Through the Wooden Door

by K Carr

  I fluttered my eyelashes at him and his chest rumbled with a deep chuckle. Then I arranged my expression into an insulted one. “The only explanation? Nothing to do with how clever I was? Or my kind nature? Or even how pretty I was-”

  Connor guffawed. “Kind? You were not kind,”

  “I was kind to people who deserved my kindness,” I was insulted for real now. “And you were so lucky I chose to overlook your religious hang-ups and allow you to date me,”

  Then he completely disarmed me of my burgeoning irritation by saying, “I was,” Connor bent his lips to kiss the tip of my nose. “I am.”

  “Hmph,”

  He kissed my cheek now and rubbed my hip some more. “Where were we?”

  “We were discussing your desire to name our baby after someone in the bible,”

  “That’s not the main reason I like the name,” Connor rebutted.

  I arched an eyebrow, my disbelief was blatant and he rolled his blue eyes in my direction.

  “It means light,” Connor advised quietly. All his previous relaxed jokiness vanished as he held my gaze. “I,” He shrugged his shoulders and glanced away for a second before looking back at me. “I like the name. I don’t know, it feels right to me.”

  “Can you hand me my phone?” I asked after a spot of awkward silence between us. “Please.” Connor twisted around at an awkward angle to nab my phone off his bedside table. I had fallen asleep on his side of the bed last night, much to his consternation. It had been sweet of him to leave me be instead of shuffling me over to my usual side of the bed. “Thank you,” I took my phone, unlocked the screen and brought up Google.

  “Jen,” Connor sighed, not knowing what my actions were and perhaps assuming the worst. “It’s an option-”

  “Wait,” I cut him off as the search engine did its job. “Ok, Luke is the English form of Lucas, I like Lucas.”

  “But,”

  “Oh and it says here that Lucas is derived from the Latin name Lucius,” I nodded at him. “Yes, it’s kind of the same definition. Lucius means ‘the bright one’ or ‘the one born at dawn’.”

  “Babe,”

  “I like Lucas,” It did sound nice; strong, dependable. “Lucius? Lucas-”

  “Luke.” Connor eyeballed me. “I like Luke.”

  “But Luke is just a shortened version of Lucas,” I pointed it out in case he had missed me mentioning the fact just seconds ago. “If you’re set on the name, we can call him Lucas officially and Luke can be his nickname,”

  “No,” Connor’s eyebrows drew together. “I don’t want Lucas, or Lucius, I like Luke,”

  “It’s the same name, just different versions-”

  “Luke,” he said. “And you said I could name him,”

  I cocked my head to the side. “I said maybe,”

  We stared at each other. A minute passed. Then another. Then my traitorous mouth started tilting upwards at the corners. In all fairness, when it came to naming Megan and Cory, he had given in to my final choice.

  “Luke?” I mused.

  He nodded, starting to grin himself.

  “I guess it’s ok,” I said.

  “It’s perfect,” Connor replied.

  I thought about it. “Luke Oakes?”

  Connor nodded. “Luke Oakes.”

  I touched my lips then crooked my finger at him. Connor immediately leaned in for the kiss. When he moved back I noted the triumphant glint in his blue eyes and shook my head. I did like how the name rolled off the tongue though. Luke Oakes.

  “Ok,” I decided. “Luke it is, and I get to have my home birth, yes?”

  Connor’s gaze immediately slid away from mine, then he ducked his head and conveniently snuggled further into our bed. Face now halfway pressed into the pillows, he muttered something unintelligible and the identifiable sound of fake snoring rose up from him. I reached under the covers, searching out a weak spot and wriggled my fingers over his side. Connor yelped and grabbed my fingers as he raised his head, grinning widely.

  “We’ll see, Jen.” His grin all but disappeared and he laid a hand on my stomach. The baby responding to the weight of his hand with a kick. “We can discuss it in detail later but,” He sighed loudly. “If it’s what you want, I’ll support you. 100%. Always.”

  I reached up to run my fingers through his still damp hair. “Thank you.”

  He snorted and dropped his face back into the pillows but not before I heard a wry, “Definitely the lack of blood to my head. That has to be why.”

  I loved my husband.

  Epilogue

  “Hey, little man,” Connor’s tone was soothing as he lightly stroked our son’s back. “What’s wrong? Hmm? Why are you crying? You don’t want to wake the girls. Shh. It’s alright. Daddy’s here. It’s alright, darling. Shh.”

  I was awake, had been for the past six minutes since Luke started whimpering. The whimpers were cries now and thankfully Connor had picked him up and was attempting to calm him. I was exhausted. Megan had been sick all last night with a tummy bug and as with all children, only Mommy would suffice when they were that ill.

  “What’s wrong?” Connor murmured while gently bouncing our son in his arms. “You don’t need a change. Are you hungry? You can’t be hungry. I just fed you some of mommy’s milk an hour ago. Shh. It’s alright.”

  I snapped my eyes shut when Connor turned around towards our bed. If I pretended to be asleep he would handle Luke…I was exhausted and the thought of raising my body even an inch off the mattress made my joints quiver in protest. My arm was trapped under Meg’s side and her soft snores confirmed her brother’s cries couldn’t wrest her from her much needed slumber. Poor thing had been sick three times last night and once in the early hours this morning.

  “What is it? Hmm? What’s wrong? Do you want Daddy to sing like Mommy?”

  I cracked my eyes open again, only at slit level though. I really didn’t have the energy to move. Luke’s cries were lessening as Connor walked the length of our bedroom. We had tried to convince Megan to sleep in her own bed last night but after the second episode of vomiting and her panicked sobs, I stopped fighting the inevitable and let her flop on my side of the bed. My eldest was a wild sleeper and it was almost impossible to get any rest between Luke waking up for feeds and Meg waking up to either be sick or cry about her tummy ache. Would she be able to manage breakfast this morning? What was the time anyway? My eyelids widened a fraction more as I made a fake sleepy noise and angled my head towards the bedside table. 5:43am. Damn. I had only fallen into a proper sleep less than two hours ago.

  “I can see you peeking, Jen,” Connor’s low comment caught me by surprise and I immediately shut my eyes. Could I play it off? Make him believe I was still asleep. Luke’s hiccupping cries drew nearer and I felt Connor’s frame close to the bed. He cleared his throat above the noise our son was making and said, “Jen, I know you’re awake. You can’t sleep when he’s crying, it’s physically impossible. Stop pretending. I know you’re up.”

  I kept my eyes closed and made sure my breathing was nice and even.

  “Mommy thinks she’s so smart,” Connor drawled. “But we know she’s awake. We saw her peeking, didn’t we?”

  And as if in agreement with his dad, Luke’s cries went up a notch. Damn it.

  “Your boobs must be leaking with all the crying Luke is doing,” Connor remarked dryly.

  Bastard. Of course my breasts were leaking. When Luke had first started whimpering my letdown reflex had immediately kicked in. But as Connor had said before, he’d only fed Luke an hour ago.

  “Jennifer,” Connor called.

  I opened my eyes and scowled at him. “Shh. You’ll wake Meg.”

  Connor smiled at me. “You look beat.”

  “I feel beat,” I confirmed as I wriggled my arm free from its captivity. Meg grunted but her breathing resumed its relaxed pace. Yawning widely I dragged myself into an upright position and held my arms out. “I’ll take him.”

  Connor droppe
d a kiss on Luke’s head before handing him over. “I fed him an hour ago.”

  “I know,” I murmured. “I heard you before.”

  Connor chuckled under his breath and stared at me while I adjusted Luke in my arms. As expected, my three month old son began searching for his food source.

  “One second, sweetie,” I groused before fiddling with the clasp on my nursing bra and giving him a breast. I winced when he latched on and Connor made a noise of sympathy when he saw my grimace.

  “He’s a greedy little thing, isn’t he?” Connor mused. He stretched his whole body and yawned.

  I looked at Luke as he fed, well, he wasn’t feeding in earnest. His eyes were locked on my face and I smiled softly and lifted his little clench hand up to my lips for a kiss. “You just wanted mommy, didn’t you?”

  “And I want my bed,” Connor murmured and glanced at where Megan was sprawled.

  I looked over at her too and smiled in sympathy. “She’s sick, you can go sleep in the guest room if you want.”

  His expression was eloquent and he made his way over to the other side of the bed where he carefully moved Megan aside. “There,” he whispered. “Now if you shuffle along to the middle, I can get in on the side you’re on now.”

  Keeping my grumble low I shimmied over, relinquishing my perfectly warmed space to him. The space where Meg had been lying held a different type of warmth, a sweaty sort of warmth.

  Connor yawned as he walked back over to my side and crawled into bed. Luke chose at that moment to bite down on my nipple and I yelped.

  “Shh,” Connor jerked upright and anxiously looked across my body to check on Meg. “You’ll wake her.”

  “Luke bit me.” I hissed back.

  Connor, satisfied Meg hadn’t been woken by my shriek, plumped the pillows and laid down. Grinning, he came to our son’s defence. “He doesn’t have teeth, hon. I’m sure it barely hurts, probably feels like –ow!”

  “Shh,” I hushed him. My playful kick to his shin had been delivered with swiftness under the covers. “And let me bite on your nipples, see how much you’ll like that. Hmph. You’ll be singing a different tune I tell you.”

  Connor fluttered his lashes at me. “Oh, Jen, you sweet-talker. You can bite on my nipples any time you like.”

  I snorted, trying my best to stifle my giggle and he turned on his side so he could watch me without craning his neck. Connor didn’t say anything as I made faces for Luke while he fed. His silence made me turn my attention from our son to him.

  “What?” I asked softly.

  “I was thinking about,” he paused for a moment and there was a shift in his expression. “Cory’s bedroom.”

  It was physically painful trying to keep the relaxed look on my face. “What about it?” My voice remained soft, there was no inflection in my tone to indicate the tension which had sprung up in my body.

  Connor cleared his throat. “Are we,” he stopped, frowning a bit until his gaze focused on Luke. The ripple of grief across his face was fast, gone in an instant; but I had seen it. “You got the kids in their own room around six months.”

  Luke’s crib was currently in our bedroom. It had been the same with Megan and Cory. They spent the first six months of their lives in our bedroom then I would put them in their nursery and spend the next six months getting us all used to the new sleeping arrangements. It had been easier the second time around with Cory. With Megan I ended up sleeping on the floor in her room far too many times much to Connor’s consternation. I smiled to myself remembering how he would argue it defeated the purpose and I might as well just move her back into our bedroom. We were first time parents and I was scared of doing anything wrong back then. It had been a much easier process with Cory.

  “We could use the guest room as his nursery when the time comes,” he suggested.

  I swallowed hard and tenderly stroked Luke’s cheek. His eyelids were drooping. It wouldn’t be long before he fell asleep. Five minutes, maybe less.

  “But it’s all the way down the hall,” Connor continued. He cleared his throat again and reached over to lightly rest his hand on Luke’s tummy.

  “Or we could put him in Cory’s room,” It cost me something to say those words. I couldn’t quantify how much but it was almost unbearable. I glanced at my husband. “Is that what you were thinking?”

  He gave me a quick nod. Connor’s jaw was clenched tight enough for me to see the muscles bunching in his cheek.

  “It makes sense,” Again my words came with a price-tag and I wondered how long it would be before payment surged beyond my capabilities.

  “It does,” Connor took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “We’ve got some time before we have to decide.”

  Luke was three months old already. We didn’t have as much time as we’d like.

  “I thought if we started thinking about it,” Connor’s words trailed off.

  I stared at Luke, his eyes had finally shut. I wouldn’t move him off my breast just yet, to do so right now would be too soon. I didn’t want to risk waking him. At only three months old his face retained that non-descript roundness all babies had.

  “Who do you think he looks like?” I asked.

  “Umm,” Connor shuffled himself into an upright position. If he thought my question was random, he gave no indication of it when I glanced at him. He scrutinized our son for a good long minute before shrugging. “He looks like Meggie and Cory did.” Connor smiled as he touched Luke’s feet. “With sweet, chubby cheeks.”

  “You’ll wake him,” I admonished softly. Then I resumed assessing Luke’s features. “Do you think he’ll look like Cory?”

  Connor looked at me then at Luke. “Maybe. His hair is darker than Cory’s.”

  I nodded in agreement. Cory’s curls had been very light brown with a whisper of blond running through it. Luke’s hair was a much darker brown.

  “He looks like Meggie did at this age.” Connor decided.

  I nodded peering at Luke’s features. Carefully I edged my pinkie finger into the corner of his mouth and eased him off my nipple. He jerked, grabbing at my boob with his eyes still shut to check I was there. Reflex. I held him closer and he relaxed. Then I said, “Cory looked like Megan when he was little. Do you remember?”

  Connor didn’t reply, instead he lifted his hand to my chin and tilted my head towards him. “We don’t have to change a thing.” Connor’s gruff statement made me blink a few times. “We don’t have to follow a timeline, he can stay in here with us as long as you want,” Connor slid his fingers from my chin to hold the side of my face. “And I’ll convert the guest room into a nursery,” He took a deep breath and tried to smile. “We don’t have to change Cory’s bedroom.”

  I nodded. Connor was right. We didn’t have to put Luke in Cory’s room when the time came to move him out of our bedroom. Logistically it was the best option, but we didn’t have to do it.

  “Can you-”

  “Yeah,” Connor was already reaching out to take Luke from my arms.

  We did the change over and I fixed my nursing bra and pyjama top then held my hands out to take Luke back. Connor shook his head while adjusting Luke’s body against his chest and cradling his head on his shoulder. I watched him lift Luke’s hand up to his mouth for a quick kiss before lowering it back to his side.

  And I smiled to myself. Seeing him with Luke reminded me of how affectionate he was with the children, he had always been that way. He was a good daddy. We were good parents. I had gotten to the stage where I remembered, and could acknowledge, we were good parents

  “It’s ok,” I said softly as I blinked away the sudden rush of moisture to my eyes. “We should use Cory’s room.”

  Connor held my gaze. “Are you sure?”

  I nodded and blinked hard. Holding a hand up to my chest, I tried not to cry and said, “It’s just a room,”

  Searching my face, Connor shook his head. “It’s not just a room, Jen. Don’t say that.”

  “I know,” I croaked.
I knew the space was more than just a room, it was Cory’s room, but I couldn’t stay stuck in amber forever. Change was constant. I – we had all changed so much since Cory’s death. And now we had Luke. Losing the battle, a tear streaked down the side of my nose. “But they’re brothers and they would’ve had to share a room anyway. Right?”

  Connor made sure he had Luke securely against his chest in a one-arm hold then reached out with his free hand to swipe at the moisture running down my face.

  “We can get new furniture for Luke and put Cory’s stuff away in the attic.” Another tear rolled down my cheek, this time I dashed it aside. “It’s ok.” I splayed my hand over the centre of my chest. “He’s right here in my heart,” With my free hand I briefly touched my temple. “And my thoughts.”

  Connor chewed his bottom lip then opened his mouth to speak but Luke chose that moment to stir and Connor quickly patted his back to settle him into slumber once more. After a few seconds he said in a low voice, “Are you sure you’re ready?”

  I wasn’t ready. I would never be ready, and this was the paradox of grief. You had to move on, to heal, because time didn’t wait for you. You had to live because your life carried on, but the hurt never really goes away. The wound would never truly heal. My life, our lives continued on, and I wanted Meg and Luke to have good lives. I wanted them to grow up and have a life free from the shadow of their brother’s death.

  I shook my head and whispered back, “No, but we should do it anyway.” Still clutching my chest I asked, “What about you? Are you ready?”

  “No,” he muttered. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready, but we should do it. Using Cory’s room for Luke makes the most sense.”

  I thought back to two days ago. I had stopped by the office with Meg and Luke in tow to sort out a problem with one of our suppliers. I was lucky, so lucky I could be home with Luke at this stage. Things were different when Meg was a baby. We were working hard to get our business to a profitable stage back then. My mom picked up a lot of slack for me when it came to Meg’s care; Betty too, she helped out when needed. When we’d had Cory, things were much easier and I was able to do the full-time mom role for a whole eight months. A stark comparison to the meagre two months I took off with Meg. This time it wasn’t as bad as it was with Meg, but it wasn’t as easy as it had been with Cory. The business was making a healthy profit once again, yet margins – to me – danced upon a knife’s edge. One wrong move and we would be laying off staff and perhaps filing for bankruptcy…a pessimistic exaggeration? Maybe. Connor was much more positive about it all. Where was I?