It Happened One Night

by Lisa Dale

  “But will you miss it?”

  “Well, no. I’ll still have to do some traveling. But I never meant to travel quite so much. It just… happened. I guess I just never had a strong enough reason to stay.”

  Lana was quiet, emotions mixed. She heard what Eli was telling her—that he wanted to settle down. She was touched by his vision of having a future with her. If they made a life together, it would be a good life, full of love. But birds-of-paradise were winking orange in her mind.

  She rubbed her cheek against Eli’s chest and kissed him lightly. The streetlight imbued the room with a soft luster; the lights of the alarm clock glowed gently red. She stroked his arm in the silence and listened to the sound of his breathing as it slowly deepened and evened out. She felt so peaceful and blessed, to be able to lay like this with him, to feel with her body the moment he fell asleep.

  “I love you,” she said. She knew he couldn’t hear her, but she wanted to say the words out loud. “I’m in love with you. No matter what happens, that’s true.”

  She felt him stir. For a moment she held her breath, worried he’d heard her and yet wishing he had at the same time. She thought she was in the clear until a moment later, when she heard him whisper, soft as falling snow, “Then why not marry me?”

  She didn’t move, didn’t speak. He lifted slightly onto his arm, to look at her in the moonlight.

  “Do you… do you mean that?” she said, breathless.

  He didn’t reply. He stood and walked naked to the other side of the room. The top drawer of his dresser squeaked as he opened it, and when he returned to sit down on the bed he was holding a ring. No box, no velvet. Just a ring, lustrous in the moonlight between his index finger and thumb.

  “It was my grandmother’s,” he said, turning it so it caught the light. “I’ve been holding on to it for a long time.”

  The ring was beautiful, classic yellow gold and an unpretentious diamond. She didn’t reach for it, but she could imagine the feel of it on her finger; it would be snug and warm.

  He let his hand fall, the ring along with it, and he leaned forward to kiss her shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me yes or no.”

  “You mean, ever?”

  “For as long as you love me, the invitation stands.”

  She watched as he put the ring back where he’d found it. On some level, she felt the fundamental and quiet rightness of what he proposed. She was connected to him. Her life was bound up with his so tightly that she would always love him, regardless of whether they would succeed as a couple in the end.

  But how long would he wait for her if she went away? And if they were both coming and going, what kind of marriage would that be? Maybe the question would have been easier if he’d proposed after the baby was born. After she’d lived out her dreams for a while. If the timing was better, the word yes might have slipped effortlessly off her tongue.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, getting out of bed, the air cool on her naked skin. “This is just… it’s a lot for me. Everything at once. A couple months ago, if you’d asked me what my future looked like, I wouldn’t have said this. I never saw myself having a baby. Or getting married. Or… sleeping with you.”

  He was quiet as he came to stand beside her, the ring back in his dresser.

  She tried hard to explain. “I have some things to work out in my own head before I can say yes.”

  When he looked at her, his gaze was firm, something hard yet beseeching in his stare. “Just promise me that if you have to end this, you won’t do it badly. I don’t think my heart can take another jolt like last time.”

  “I promise I’ll never do anything like that again.”

  She didn’t miss the narrowing of his eyes, the slight flicker that said he didn’t entirely believe her. She smoothed back his hair, feelings of tenderness welling up inside her. She stood on her tiptoes and pressed a long, firm kiss on his forehead. The urge to comfort him was strong. “Do you want me to go home for tonight?”

  He grabbed her wrist. “Do you want to go?”

  “No.”

  “Then stay.” He pulled lightly, until she was close to him again. His mouth was soft. “Stay.”

  She gave in, felt the need behind his kiss and answered it, fed it with a desire of her own. The down comforter crinkled softly between them as he pulled her to the bed, and he tugged hard to get it out of the way, seeking access, asking with his hands.

  Once again, the future and the past became momentarily meaningless. All she knew right now was that she was his—that she always had been and always would be. He’d asked for her promise that she would not end it badly. She didn’t know how to tell him the truth: Marriage or not, being with Eli so completely after so long was the best thing that had ever happened to her. She was not ready to give up her dreams of traveling, of leaving, for a while. But what he’d started, she would never end.

  November 22

  When the November wind blew in from the north, down through the Champlain Valley, the old boards of the Wildflower Barn hissed and moaned as if in pain. The sky was low and dark; sprinkles of snow were whipping through the bare tree branches and diving fast toward the brittle ground. Lana was alone at the computer. And though the store was technically open—they stocked some indoor plants from their small greenhouse and also carried gift items—the bell on the door was silent. Most of the ordering done at this time of year came through the company Web site. Flowers were always blooming somewhere.

  Lana opened the next e-mail in the queue—her eyes were bleary and she ached from head to toe with fatigue. She knew she shouldn’t have been staying up so late, but the rewards of spending a hot midnight in Eli’s arms were far greater than the sleep she’d sacrificed for it.

  Almost a month had passed since the night he’d brought her to the field behind the college, and with each day, Lana felt as if she was healing. She was happier than she used to be. The joy she felt being Eli’s friend could not compare to the joy she felt being in his arms and bed. She’d believed it was impossible to take a perfect relationship and make it more perfect, to take two people who were so exceptionally close and bring them closer. She was learning, happily, that she’d been wrong.

  She forced herself to focus on the e-mail before her. A customer was complaining that he’d been charged $23 for a high-end lawn rake that he purchased online, while his neighbor had paid only $16 for the rake in the store. She arched her back, then rubbed hard at the muscles above her hip bones. Massage was futile. Her backache felt deeper than her bones.

  She hadn’t gotten very far across the room to check on the price of the rake when the doorbell rang and Calvert was in the Barn, wearing his same old work boots, jeans, and a big black coat. She was getting a little tired of him sneaking up on her like this.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, walking gingerly toward him, step over careful step until the pain in her back subsided.

  “I came to say bye.”

  She tilted her head. “Well then. Good-bye.”

  “But I want to talk to you first.”

  She frowned. “Forget it. Just go.”

  He looked at her for a long minute, the faded-denim blue of his eyes as sad as a winter day. He’d opened the Barn door but stopped shy of leaving. “Please just let me say this one thing. Then I’ll go.”

  She laughed. Pain shot through her, deep and low. She grabbed for her stomach uselessly, and she felt her belly harden under her hand. This wasn’t a backache. She put her free hand on the shelf beside her for balance, breathing out to let go of the cramping. The force of the pain made her angry enough to lash out. “All these years later and now you can’t wait anymore?”

  “I think I should have handled things differently,” he said. “I wasn’t good to you girls. I know that now. And it bothers me. I won’t be able to go on with my life until I set things right.”

  She couldn’t speak. A hot sting slid through her abdomen, a knife slicing a crescent into her lower half. She tried to te
ll him, to say help. But her breath came in short, fast pants. She bent forward, cradling the ache.

  In the distance she heard the sound of her father speaking, the most words he’d ever said to her at one time in her life. And yet his voice was only a blur in her ears. The muscles in her abdomen twisted and gripped; she could feel something moving, shifting. Karin had told her about Braxton-Hicks contractions—those painful practical jokers that sent first-time parents running for their overnight bags. But this didn’t feel like what she imagined contractions would be. She doubled over, her arms wrapped tight around her belly, and her whole body cried out with pain and with something else, with loss.

  Please, God, her heart prayed, pleaded.

  She didn’t hear Calvert coming toward her, calling her name.

  • • •

  Eli followed the receptionist’s directions through the hospital turn-by-turn until at last he found Lana’s room. By the time he reached her bedside, his heart was beating so loud he thought it might leap from his chest. Lana lay in a narrow white bed, her face turned away from the door. Karin stood fast when she saw him rush in, and he started to ask her what was happening, but she lifted a finger to her lips, her eyebrows raised exaggeratedly high. He recognized some of his own panic in her eyes.

  “Come here,” she whispered.

  He followed her into the hallway, wishing Lana was awake, wishing he could take her hand and hear her voice and know she was okay. But for now, he would be happy just to have the facts. “What happened?”

  “She went into premature labor,” Karin said softly. “They stopped the contractions with saline and terbutaline, so she’s in the clear for now. But there’s no telling when they’ll start again.”

  “Will the baby be okay?”

  “I don’t know,” Karin said, pain in her voice. The skin around her eyes had faded to a dull blue-gray, and her hair was a mess, falling in kinked strands around her face. “The doctor said its heartbeat is strong—it’s healthy so far. But it’s too young to be born. They gave Lana some kind of steroid to speed up its lung development and prevent brain hemorrhaging, just in case it decides that it has to be born sooner rather than later. But we’re praying it doesn’t come to that.”

  Eli ran a hand through his hair. The moment felt surreal. Steroids and brain hemorrhages. He couldn’t even imagine what Lana must be going through. He peered around Karin’s shoulder to see her, so still and quiet, her pale hair pulled away from her face and falling against the paler pillows.

  His heart ached to think that she’d almost lost the baby, and he realized just how attached to the child he’d become. Karin squeezed his arm. She too had something to lose. Probably, Karin already thought of the child as her own—as if Lana wasn’t the woman in danger of losing a child. The idea didn’t sit well with him, and he gently drew away his arm.

  “She’s okay right now,” Karin said. “You should have seen her. She was a trouper. Really brave and strong.”

  “What will they do for her?”

  “The doctor said bed rest.”

  “That’s it?”

  “There’s really nothing more they can do. They could set her up with a really expensive system to monitor her day and night. But the doctor said it probably wouldn’t change anything anyway. And you know how Lana feels about electronics.”

  “But bed rest? That just seems so nineteenth-century. They must have something better than that.”

  Karin smoothed back her hair. “Actually the doctor said bed rest wouldn’t necessarily help either. She said there’s no real proof that it works. But she said it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

  Eli had to step away from her a moment, away from the conversation. Frustration made his blood boil. He felt helpless, angry, and too late. “So what the hell is going to keep her from having the baby?”

  “I don’t know,” Karin said. “Rest. Taking care of herself. The baby will come when it wants to, but they want her to get to at least the thirty-five-week mark. Then, all we can do is give it a fighting chance.”

  “Hello.” A woman in scrubs and a white coat stopped near them in the hallway and held out her hand to Eli. Her dark hair was pulled back stark and tight around her face. Eli hadn’t even noticed her walking down the hall. “I’m Doctor Christianson. You must be…”

  “Eli Ward.” He shook her hand, knowing that she’d assumed he was the baby’s father. “Karin was just getting me up to speed.”

  “Very good. I was only just passing by, but I wanted to stop and introduce myself.”

  Eli had to force himself to let go of her hand. “How long will you need to keep her here?”

  She peered into the room. “We’ll have to see how well she responds to the medicines, but it will probably be at least a couple of days. She’s a fighter; I can tell. She’s going to hold on to that baby for all she’s worth.”

  Eli couldn’t help but glance at Karin. She didn’t look back.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I’m in kind of a rush. But I’ll be back again very soon.” Dr. Christianson began to walk down the hall, then paused and turned halfway around. “It’s always seemed to me that the patients who have families, friends—people to hold their hands along the way—do the best. You all are very lucky to have each other. I include Lana’s baby in that too.”

  Eli saw Karin rub at her eyes. Wordlessly, he put an arm around her and they sat down. All they could do now was wait.

  • • •

  Karin walked the long, sterile corridors of the hospital, hallways leading to hallways, doors opening to more doors. There was something nightmarish about all the tile and marble and low ceilings of white. Pictures of local heroes and finger paintings hung here and there on the walls, one no different from the other. It was late now, and the building was quiet, her steps echoing faintly. She knew the rooms around her were full of people, but as she passed through the gleaming marble corridors she felt entirely alone.

  She found him in the cafeteria, a room of empty, industrial-blue tables and stainless-steel countertops. Her instincts had told her that Calvert wouldn’t have left the hospital, that he was out of sight but still nearby, and she’d been right to trust herself. He sat leaning back in a chair with his knees sprawled open and his head tipped back to watch a muted TV.

  “Why didn’t you leave?” she asked, sitting down opposite him.

  If she’d surprised him he didn’t show it. He nodded toward the window. “I can see your minivan from here. I figured I’d know it, when you and Lana go.”

  Karin looked out the window, where a light dusting of snow came alive in the streetlights and turned the parking lot a gentle white. She had no sense of time or weather in the hospital; each second had ticked by the same as the last. The doctor had said the baby had a good chance, but Karin knew she wasn’t out of the clear yet. She couldn’t bear to be so close to having a child only to see the chance elude her once again.

  “Are they gonna live?” Calvert asked. His eyes were glazed-over and puffy; worry lines bracketed his mouth.

  “They’ll both be fine,” she assured him.

  “Did someone tell the baby’s father what happened?”

  Karin laughed. “The baby’s father doesn’t believe the baby is his. He doesn’t want anything to do with Lana anymore.”

  Calvert frowned. “A child should have a father.”

  “Well, I guess that’s one thing we agree on,” Karin said. She stood and pushed her chair in. “Listen, you don’t have to stick around here. You can go, okay? I’ll call over to the motel to let you know what happens.”

  “All right,” he said.

  She crossed her arms. “You know, I can’t fix what happened between you and Lana. That’s your business. But I don’t think you should quit trying.”

  He nodded. “I appreciate you saying that.”

  “Go home and get some sleep.”

  “Sure thing,” he said.

  She turned to walk back out of the big, empty hall, and when she
paused in the doorway to glance at him over her shoulder, she saw that he’d stretched his legs straight out before him and crossed his ankles. She knew he wouldn’t be going anywhere at all.

  Lana stared at the hospital ceiling, green-and-beige curtains surrounding her on all sides. The woman in the next bed over was snoring softly, but her television was blaring full blast. At the foot of her bed, Eli slept fitfully in a cheaply cushioned chair, his head craned at what looked to be a painful angle. From time to time, she could hear the squeak of a cart being wheeled down the long hall.

  When she was a kid, she used to have an elementary school teacher who would reclaim the class’s attention by dropping a big flat book on the floor. The sound of it slamming onto the tile commanded their attention and changed the whole energy of the room. Lana felt as if the universe had done the same thing to her now. She hadn’t been listening. Now she was.

  She’d almost lost the baby today. She still might lose it. She lay stone-still, afraid to move, afraid to do anything but breathe. The possibility of a future without this child…

  The truth was so powerful it was paralyzing. All bets were off. In the midst of wild pain, everything in her had focused on the one and only task of keeping her baby from being born no matter what it took. And it astonished her, the way her body had reacted even before her brain knew what was happening. The love that exploded inside her was so fierce it was nothing shy of possessive, and her basest instinct was maternal, protective, and stronger than she could have known. For months she’d doubted her own ability to be a parent. And yet now she knew the truth: No one could have the kind of feelings she’d had today—so primary and fundamental—and not be a good parent. Her love was too powerful, too strong, to allow that to happen. She was not like her father after all.

  She remembered what the woman in the Barn had told her: Dreams are tricky things. She’d always wanted an adventure, to test her limits and see what she could see. But now, with a kind of clarity that felt like revelation, she knew she would sacrifice anything for the love of this child. She’d never been so certain of anything in her whole life. She would raise her baby as her baby. And she would love it. Always. If it lived.