by Anne Carol
David and I enjoyed post-concert “dates” every night that week. Yes, they were very late nights, but Margaret helped with Christine in the mornings so we could sleep late. During the day, she and I enjoyed walking around the hotels and their vicinities. All in all, my mother-in-law got to see Dallas, Houston, San Antonio, and Oklahoma City. She vowed to return with Charles one day for an “American-style holiday.”
Needless to say, David and I were sad to see Margaret go, and I got teary-eyed the morning she left. She cradled Christine in her arms and declared in her Scottish brogue, “Oh, my little lass will be so much bigger next time I see her!”
“You can fly out anytime, Mum. You know that,” David reminded his mother. “We really appreciated your help.”
“It was my pleasure,” she said, looking back and forth between us.
“And don’t worry, we’ll send you updates and photos,” I said, dabbing my eyes.
“Like, of her first guitar solo, her first jam session with her daddy, her first—”
“—Oh, David.” I gave him a playful punch.
After Margaret left, I missed having an extra set of hands and thought more about hiring a nanny. Brooke suggested I ask Jenny to come help. Christine was already familiar with her, so it made sense. Jenny was no longer at university and, last time I checked, was working a dead-end job while she searched for a long-term teaching position.
It took several tries to get a hold of her—what with the time zone difference—but when I finally did she hardly said hello before bursting into tears. “Beth! I’m so glad you called,” she sobbed into the phone.
“Jenny, what’s going on?” Chills tickled my spine as I feared the worst. Were my aunt and uncle healthy? Was Jenny hurt? Did someone die?
“It’s Simon. He-he’s engaged!” The honking sound of nose blowing startled me. “I can’t stop crying.”
Oh dear. “Wait a minute. I thought you guys just decided to take a break like two weeks ago. How can he be engaged already?” I rubbed my forehead, losing count of how many times I’d listened to Jenny cry over Simon, her on-again/off-again boyfriend.
“I don’t know. It’s absolute crap!” she shouted, making me pull the phone away from my ear. “Apparently he met some tart at a Chinese chippy, struck up a conversation, and that was it! I’m forgotten, Beth. I don’t think he ever loved me. Why did I waste all those years on him?”
Good question. “Because you’re a loyal and devoted woman. And you loved him.”
She huffed out a short breath. “But we fought all the time. I should’ve seen this coming.”
“Then maybe this is for the best. There’s somebody out there for you, Jenny.”
“I know.” Her voice was finally calming down. She sniffed. “I just always thought we’d end up together.”
“I’m sorry, honey. Maybe what you need is a change of scenery. And a cuddly baby.”
“What are you going on about?”
“I could really use some help with Christine. Can you come join us?”
“Are you kidding? Yes! When?”
“Yesterday.”
Jenny flew into drizzly Denver two days later. Christine and I met her in the lobby of our hotel. When she spotted us, she dropped her luggage, ran over, and grabbed Christine. “Oh, I need baby loves!” She kissed Christine’s cheek and handed her back to me. Hugging me, she said, “Thanks for asking me here. I needed to get away.”
When I backed up and got a good look at her face, I saw red and puffy eyes. “Are you still crying?”
Sniffling, she waved at me. “I’m almost over it.” She took Christine’s hand. “A bit of baby therapy will heal my broken heart.” Her tone was melodramatic, making me wonder if this was a good idea. Was she going to be like this for the next few months?
Christine reached out to touch Jenny’s face like she was trying to place her. “You remember cousin Jenny?” I held her closer to my cousin.
“She’s gotten so big. And she’s adorable.” Jenny kissed her forehead. “I’ll bet your daddy dotes on you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Would you expect anything else from David?”
“No.”
I laughed. “He’s a wonderful dad.” I gestured to the front desk as Christine burrowed into my shoulder. “Let’s get you checked in and settled. This little girl needs to go down for a nap.”
For the next two hours, instead of sleeping, I got to listen to the saga of Jenny and Simon. I started having serious regrets about inviting her on tour. This girl’s relationship issues sounded worse than a Harlequin romance novel. By the time the baby woke up, I was more tired than before she went down. I couldn’t wait to leave Jenny behind with Christine so I could attend the concert. Maybe I could steal a few moments of shuteye backstage during the show.
No such luck. Jenny practically begged to go along, insisting she’d take care of Christine the whole night. Of course, I caved. I figured with everything she’d gone through with Simon, she deserved some fun. At least David and I got to make out in the tuning room without “little eyes” watching from her stroller.
Jenny whooped and hollered the entire show that night, and I feared she’d never offer to stay back with Christine. She proved me wrong, however. Christine entered a fussy stage the same week, and the only option was to keep her at the hotel. Brooke was now leaving her kids with Esther, Don’s cousin, so I didn’t relish my child being the only crying baby backstage. I was relieved when Jenny offered to stay at the hotel to watch Christine during the concerts.
Unfortunately, she went back to her hotel room the second we got in from a show and then slept late in the mornings. This made it hard for date nights to happen. To make matters worse, Christine’s fussiness intensified, and she started a pattern of waking up at three in the morning crying.
Since David needed energy for interviews, photo sessions, and evening performances, I took over the nighttime care. Sleeping four hours straight became a rarity. The naps I got in during the day were disrupted by Christine’s cries. Even though Jenny was in charge, I couldn’t relax enough to fall into deep sleep.
One afternoon when Brooke and her kids were over, she pointed out that Christine had a runny nose. “I bet she’s come down with a cold,” she said. I froze.
Burying my face in my hands, I muttered, “What I would give to have Margaret or my mom here.”
“Thanks a lot, cousin,” Jenny quipped as she paced the room with Christine.
“I’m sorry, Jenny. It’s just that they’d know what to do.”
“Beth, don’t panic,” Brooke spoke up. “Both my kids have had colds. I can give you a list of things to do. Jenny, does she feel warm?”
Jenny felt her forehead. “Maybe a little.”
Brooke turned back to me. “You have an infant thermometer, right?”
“Of course.”
While I went to fetch my medical kit, which Margaret had helped me assemble, I thanked God for providing me some guidance via Brooke. I was so tired and stressed I couldn’t think straight. Jenny was doing her best, but it just wasn’t enough. My body needed sleep. I hoped with Brooke’s advice, I could help Christine with her symptoms so we could all get more shuteye.
Between the three of us, we took her temperature, which was slightly elevated. Brooke then wrote down instructions on how to alleviate the cold symptoms, but suggested I phone our pediatrician for his input. That would have to wait for the morning since London was seven hours ahead of us. In the meantime, I followed Brooke’s advice by nursing Christine more frequently. She also showed me how to use the nasal aspirator and graciously loaned me her humidifier.
I didn’t go to David’s concert that night. Christine seemed more comfortable, but I wanted to be near her. Jenny stayed with me for moral support mostly. My little girl ended up falling asleep in my arms, so I just held her for the longest time before going to bed early.
When she was no better off three days later, David began to worry about both Christine and me. I’d phone
d our doctor and was following his orders to the letter, but he’d told me a cold could last a week to ten days for an infant, which meant more sleepless nights for me. David could see how exhausted I was and he could no longer sleep soundly whenever I was up with her. Consequently, we were both on edge. One night while I nursed her I started crying and couldn’t stop.
“Why the tears, angel?” David’s voice startled me.
I quickly wiped my eyes. “I’m just…”
“Knackered,” he finished.
“Yes.”
“You should let Jenny take her during the day so you can rest.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” I huffed. “Christine fusses with her because she’s not feeling well.”
“Then let her fuss a little. Jenny’s here to help, and you need sleep.”
“I can’t relax when I know she’s upset.”
“I know the feeling,” he muttered.
Ignoring his statement, I went on, “David, this is what being a mom is about, being sleep-deprived.”
“I’m worried about you. You’ll get sick, too, if you don’t get some rest.”
“I’m fine. You certainly shouldn’t be up. Go back to bed.”
“I miss you and want you in bed with me.”
“Right now, the baby needs me more.”
David’s head hung low, and he stepped back. Oh, Beth. I’d never felt more pulled in so many directions. Frankly, what I craved was solitude, pure and simple: a little space, a good book, and a glass of wine. But instead, I had a sick baby who wasn’t sleeping well and needed nursing constantly, and a husband who yearned for my affection. Lord, give me strength, I prayed.
“You’re beautiful when you nurse, you know,” he said, his voice full of love.
He always knew how to soften me with words. “It’s actually relaxing.”
“I’m sorry if I came on too strong just now. I just want you and my girl healthy.”
“I know, David.”
He nodded to our daughter, who was now sleeping. “Why don’t you come to bed? She’s out.”
After carefully putting her down in the crib, I joined David in bed. We cuddled and kissed, which led to more than cuddling and kissing. I didn’t realize how much I needed the connection with him. Finally feeling a sense of peace, I curled up in his arms and fell asleep.
I couldn’t believe the nerve of her!
What was the matter with that girl to choose an unfaithful, wishy-washy bloke over her own cousin? When Beth told me Jenny was flying back to London, I was dumbfounded. When she told me why, I told her this was beyond the pale—unacceptable!
“So let me get this straight. He barely survived a car accident, and now he’s in hospital, begging for Jenny? What about his fiancé?”
She’d shrugged. “I guess it didn’t work out. Simon wants Jenny back, so Jenny’s doing exactly what she shouldn’t—running back to him.” She huffed. “I am so fed up with her.”
Not only did we lose help with Christine, but Beth gave her cousin some choice words before she departed. Their row fueled so much bitterness they were no longer on speaking terms. Beth’s stress level didn’t need this. Christine was still sick, though she didn’t seem to be getting worse, at least. Brooke assured us this was normal with their developing immune systems. That may have been, but I hated watching my little girl suffer.
I tried to support Beth any way I could. Sometimes it was enough to hold her in the late night hours and let her cry on my chest. Sometimes I gave her a back rub. Other times, when she was up to it, I made love to her, which kept our bond close. It also brought color back to her face, which made me smile inside. No matter how difficult life was, we still valued our affection for each other.
I’d like to say I was the only one who gave color to Beth’s cheeks, but I couldn’t claim such a thing. The morning our tour bus crossed the Arizona/California border, her whole face lit up. She let out a howl I’m sure originated in her high school cheerleading days. Christine watched her with wide eyes, probably thinking, “What’s wrong with my mum?”
I knew what this meant for Beth. My wife was excited to introduce our daughter to her home state. Moreover, we were a week away from spending time with her parents and grandma. Translation: Beth would get a big break.
Los Angeles meant bigger and better post-concert parties. Beth had been cooped up with our sick daughter for over a week, and she was itching to get out. I still wasn’t keen on going to parties and facing temptations, but an event came up I couldn’t miss. Being in one of the largest recording industry hubs, we had the chance to attend a gala hosted by a well-known record label. Beth deserved an elegant night out, to dress up and act her part as a rock star’s wife. Don’s cousin offered to watch Christine so we could both attend the party. Beth was hesitant about leaving her when she still felt poorly, but after I had a black cocktail dress delivered to our room, she tossed out her reservations.
Beth dropped Christine off with Esther, and then she and Brooke came back to our room to powder their noses and curl each other’s hair. Don and I tried to stay out of it by working on chords for a new song. Anything to tune out the giddiness of two young mums anxious for an evening out.
Lucky for us, the record label party was being held downstairs in the ballroom; quite convenient for when it was time to leave. With the way Beth came alive, however, the posh shindig might have been on a different planet. Now I understood how much she needed a break from baby care. She marveled at all the famous faces and didn’t skimp on any fancy hors d’oeuvres. She also, with my blessing, had a glass of champagne. I stuck to fizzy water, of course.
Because the event was packed full of bodies, I didn’t let her get too far from me. She and Brooke wandered nearby, admiring all the dresses and seeing who was with whom. I chatted to numerous people in the music business, and I may have flashed a few photos of Christine. Many of them commented on the article Lana had written, saying they were impressed at how I’d turned my life around.
“My wife is a saint. If it weren’t for her, I might be dead. Who knows?” I stated, not at all exaggerating.
“Well, the music world would miss you if anything happened, so keep her around. Where is she, anyway?”
“Oh, she’s about.” I scanned the room, my heart pounding when I didn’t see her at first. Then, with her back to me, I spotted her huddled with Brooke. Warmth came over me at the sight of her wavy hair trailing down her back. Good heavens, she’s gorgeous. Wanting to be close to her, I excused myself from Evan, the LA music producer I was chatting with, and headed over to my wife. She was sipping a glass of gin and tonic, her favorite cocktail. Fantastic, I may have to carry her upstairs.
“Don’t you think you should slow down, love?”
“Oh, I’m fine and dandy, Mr. Somers,” she slurred. No, she wasn’t.
“No more after this one,” I said calmly. “And how are you, Brooke?”
She gave me a wide grin and giggled. “This is sooo good.”
I could count on one hand the number of times I’d seen Brooke drink, so this wasn’t ideal. It was only a matter of time before she made a dash for the loo. “Where is Don?” I asked airily while I glanced around the room.
“He’s off in one of the side rooms chatting to Martin, something about his girlfriend.” She waved her hand like she was shooing a fly, then wavered a bit.
“Hmm…” I mused. Martin’s new situation was promising, as the girl in his life was his first love. “The one that got away,” he’d once said. “Have you eaten anything, Brooke? Perhaps you—”
“Oh gosh!” She cupped her hand over her mouth and wrinkled her nose. “Where’s the loo?”
I pointed in the direction, and off she went, clutching her midsection. Turning to Beth, I raised my eyebrows. “Well then…”
She smiled and stumbled toward me, wrapping her silky arms around me. “Can we dance?”
I laughed. “Whatever you want, angel.” I hugged her and kissed the top of her head. T
aking her hand, I led her to the dance floor. A slow song was playing, a new one by Lionel Richie. I smiled to myself, secretly wondering how Jeff, my roommate from rehab, was doing. He’d played Lionel Richie songs nonstop in our room.
Beth lay her head against my shoulder and we swayed to the tune, “Hello.” For those few moments, she forgot about all the high profile celebrities in the room. For now, it was just the two of us, alone.
The moment passed all too quickly when Depeche Mode’s “Just Can’t Get Enough” started playing. Beth broke apart from me and, grinning, started dancing up a storm. I tried to follow her lead. Though I hated fast dancing, I didn’t want anyone else dancing with my girl.
I was just getting into a groove when a man in a server’s outfit approached us. “Excuse me, Mr. and Mrs. Somers?”
“Yes?” I asked.
“You’d best head to your room ASAP. An ambulance is on its way to take your baby to the hospital.”
I wasn’t sure how I made it back to our room. All I remembered was praying nonstop that our baby wasn’t seriously ill. I’d never been so scared in my life. My little angel, unable to breathe. That’s what Don’s cousin, Esther, had told us. As the paramedics placed a breathing tube over my crying child and strapped her baby seat to the stretcher, Esther recounted the frightening story.
“I couldn’t get her settled. She was beside herself, coughing and struggling,” she said, tears in her eyes. “I tried a steamy washroom, fresh air…nothing worked. And then her cough grew wheezy, so I immediately called for an ambulance. I’m so sorry, Beth.”
My face was drenched with tears, but I tried to maintain composure for my daughter’s sake. David was a mess, hovering over her and watching everything the EMTs were doing. “Please, God,” he whispered. He put his arm around me and let me cry on his shoulder.
Christine seemed to settle down once she started breathing through the tube, and the EMTs double-checked the straps holding down her car seat. “Okay, we’re ready. Mom, you can ride with us,” said the young paramedic with sandy-colored hair. He told David which hospital to meet us at, and then, seeing David’s panicked expression, gave reassurance Christine would be fine. He nodded and drew me in for a tight hug.