by Jessa Eden
I panted, like the birthing classes I took, had instructed. It wasn’t helping much to relieve the pain. But I made it through the contraction as I let out a big sigh.
“I’m getting ready to have the baby,” I told Emma with a comforting smile, as soon I could speak.
Her blue eyes grew big. “Oh. Does it hurt?”
“Yes, it does. I haven’t ever felt this kind of pain before.”
“Do you need to get to the hospital?”
“I do. But first, I need to take you over to Ms. Adelaide’s. Get your stuff.”
“Okay.” She hustled back to her bedroom to find her pre-packed suitcase while I tried to remember everything I needed to do.
I grabbed my suitcase and dragged it to the living room after donning a purple housecoat—one of the few things that still fit my belly. Trying to be responsible, I checked the stove and the windows, making sure the apartment was safe as I glanced around. Everything seemed to be in order.
“Got what you need, kiddo?” I asked Emma as we stood by the front door.
“Yep, I have everything I need.”
“You’ve got that phone number I gave you, right?” I had given her Charlie’s private number, so she had someone to call if there was an emergency.
“Yep, it’s in my suitcase.”
We walked the short distance to Ms. Adelaide’s. From there, I intended to waddle down to the bus stop for a quick ride across town to the hospital.
“You’re having a baby! I’m so excited!” Emma squealed as I tried to walk steadily next to her.
“Yay!” I agreed, trying to share in her enthusiasm.
Emma banged on Ms. Adelaide’s door as if she was alerting her to a fire.
“Emma, she’ll think something is wrong,” I scolded, not wanting our neighbor to hurt herself, trying to get to the door.
“Nah, she’ll be just as excited as me!” Emma boasted.
I grinned at my sister’s pluckiness. She had been my saving grace during this whole, ugly situation. Without her, I didn’t know where I would be.
A couple of seconds later, Ms. Adelaide threw the door open, just as a contraction slammed into me. “I think the baby’s coming,” I breathed out, grabbing onto the door jam, trying to bear the climaxing pain.
“Oh my. How far apart are the contractions?” Ms. Adelaide asked as she studied me.
“Not very far apart!” I panted as the contraction tore through my uterus.
Damn, those hurt.
I sagged against the brick of the building, trying to stay on my feet as the pain ended.
“Child, you’re dripping,” Ms. Adelaide said as I glanced down at the wet cement.
“Oh crap.” My eyes were wide as saucers.
This was really happening. I was really having a baby.
I started to cry.
“I’m calling you an ambulance, child,” Ms Adelaide announced calmly
“That’s okay. I’ll take the bus,” I cried, not wanting her to make a fuss.
“You ain’t gonna take the bus in your condition. Now, come sit down,” she chastised in a motherly tone as she put her hand on her hip.
“Okay,” I relented, bearing the pain as she led me to the couch.
She grabbed the phone and dialed 911 as Emma got out a towel and wiped down my legs. In a couple of minutes, the familiar sirens wailed through nearby streets and pulled up in front of our apartment complex.
After assessing my labor pains, the EMT’s gently walked me down the steps and loaded me up in the ambulance.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked the young paramedic with the kind eyes.
“St. George’s.”
That sent a chill through my overtaxed, swollen body. That hospital was not known for its care and I wasn’t about to go there by myself.
“Can you take me to John Hopkins? That’s where I’m scheduled to give birth.”
“It’ll cost more to transport you across town.”
“That’s okay. Just get me there.” Charlie had been kind enough to set me up at the best hospital in Baltimore.
Turning on the siren, the ambulance driver whisked me away as the contractions continued to rip through my uterus. I hung in there, trying to remember I would have a sweet baby at the end of this ordeal.
When we arrived, I was rushed up to the delivery room where the doctor examined me.
“You’re dilated to about seven centimeters. Just a few more to go and you’ll have this baby,” she told me with a soothing smile.
“Uh-huh. It sure feels like it!” I groaned as another contraction slammed into me.
Searing pain and impossible pressure.
Not my favorite things.
It took a couple of more hours for my body to open up those final centimeters. Then the real work began. I pushed for all I was worth as I concentrated on getting my little one out into the world.
Labor turned out to be a long, arduous process. Luckily, I had some great nurses who took fabulous care of me. One was young and very energetic; the other was a compassionate Drill Sergeant, who kept me moving forward in the delivery process.
“Come on, push!” Doreen, the older nurse demanded, as she held my foot and pushed against me as I followed her instruction.
My body shook as I groaned aloud, the baby inching toward the world.
She ran a washcloth along my sweaty forehead between contractions. “Oh, poor thing...you can do it, dearie. Your body knows what to do.”
“I can?” I asked, trying to find the strength to birth this baby.
“Oh yes, you’re stronger than you realize. Now push!” she directed again as another contraction surged through my weary body.
Somehow, I dug deep and kept pushing.
But it still took forever.
Finally, the doctor announced the head was crowning.
“Give me one more good push, Marla,” the doctor instructed.
With all my might, I bore down as if my life depended on it as Charlie came into the world. The cries of my newborn greeted my relieved ears, as I lay back on the hospital bed totally exhausted.
“It’s a boy!” the doctor exclaimed as she placed the baby on my chest.
“A boy?” I asked in delight as I held my child for the first time.
He was so beautiful.
So amazingly perfect.
What a relief. He was pink and flushed with life. His fingers and toes were perfectly formed. I couldn’t ask for more.
I shouldn’t ask for more.
But, I couldn’t help myself.
Beau should be there.
A profound grief rose up in my breast as I experienced one of the saddest moments in my life. Its utter hopelessness stole all the strength and courage out of my chest, leaving me utterly exposed.
That excruciating pain tore through my heart, almost paralyzing me as great hiccupping sobs escaped out of my throat. I cried uncontrollably, holding Charlie tighter against my chest as my longing for Beau overwhelmed me.
He should be there with me, holding his child.
Now, he would never know his son.
Sorrow gripped me as I wept for everything I had lost.
The older nurse, looking more like a young grandmother came to my bedside. “The tears are normal, dearie.” She rubbed my back, mistaking my weeping for joy. “Is there anyone you want me to call?”
I tried to pull it together as I wiped at my eyes. “Yeah, can you call Charly Shepard at this number?” I reached over to the hospital nightstand to find the piece of paper I had written his number on.
“Oh, Mr. Shepard is already here. He’s the nicest gentleman,” the young nurse praised as she wrote something down on my chart.
Emma must’ve talked to him. “I know. He’s a great guy,” I offered with a weak smile.
“You have him listed as your next of kin. Is he your grandfather?”
“No, but he’s my baby’s great-grandfather.”
“Are you up to seeing him?”
“Yes, please send him in.”
Two minutes later, Charly waltzed in with a trail of balloons, flowers and a teddy bear filling his arms. “Oh my, girl! You did it!” He clapped his hands together as soon as he put everything down.
I beamed, even as sadness pulled at me. “I did. Would you like to see your great-grandson?”
“Oh yes, you bet your patootie,” he said, coming to stand by the hospital bed. “He’s beautiful.” His weathered face radiated love, making me cry again.
“Would you like to hold him?” I asked as I took in his priceless reaction to seeing his great-grandson.
He nodded, tenderly taking the baby from me as he carefully cradled Charlie in his arms.
“What’s his name?” he asked, stroking the baby’s cheek.
“Charles Beau Matthews.”
“You named him after me and Beau?” he asked, his voice full of awe.
“I did. I couldn’t think of anyone better.”
His blue eyes overflowed with joy. “Well, I’ll be damned. That’s wonderful. Thank you.”
“It’s the least I can do.”
“Oh, you’ve done plenty. He looks just like Beau when he was born. This is definitely Beau’s boy,” Charly offered, gazing at the little boy who had entered our lives.
My heart shredded open again.
Beau’s boy.
The boy he would never know.
I shook my head, trying to keep the grief at bay as I watched great-granddad and great-grandson get to know each other.
Charly wandered around the room, talking to the baby. “You and me got a lot to do. But first I gotta tell you something. So a guy walks into a bar...”
My funny bone was tickled as a big chuckle escaped me. “Are you trying to tell him a joke?”
His gaze danced with mischief. “Gotta start early. I’m fixin’ to tell him all my jokes.”
I laughed again, happy to see Charly treating my Charlie so well. “I guess that means we’ll see you from time to time?” I asked, hoping he would want to stay connected.
A serious light entered his warm gaze. “Listen, Marla. I know Beau’s dad treated you wrong. I want to make it right. It would mean the world to me if you would let me take care of your little family. I can set you up in a new apartment. I’ll pay for the rest of your schooling, if you want to go back. I’ll give you a monthly income to live on and take care of any of little Charlie’s needs, including his college education.”
“Are you serious?” I asked, wondering if I was delusional from giving birth.
“Yep, as serious as a heart attack.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Just say thank you and let me take care of you.”
My eyes pooled with fresh tears. “Thank you. I mean it from the bottom of my heart.”
He handed the baby back to me, concern etched in his bright blue eyes. “Are you ever going to tell Beau the truth about what happened?”
“I want to, but I can’t afford to lose my sister or my baby.”
He nodded grimly. “Beau’s dad does have powerful friends. I can’t guarantee he wouldn’t come after you.”
Stark pain stabbed me in the heart as I contemplated telling Beau about the baby. “No, I can’t risk it, Charly. Not now. Not with another little one to protect. Please, the damage is done. I can’t bear to lose anyone else out of my life,” I begged openly.
He patted my hand. “Hush, hush. It’s okay. Don’t worry. I’m on your side. We’ll get through this.”
*****
I couldn’t believe my baby was all grown up now.
I had feared this meeting of father and son. I knew, at some point, Beau and Charlie would collide, especially since Beau had moved back to Baltimore.
I just hadn’t planned on it happening this way.
I wished I’d done a better job explaining all this history to Charlie. He deserved better. I had planned to tell him about Beau at our reunion dinner, but like all things these days, I found myself in the middle of a disaster.
Charlie had barely been home for a minute and wham he was in Beau’s face ready to protect me.
I didn’t want that.
But there it was.
Ugly and messy.
Growing up, Charlie had approached me a couple of times with the whole father issue. It was always a delicate dilemma and I tried to answer his questions about his dad with a degree of honesty I thought he could handle.
When he was eight, he’d asked about his dad for the first time.
We were baking chocolate chip cookies and out of the blue, he laid it out for me. “So do I have a dad?”
After a stunned second, I composed myself as I stopped stirring the dough and faced him. “Of course you do!”
“Where is he then?” His little face was so serious. His mop of brown hair fell over his dark brows furrowing in worry.
“Oh, honey. How long have you been thinking about this?”
He shrugged and looked away. “A while.”
My heart hurt for him. I didn’t want him to think the worst, but I wasn’t ready to give him the whole truth.
So I gave him a watered down version of events. “Your dad and I were young and in love, but it didn’t work out. But he gave me you and that’s all that matters.”
“Why doesn’t he visit me?” he asked as he licked cookie dough off the beater I handed him.
I smiled, getting down on my haunches in front of his skinny frame. “He would if he could, but he can’t right now. I do have hope that one day he will come see you. But it might not be until you’re older.”
He nodded. “Why can’t we go see him?”
“He lives in another country.”
“Like Africa?”
“Well, Africa’s a continent, but he lives in Canada.”
“That’s not so far. They’re just above us.”
“You’re right. Canada isn’t that far.”
“Can we go someday?”
“I’ll think about it,” I offered, knowing it wasn’t something I could say yes to. He was still too young to chance it.
“’Kay. Can I go play?”
“Sure.” I breathed a sigh of relief, as he seemed to accept my answers for the moment.
Fortunately, we made it through another couple of years, before he brought it up again. One night, at the tender age of thirteen, he confronted me as I sat watching a hockey game on TV.
“This isn’t cool, Mom. I feel like you’re not telling me the truth about my dad.” He scowled as if he were interviewing a suspect in a crime.
“What do you want to know?” I asked, muting the TV.
“How about a name?”
I was willing to reveal a little bit. “Beau. He was a guy I went to high school with.”
His brows creased in concentration. “Why did he really leave? Does he know about me?”
“He got the opportunity of a lifetime to play professional hockey and no, he doesn’t know about you.”
“So, he still doesn’t know he has a son? Even though I’m thirteen?”
“No, and for your safety, I haven’t let him know about you.”
“My safety?” he asked, his brown eyes growing wide.
Shooting him a comforting grin, I tried to explain what I could about the situation. “There are things you don’t understand that happened before you were born. But, I need you to know that your father is a good man. It had nothing to do with him.”
“Why all the secrecy?”
“You know I just want to protect you, right? That I would only do things because they’re necessary?”
“Why is this necessary?
“There are members of Beau’s family, who want to take you away from me.”
“Yeah, but I’m thirteen, now.”
“I know. But you’re still so young that if they got a hold of you, I don’t know what would happen.”
“Nothing would happen. I wouldn’t leave you, Mom.”
I smiled. “I know you wo
uldn’t want to, sweetie. However, sometimes things happen we can’t control and I don’t want to risk it. When you’re eighteen, if you still want to visit Beau, we’ll go. Okay?”
“Okay,” he agreed, looking more at peace. “I just want to know who he is.”
“I know you do and as soon as I feel it’s safe, I will be happy to answer all of your questions and track him down.”
I felt bad, but I didn’t want to give Beau’s dad any opportunity to influence Charlie. He was a wily old snake and I knew from experience he had plenty of devious tricks up his sleeve.
By the time Charlie was eighteen, he’d lost interest. He was more concerned with college and figuring out his place in the world. He reminded me so much of Beau at that age, with the same gangly height, lopsided grin, and charming disposition.
I could only hope some of that charm was still intact as I headed home with a heavy heart. The trip usually took me about twenty minutes, but this time it seemed only about twenty seconds long, as I tried to think of what to say to him.
No explanation could fix any of this.
I turned down our street, parked the car, and sat in the driveway for a couple of minutes, trying to wrap my mind around what was going on with my son.
I dreaded confronting the past. Yet, here I was, about to deal with the most important issue of my son’s young life. I sighed as I walked through the front door and threw my keys in the bowl.
“I’m home,” I let out as I put my purse down on the front entry table.
“In here,” Charlie called from the kitchen.
I found him making a turkey sandwich, standing in front of the butcher-block island I’d had put in a couple years ago. I moved slowly toward him, trying to determine what kind of mood he was in.
He glanced back at me, his mop of shiny brown curls falling over his forehead. His eyes searched mine, like he used to do when the world had hurt him in some way.
My mother’s heart got the best of me and I hugged him from behind, laying my head against his back. “I love you, Charlie Brown. I need you to know that right now.”
“I know you do,” he said quietly, letting me hug him for a long second.
“You’re so big, now. I can’t believe I used to hold you in my arms. I always loved doing that.”
“Ah, Mama. You’re getting sappy.”