered sweetly.

  “I guess it is. I win by the way.” We reached for each

  other and hugged tightly.

  That night after Jewel was safely tucked into bed, Irish and I lay quietly in bed with the lights off. My mind was bouncing off the walls. I heard Irish take a deep animated breath.

  “What are ya’ thinking about?” I asked.

  “Well I can’t stop thinking about the pictures and whether or not we should frame them.”

  After a few moments, I asked curiously. “Do you mean the family pictures? Cuz we’ll definitely frame a couple for us and send the rest to family.” I waited patiently in the dark, my body perfectly still as if I wouldn’t hear him if I moved. He didn’t answer. “Irish,” I whispered.

  I felt his arm wrap around my body and his mouth move close to my ear. “I mean the two pictures the nurse gave me today of the babies.”

  I whipped over to the lamp on my side of the bed and turned it on. “What pictures?”

  I watched Irish move over to his nightstand and open the drawer. After a moment he rolled back over to me holding two black-and-white Polaroid pictures of our babies. He handed them to me. I stared at the three distinct globs that were only in their early stages of growth. I felt Irish’s arm slide over me, resting on my far side almost protecting my stomach.

  “God they’re ugly,” I laughed and threw my hand over my mouth ashamed for letting those words escape. Irish nestled his head into my neck and began nibbling up and down, tickling me until I screamed out in laughter to make him stop. When he did we were staring at each other.

  “It’s going to be okay, Jurnee, I promise.” The look on his face told me that it really was going to work out well. His eyes twinkled and he had the sweetest smile and I reached out my arms to pull him over on me.

  “Trust me,” he said and I squeezed him gently but loved

  him hard.

  “I do,” I whispered.

  We turned out the lights for the last time before we both

  fell into a dreamy asleep.

  Chapter Sixteen

  My due date was June but the doctor stated that an exact date would all depend on the way the pregnancy progressed. For me, June seemed like years away rather than months, and I tried seriously to focus my time on Jewel and her needs. Her quiet little world was about to be rocked and somehow it didn’t seem fair. Everything had returned to normal, namely, Irish was back at work while I was happily at home taking care of our precious Jewel. Besides paying a little more attention to my body and protecting my unborn children, things were no different than they were before we’d found out about the triplets. I was carrying. Irish was much gentler in the bedroom, which bothered me some but I understood. He made up for it in other ways, so I certainly couldn’t complain. We planned to move back to La Jolla in April to be closer to his family. Memphis was having a room built on our house for the babies before we returned. Things were pretty much perfect until the morning of March 10th.

  Irish had brought paperwork home the night before and planned on spending the day with Jewel and me. The baby was dry, fed, and happily sitting in her swing in the living room with Irish when we heard a knock on the door. I left the laundry and headed to the living room while Irish pushed the pause button for the program he was watching on television. When he opened the door, I saw a young man standing on the porch wearing a backpack. Irish said hello and the boy responded nervously. I was standing directly behind Irish, letting my belly stay protected securely behind him.

  “I don’t mean to bother you so early but I’ve come a long way and, well, I’m just really excited to finally meet Jewel,” he announced sheepishly.

  I felt Irish’s body tense up at that last word. I gently grabbed both sides of Irish’s waist with my hands while I leaned around his back.

  “Excuse me. Who are you?” I asked.

  Irish and I just stared at the teen. He didn’t look threatening or angry. He just seemed genuinely nervous.

  “My name’s Wyatt Zachary, ma’am, and I got this letter from Paris telling me I had a daughter living with her brother in San Francisco,” he said as he fumbled in his pocket until he retrieved a folded-up piece of paper. Irish and I stood frozen and continued to stare at the boy. He slowly held out the folded note to Irish. I stepped in front of Irish now and took the paper from the boy. Irish watched our visitor while also watching me unfold the note. We both began reading it and when we finished, Irish and I just looked at each other, then back at the young lad. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen years old. This age seemed to be Paris’s boyfriend preference, just a bit older than jailbait. He had sandy-brown, curly hair shoulder length. He had Jewel’s blue eyes and looking at him standing in front of me, I could see her features in him.

  Irish took the paper from my hand and looking at Wyatt,

  he asked, “Can I keep this?”

  The boy shrugged his shoulders and nodded yes.

  Looking at Wyatt, I took a step closer to the door. “Wyatt, this note from Paris didn’t mention that we legally adopted Jewel and she is our daughter. You don’t have any claim to her.” I tried to be sympathetic while also keeping my words firm and confident to convey the truth of the situation.

  He looked at my face and then up to Irish’s. “I’m not trying to cause any problems, I promise. I just want to see her for myself. That’s all.” His blue eyes skipped back to mine. I felt Irish’s arm straighten out in front of my body and pull me back gently but firmly.

  He took a step forward after placing me carefully behind him. “Buddy, I understand your situation, I do, but you’re going to have to understand ours as well. I can’t let you into our home to see our daughter. I don’t know you. How about giving me a phone number and letting me figure this all out. Maybe we can meet you somewhere and discuss the matter but you can’t come back here ever again. I will discuss all of this with my sister and my wife but until then, you’re going to have to leave,” his voice dripping with authority.

  Wyatt looked at Irish and nodded before looking at the ground. “That sounds fair.” He dropped his backpack on the ground and began unzipping the outside pocket. He removed a pen and a piece of paper and began jotting down the requested information, handing it to Irish.

  “I’m staying in a hotel for two days before heading home

  to Oregon,” he barely muttered.

  “Okay, Wyatt, I’ll contact you soon. I give you my word on that.” Irish nodded to the teen before stepping back and closing the door. We both looked at Jewel smiling at us even though her swing was motionless.

  I looked at Irish and his eyes flew from Jewel’s to mine. He shrugged his shoulders as if he was trying to shake it all away, and I watched him squeeze the note into a ball in his fist.

  “I’d like to kill her right now,” he whispered.

  “No, you don’t,” I said. “We’re going to figure out the right thing to do here. You know that if either of us were in his situation,
we’d be curious too.”

  Irish’s face softened. “You’re right,” he admitted. We both sat down on the sofa and I unfolded the letter.

  Dear Wyatt,

  I’m writing you today because I’m trying to get my life together and that means doing the right thing. I gave birth to a little girl in November, and I didn’t believe there was any possibility that she was your child until I realized that I’d gotten my dates wrong. I recently saw a picture of her and now I’m sure you’re the father. I’m not asking for anything from you; I just wanted to be honest and let you know. Her name is Jewel and she’s living with my brother, Irish and his wife, Jurnee, in San Francisco. She’s happy, healthy, and loved. I needed to tell you so I can move on with my life. You were important to me and I’ll always smile when I think of you.

  Love, Paris

  Although Paris often came across as flibbertigibbet, I found her letter to be meticulously and honestly written.

  “So what should we do?” and Irish’s hand moved to rest on my belly. While he waited for me to answer, my eyes remained focused on the letter. I couldn’t stop concentrating on one sentence Paris had written, “You were very important to me and I’ll always smile when I think of you.”

  “Well, I don’t think that any of this was meant to threaten or challenge us as Jewel’s parents, do you? Maybe Paris was only trying to clear her conscience so that she could get past this situation.” I laid my hand over his. Looking at him, I continued, “This isn't really his fault and after meeting him today I don’t feel that he wants any more than to see her once, do you?”

  “I’m not sure, Jurnee. A part of me feels sorry for him but

  the other part says to protect

  Jewel with all of my strength.” Irish became so sensitive and

  sweet.

  “You’re such a good daddy,” I smiled into his beautiful blues. “What if we meet him tomorrow after Jewel’s appointment with the pediatrician? We could go to that Mexican restaurant on the corner. Let him see her and visit for a few minutes, and then he’ll be on his way to Oregon.” I watched my husband’s face start to scrunch up as if he was going to give me that I don’t think so look, but halfway through it his face changed.

  “Okay, but we’ll insist on a thirty-minute limit and we don’t give him any personal information about our plans to move back home. Let him think that he knows where to find us.”

  My eyebrows rose and I nodded, “Agreed. Should we

  mention any of this to Paris?”

  He shook his head no. “Let’s just leave that alone. I’m still unhappy about being blindsided today. Paris could have mentioned this to us but that just shows me that my sister is still thinking only of Paris.” Shaking his head Irish leaned in and kissed my cheek.

  After feeding and burping Jewel, Irish handed the baby to me for a diaper change. We played puppets got your nose before she went down for her nap. I started lunch while Irish finished his paperwork. Humming a nursery song to myself and cutting up tomatoes for our grilled chicken salad I heard Irish’s phone chirp. I smiled at him as he picked it up and I went back to preparing lunch.

  When I turned around, I almost jumped out of my skin. Irish was standing a few steps from me and I could tell by his expression that something was terribly wrong. I wiped my hands on the dish towel and rested them on my bulging stomach, waiting for him to speak. It looked like he was struggling with his words.

  “That was Mom. Paris was just served with a custody petition from Wyatt Zachary’s lawyer. He’s claiming he wasn’t told he had a child and therefore didn’t agree to any adoption.” My mouth dropped open. Irish stood there with a frozen blank stare.

  “It gets better,” he muttered. “He wants sole custody because Paris is a habitual drug-user and shouldn’t be allowed around children.”

  I watched as he squeezed the bridge of his nose. Eyes closed, he slowly began shaking his head back and forth. I suddenly felt the need to grab onto the counter to steady myself. This couldn’t be happening. That young kid at our door this morning was petitioning for custody? Something didn’t seem right to me. I watched as Irish finally dropped his hand and quickly moved toward Jewel’s room. I followed but stopped in the doorway as I watched Irish stand beside our daughter’s crib and stare down at her with fatherly love. I headed back to the living room searching for that piece of paper Wyatt had given us this morning with his hotel name and phone number. Irish was still in Jewel’s room as I gathered my purse and car keys, quietly opening the front door. I hurried to my car and as I turned the key in the ignition; I glanced up at the front door. I didn’t see Irish so I backed out onto the road. My hands began shaking and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest.

  One more glance at the front door but still no one. I headed down the street to find a place to park and call this guy. When I pulled to the side of the road my hands were still shaking, I held the paper steady against the steering wheel. I recognized the name of the hotel, no more than a mile away, so I decided just to drive there and then decide on a plan of action. As I pulled into the hotel driveway my phone chirped. I knew the caller and wasn’t going to answer it, not yet. With no room number on the paper, I headed for the front office. An older man at the desk looked me up and down before giving me a sympathetic smile.

  “Hello,” I said before deciding to use my condition to my advantage. I sweetly smiled like a southern belle and leaned on the counter meeting his eyes head on. “Could you please help me, sir?” He moved close to the counter smiling back curiously.

  “How may I help you, young lady?”

  I let my eyes move to the paper I was holding and then back to the clerk’s. “I’m looking for Wyatt Zachary’s room. He asked me to meet him here but I hadn’t noticed that he forgot to add his room number. Could you please help me with that?” I asked politely.

  He gave me a slight smile before turning and moving toward a computer screen behind him. After punching the keyboard for a moment, he looked at me. “That’s #136, young lady,” meeting my eyes before continuing, “That’s around the back of the building and to your right.”

  “Thanks so much.” I quickly headed back to my car. If I hadn’t felt like an overstuffed, bulging water balloon, I’d have attempted to walk it but the car seemed like a smarter choice for my ambush. Looking down at my phone I could see that I had three missed calls. I switched my phone to vibrate and started the ignition. When I pulled up to the parking space directly in front of #136, I shut off the engine. I could feel my heart rate speed up again as I sat there staring at the door. What was I going to say? I needed to make him understand that what he was doing was wrong. Jewel was not going to be taken away from us. I’d have to explain to him how much we loved our precious Jewel.

  I watched my phone vibrate on the seat. I picked it up and placed it with the piece of paper in my shirt pocket. I took in a deep breath and stepped out of the car. Standing at the door I held my fist up ready to knock but froze. I took another breath to settle my nerves and then I knocked hard three times. After a few moments I took a few steps from the door and glanced down the long cement hallway. It was quiet, maybe too quiet. As I turned to look in the opposite direction, the door opened. There stood Wyatt. The surprise in his eyes caught me off guard. Neither one of us moved. We just stared at each other for what seemed like an awkward forever. He finally broke our stare to look past me, probably checking to see if I was alone. Comfortable that no one else accompanied me, his eyes narrowed as they returned to my face.

  “What’re you doing here?” he asked. “I thought you were going to call and bring Jewel?”

  I watched his expression, searching for any answer to his pretense of this harmless visit from him. I gave him nothing.

  “Well, Wyatt, I decided that I’d like to talk with you first, get to know you a little before bringing Jewel to meet you. Can I come in?” and I dug deep within myself to sound as authoritative as I could. He was clearly just a boy. I didn’t feel threatened by h
im physically. Even six months pregnant with triplets, I knew I could take him. What I sensed from him at the moment was deceit, as if he were trying to pretend to be someone he really wasn’t, trying to take advantage of my family. I wanted to know the reason.

  “Um, yeah, I guess so.” Shrugging his shoulders he took a step back, allowing me to enter. My eyes flashed around the room and fell on a wooden chair pushed into a desk standing in the middle of the room. I quickly moved toward it and pulled out the chair. All I could think to do was pounce quickly before he could make up answers to my questions. I sat down and searched the room. Empty potato chip bags and soda cans filled every counter and tabletop. He’d been here most of the day, I thought. He nervously sat on the one unmade bed in the room.

  “So Wyatt, how long have you known about our daughter?” I gave him a fake smile.

  “I got the note from Paris about a month ago,” he quickly said.

  “So have you always wanted kids of your own or are you planning to wait until you’re settled down and married?” I watched him cringe a little at the word married. I stared into his eyes, almost challenging him to look away from me. Feeling uncomfortable, he intertwined his fingers, letting his eyes drop to the floor in front of him.

  “Wyatt, how old are you?” leaning forward trying to recapture eye contact.

  “I’m eighteen,” he whispered.

  I didn’t even have to do the math to realize he had to have been late sixteen or early seventeen when he had sex with Paris. Now I was feeling uncomfortable. I suddenly felt a whole new set of problems about to face Irish and me. I had nothing to lose here, so I decided to find out his ulterior motive. I repositioned myself in the chair and blurted out, “Why are you suing Paris for custody of our daughter, Wyatt?”

  His head flew up and his face changed from nervous and uncomfortable to scared and upset. I felt my face change from confident to confused.