Fate's Redemption

by Brandace Morrow

  She rarely needs help with homework, and when she does I have to look up what exactly she’s doing. I’ve forgotten how hard Calculus is. Dominique decides that she wants to be called Nicky after a few sessions with the therapist. She does research on changing her name, and I get the lawyers on making that possible for her as soon as she graduates.

  Her doctor’s visits are the only other time she leaves our neighborhood of Los Rancheros. She’s let me share her experience with the ultrasounds and I have to admit, seeing that little baby move on a screen as her skin bulges is something I’ve come to envy. Dominique, or Nicky now, seems detached from it though. She acts like she takes more from my enjoyment of the acts than anything. It’s worrying, but Danny and I agree that there’s nothing that can be done. Dominique is adamant of going to college as soon as she graduates in December.

  We’ve looked at apartments and dorm rooms online, and have sent in her paperwork to start after the winter break. But what about the baby?

  A few days before Christmas, just two days after her eighteenth birthday, I’m making dinner in the outdoor kitchen for everyone on the grounds when Deb comes rushing up the steps. I drop the tongs in my hand, already running before she can get a word out. Both of the kids were at the barn.

  “What’s wrong?” I demand.

  She pants and shakes her head. “The baby.” That’s all I need to hear. Something’s wrong with Ollie and I’m gone. I don’t remember running over the trail, the stairs down hill, the barn stalls and horses shying away in surprise. I find Phil, Deb’s husband beside Dominique on the ground, Ollie on his hip looking alarmingly content.

  “What’s wrong, tell Mommy where it hurts?” I ask, snatching him away and running my eyes and hands over him. Ollie, of course looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.

  “Oh, Kinley. Not Ollie, Dominique’s baby,” Phil says over my ramblings.

  “What?” I look to the poor girl panting in a lawn chair beside me and feel horrible. “Oh my God! The baby?” I push Ollie onto Phil and put a hand to her stomach. It feels like a rock, and slowly untightens as she breathes through her mouth.

  “My water broke. I think it’s time.”

  My mind blanks. Holy shit, it was time? We didn’t even have blankets except what I had in a gift bag in my closet, yet there was going to be a baby?! She never wanted to buy anything, but now there was going to be a person that didn’t have a diaper or scrap of clothes to it’s name. The baby didn’t even have a name!

  “We should get her in the Gator, and up to the house so that you can go to the hospital don’t you think?” Deb asks, finally catching up to us.

  “Right. You’re right, Deb. Up you go.” I hold under her elbow and help her stand. Deb and Phil take Ollie, and I drive Dominique to the house. To get up the hill in the vehicle we have to go through the woods on paved roads and it takes two more contractions before we get to the car.

  “Your seats,” she says.

  I wave her concern away. “Don’t worry about that. Get in the car, we have to go.”

  “Don’t you need your keys?” she asks.

  I turn back to the house. “Right.” Jogging into the house, I yell, “Rosa!”

  Rosa comes out of the kitchen, of course. The woman can’t help but feed people, even when I was making dinner for everyone. “Dominique is having the baby. Ollie is with Deb.” I grab the kitchen towel out of her hand. “I need this. Thanks!”

  Running back outside before she can say anything, I climb into the SUV as Dominique breathes through another contraction. Once it’s over I ask, “Does it hurt?”

  She shakes her head. “Not really. Like a rubber band kind of, it just gets hard to breathe and I’m really hot.”

  “Okay, sweetheart. Here, I got you a towel. I don’t want you to worry about anything right now but that baby.” I turn on the AC, even though it’s in the forties outside.

  The fifteen minute drive to the hospital lasts an eternity. When we get there, she refuses a wheelchair so we make our way slowly to the maternity floor where she’s admitted. When asked my relation to her, I stumble but Dominique says, “Mother,” as firmly as I’ve every heard her.

  “Right.” I look to the nurse and say through shocked lips, “I’m the mother.” Dominique thought of me as a mother? I may cry. Yes, I probably am, but not right now because she needs me. When we get her into a bed and nurses are flitting around her, I hold her hand and call Danny.

  “Hey, Kinley, love of my life. How are you on this eve of Christmas Eve? Are you calling to tell me you’ve got a sexy Mrs. Claus suit? Because I can tell you right now this Santa is down to climb in your chimney any time.”

  I turn away from Dominique as my face turns beet red. “Danny! I’m at the hospital. Dom— Nicky is having the baby.” I really hope the three nurses and young girl in the bed didn’t hear him.

  “Right-o! On my way. Where’s the other baby?” he says, sounding unbelievably unalarmed. What the hell, were women the only ones that freaked out? Couldn’t be.

  “Ollie was with Deb, but I’m sure they took him to Rosa. I can call—“

  “Nope, I’ll call them. You focus there. I’m on my way.”

  They give Dominique something through her IV, but it quickly becomes apparent it’s not enough. Since her water broke she’s in it til the end, so they do the epidural. I try to leave, but the girl has got a hell of a grip. They have her lean all of her weight on me as they stick the biggest needle I’ve ever seen into her back.

  When she’s comfortable again, they let Danny into the room. He’s been gone for two days, been on a plane for hours and still looks delicious in a henley and worn jeans. Baseball cap is of course on his head, he rarely goes without one. The hat does nothing to disguise his identity, but he knew that. Danny smirks knowingly when he sees me checking him out, along with all of the nurses in the hallway that followed him in.

  “Thanks, ladies. I’ve found my way.” He leans down to kiss my lips hard and pulls a chair next to mine. “How are you doing, doll?” he asks Dominique, completely ignoring the women hanging in the door.

  She nods with a little smile. “I’m good, Danny. Thanks for coming.”

  “Are you kidding me? I wouldn’t miss this for anything.” Danny crosses one foot over his other knee and links his hand with mine. I can hear his phone vibrating in his pocket, yet he doesn’t reach for it once. He finds a soap opera that Dominique likes and trash talks about the couples like a pro.

  “That Margo, she’s bad news. I really hope Hugh and Felicity get together, they would be perfect.” He seems to know when to disagree with her to draw her out and when to go easy and agree with her. I fall in love with him all over again watching his draw out this terrified girl and make her laugh when she’s about to give birth to her stepfather’s baby. Not that the dad is an issue. The police had him sign away his rights in exchange for a lesser charge and restraining order. We know that they don’t mean anything, but the paperwork to legally change her name is already in the works. With Dominique across the country, she will be safe. It helped that this was the man’s second offense, so if he violates the order he goes away for a long time and he knows it.

  It takes seven more hours before the nurses declare it’s time to push. I feel as worn out as Danny looks. Dominique looks . . . checked out. As her body worked to get her baby out, her mind seemed to drift off into another place. The TV wasn’t working as a distraction anymore, so that got turned off. The only sound in the room was the sound of the baby’s heartbeat and occasional scratch on vinyl sound of the baby moving against the monitor.

  “Are you ready to push now, Dominique? Do you feel pressure?” The nurse asks. She nods and tries to sit up. “Wait, wait. Let’s get the bed ready. Mom, Dad, are you holding the legs?”

  Danny stands up and tries to walk out of the room. “Oh, no. I’m just going to wait out here in the hall.”

  “No, Danny. You can stand up here by my head. I don’t want you to leave,” Dominique say
s, her face scrunching in pain.

  “Okay,” he says slowly. He’s been very careful to keep his distance and never touch her besides the handshake that first day.

  He stands almost behind the head of her bed, and I take a leg, my hands wet with nervous sweat. I feel like I may pass out. Dominique’s face is a mask of concentration as she pushes. And pushes. It’s a lengthy battle, but they are saying the baby is huge and may have to be taken by c-section. I know by the look on Dominique’s face that she’s not going to let that happen. That would set her back from going to college in a couple of weeks.

  Danny steadies me with a hand on my back, as I encourage her to breathe, to push, anything I can think of. I have no idea if my words are helping, if she can even hear me. Her face drips with sweat, as she shakes with the strain of her body.

  When the baby comes out, it’s with a cry that splits my heart open, along with my eyes. I start bawling like it’s my child that’s been born. The most beautiful cry from a mad little person has me shaking with so much emotion I collapse against Danny. That’s what I want, is my first thought. My eyes wont tear themselves away from the infant, but I feel Danny’s hands on my shoulders squeezing tight like he’s emotional too.

  The nurses try to put the baby on Dominique’s stomach, but she pushes him away. My heart stops as the blood drains from my face. I stop breathing. What is she doing?

  “That’s the mom and the dad. Give the baby to them.”

  My world takes a few seconds to come back online. Finally I respond. “Oh, Dominique. No. This is your baby.”

  She rolls her head on the pillow, exhausted. “When I look at that baby, it doesn’t mean the same thing to me that it does to you. You’re the best parents a kid could ask for, trust me on that.” Her eyes shine with tears, and she swallows. “Please love my baby, because I can’t.”

  With my mouth open and tears running down my face, I turn to Danny to see him blinking back tears too. He looks at me with hope in his eyes and I nod. Danny nods back and we turn to the nurse with both of our arms outstretched. Everyone in the room laughs at the over eagerness. The nurse places the baby in my arms, saying to Danny that he has to cut the cord.

  I gaze at the perfect little mouth, and perfect little nose and immediately start swaying back and forth.

  “Look at you, Mom. You’re a natural. Do you have any other kids?” the doctor asks as she throws something away. I nod in a daze.

  “Yes, I have a son.”

  “Well, that explains it then. Congratulations, you two.” Danny puts his chin on my shoulder and we hold our baby together.

  “Look at those fingers,” he says softly as the baby wraps them around Danny’s thumb. “So strong.” He stands up straight. “Wait, is it a boy or a girl?”

  All of the employees in the room freeze, before bursting out laughing. The doctor comes over to pat his shoulder. “It’s a boy, Dad.” I guess Danny was doing such a good job of not looking, he missed the baby’s gender.

  He turns to me with wide eyes. “Oh, shit. You got me a kid for Christmas. I’m never going to be able to top this.”

  “No.” I look to Dominique as she smiles freely for the first time since I’ve seen her. “She did.”

  Our Chance – Sneak Peak

  COMING MAY 2015

  Chapter 1

  "So we’re in the car. It's day one. The kids are sad to leave their friends but we're excited!" I tell the camera as I drive down the road. The camera is hooked up to a mini tripod with bendable arms. I have it on my rearview mirror right now.

  "We're not excited," I hear my ten year old son grumble in the backseat. I make a half smirk at the camera and call back, “Grumpy is only attractive on old men, Trigg. It's not your time yet." I picture him rolling his eyes and smile, changing lanes. "And don't roll your eyes."

  We're almost to the U.S./Canadian border in Alaska, so I turn off the camera and toss it in the passenger seat next to me. This trip is stressing me out, and we're like, four hours into it. A few months back, my grandma died and left me her old farmhouse in California. I had considered selling it, as my husband would have immediately wanted to do. But Sebastian isn't here anymore.

  I grab our passports and roll down my window as I see the guard tower up ahead. "You guys take a breath of this fresh mountain air," I yell to them and hear back three, “It's cold,” from behind me. April in Alaska is fly by the seat of your pants as far as the weather goes. It can be snowing one second, melting the next. Right now my car says it's thirty-three degrees and the clouds are a dark gray, hanging low and promising snow.

  "You're going to miss this later, I'm telling you!" I stop behind the line crossing over the boarder. Reading the sign on the side of the road, I glance back in the rear view mirror. "Harper, you left your booze for the neighbor, right? It says we can't take that stuff."

  My seven-year-old giggles. "Yes, Momma. I gave everything to Patty."

  "Good girl, honey. It was her turn to throw the kegger anyway. Jet, you didn't smuggle any guns onto this transport did you?" I turn to see my five-year-old in his booster seat watching the movie on the DVD player.

  "Nah, Ma. I sold it for a whack."

  Facing front again to hide my smile, I reply, "Did you say crack?"

  He yells, "No, Mom, a whack! Geez you're getting old."

  I flip back around fast. "Where's my cut?" I mock glare.

  He looks me up and down shrewdly, a sparkle in his blue eyes that we all share. "You just sold the house. Where's my cut of that?"

  I turn back around and move up in the line, attempting to change the subject. "Whelp, who wants to play I spy?"

  "No way!" I hear, so I reach my fist out towards my youngest son.

  "Fine, you keep yours and I'll keep mine."

  I get a fist bump as I get to the guard station and hear, "Deal."

  That crisis over, I reflect on the six years I've been here as I hand our passports through the window. Sebastian was in the Army, and we had just come from Germany to a foreign land that was a little more familiar. Alaska. We left home right out of high school. I don't think he had a good home life, based on the fact he never wanted to talk about his parents. He was a bad boy and I soaked that in like the rebel I was. We moved away and never went back to our hometown. In the beginning, it was because he refused to. Later, it was because I didn't want to run back to my parents when things got hard. And things did get hard. After three deployments in six years, I got the dreaded knock at the door.

  Any military wife knows that fear. You ask friends to call before they stop by, so you know to expect it. You keep your blinds open at all times to see your driveway. If you’re doing the dishes or giving your kids a bath and hear a car door slam, you know a fear unlike anything in this world. And it happens every day, multiple times a day. To say the life of a deployed spouse is stressful is an understatement of the highest degree. But then you have to be happy, play with your kids, and keep things normal for them. One thing you never think about is how you would explain to your babies that Daddy got hurt at work and wasn’t coming home ever again.

  You have a plan if something were to happen, of course. I just hoped it never happened to me. Our plan was for me to go home and have the support of my family around me. But with a chaplain sitting in my husband's favorite chair, two kids watching TV in the next room, and a baby stirring in my stomach, I felt I couldn't go back. That was his house. He built the shed out back. He mowed the lawn. He hated that tree that blew all of the branches against our windows in a storm. He last parked his car in the driveway. I wasn't going to move away from where my kids had memories of him; where I had memories of him.

  I had support from the military community that rallies in death. People cooked me food, and took the kids for a few hours when I felt like I couldn’t keep my pieces together anymore and needed to break down. They posted things, tagging me on social media, constantly letting me know they were thinking about my family. I was thankful, grateful, and a little bit suf
focated. Years ago, I heard stories of a woman who went to the homecoming of her husband’s unit and lost it when he wasn’t there.

  That wasn't me. I buried my husband in Arlington, VA, per the plan. I questioned that later, because it was so difficult to visit him. So, I made rag dolls out of his old shirts and the kids slept with those, giving them the comfort of their dad when they were too young to really understand what never coming home meant.

  Poor Jet never knew his dad. Before his birth, I grew obsessed with details like the first person to hold our first two babies was their dad. So when my mom flew up for the birth, I wouldn't let her have that memory. A nurse was the first one to hold him, and cut the cord. Silly things that now don't mean so much, but in the moment meant I was doing what I could to not have him be different.

  Being alone wasn't so different for me, except I lost my countdown. Spending six months with him gone in basic, then almost three years deployed plus training time, Sebastian was gone for over half of our marriage. It didn't make a difference, though. When he died, I lost my partner, my best friend, and the father of my children. I grieved, and the only thing that kept me getting out of bed every day was my kids. The only reason I ate was to feed Jet.

  I kept going for a long time on autopilot, not changing anything from how he would want our kids to be raised.

  In January, my Grandma Pierce died suddenly at the age of eighty-seven, leaving me her orchard. Her land butts up against my parents’ ranch, so us kids were always coming and going from her house. I'm still in shock she gave the whole estate to me. Even though I hadn't been back for eleven years now, I talked to her once a week like clockwork. I know she wanted me back. Not a phone call went by that she didn't bring it up.