by Natasha Boyd
We could always try for another baby, but I can’t lose my wife.
I can’t lose Keri Ann.
The floor in front of me blurs, the sounds around me coming in and out. The doctor has gone. Leslie came in and left. I think. Then she’s there again.
“How did this happen?” I ask Leslie. “I mean, did going into labor early cause this? We walked on the beach. Dr. Berry said to be careful of being over-heated. Or dehydrated. I should have made sure she stayed inside. It was so hot this morning before the storm.” I ramble on not hearing if Leslie responds. “And low pressure. Don’t they say low barometric pressure can induce labor?”
Then I remember the doctor calling the baby a she. So Keri Ann was right all along. It’s a girl, not a boy.
“Jack?” Leslie says. She’s in a surgical gown, cap, and mask.
“What?” I frown.
“You have a daughter. Would you like to meet her?”
My stomach falls twenty stories. “I—what?”
“You have a daughter,” she says gently.
I swallow. My throat is thick and dry.
“Do I have a wife?” I force out, barely able to form the words.
Leslie nods. “Dr. Wilhelm is still with her. That’s all I can say.” She holds out the items she’s brought in, smiling tightly. “Put these on, then we’ll go wash your hands. You’ll be able to hold your daughter before they put her in the incubator.”
“I don’t think I can do it. Not while I don’t know how Keri Ann is.” I shake my head. “Please.”
“Jack,” Leslie coaxes. “How excited was Keri Ann about the prospect of meeting her baby?”
My eyes sting and I blow out a rough breath. “Fine,” I say. I nod robotically, reminding myself Keri Ann needs me to do this. She loves Bean already, and I have to make sure Bean knows it. Knows her mother loves her.
Minutes later, Leslie’s leading me through double doors to a Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. “Has Keri Ann’s brother arrived yet?” I ask.
Leslie shakes her head. “You’ve only been here a little over an hour.”
It feels like longer.
“I’m positive he’s on his way. We’ll make sure he finds you.”
I nod. He hasn’t called. I pat my pockets and realize I don’t even know where my phone is.
“He’s already called the hospital, and we’ve told him what we can.”
We round the corner and then I see her.
I know she’s mine.
A bundle wrapped up, wearing a pink knit cap.
She’s being held by someone I don’t know and don’t care to look at. I only have eyes for Bean.
“This is the baby’s father,” Leslie says.
“Oh my God, you’re Jack Eversea,” says the person holding the baby.
I nod but don’t respond and reach for the bundle.
“Oh wow,” another voice says, but I take the small, almost weightless, bundle in my arms and look down.
A small face, eyes closed, miniscule lips bowed together like they’re puckering up for a kiss. A tiny nose. Skin so perfectly pink and delicate, it’s almost translucent.
“Holy shit,” I whisper. Wonder, astonishment and abject terror all rush through me at once. The enormous miracle of creating a human is almost too much to comprehend. I helped make this tiny creature? And suddenly the inability of sharing this moment with Keri Ann hits me hard, eclipsing almost everything else instantaneously. This tiny person just came out of the body of the love of my life. And she’s somewhere alone, fighting to live. I want to smile at my daughter—my beautiful, perfect daughter—and instead, I breathe in, the air feeling like shards of glass in my chest. It’s agony. I’m helpless.
I choke.
Someone takes Bean out of my arms.
“Jack?” I hear someone ask me. Dr. Wilhelm walks in. Surgical cap still on her head. Her eyes are focused on me. She’s smiling.
She’s smiling.
“We have her stable. She’s lost a lot of blood. But Keri Ann’s doing great.”
My legs buckle and luckily there’s a chair. I go to grab my hair and end up with fistfuls of surgical cap. She’s okay. I blow out a breath. She’s okay.
“I’m hesitant to let her see the baby,” Dr. Wilhelm is saying, “because I feel like that might put undue stress on her. But then again, you know your wife, perhaps not seeing her baby would do the same, so I’ll leave that call to you.”
Her words all blur together. “So I can see her? What was it, what happened?”
“Yes, you can see her. I’ll take you there myself in a moment.” She motions me into the hall, and I take one last long look at Bean and get to my feet.
“We’ll take good care of Baby,” says Leslie. “And call you for the first diaper change.” She winks.
I nod and follow Dr. Wilhelm, not able to appreciate the attempt at normalcy. “First things first, I’ve spoken to your brother-in-law. Seeing as he’s a doctor, I felt comfortable giving him, at least, the facts. He’s on his way. I’ve also apprised Dr. Berry and assured her this was nothing she could have predicted. Your wife had a sudden placental abruption.”
So Drew was right, in the helicopter.
I swallow, waiting for the doctor to continue.
“I think there were a combination of things that happened all at once. The abruption could have been occurring or about to occur, and then somehow the low weather pressure, coupled with Keri Ann overheating in our July heat, probably induced some early contractions. We won’t know for sure. But what’s clear is the abruption was sudden and complete. The placenta detached from the womb lining.”
My veins feel like ice is forming in them. “She could have died. Keri Ann could have died if we’d waited to leave the island.” I whisper the horrific words. “The baby would have died.”
Dr. Wilhelm grimaces. “Let’s just say, your wife is a very lucky girl.” She shakes her head. “And getting her on that helicopter so quickly was the miracle you needed.”
I’m lightheaded.
“One more thing, and this is rather unpleasant. Although after what you’ve just been through, it may feel like a minor inconvenience.”
“Go on,” I say. I’m impatient to get to Keri Ann.
“The staff at this hospital aren’t used to celebrity guests, and well, it turns out they’re not used to keeping secrets either. There are no less than five local news vans outside. Your wife will be with us a few days while she recovers, and then we’ll have to figure out a way to get you out of the hospital.”
The thought of leaving with that tiny baby I just held and being in charge of it sends terror skittering down my spine. “Let’s not worry about leaving just yet,” I say.
“Okay, come on. Let’s go and see her. She’ll be in this surgical recovery room for the next few hours, and then we’ll move you to the maternity wing so you can both stay with your baby and have more room.” She slows her walk. “Okay, here we are. You go on in. Should I go and ask them to bring the baby to you?”
“Yes.” I grab Dr. Wilhelm’s hand. “Thank you,” I say, though that seems woefully inadequate.
“Of course.” She smiles then opens the door for me.
Thirty
Keri Ann is pale. Her lips match her skin tone and her hair is plastered to her head. But her gorgeous blue eyes are open.
I fall into them.
She’s never looked more beautiful to me, and in seconds I’m at her bed, touching her, kissing her.
“I’m so sorry.” It’s the first thing I say. I press my lips to her waxy forehead, cooled from sweat. “Why did we ever want to live on a secluded island? You could have died. I’m so sorry.”
She tries to smile. “Shh,” she says. “Stop it. Tell me about Bean.”
Instantly, I’m grateful I got to meet our daughter so I could answer this. “She’s ... perfect,” I say.
“She.”
“You were right. As always.”
Her smile is thin. Tired. “Next
time we’ll have a boy.”
“Next time?” I ask, the utter nightmare I’ve just lived through too fresh to get over just yet. “No way. We’re adopting.”
“Ha,” Keri Ann tries to joke, but it’s half-hearted. Her eyes are heavy.
“Here we go,” coos a voice from the door. “Here’s Mommy and Daddy.”
I retrieve our daughter from the arms of the nurse. Bean is fussing, making tiny squawky noises that are not quite cries. I lay her gently in the crook of Keri Ann’s arm since she’s not sitting up yet and pull back the baby blanket a bit more so Bean’s face is more visible.
“Oh,” Keri Ann’s chokes out, and tears stream down her face.
My wife and daughter blur as my own eyes fill.
We stare at her.
“She’ll need to eat soon,” the nurse says from behind me. “In a couple of hours you can try breast feeding, but right now Mom’s fluids are too low.”
Keri Ann scrunches her nose up. “Mommy needs to get strong so I can feed you,” she coos to Bean. “Let me see your fingers,” she adds and gently pulls back the blanket. Miniscule fingers with tiny fingernails emerge.
I almost laugh. They are so cute. I can’t help tapping the small fist with my large finger. The fist opens and closes around my finger tightly. Bean may as well be squeezing my heart. “Wow,” I mutter.
There’s a knock at the door. We both look up to see Joey, wide-eyed and disheveled, Jazz right behind him.
“Oh my God,” Joey says and steps inside. “You scared the shit out of us. Thank God, you’re okay.”
Hours later, Keri Ann and I have been moved to the maternity ward. We’re in a private room, close to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit where Bean is sleeping in an incubator. There’s a hard seating bench that’s supposed to be able to fold out into a bed for me. Somehow the bags I’d flung onto the helicopter and my phone have made it to us.
As Jazz and Joey left, he had to stop and say a few words to the reporters outside, with my blessing, giving them a quick synopsis of what transpired and assuring them we’re doing fine now.
The nurse pops in to tell us that a lactation coach will come by at Bean’s next feeding time to help us out.
“Do you think we got enough sleep recently to make up for the next few months?” I ask Keri Ann. My muscles ache already, my legs, my arms, my head. Everything in me is feeling the after effects of the tumultuous day.
“I haven’t slept straight through the night in weeks. I was too uncomfortable,” Keri Ann answers. “I guess it’s nature’s way of preparing mothers for the feeding schedule of newborns.”
Keri Ann sleeps for a few more hours and I’ve been taking the time to call my parents, Devon and Monica, and also my agent and publicist.
There’s one more call I need to make.
“Cooper,” I say when it’s answered.
“Jack.” He blows out a breath down the phone. “How is she?”
“Fine.” I swallow and sigh. “Fine, thanks to you. You saved my wife and child. Thank you.”
“You can thank Zach and Drew. Actually you can thank Zach. He answered my call.”
“Yeah, but it would never have even occurred to me to call you if you hadn’t dropped from a helicopter into our engagement party last year. I would have called 911 and gotten the local fire department. It would have wasted valuable time that we now know we didn’t have.” My voice leaves me, my throat constricting. My nose burns with the emotions I’m trying to contain. It will be a long time before I’m able to think about today without losing it. “I—I nearly lost her, Cooper.”
“I know, man. I’m sorry.” He’s quiet for a few moments, letting me regroup, then asks, “How’s the baby?”
“Good. Good. She’s good. Small. Fuck, she’s tiny.” I let out a chuckle. “I feel like a clumsy giant.”
“She have a name yet?”
“Well, we can’t call her Cooper, Zach, or Drew,” I quip.
“Hey, Cooper could totally be a girl’s name.”
“I’ll run it past Keri Ann when she wakes up. Though we’ve been calling the baby Bean since before she was born, and I have a feeling it’s gonna stick.”
Cooper laughs. “I’m happy for you guys.”
“What about you?” I ask Cooper.
“What about me?”
“You moving back to Butler Cove wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain woman from New York, would it?”
“Hell, no,” he says. But it’s not convincing. “Besides, I’m not moving until I find something to do.”
I think of the conversation Keri Ann and I have had on and off for months, and how today really solidified the decision. “I think we’re moving to Butler Cove permanently,” I tell him. I’m planning on scaling the acting way back and getting more into producing and directing. In fact, the red-carpet release of The Missing Earl coming up in September will be the last appearance of Keri Ann and me for a long while. And we’ve already decided we’re not staying for the movie. I’ve had enough of the story of my father. And Keri Ann doesn’t want me to live through it again either.
“We’re going to need a security consultant,” I inform Cooper. “And with all the filming happening in Georgia, I have some contacts who are involved with the studios they built in Savannah and Atlanta. They’re in need of on-call security. You think you might be up for starting a business down here?” I ask him.
“Funny you should mention it,” says Cooper with a tone that sounds like amazement. “I just finished my High Threat Protection Specialist training in San Diego. Did you know that already? I didn’t think I’d told Keri Ann, but maybe I did. I can’t remember.”
“Whoa. I had no idea,” I say honestly. “So how’d you do?”
“Passed with flying colors, obviously.” He snorts. “Please.”
I laugh out loud. “I bet you did.”
“Is that Cooper?” asks Keri Ann from behind me.
She’s blinking her eyes awake.
“Sorry.” I grimace at her. “I just woke Keri Ann.”
“Tell him, thank you,” she says.
“I did,” I tell her. “But hey, Coop, Keri Ann says thank you too.”
“No problem. I’ll leave you guys to it. Congratulations, Jack. On becoming a father.”
“Thanks.”
We say our good-byes and hang up. Then I slide my phone onto a shelf and crawl onto the bed next to Keri Ann, careful not to mess with her IV. I curl my arm around her. Her body feels weird without the large beach ball shape taking up so much of our available space. She seems so small all of a sudden.
“You doing okay?” I ask.
“Better now that you’re holding me,” she says and lets out a deep sigh. “I don’t hurt thanks to the painkillers. My body feels numb and ... empty. I miss Bean.” She gives a small laugh. “I spent so much time in the last few weeks wishing her out of me because it was getting so uncomfortable, and now I miss her being right here.” She lays a hand on her belly. “And this feels like a bowl full of Jell-O.”
I smile and kiss her temple.
There’s a knock at the door. “Come in,” I call, thinking I’m not planning on getting up from Keri Ann’s side for a good long while. Then I look over at the doorway. It’s a lady I’ve never seen before holding Bean.
“Knock, knock,” she says. “I’ve brought Baby Eversea in for her feeding. I’m the lactation consultant. I’ll be showing you how to nurse her.”
I jack-knife off the bed so fast, I almost knock the side table away.
Keri Ann raises her eyebrows at me. “What’s the matter, Jack? You never seen a boob before?” Then she laughs loud and enthusiastically.
The lady laughs too, though she mashes her lips together to try and hold it in.
I smile self-consciously and lift a hand to run through my hair.
Then I help my wife into a sitting position and watch as our newborn baby is laid into her arms.
“Hey, Bean,” she coos, and my heart fills with a
fierce protectiveness the likes of which I’ve never experienced. I’ll do anything for my wife and child.
That much I know.
They lived happily ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever
after.
Read on for a fun contest and the Beach Wedding playlist.
Thank you so much for reading the conclusion to Jack and Keri Ann’s story. Thank you for being on their journey with me. When I started this story in 2012, I never dreamed it would change my life. That Jack would still be talking to me in my sleep four years later. That you, the readers, would ask for so much more. You have given me hopes and dreams, you’ve shown my kids what their mother is capable of, and you’ve given me direction and meaning and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. The people I’ve met throughout this journey have been extraordinary and unforgettable.
The next part of my writing journey brings us to a passion project. I’ve written a historical fiction based on the true story of a remarkable young girl. The book, THE INDIGO GIRL, will be out in hardcover by Blackstone Publishing on October 3rd 2017. This is a great book club selection book with lots to discuss and, as always, is set in my beloved Lowcountry. I hope you will join me on this exciting journey!
OKAY, back to Jack …
I know you all probably want to know what Baby Eversea’s name is. I have no idea. Ha! So I figured I’d leave it up to you.
I’m running a contest for a $50 Amazon or Apple giftcard.
I’ll announce the winner plus share a bonus scene via email to my email list in May. All you need to do to enter is fill in your baby name suggestion on this google form before April 30th 2017. And then look out for the email from me in May.
http://bit.ly/NameBabyEversea
To find out what’s coming next you can join my Facebook group:
Natasha Boyd’s Readers
at
https://www.facebook.com/groups/natashaboydstreetteambookclub/
or join my New Release News list (I send very infrequent emails – usually just new releases, bonus scenes or contest results)