by Kathryn Shay
“Nell. I have three others. This one’s been the most uncomfortable.”
“Do you have a doctor?”
“No.” She took in a deep breath. “I didn’t with the others. I went to emergency when the time came.”
“I’m going to examine you. Is that all right?”
“Yeah.”
He sat down on a stool at the foot of the table. He could tell right away they had something to be worried about. Quickly he examined her. “Nell, you’re one hundred percent effaced and one hundred percent dilated.”
“That means...”
“The baby could come any—”
She let out a teeth-scraping scream.
The nurse rushed to the end of the table. “Oh, my God.”
Another scream.
“Hold her hand, Carolyn.” To the patient he said, “The baby’s coming. Push when I—”
Another scream. And she pushed.
The baby popped right out. No crowning, no shoulders first, it simply slipped into Connor’s hands. Startled, he held the big, red newborn. This time, the scream came from the child.
“Nell, you have a boy with very strong lungs.”
Two people came running into the room. “A nurse said she...wow, what do we have here?” Sarina asked.
Connor grinned at the squirming child. “A little miracle, I’d say.”
Later, when he was cleaning up in the doctors’ small area in the back, Sarina came inside and leaned against the counter. “Quite a day. You were a trooper, Doc. Thank you for coming in.”
When the waiting room filled up this morning, his second week working at the clinic, they’d called him and asked him to help out on his day off. “Yeah, funny how things work out.”
“You’ve delivered babies before.”
“Of course. Residency rotations. Fellowship. Quite a few in Syria.” He shook his head, remembering his time in the desert, and how children rarely entered the world in hospitals. “Not all of the latter were successful. A lot of stillborn births.”
Her face fell. “Why is that?”
“Poor maternal nutrition. No prenatal care. It’s sad.”
“As I said when we met, I admire you going there, helping those struggling people. Don’t want to go back?”
“I’m coming to think not. I can be of help here. Working in a clinic is worthwhile to me.”
“You could work here full-time. We don’t pay much, but we can scrape a salary together for you. You don’t have to start your own place.”
“I haven’t decided whether to stay in D.C. or go back home.”
“Then this would be perfect. You’d have time to decide.” She cocked her head. “Let’s go for a drink and talk about it.”
“You know, I’d like to do that. Thanks for asking.”
o0o
The nausea hadn’t returned after Calla’s trip to the market. In some ways, she was disappointed, and in some ways she was horrified: what could she possibly be hoping for? To trap Connor into marriage? She never wanted that. Besides how could she want to create the nightmare of her taking their children to Casarina he so feared?
To avoid thoughts of him, she headed to Lexy’s room. From the doorway, she studied the interior. All of them had gotten to choose their own color scheme when they became teenagers. Calla picked varying shades of red with a dash of pinks, Francesca daring greens from sage to emerald, Gabriella the blues of the sea and sky. Evangelina favored a peach décor, Mariela cream and taupe, and Ravenna, to match her nickname Raven, black wallpaper with splotches of color resembling modern paintings. Lexy, the last, had chosen what you might call a literary motif. The walls had been painted off white, and pictures of her favorite authors decorated one. Large-print quotes from literature graced another wall. She’d chosen an off-white couch and a chair that was stenciled with more quotes.
Leaning against the jamb, Calla said, “Hey, sis.”
Lexy looked up from where she’d been sitting at the desk. “Come in.”
“What are you doing? I don’t want to interrupt.”
“I’m writing.” She shrugged. “I write all the time. Nothing’s very good.”
“Can I see it?”
“No.”
“Then how about showing me your new clothes.”
“Um, I don’t have many.”
Calla crossed to the wardrobe and opened it. Three dresses, a few pair of pants, capris and shorts, with only a couple of tops hung inside. “Wow, this is pathetic, Alexandra. How can you live with so few outfits?”
“Said the woman who wore rags in Syria for two years.”
“Touché.”
Her sister’s face brightened. “I could raid your closet. You left all your clothes here.”
Throwing herself on the bed, Calla stared up at the black lacquer fan that spun around. “Go for it. They probably don’t fit me anymore, anyway.” In truth, she’d paid little attention to what she wore since she returned home and knew there was an embarrassing amount of clothes in there.
Lexy cocked her head. “You seem the same size as when you left. Maybe a bit slimmer.”
“Go take what you want.”
She lay back on the bed wondering what she was going to do with her life. Should she stay here in Casarina? She could work at a hospital. What would it be like to live with her family around? Maybe she could be part of the government. Be an aide to her father. He would love that. Her eye caught on one of Lexy’s quotes. These had changed over the years as Lexy had grown up. “Everything is a risk. Not doing anything is a risk. It’s up to you.” Nicola Yoon. Huh. Something to consider.
Lexy returned with an armful of dresses. “Calla, why did you buy so many things?”
“The person who bought them hadn’t been to Syria yet. Hadn’t been married and abused.”
Lexy set the clothes on the bed and sat next to Calla, taking her hand. “I know it was horrid living with Lorenzo. But what was Syria like?”
“There was such poverty. And diseases because of it. People lived in squalid conditions.”
“They must have adored you and Connor.”
She gave a genuine smile. “Connor mostly. He was everybody’s favorite.” She thought of Razim. “Come on, let’s try the dresses on.”
Lexy slipped into a yellow sundress. “Oh, it fits.”
“The color is wonderful on you.”
“I love it.”
Calla eyed the mound. “There’s one in peach. You can have that too.”
“You try it on first. Maybe we can wear them at the same time.”
The peach dress fit everywhere but the bust. “It’s yours.”
Lexy tried a slinky pink sheath. “Fits again.”
Calla tugged at the bodice of the second outfit she tried to get into. “Come zip me up.”
Lexy stood behind her. “It won’t go up. It’s too small on top again.”
Three others fit—or didn’t fit—the same way. “Calla, you grew bigger boobs.” A hesitation. “Why would that be?”
Calla stared at herself in the mirror. She was larger on top. There was no reason for that...except, her doctor’s mind told her, one.
“Calla? Why?”
“I’m not sure.”
Lexy circled around to stand in front of her. She looked older than moments before. “Aren’t you? Because Mamá told me you threw up at the market. Now your boobs are bigger.”
“You know the symptoms.”
“Yes, big sister, I do.”
o0o
Syria, eleven months ago
“Dr. Connor, wake up.”
Connor bolted up from his cot. “What is it?” He raked back his hair. “Razim. Is something wrong?”
Next to Connor, Calla awoke. “What’s going on?”
“A woman, in the village. She is having a baby. She could not make it in.”
“She’s close to delivery?”
“Her aunt is there. She says Amira will have the child before the night is over.”
“Grab the bag, Calla. I’ll get blankets. Towels.”
Heat slammed into them and they saw a swarm of mosquitoes buzzing around the light in camp as soon as they walked outside. Quickly they took out bug spray, always in their packs, and sprayed themselves. In Syria, the bugs spread disease like wildfire. They made their way into the street, threading through the darkness that shrouded the path to the edge of the village. Stars lit their way. Razim led them and Connor held Calla’s hand.
“When was the baby due, Razim?” Connor asked.
“Not for a month.” His voice held concern. He’d seen a lot in his twenty-seven years. A lot of bad things.
Connor sighed. Premature babies were common here, but worrisome. Full-termers had a hard enough time making their way into the world under primitive conditions.
It seemed to take forever to walk there—the one Jeep they had was broken—but finally they reached a shack made of stone and dirt with a thatched roof. They were met at the door by a man. He spoke some broken English. “Doctors, thank you for coming. I am Amira’s husband, Ahmet. She is in pain.”
“We’ll help.”
Ahmet gestured to Calla. “Only her.” He ducked his head. Said something to Razim in his own language.
Razim frowned, but translated. “Men are not allowed to do a private thing.”
Calla stepped forward. “I’ll go in and check her out. If I need Connor’s help, Razim, you have to convince Ahmet to allow it.” She disappeared into the house.
Connor said, “Tell him I’m not only a man. I’m a doctor.”
Razim communicated Connor’s message. The man shook his head. In minutes, Calla appeared at the door. “The baby’s in breech position.”
“What does that mean?” Razim asked.
“This will be a hard delivery. She needs us both.” With that, Calla went back inside.
Razim relayed the message to Ahmet.
Connor put his arm on the man’s shoulder. “Do you love your wife?” he asked simply.
The man frowned. Spoke in Arabic. Razim translated. “He said he has four other children. He needs her.”
“Tell him he’ll have her only if I help.”
“Connor!” he heard from within, Calla’s voice rising in concern.
Her husband must have caught her worried tone and finally agreed.
Connor entered the hut. It smelled...primitive. Like dirt and straw. And food just cooked in a fire pit. The woman lay on a cot writhing, but she wasn’t screaming. “She’s quiet.”
“She’s been taught to be. Come up here next to me, Con. Feel her stomach.”
He put both hands on her big belly. Moved them around. “The baby’s huge.”
“Should we try to turn the fetus? I don’t know if we can get it out any other way because the shoulders are bound to be big.”
“Go ahead.”
Calla spent an agonizing several minutes turning the baby. Her aunt held a cloth to Amira’s mouth and she bit down hard. When the positioning was completed, Connor said, “Here, let me deliver.” He knew adjusting a breech baby was exhausting.
Calla moved to the head of the cot. “Push!” Calla mimed the movement.
Miraculously, the woman pushed.
“The head’s crowned. The baby’s coming already.” Another push. “Good, good. I have the shoulders.” It took a second for the rest of the little body to slide out. Connor held him against his chest. Every time, no matter where he was, the feel of a newborn in his hands made him feel like God. He cherished the moment, then handed the baby to Calla.
Awed herself, she put the infant on the mother’s chest. “It’s a boy.”
When the aunt realized this, she smiled for the first time.
Calla tended to the woman and Connor made sure the baby was breathing, checked his vitals, suctioned out his nose and put him in a blanket that looked handmade. Then they gave him back to his mother. When he began to nurse, Calla and Connor left her and gave the news to her husband. He understood the term boy, fell to his knees and said a prayer in Arabic.
For the fifth baby, this seemed odd.
Razim explained. “He has four girls. No boys.”
“Ah.” This from Connor.
On their way home, Razim walked ahead. He often gave them time alone. Calla was unusually silent. “What’s wrong, love?”
She stopped. There were tears in her eyes. “I want to have a baby, Connor.”
He didn’t know where he found the strength to say the hardest thing he’d ever say. “You will. Soon, probably.”
“No, you don’t understand. I want to have yours. Your baby!”
Chapter 12
* * *
Nick asked for a family meeting with his siblings in D.C. They also included Max and Macy and met at Whitney’s condo. The group assembled in the living area, seated around a coffee table, and Nick got right to the point. “Isabelle has to go on bedrest for the rest of her pregnancy. Evelyn Hicks is with her today, but we can’t expect her mother to be at our home all the time. Isabelle doesn’t want to disrupt Evelyn’s entire life.”
“We can help.” This from Gabe. “We all love Isabelle.”
“She doesn’t need constant companionship, just someone in the house to keep tabs on her, get her meals. And in case she goes into labor. The babies still have six weeks left to go but we all know twins often come early.” He turned to Gabe. “I’d take a leave of absence but we’ve got a hundred cops coming in next week. You can’t handle that alone.”
“Probably not. But if we had to, we could get help from the trainers at the center. What we can’t do is cancel the session.”
Connor grinned. “I know of somebody who’d love to spend time with their daughter-in-law.”
Whitney matched his expression. “Great idea. We invite Mama and Pa down to help out. They’d jump at the chance. They could stay with us.”
“I thought of them but their lives will be upended.”
“It should be their choice,” Connor told him.
Nick visibly relaxed. “Then they could stay at our house. We have a big suite on the first floor for company, and I’d get to see them more, too. Is that okay with you, Nitwit?”
“Sure. They’ll get to spend time with the boys and Isabelle. All of us can still pitch in to give them breaks, too. Pa likes to sightsee in D.C.”
Connor thought of something else. “I talked to Dec last night. Maybe he could take some time off and come down for a week, too. It will be good for him to spend time with us.”
“Why, is something wrong?” This from Gabe, the oldest brother and protector.
“No more than usual. Though I do think he’s lonely. And he never takes a vacation.”
Whitney asked, “What about his girls?”
“Dec told me in our last conversation that they have a long weekend coming up. Maybe he would take them out of classes for a few days.”
Nick smiled. “So I’ll call them.”
“Not yet.” Whitney’s hand covered Max’s. “Max and I can plan our wedding while everyone’s here. That would be fun.” She frowned. “So long as it’s small.”
“And soon,” Max added.
“Great idea. After you talk to Mama, Nick, I’ll tell her the wedding plans. Connor, call Dec and tell him what we want.”
Connor suddenly felt uplifted. Maybe he was going to make it without Calla.
All day long, he couldn’t get the clinic out of his mind, and especially Sarina’s offer. He was never sure he wanted to settle in Lakeville. He adored his parents, but that wouldn’t be enough. Truthfully, after living in Syria, he liked the big city. And he could get a place here and not impose on Whitney and Max anymore.
Around dinner time, back at the condo, Whitney came to the spare room where he was perusing the real estate ads. “Did you get hold of Dec?”
“Yeah, I did. He thought coming here was a great idea.”
She cocked her head. “You okay?”
“Why?”
“You seem
better. But preoccupied.”
“I am better. Sit with me a minute.” When she flopped down on the bed, he said, “They offered me a full-time job at the clinic where I’m volunteering.”
“Wow. As I mentioned before, research says having actual clinical experience helps in getting funding.”
“Who knows, maybe working there would be enough for me.”
A big smile bloomed across his face.
“Oh God, I’d love to have you in D.C. But Mama and Pa might be upset. Do you think they’d ever leave Lakeville and move to Maryland?”
Connor shook his head. “Not while Dec’s there.”
“Maybe he could relocate, too.” Whitney was on a roll. “Maggie’s in her last year of high school and is going to American University. The younger girls are mobile. And Lila’s here, so I’ll bet they’d be thrilled. Wouldn’t it be a kick if we all ended up in the D.C./Maryland area?”
Con nodded. “Uh-huh. Now tell me how you are.” He already knew she wasn’t pregnant.
“We admitted we wanted a baby, so we’re trying for one.”
He winked. “A lot of fun in that.”
Whitney waited a bit. “You miss her, don’t you?”
“Yep. But I’ve got to move on. I’m no good at moping.”
“You never were. Remember when your girlfriends ditched you in high school? You just moved on to the next one.”
He pretended umbrage. “I was never dumped!”
“Like hell.”
“Well, maybe once.”
Again, Whitney hesitated. “Is she staying in Casarina?”
“I have no idea. You haven’t heard from her?”
“No.”
“I wonder how she is.”
“You could call her.”
“No, I can’t. As I said, I’ve got to move on. Without her.”
o0o
“Yes, Princess Callandra. You are pregnant.” The palace doctor had come in earlier to draw her blood, and he returned as soon as possible with the news. “From the test and my exam, I’d say only a few weeks, though.”
As if from far away, she heard her mother say, “You’re certain, Dr. Caruso?”
“I am.”
Only one thing reverberated through Calla. You’re going to have a child, you’re going to have Connor’s child. Pure joy accompanied the mantra.