A Natural Father

by Sarah Mayberry

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I think I’m bleeding again,” she said. “I felt a rush, like last time. Oh God.”

  She lifted the hem of the stretchy black tunic she wore over a pair of pale gray leggings. They both stared at the damp spreading down her thighs.

  “That’s not blood,” he said.

  Her face was pale as she met his eyes.

  “My water must have broken.”

  There was bone-deep panic in her eyes. She was only thirty-four weeks.

  His phone was in his hand before he’d even formulated the thought.

  “Ambulance,” he told the emergency services operator. Immediately he was patched through to the ambulance service. It took only a moment to give their location.

  “Two minutes. We’re lucky we’re so close to the hospital,” he said as he ended the call.

  “It’s too early,” she said as he led her back inside the café. “The baby’s too small still.”

  “Lots of babies are born early and survive,” he said.

  She grimaced and her hand shot out to grasp his arm. Her fingers convulsed around his wrist.

  “Oh boy. I think I’m in labor.”

  She leaned forward, groaning.

  “Is she all right?” a voice asked behind them.

  It was the shop owner, looking concerned. A crowd of customers was forming.

  “The baby’s coming,” he said. “The ambulance is on its way.”

  “Oh!”

  “It hurts!” Lucy groaned.

  The wail of sirens sounded in the distance. One of the customers went out into the street to flag it down.

  “We’ll be at the hospital in five minutes,” he said.

  “Rosie! I need Rosie.”

  “I’ll call her.”

  The ambulance shuddered to a stop out the front of the café, lights circling, its siren piercing until it was silenced abruptly.

  Rosie’s phone went through to voice mail when he dialed. He left a quick message.

  “I’ll try Andrew,” he said before Lucy could ask.

  She nodded her thanks as the ambulance crew entered. While they settled her into the gurney, he called Andrew’s cell. Again he got voice mail. He left another message.

  “They had a court hearing this afternoon. A divorce,” Lucy said as the paramedics began to wheel her out the door.

  He grabbed her bag and coat and umbrella.

  “I’ll meet you at the hospital,” he said.

  She nodded, but he could see how afraid she was. He hesitated only a second before following her to the ambulance and climbing in after her.

  “I’m coming with you,” he said.

  She bit her lip, then nodded.

  “Thank you.”

  He reached for her hand as the ambulance started up.

  “You’re going to be okay,” he said.

  She was about to answer when her eyes rounded and she gasped.

  “Oh God!” she groaned, curling forward.

  “When was your last contraction?” the paramedic asked.

  Lucy was too busy panting to respond.

  “Just before you arrived,” Dom said.

  The paramedic’s eyebrows rose. “That’s pretty close.”

  “I guess. Is that bad?” Dom asked quietly.

  “It’s fast. Her water just broke? There’s been no other signs of labor? No backache or any other cramping?” the paramedic asked.

  Lucy shook her head and collapsed down onto the gurney.

  “Are the pains supposed to be this bad?” she asked, her voice faint.

  “When the labor is fast like this, they hit hard.”

  The ambulance slowed as it turned a long curving corner. Dom guessed they’d arrived at the emergency bay.

  Within seconds the doors were open and Lucy was being raced to a cubicle. They transferred her to a bed, and a nurse helped her remove her leggings and underwear. Dom moved to the head of the bed and laid his hand on Lucy’s shoulder. He felt utterly useless, but he refused to leave her side.

  An older woman with faded blond hair entered the room.

  “Hello, Lucy, I’m Julie. I’ll be your midwife this afternoon,” she said with a warm smile. “How are we feeling?”

  Lucy groaned as another pain hit. Dom watched as her belly hardened and her body stiffened. Julie frowned.

  “Okay, Lucy, I’m just going to take a quick look and see how far along you are.”

  Very aware that he had no right to be a part of this experience, Dom glanced away as the midwife checked Lucy’s cervix. The midwife was very matter of fact when she straightened.

  “Lucy, you’re almost fully dilated. This baby wants out, fast. I’m afraid we’re not going to be able to give you any pain relief.”

  Lucy shook her head. “Is my baby going to be all right? It’s so early…”

  “We have the neonatal team on standby, but thirty-four weeks is very viable,” Julie said. “I’ve called your obstetrician, Dr. Mason, and he’s coming in. But I should warn you that you may have delivered before he gets here.”

  “I don’t care. As long as my baby is okay.”

  She growled low in her throat as another contraction hit. This time she slapped a hand onto Dom’s arm and clung on so tightly his skin turned white.

  “Hang in there, Lucy. This is going to be fast and furious. The important thing is that I want you to wait until I tell you to push, okay? Pretty soon you’re going to want to do that more than anything, but I need you to wait until I give you the go ahead. Okay?” Julie asked.

  Lucy nodded. Dom reached out to push the damp hair off her forehead.

  “You’re tough. You can do this,” he encouraged her.

  “It’s not like I have a choice. I never have a choice,” she panted.

  Her mouth opened on a silent cry and her fingers tightened around his. He watched her body quiver for what felt like forever, then she collapsed back onto the bed.

  “I want my sister,” she said, staring forlornly at the ceiling.

  “I know. I’m sorry,” he said.

  She turned her head to look at him.

  “You don’t have to stay. I know you feel guilty, but you don’t have to stay.”

  “If you want me to go, I’ll go,” he said.

  Lucy’s face screwed up with pain and she clutched at his hand as another contraction hit. Over the next fifteen minutes, her contractions came faster and lasted longer. Sweat rolled down her face. Dom offered water, his hand and words of encouragement. He’d never felt more helpless in his life.

  “Oh! It’s burning,” she gasped. She grunted, her chin buried into her chest, tears rolling down her red face.

  Julie checked between her legs.

  “You’re crowning, Lucy. Don’t push right now. Give your vagina a chance to stretch. I know you probably want to push like hell, but give your body a chance to adjust.”

  Lucy tucked her chin down more and panted.

  “Right. Go for it, Lucy. Whatever feels good. Give me all you’ve got,” Julie said.

  Lucy strained upward, letting go of Dom’s hand to clutch at the mattress, both hands fisting into the sheets. Dom moved close, his arm sliding around her shoulders to support her, wanting to take some of the pain for her or help her in some way.

  “Good girl. You’re doing great, Lucy. I can see the baby’s head,” Julie said.

  “Oh!” Lucy said, her eyes widening suddenly.

  And then a thin, high wail sounded and Julie was holding a small, red-and-white bundle in her arms.

  “Is she okay? Is she all right?” Lucy asked.

  “She’s breathing well. Our neonate specialist, Dr. Wilson, is just going to check her over,” Julie said.

  Dom took Lucy’s weight as she relaxed. Not for a second did her gaze waver from the small shape in the doctor’s arms. Dom stared down at Lucy’s face, damp with sweat, tendrils of hair clinging to her temples. She was amazing. Absolutely amazing.

  “Lucy, I need you t
o stay with me for a bit,” Julie said.

  Lucy tensed and groaned, a look of utter surprise crossing her face.

  “More pain. Isn’t it supposed to stop now?” she gasped.

  “That’s the placenta. Just push when you need to.”

  The next few minutes passed in a blur as Lucy grimaced and panted and bore down.

  “Okay, I’ve got it. Well done, Lucy,” Julie said.

  “How is my baby?” Lucy asked for the fifth time.

  “She’s six pounds three, a good weight for thirty-four weeks,” Dr. Wilson said. “Good color. Good movement.”

  “Can I hold her?” Lucy asked.

  “I don’t see why not. We’ll want to get her into an incubator and check her out more fully, but she’s a good, strong, healthy baby for thirty-four weeks,” Dr. Wilson said.

  He brought the baby to the bed. Lucy held out her arms and the doctor placed her on Lucy’s chest. She looked impossibly tiny to Dom, her body curled in on itself, her skin still speckled with blood and a white, waxy substance. Her dark hair was matted to her skull, her tiny face screwed up in outrage as she mewled her objection to the rude awakening she’d just experienced.

  “She’s beautiful,” he said, his voice rough. “She looks like you.”

  Lucy laughed. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She reached out and ran a finger gently down her daughter’s cheek.

  “Hello, little one. I’ve been waiting so long to meet you.”

  “Congratulations, Lucy. Do you have a name picked out?” Julie asked, a warm smile on her face.

  Lucy nodded, never taking her gaze from her child.

  “Mariella. It was my grandmother’s name,” she said.

  “That’s lovely. Does it mean anything?” Julia asked.

  “Beloved,” Dom said quietly. “It means beloved.”

  Lucy looked up at him. There was nothing he could do about the tears on his face, so he just held her eye.

  “Lucy, how about we see if she will take the breast?” Dr Wilson suggested. “She may not, but she’s so strong I’d like to at least give it a try.”

  Dom let her rest back against the pillows while Julie helped adjust her hospital gown. Lucy cradled her daughter close to her breast while Julie offered a few quick instructions.

  At first Mariella screwed up her face and turned her face away as Lucy brushed her nipple across the baby’s mouth. Lucy tried again, and finally the baby’s mouth opened. She nuzzled the nipple curiously, then instinct took over and she drew it into her mouth.

  “That’s fantastic. Wonderful,” Dr. Wilson said.

  A slow smile spread across Lucy’s face as Mariella suckled. She glanced up at Dom, her eyes big and soft.

  “Isn’t she incredible?”

  “Yes.”

  Emotion choked his throat. More than anything today, the sight of her breastfeeding her child hit him in the gut and the chest.

  “I’ll go try Rosie again,” he said, backing away from the bed.

  Lucy nodded, not taking her eyes from Mariella.

  “Tell her to hurry. She’s missing out.”

  “I will.”

  He stepped out into the corridor and strode down the corridor quickly until he could see daylight outside the emergency entrance doors. Then he was sucking in the damp cool air of a wet afternoon.

  He had just witnessed a miracle. It was the only way he could describe it. The birth of a tiny new person. Lucy’s child. Mariella. Beloved.

  He took a deep breath, fighting for control. He would never forget the past hour, ever. It was burned into his memory, the most privileged and precious moments of his life.

  For a man in his position, it had been the ultimate gift. A priceless blessing.

  And he was well aware that he was the last person Lucy would have chosen to share the experience with if she’d been given a choice.

  He pulled his phone from his pocket.

  Now that the emergency was over, Lucy would want her family by her side.

  * * *

  LUCY FRETTED as the nurses cleaned her up and helped her into a hospital gown and transferred her to a ward. They’d taken Mariella away for a more thorough examination but promised to return her to Lucy for another feed.

  A tired smile curved her mouth as she thought of her daughter. So small and pink and angry. She was perfect and fragile and terrifyingly small. The love that had risen up inside Lucy the moment she’d looked into the daughter’s face had been so overwhelming, so undeniable it had taken her breath away.

  A footfall sounded in the corridor and she tensed. Maybe they were bringing Mariella back to her.

  Or maybe it was Dom.

  He hadn’t come back. Not since the birth. She’d waited for him to come back after calling Rosie and Andrew again, but he hadn’t.

  She frowned down at the blanket she was pleating between her fingers. She knew better than to expect anything from him. After all, he was the man who “couldn’t give her what she wanted.” Seeing her give birth wasn’t going to change anything. If anything, it would probably make him run in the opposite direction.

  Even if he had cried when she held her daughter for the first time.

  “Lucy!”

  Rosie rushed into the room, Andrew following.

  “I’m so sorry. We were in court, it went on and on. We broke the sound barrier trying to get here,” her sister said. “Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”

  “I’m fine. The baby is good. The doctors wanted to check her out again, but she’s really healthy. Big for thirty-four weeks.”

  “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you,” Rosie said.

  “Dom was here,” Lucy said.

  “So I gathered.” Rosie gave her a careful look and Lucy shrugged.

  “That’ll show him for dumping me.”

  “Yeah, way to punish him. Make him witness childbirth,” Rosie said.

  Andrew leaned forward and kissed Lucy’s cheek.

  “Congratulations. Do we have a name?”

  “Mariella.”

  Rosie’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh. That’s beautiful.”

  Andrew smiled and put his arm around his wife.

  “When can we see her?” Rosie asked.

  “She’s in the preemie nursery on the second floor.”

  Andrew and Rosie looked at each other.

  “Off you go,” Lucy said with a rueful smile. “I can see I’m no longer the star of the show.”

  “We won’t be long,” Rosie said. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  Rosie and Andrew headed for the door.

  “Oh, and your mother’s on her way in,” Andrew said.

  She settled back down onto her pillows as they left and closed her eyes. Her body ached. She had two stitches and some bruising from the rapid labor. She was exhausted. She wanted her daughter.

  And she also wanted Dom to come back.

  * * *

  ROSIE STOOD at the window to the nursery, staring at the rows of tiny babies in front of her. They were all so small, most of them with tubes in their noses and mouths, and drips in their arms.

  “They’re so tiny,” she said.

  “Not ours,” Andrew said. He gave her a nudge and she saw that the crib closest to the door was labeled Mariella Basso and was playing host to the biggest baby in the nursery.

  “Good lord, she’s a giant,” Rosie said.

  Andrew laughed. “Only by comparison.”

  They moved closer, pressing their hands against the glass. A few dark strands of hair poked out from beneath the baby’s bonnet.

  “She’s got dark hair, like Lucy.”

  “And she’s got Lucy’s nose and mouth.”

  “Thank God. Can you imagine Marcus’s nose on a girl?”

  A nurse came forward to check on Mariella. Rosie frowned and moved to the doorway.

  “Excuse me, sorry. I’m her aunt. Is everything okay?” she said.

  The nurse smiled.

  “Absolutely. She�
�s a firecracker, this one.”

  She gestured for Rosie and Andrew to come in.

  “Come closer. She won’t bite.”

  “If you’re sure…?” Rosie said.

  “Of course. Aunts need to meet their nieces straightaway. Makes it easier to ask for babysitting duties later on,” the nurse said with a wink.

  Rosie moved closer to the clear-sided crib. She glanced at Andrew and he smiled, his eyes soft.

  Mariella lay curled on her side, her hands pressed to her mouth. Her eyes worked behind her eyelids, and her mouth opened and closed rhythmically.

  “Mariella. It’s very nice to meet you,” she said quietly, leaning close. “You certainly came in a big hurry, didn’t you?”

  The baby shifted her head fretfully.

  “Hello, little lady,” Andrew said. He reached out a finger and ran it over her cheek. “She’s so soft.”

  He smiled at Rosie, and she reached out a tentative hand.

  This was her sister’s child, her blood. The next generation of her family. A part of Lucy, and a part of Rosie, too.

  She stroked Mariella’s cheek, then traced a tiny pink ear.

  “She’s perfect,” she said.

  Love welled up in her, and she let the tears slide down her cheeks. That was something she’d learned in her once a week therapy sessions—that it was okay to cry, to feel compassion for herself. She’d learned a lot of other things, too, about herself, and her relationships with her mother and her sister and her husband.

  Nobody had waved a magic wand. She still had her moments of doubt and uncertainty. But she was starting to understand herself better, and how the patterns of her childhood had impacted on her adult life.

  She traced one of Mariella’s tightly fisted hands. To her surprise, the baby uncurled her fingers and opened her hand. Rosie hesitated a moment, then pressed her finger into the tiny palm. Immediately little fingers closed around her finger in a tight, instinctive grip. Rosie swallowed noisily and sniffed. Then she looked at her husband.

  “I want this,” she said fiercely.

  He leaned across and kissed her.

  “We’ll get there.”

  Looking into his blue eyes, she could only believe that they would.

  “Whatever it takes,” she said.

  It had become their mantra.

  “Whatever it takes.”

  * * *

  LUCY WOKE TO THE RUSTLE of plastic bags. She’d dozed off while she waited for her sister to return. She opened her eyes as Dom moved quietly toward the door.