by Risk, Mona
“Drink your milk, sweetie. It’ll help the breastfeeding.”
Monica’s fork froze halfway to her mouth. “Breastfeeding?”
“I breastfed all my babies. The mother’s milk helps babies stay healthy.”
Lou arched an eyebrow at Monica’s horrified expression. “I’ve never considered breastfeeding them.”
“Of course, because the Morevs planned to take them right away, but now if you want to keep them, you should think about it.”
Her lips jutting in a pout, Monica considered her chest with curiosity and patted her breasts. “I can try if you think it’s better for the babies than feeding from bottles. I think I have milk.”
“I’m sure you have milk,” Barbara smiled. “When the nurse brings them to you, we’ll tell her you want to try.”
“That’ll be fun.”
“Sometimes, it’s frustrating if they don’t want to suckle.”
Lou narrowed his eyes. Was Barbara testing the young mother’s willingness to bear hardship for her newborns? Good for you, Barbara. It would help them assess Monica’s ability to raise her children.
“Have you chosen names from them?” Barbara handed her the knife she couldn’t reach.
“When Ian was with me, we chose names, but I won’t use them now.” A gleam of regret flickered in her gaze. “Can I name them now or should I wait?”
Barbara tilted her head toward him. “What do you think, Lou?”
“Let’s wait until I hear from the lawyer.” He came closer to the bed, hoping his daughter wouldn’t resent his question. “Have you received all the money they owed you?”
Monica nodded. “I got half of it when I signed the contract. I was supposed to receive the rest after the delivery, but Ian handed me a check with the rest when he left me to go back to his wife.” Panic crept over her face and shadowed her eyes. “Does it mean they own my babies?” Her body writhed as she clutched the blanket.
Lou patted her arm. “I plan to return every penny and have them sign a release.”
She let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Lou. I’m glad you came.” Was it Barbara or the babies who made such a difference in Monica’s behavior?
Overwhelmed with emotion, Lou brushed her forehead with a kiss and was rewarded with Barbara’s satisfied nod. He checked his phone. “I will meet with the lawyer now. Be back in an hour or so.”
Barbara was glad to have a private time with the young mother, but the doctor came right after Lou left. A young woman in her thirties, she reminded Barbara of her daughter Madelyn. Barbara removed the breakfast tray and withdrew to a wall to make room for Dr. Pierce who examined her patient.
“Your latest tests are good and your scar is healing nicely,” Dr. Pierce said. “Tomorrow I’ll remove your stitches and discharge you. One of the babies can go home with you. The other needs to stay a few more days according to our neonatologist. Do you have any questions?”
Monica shook her head.
“That’s great news. Thank you, doctor,” Barbara said since Monica remained quiet, but she couldn’t help noticing the tremor of the young mother’s fingers and the anxious gaze she cast at the doctor’s departing back. “You’re going home tomorrow with one of your babies. Isn’t it wonderful?”
“Home? With a baby?” Monica slid down from her pillows and pulled her blanket up to her chin in a protective gesture.
“Monica, isn’t it what you want, to take your babies home?”
The young woman’s face morphed into a mask of panic. “Yes, it’s what I’d love to do, but how am I going to handle two babies on my own, in my small apartment?”
“Ah.” Reality had finally showed its difficult side. It was one thing to be pampered in a hospital bed and play mom, and another to deal on her own with crying newborns. “You’ll learn on the job as all young mothers have to.”
“Yes, sure.” Monica contemplated the nail she was chewing on. “Well, if you did, I can learn to do it too.” The quivering of her voice belied her firm statement.
Pity and a hint of guilt stabbed Barbara. Her mother had been with her when she brought back her firstborn from the hospital, and Barbara herself had lent a helping hand to each of her daughters after their children were born—even forced them to lie down while she took over the heavy chores and midnight feed to allow them to rest.
Monica had no mother, no one to stand by her side. “Sweetie, would you like me to stay with you at the beginning?”
“Would you?” Her voice burst with hope. “I want to keep my children, but I’m afraid to drop them, or hurt them, or… I’ve no idea what to do. Please, Mrs. Ramsay, spend some time with me.” Her eyes imploring, Monica grabbed her hand.
Barbara covered it with her own. Lou’s daughter needed her. At home, she had nothing interesting waiting for her. Holding babies again had always delighted her. She was a professional mother as Heather often told her.
“I’ll spend a few days with you until you get used to the new situation.”
Monica exhaled her relief and threw her arms around Barbara’s neck. “How can I ever thank you?” Barbara hugged her back.
The nurse came in pushing a glass bassinet. “Would you like to breastfeed?”
“Yes, come Baby Boy, breakfast time.” Monica raised herself against her pillows and held her arms up.
“Nurse, we’ll do one at a time to start. Leave the other in his crib,” Barbara suggested as she untied the mommy’s hospital gown and lowered it to her waist.
Monica took the baby, cradled him in her arm, and held the tiny face against her swollen breast. “Open your mouth, Baby Boy.” The newborn continued to sleep in his comfortable cocoon. “Oh no, wake up.”
“Easy, Monica. Don’t get frustrated yet. It’s new to him and to you. Actually, you’ll be more comfortable with a pillow under the baby to raise him.” After adjusting the small body on the pillow, Barbara tickled his cheek and brushed his lips. When he finally opened his mouth, she brought the nipple close to his mouth and slid it between the tiny lips.
“Yeah, he latched on.” Monica chuckled and observed her baby with delight. “It tickles. Look, isn’t he cute?”
“Adorable.”
Monica winced. “Ouch, it hurts now.”
Bending over mother and baby, Barbara examined the breastfeeding procedure with a professional eye. She’d helped Heather and Roxanne during the first weeks following their babies’ births and could write a book about how-to with newborns. In fact, Madelyn had sought her advice a couple of times before publishing medical articles for her neonatology journal. “It’s normal. It means he’s sucking well.”
A moment later, the baby fell asleep but his twin was crying. Barbara set Baby One back in his bassinet and handed his brother to Monica. “Same thing, on the other breast.”
Monica repeated Barbara’s gestures, teasing the baby’s lips, squeezing his cheeks until he opened his mouth and latched on her nipple. “Home run.”
“See it requires some patience.”
When Baby Two fell asleep on his mother’s breast, Barbara held him against her shoulder and gently rubbed his back. “You have to burp them after they finish their meal. Now I’ll burp the first one and call the nurse to take them.”
Exhausted, the happy mother closed her eyes. “Thank you, Mom.”
Was she thanking her deceased mother for answering her prayer, or calling Barbara mom?
“Monica—”
“Do you mind if I call you mom? Jennifer never let me call her that. I made her look too old. Besides she wasn’t much of a mother.” The young woman snorted. “Not like you at all.”
Barbara’s eyes misted. “Of course, you can call me mom.” She had the feeling Lou’s daughter had adopted her. How would Lou feel about it?
“I think I’m going to nap,” Monica said, but the nurse interrupted her.
“I brought the birth certificate forms for you to fill in. Can you do it now?”
“Yes.” Not heeding her father’s suggesti
on to wait until the babies’ situation was cleared, Monica took the papers and pen, and smiled at Barbara. “Mom, what’s your favorite name?”
“I’m an old fashioned person. I like traditional names.”
“Such as?” Monica insisted, the pen in hand.
“I lost a little boy called Christopher years ago.”
Monica studiously filled the form. “I’m done. Here.” She handed the papers back to the nurse without hesitation and rubbed her hands. “My babies have names now. They’re mine to keep.”
Chapter Nine
Lou paced the lobby of the hospital waiting for Barbara. He’d just called her and asked her to bring the key of Monica’s apartment. The elevator stopped and she stepped out, as relaxed as if she’d spent her morning strolling along the streets of Paris rather than keeping company with a difficult patient. She smiled and his heart filled with elation. His dear friend was becoming indispensible to him. But then a simple friendship was not exactly what he felt toward her. He’d prefer friendship with special benefits—to be named later.
Lou strode to her, wrapped his arm around her waist, and placed a quick kiss on her parted lips. She hadn’t had time to react and he enjoyed a taste of her sweet mouth.
“Lou, we’re in the middle of a hospital.”
“So? Greeting you with a quick kiss is not a sin.”
“Not exactly quick.” She licked her lips. “I could taste beer on your mouth.”
“You could? Really?” Did the woman realize the power of her words on his anatomy? “Would you like another —”
“Lou, stop it.” Her cheeks blushed but she didn’t scowl. “Tell me what you did with the lawyer. Did you meet the Morevs?”
“No. Let’s go to the nearest restaurant and I’ll tell you all about my day.” They strolled out of the hospital and settled in a lunch place, not too far. “What do you want to eat?”
“I’ll have a salad. Madelyn put me on a strict diet before I went to Paris. I’d better get back on it. I’ll have water now and later a cappuccino. You?”
“A turkey sandwich sounds good. And a beer since you like its taste on my lips,” he added with a wink.
“A playboy is always a playboy. You’re incorrigible.” She chuckled and fluttered her napkin on her lap. “So tell me what you did. You seemed pleased with yourself.” Ready to listen, she folded her hands on the table.
“Jack O’Brien, my lawyer’s partner from the New York office, had invited the couple to meet with him. I sat in the waiting room with a newspaper. I wasn’t ready to let them see me.”
“Why not? I thought you’d want to meet them.”
“No way. With my position at the TV station, I don’t need someone to spread rumor about Lou Roland’s daughter becoming a surrogate because her father left her without money. Can you see the nice scandal to be exploited by my competitors?”
“Lou, she’s not using your last name,” Barbara reminded him. “How can they link her to you?”
“Still, I d rather be safe. We, reporters, are good at digging dirt. Anyway, they look like a nice couple. They immediately signed the release but wanted Monica to keep the money. They said it wasn’t fair for her not to be paid after they put her through the trouble of a pregnancy and left her to cope with two babies. O’Brien called me. I insisted he give them my check with the full amount. I’d rather we don’t owe them a penny, even if they feel it’s her due.”
Barbara offered him a delighted smile and squeezed his hand. “Wonderful, so now the babies are officially hers.”
“Yes, I hope she’ll do the right thing and put them for adoption.”
“I doubt it.” Her frown convinced him that she too wanted Monica to keep her newborns. How like women to be sentimental and support each other.
“Did you talk to her?”
“Yes, I did. She really loves them, Lou. She’s ready to take care of them with a little bit of help.”
“A little bit? Barbara, you’re not realistic. I’ll talk to her this time and make sure she’ll listen.” How like Barbara to soften and not see the whole picture.
When they entered Monica’s hospital room, they found her propped against her pillows, her newborns cradled in her arms. Her high cheek bones and pert nose reminded Lou of her mother, but her brown hair pulled in a ponytail and her face void of makeup lent her a softer aura Jennifer had never possessed.
“May I introduce you to your grandsons, Christopher Ramsay Roland and Louis Carl Roland.” Her lips harbored a sweet smile but her baby-blues sparkled with a mix of pride and challenge.
Lou’s jaw sagged. Emotion paralyzed him. Speechless, he stared at her, trying to collect his thoughts. Had he heard right? Had this young woman who’d claimed many times Lou wasn’t her father now named one of her sons after him? How often had he wished he had a son or a grandson to play with and spoil? And here she’d offered him two, one who carried his full name.
“Do you want to hold, Baby Lou?” Monica asked with a hesitant voice, but Barbara took one baby from the young mother and planted him in Lou’s arms.
The newborn squirmed and cuddled against Lou’s chest. Something snapped inside him. Or maybe a grandfather instinct surfaced from under the hardened executive skin and rattled the breath in his lungs. Lou touched his lips to the soft duvet on the tiny head.
“Here, give me Baby Lou, and hold Chris. Monica named him after the son I lost, Christopher Ramsay.” Barbara’s eyes filled with tears.
Wow, his daughter was one smart cookie. She’d garnered a wonderful grandmother for her twins. Lou accepted the exchange of babies and cradled Chris. The baby chirped and Lou chuckled. “He’s so cute.”
Sighs of relief echoed in the room and caught his attention.
“Aren’t you pleased I gave your name to my son, Lou?” The familiar pout and insolent tone brought him back to his senses. That was the Monica he knew well.
The impudent girl had named the babies before they decided together on their futures and she gave them his full name and Barbara’s surname. Clean names that had never been touched by gossip. How on Earth could he put them for adoption now without stirring a huge scandal?
He studied Monica’s features. Too early to decide if the babies resembled her. But he’d seen the biological father. A decent man. No worry about the boys inheriting bad genes. Lou wouldn’t blame Ian Morev for giving in to temptation and sleeping with a pretty manipulative young woman. Lou, himself, had done it way too often.
“Did you fill the birth certificates?”
“I did. There’s no way I’m putting them for adoption. No way,” she insisted, her chin tilted in stubborn defiance. “They are going home with me tomorrow. The neonatologist said they are doing well and can be discharged now. Both,” she repeated with a determined look.
“Listen, Monica.” He kept Baby Chris in his arms but raised a hand to prevent Barbara from interfering. “I don’t want to deprive you of your children. But I want to be sure these babies will not be neglected, because you’re too young, inexperienced, careless, and…” He swallowed the word selfish. She’d given up her college and tuition to nurse her ungrateful mother.
“I’m young and inexperienced, but I’m not careless. Besides, Mrs. Ramsay has promised to stay with me and help me at the beginning.”
“She what?” Good thing he hadn’t dropped the little bundle. “Barbara, what is she talking about? You can’t do that.”
“Why not? I love babies. Monica needs our help. You’ll supply the financial part. I’ll handle the practical and emotional support. Don’t worry. She’s already learned to breastfeed and will soon become an accomplished mommy.”
“’I don’t doubt it if she has you for a mentor. But seriously, Barbara, it’s too much. I can’t accept—”
“Hush, Lou. Monica is very dear to me. She’s your daughter and I appreciate her strength of character.” Barbara smiled at the young mother who beamed.
They sure got along well. Together they’d managed to trick him
into abandoning the adoption idea. But he wasn’t upset. On the contrary he wanted to gather Barbara in his arms and thank her the only way he knew well.
He stepped toward her and held her hand to his lips. “You’re an angel. My angel.”
“Oh Lou, you should learn to kiss her better.”
He scowled at his impudent daughter, and then reconsidered. “Hold your baby and let me show you I can do better.”
Monica burst out laughing as he handed her Baby Chris and enfolded Barbara in his arms in spite of her protests.
“Lou, we are in a hospital room.”
“We’re not going to shock this patient. She’s beyond redemption herself.” He didn’t give her a chance to say more and crushed her mouth with a searing kiss.
When he released her it took him several seconds to recover his senses. He turned to Monica who stared at them, gaping.
“Okay, young lady, we’ll give you a chance to prove yourself. Remember, these babies are human beings, not toys to be played with and rejected when you get tired and fed up of their tears and screams.”
Monica nodded and kissed each soft head.
“Now, I’ll take Barbara to visit your apartment. We want to see if it needs cleaning before you are discharged and bring the babies.”
Monica grimaced. “Oh it’s a mess. I’d rather you not see it. I’ll fix everything when I go home tomorrow.”
“Really? And who will take care of your kids meanwhile? I’ll ask the building janitor to bring a cleaning lady. She’ll put it in good shape today.”
“Good idea, Lou,” Barbara said. “Monica, you better rest as much as you can today. Serious work starts tomorrow. I’ll go with Lou and see what we need to get to make the place comfortable for you and two newborns.”
****
In a flurry of activity, Barbara supervised the cleaning of the apartment, wrote a list of items for Lou to buy, checked on each of her daughters, and brewed a strong coffee using the four-cup coffee maker sitting on the kitchen counter top.