Jeremy

by S. M. Shade

  “That a tree could look sad?” I tease.

  “That you were so talented. I mean, I don’t know anything about art, but this…I could stare at it for hours. I want to take it home.”

  His words fill me with joy. All he has seen from me is weakness and struggle. I’m proud to show him a part of who I really am. Who I was before I became the pregnant woman. A sticker beside the frame shows that it’s already been purchased.

  I reach up and squeeze his hand. “Thank you.”

  “The dot means it’s been sold, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, actually, Penelope just told me they’ve all been sold, except one that I didn’t offer for sale. And I need to talk to you about that.”

  A small crowd builds around us, so we move to the next painting, a more serene landscape of the lake. He wheels me to a small bench, then takes a seat so we’re side by side. “You need to talk to me about a painting?”

  “Yeah, because it’s sort of…a painting of you.”

  He blinks and a small smile leaps to his lips. “You painted me?”

  “I did. And I should’ve gotten your permission to display it, but we weren’t really talking then. I’m not going to offer it for sale unless you’re okay with it.”

  He turns his head, looking around the room for the painting. “It’s the featured piece, in the center of the next room,” I explain.

  It’s almost funny how quickly he weaves us in and out of people to get to the painting, but my stomach is one big knot. It isn’t a smiling photograph of him we’re heading toward, but an emotional snapshot of the first time our worlds crossed.

  There’s quite a crowd gathered around, but he cuts through it like butter, until we’re standing in front of his face.

  All the feelings of that day come rushing back, the humiliation and pain, anger, and regret. That’s how I know it’s good. Maybe not to everyone, but to me. It makes me feel, puts me right back into that place and time.

  It seems like hours pass while he studies it without a sound. The people around us have plenty to say, commenting on everything from technique and use of color, to the emotions it evokes. So far, no one has noticed the subject of the piece is standing near them.

  His voice cracks when he finally speaks. “When did you paint this?”

  It doesn’t occur to me not to answer honestly. “The day after I spent the night at your house.”

  He doesn’t comment further, until Penelope approaches us. “Have you reconsidered?”

  “Sell it,” he says.

  My heart throbs as I realize he doesn’t like what he’s seeing. It makes sense, I suppose. No one likes being brought face to face with their own pain and suffering, which shines clearly from his likeness.

  Looking up at Penelope, I nod, and she flashes a smile, rushing away.

  “I’ll be right back,” Jeremy says, and walks away before I can answer.

  So, that went well.

  When he returns, we move around the room, mingling and talking with the patrons. I spend a few minutes in a question and answer session, then retire to one of the back rooms for a break. I don’t know why I feel exhausted when I haven’t done anything but talk from the comfort of a chair.

  Sweat starts to pop out on my skin, and my head throbs in tune with my heart. I suddenly feel weak and shaky.

  Jeremy’s voice sounds like it’s travelling through a tunnel when he asks, “Mel, are you okay? You look pale.”

  The whole room jerks from one side to the other, and my hands grasp at the wheelchair arms. It’s the strangest sensation, to feel like you’re moving when you’re sitting still. “Dizzy,” I gasp out, before vomiting down the front of my dress. My only good maternity dress, I think, and it’s my last thought before everything goes dark.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jeremy

  “It’s my fault.” The hospital tiles blur beneath my feet as I pace back and forth. “It was too much for her.”

  “Bullshit,” Landon replies. “You told us the doctor said she could go.”

  Landon and Justus both rushed to the hospital when I told them Melissa was in trouble. A doctor emerges from the double doors and asks, “Are you Melissa Sander’s family?”

  “Yes.” I step forward, resisting the urge to grab him and shake the words I want to hear out of him. “Is she okay?”

  “We were able to get her blood pressure under control for the moment. Are you the baby’s father?” His serious tone worries me.

  “Yes, is he in danger?”

  “At the moment, they both are. High blood pressure isn’t uncommon in pregnant women, but hers is indicative of pre-eclampsia.”

  I run my hands through my hair. “I don’t know what that is. Can it be cured?”

  “The cure is to deliver the baby.”

  My skin turns to ice. “She’s only twenty-seven weeks along. Can he even survive?”

  “Yes, and we’re going to do everything we can. He will go straight to our neonatal intensive care unit. At twenty-seven weeks, he may not be able to breathe on his own or regulate his temperature. There will be complications to watch out for.”

  “Statistics.” I choke out the word. “Do you know his chances?”

  “Ninety percent of babies born at twenty-seven weeks survive. There are chances of developmental issues and other future problems, but they aren’t our main focus right now. After the delivery, we’ll be taking it one day at a time. We have to give him time to gain weight and strength.” His face softens. “We will do our best for your son and keep you updated on his progress.”

  “Does Melissa know?”

  “Yes, she didn’t want to deliver. She was willing to risk her life for his, but she understands now that isn’t the choice. We deliver or neither of them may survive.”

  I feel Landon’s hand on my shoulder as I ask, “Where is she?”

  “I’ll take you to her.”

  Landon and Justus wait in a nearby waiting room while I’m lead to Melissa’s room. She looks so tiny in the bed, with monitors stuck all over her. It’s everything I can do not to burst into tears, but I have to be strong for her.

  “Jeremy,” she says, as soon as she sees me. I can hear the plea in that one word. It tears me apart that I can’t do anything to change this horrible situation. I do the only thing I can, and wrap her in my arms.

  “I’m so sorry, Mel.”

  “The baby, he might not make it. He could have underdeveloped lungs, or a weak heart or—”

  “Shh. He’s going to be okay. He’s got you for a mother. He’s a fighter too.”

  We don’t get much time before a nurse enters with a set of scrubs. “If you’re accompanying her to the OR, you have to scrub up and wear these. Stay where the nurses put you or you’ll be removed, understand?”

  “I understand.”

  Mel’s forehead is clammy under my lips when I kiss her and promise to see her in the operating room.

  I’m lead inside by the same nurse. Mel lies on her back, a sheet hanging across her chest blocking her view. Her arms are strapped down to the table, spread out in a T.

  “Wow, I hope you can keep the outfit,” she says, giving me a weak smile.

  “We’ll play doctor all you want, babe.” I take her lax hand. “How do you feel?”

  “Like a gigantic lump. I’m numb from my chest down.”

  The nurse scoots a chair over to me. “You can sit here and hold her hand. Please don’t get up or move. There will be a lot of people in here to care for her and the baby after he’s delivered.”

  “I won’t move.”

  I sit as close to her as possible and stroke my fingers over the back of her hand. There’s no way I want to look over that sheet. I’m not usually bothered by blood, but I can’t bear to see them cut into her.

  An unwelcome image flashes through my mind of Frannie, covered in blood, in a hospital just like this one, and I blink it away. There’s only so much a man can deal with at one time.

  It happens unbeli
evably fast. While I continue to stroke her hand and comfort her the best I can, she never takes her eyes from mine.

  “I love you, Melissa.”

  “I love you, too.”

  We’re waiting to hear a cry, but no cry comes. The doctors rattle off numbers and everyone rushes around, but I don’t even realize he’s been delivered until they move him to a clear table and crowd around him.

  “Is he out? He’s not crying. Is he breathing?” Melissa cries in a panic.

  One of the nurses walks around to talk to her. “You have a beautiful baby boy. He needs some help breathing, like we talked about before, which is normal for a preemie. Other than that, he looks healthy. All ten fingers and toes.” The nurse smiles at her, and Mel breaks into tears.

  “Thank you.” Her eyes roll back as she whispers it again. “Thank you.”

  “Mel!” I leap to my feet, but the nurse puts a calming hand on my shoulder.

  “She’s okay. Patients often lose consciousness from the trauma of the surgery and anesthetic. Her heart rate is good. They’ll get her closed up, and she’ll go to recovery where they’ll keep her sedated for a bit. I’ll take you back to her room, so you can change.”

  Landon and Justus sit perched on the wide windowsill in her hospital room and they both look up as soon as I enter.

  “Is she okay?” Justus asks.

  “Yeah, she’s going to recovery. They won’t let me in for a little while.”

  “And the baby?” Landon asks.

  “Hanging in there. He wasn’t breathing on his own.”

  I flop down into the chair, and my head falls to my hands.

  “He’ll pull through, man,” Justus says. “Give it a little time.”

  “I thought the same thing with Frannie.” The words spill out of me.

  Landon walks over and sits in the chair beside me. “This isn’t the same thing. I was there too, we all were, and that was a nightmare I know you suffer more than we do, but this isn’t the same. That was a murder. This is a medical emergency and she got help fast enough. You aren’t going to lose Melissa or your son.”

  “My heads all messed up,” I confess, looking up at Landon. “I’m still so pissed over Frannie, that she didn’t get to have the long life she deserved. It wasn’t until after she died I realized I really did love her, but now, with Melissa, it feels different, like I didn’t know what love really was until now. But if what I felt for Frannie wasn’t love, I don’t know what it was.”

  “There are different kinds of love. Just because you’ve fallen in love with Melissa doesn’t mean you loved Frannie any less.”

  “I fucked up with her. All the back and forth, trying to get under each other’s skin and get our way. I let it go on too long. I missed my chance. I won’t let the same thing happen with Mel. She’s it for me.”

  Justus nods and hops off the window sill. “Then don’t fuck it up by doing something you’ll regret when it comes to this cult. There are other ways than killing all the leaders. We can free the followers and find a way to take down the so called First Men. Just give us time and worry about your new family.”

  I nod, accepting his words if not agreeing with the plan. “Don’t make any moves without me.”

  “We won’t,” Landon promises.

  “And I have to continue volunteering for them. We need to know what they’re up to. I still don’t know the target they have in mind for the C4.”

  “I agree,” Justus replies. “Let’s get the girls up here to help with Melissa and your son.”

  Sitting up, I feel a little of the stress drain away. “Yeah, I think we should.” I look from Landon to Justus. “Thank you.”

  “They’re family now,” Landon says.

  “And we take care of family,” Justus adds.

  A nurse arrives to take me to the NICU before Mel gets out of the recovery room. My heart is racing as I’m suited up again, and lead into the room filled with machines. The baby is in what looks like an oversized plastic storage container. The sight of the wires and tubes leading to his tiny body breaks my heart, and I can’t stop tears from forming in my eyes.

  “He’s so tiny.”

  “Two and a half pounds,” the nurse says. “Which is pretty good for twenty-seven weeks.” She moves a chair beside the incubator. “You can stay for a few minutes.”

  “Can I touch him?” I choke out the words, swallowing the lump in my throat.

  She opens the incubator. “Very lightly.”

  A layer of white hair covers his body. “Why is he so fuzzy?”

  “It’s called lanugo. It helps protect their skin in utero. He’ll lose it soon.” She grins at me. “Do you have a name?”

  “No,” I whisper. “We thought we had plenty of time.”

  “You still do,” she assures me.

  I can’t see his eyes, but he moves his leg when I run a finger across his foot. A feeling I’ve never imagined floods through me. He’s not my blood, but he’s my son. From this moment forward, he’s mine, just like his mother.

  #

  When I return to Melissa’s room, she’s lying in bed, asleep. Dark circles ring her eyes, but her skin isn’t as pale as it was before. She still looks so frail lying there, nothing like the fierce little thing who told me to sit my ass down and eat when I kept refusing her dinner invitations.

  Her eyes open when I brush her hair off her face. “Jeremy, how is he?” she murmurs.

  “He’s perfect. I just saw him. Look.” I pull up the pictures I took of him on my phone and sit beside her on the bed. I took a picture from every angle I could imagine, plus close ups of his little feet and hands. There’s no hiding all the machinery that’s keeping him alive though.

  A sob shakes her body, and I wrap my arms around her. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. He’s doing okay. I know this isn’t how it was supposed to be, but he’s alive and waiting to meet you.”

  She calms down a bit, and I run my fingers through her hair. “They asked me about a name.”

  “I haven’t decided yet. I wanted to see him first. I had a name book in my baby bag in my closet at home.”

  “There’s no hurry. I’ll bring it to you.”

  Her hand wraps around my arm. “Don’t leave.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. Get some rest, and I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

  Her eyes fall closed, and her breathing evens out. Justus sticks his head in the room, and I nod to him to come in.

  “Zoe and Leah are on their way. Is there anything we can do?”

  My hands fumble to remove Melissa’s house key from the keyring. “She has a bag packed in her closet that was supposed to come to the hospital with her.”

  “I’ll get it,” Justus says. “Landon is going back to work on the cult accounts, but I’ll be back.”

  “Thank you. There’s no hurry. It’s late, and she’ll probably be out for a while. Go crash and we’ll see you in the morning.”

  “If anything changes with her or the baby, call me.” His eyes scan over her. “Sometimes, I’m so happy I was born with a dick.”

  “Me too, man,” I sigh.

  I manage to get out of bed without waking Melissa and move to the little sofa a few feet away from her. It’s been such a long day. It started out so well, and I had plans to take her to dinner after the gallery. I sure didn’t expect to end the night by becoming a father.

  The sofa isn’t too uncomfortable, so I stretch out to try to rest. Despite the war of emotions raging inside me and the tangle of thoughts running through my head, sleep pulls me under.

  The next two days pass by slowly. Mel is getting stronger and today they had her get up and walk around a little. I wheel her down to the NICU to visit our son as often as they’ll let us, and so far, he’s doing as well as can be expected.

  Tonight is our last night at the hospital. Mel is being discharged and she’s understandably distraught at leaving the baby here without her.

  We’re cuddled up in her bed, her head resting o
n my chest. The nurses gave up trying to keep me out of her bed after the first night.

  “You need to recover from the birth and get your strength back. You can visit him every day. Zoe and Leah are going to help too.”

  Melissa just met them yesterday, but they all hit it off, and I know how they are. They’ll mother her and the baby until they can’t take anymore. Tucker and Dare showed up with them. Justus really called in all the backup this time.

  “Calvin,” she says softly. “That’s his name. I filled out the paperwork for the birth certificate this morning.”

  “Calvin,” I repeat, kissing her forehead. “You can visit Calvin every day. I know it’ll be hard, but this is where he needs to be. His job is to gain weight and grow. Your job is to recover so you’ll be ready for all the sleepless nights we have coming.”

  My phone chimes, and I grin as I load up Skype. I talked to Amos earlier, and he isn’t quite as technologically challenged as Agnes, so we arranged a video call.

  “It’s for you,” I tell Mel, accepting the call.

  Agnes appears on the screen, exclaiming, “Oh! I can see her!”

  “Then talk to her, you goof,” Amos says, poking his head in front of the camera. “Hi Melissa. Congratulations. I hope you and your son get well soon.”

  “Thanks, Amos,” Mel giggles, as Agnes pushes him aside.

  “Move it, you old coot.” She regards Melissa. “I can’t leave you for a second. How are you doing?”

  “I’m doing fine. And the baby is improving, but he’ll be here for a while. I named him Calvin.”

  “Well, I’ll be coming to visit you and baby Calvin as soon as I can.”

  “She would’ve already been back up there if she had her way!” Amos calls from the background.

  They chat for a few minutes, and Melissa promises to keep her updated on Calvin’s progress before they hang up.

  Sighing, Mel hands me the phone and lies back. I’m a little worried about what dark thoughts she may be thinking when she asks, “Can you do one thing for me when we leave tomorrow?”

  “Name it.”

  “Stop and get me the biggest, greasiest cheeseburger you can find. And a chunk of chocolate the size of my wide ass.”