She was three weeks from delivery. It wasn’t surprising he’d want to be physically in the room now.
“Hey, beautiful.” He kissed Paloma on the cheek and nodded at her husbands, my brothers. “Guys. Morning, Waverly.”
I almost said Dr. Bennett. When I didn’t, it was a personal triumph that an old dog, in this case me, could learn new tricks. “Ari.”
“How are we feeling?”
She sighed. “Huge. Tired. Had some cramping this morning. Maybe it’s fake labor? I just told Waverly.”
“I was going to look.” I offered him the wand.
He shook his head, leaning against the wall. “You scan. I’ll watch the monitor.”
“Okay.” I lightly pressed the wand down on her stomach, and the med machine started scanning her. Both Paloma and the baby would be analyzed, and the screen would light up if something was wrong. If not, she’d get a look at her baby, and then we’d send her home. I wasn’t overly concerned about the cramping. This late in the pregnancy, it could be anything. Certainly, fake labor was possible. Even real labor. And…
“Stop,” Ari called out, walking over to me. He pointed at the screen.
“What is it?” Paloma’s voice shook, and Tommy, her oldest husband, said “Ari?” at the same time.
He smiled at her, his dimple showing. “Just checking out your baby, doll face.” His gaze tracked right back to the screen. “Can’t a guy just get a look?”
I followed his gaze. I didn’t see anything, and neither did the machine yet. What did he see? Was he really seeing something? Or, by the universe, was he having some kind of hallucination? I waited. And the machine. Inside, I stilled. That was an alert. There was something wrong.
I kept my face passive, calm. He hadn’t said anything, neither had I. My brain caught up to what my eyes were seeing. Paloma had a blood clot. A big one. It hadn’t been there the day before.
“Waverly?” Keith spoke my name, and I smiled, my face staying passive. This was what we did. The clot had formed overnight, and it was that big?
I handed Ari the wand. He’d want it now. He took it without looking back at me. He took several shots of the clot with the wand and sent them to the machine. It dinged again. He didn’t even glance at the technology. No, he knew what he saw.
“All right.”
I stepped back and made my way to the cabinets. Paloma didn’t know it yet, but she was about to have the baby. Right now.
The machine couldn’t deliver the baby. Ari was going to have to, and he wasn’t going to let her risk pushing. He was going to have to cut her open. That was going to take tools. I pulled them out. One by one. Behind me, he spoke slowly and clearly. Paloma cried out, and four voices answered her, all of them reassuring. I kept my back to the scene. The best way I could help was to get Ari everything he needed before he asked for it.
I came over with the tray. He had his hands in the machine. Sterilization. I’d go next. “Paloma, the machine will numb you from the neck down. Then we’ll reduce that after your son is here. Feeling will come back. The machine will then heal the incision and get rid of the clot. You won’t have a scar or any pain. Actually, you’ll be better off than Diana was in that regard. You’ll have to go into the machine for that part. That’ll be completely asleep. You know the deal, beautiful.” He stepped back from the sterilization and looked at the tray I’d put together. “Well done.”
I nodded.
Quinn spoke fast. “Why can’t the machine just get rid of the clot?”
“Not safe for the baby at this point. The drugs it would use to do that would harm him. He has to come out before the clot does.” I was pretty sure he’d said this before when I’d been setting up.
“Seems like a design flaw,” Quinn shot back.
“He didn’t design the machine, Quinn.” Paloma sounded tired, but not scared. I took her hand and squeezed it. She smiled at me. “There has to be something that can go wrong. What is it?”
Ari didn’t flinch. “Clot bursts while I’m taking out the baby. In that occurrence, you go straight into the machine. It’ll be more complicated but not fatal. One way or another, you and Baby Sandler will be fine in a couple of hours. Meantime, I don’t like the cramping in the case of the clot. Let’s do this.”
I pointed at my brothers. They were pale and silent. Clay might have had tears in his eyes he was trying not to shed. “Clay, you’re Daddy this time around.” We’d done the DNA test, we knew which one of them was the father. “You take her hand. You three. Stay by her head and get out of the way if I say move without asking me why.”
Tommy nodded first, and soon, they were all moving into position. I put my hand in the sterilization machine and waited. Things took as long as they took even when I wanted to rush them.
Ari flipped a switch. The machine would numb her. “Ready to be a mommy now, sweetness?”
“Well, I guess that’s a question I should have asked thirty-seven weeks ago.” She met my gaze. “Waverly, you tell everyone that I was brave and funny. Okay?”
I grinned at her. “Okay, Paloma. I’ll make a general announcement. We’ll get Makenna involved.”
“Now that would be a miracle,” Paloma groaned.
What did she mean by that? I didn’t dwell. There was life to be brought into the world.
Benjamin Sandler was born weighing 6 pounds, 8 ounces. A very good size for thirty-seven weeks gestation. His lungs weren’t quite developed and that was something the machine had been able to fix instantly. He rested comfortably in his mother’s arms. She’d come through the ordeal unscathed.
Her husbands hovered. I was an aunt. But this moment wasn’t about me. My job was to observe the readout on the machine, looking for unexpected developments. The clot was gone. The incision healed. The baby here and thriving. His respiration was perfect. He’d be hungry soon.
Ari returned to the room. I wasn’t sure where he’d gone, but he leaned against the wall next to me and watched as I did. We’d both gotten a new member of our family today. The only difference being he’d known my brothers since they were all babies, and I’d only gotten to know them in the last ten months.
The baby was dark haired, like his mother. His eyes were blue in the Sandler way that told me he’d likely not lose those blues. He was beautiful, and my father would have called him a disappointment. The brown hair meant the Sandler genes hadn’t won the day. I wished I couldn’t hear him in my head.
When did I get to put him away and not think about him anymore?
“He’s cute.” Ari’s voice was low. He must not want to intrude on the moment either. “You did well.”
I shook my head. “I did nothing. That was all you. How did you see the clot before the machine did?”
“I got lucky.”
I highly doubted that. “Well, good work, Ari.” It was really hard not to call him Dr. Bennett.
“Thanks. I’m a psychiatrist. I never thought I’d be back to my early medical training. I took that specialty about two seconds before it was eliminated by the universal board as a practice. I still get to deliver babies, so things aren’t all that bad.”
This close to him, I could smell his soap and the slightest tint of the sterilization. “You’re right. He’s very cute.”
A longing I never acknowledged started inside of me. I was twenty-two years old. I’d been a nurse since I was eighteen—a hard feat, but one that could happen since I’d gotten through all of my early schooling at fourteen. I wanted babies. I looked away from Benjamin.
If I wanted a baby, I needed a husband. That was the way of the universe. I’d read that women used to have choices, some even having babies on their own on purpose. That wasn’t an option now. The fact I could work was unusual enough. I was so physically unattractive that even with the female shortage my father had found the few willing to take me on repugnant. And if my father thought someone was bad… they were bad. He’d determined I would have a career.
There weren’t going to be babie
s for me.
“Hey.” Ari bumped me lightly. “You okay?”
“Oh.” I was good at this part. I was good at faking it. “Babies make me cry. The new life thing.”
He smirked. “Can I get you a tissue?”
He’d believed me. That was good. The last thing I wanted to do was explain to this man the real reasons I got caught up in things. He’d have to do the obligatory ‘you’re not ugly, Waverly,’ and that would be humiliating.
“Hey, you two,” Tommy called to us. “Thank you for delivering him. Thank you for saving him. And Paloma. And…”
“Dude.” Ari held out his hands in front of him. “You’ve got that new father-slash-uncle everything-is-beautiful thing going on. We’re thanked.”
“Yes.” I found my voice. “Congratulations, you guys. I’m available for babysitting anytime. But before that, I think it’s time to see if Benjamin will latch on. I’m not a huge expert on this. So, let’s hope he takes to it naturally.”
Ari laughed. What was so funny?
I really didn’t understand men.
3
Jackson
Some days I could tolerate the Mess Hall, and some days I couldn’t. When I came for lunch, I sat at a table with other single ladies. For a while, I’d sat with Paloma, but as of late—even before she’d become a mother that morning—she hadn’t had time to take her meals in the Mess anymore. I missed her, but it had forced me to make friends.
And I supposed I had. Although, they sometimes made me feel like I’d rather just be alone.
We had a lot of women—well, a lot considering there weren’t a lot in general—at The Farm. Everyone worked. Some of them were married, some weren’t. Everyone was safe. On the few occasions a group of men got out of hand with a woman, and considering the female shortage that could and did happen, they were in serious trouble. Jackson and Nolan took no prisoners when it came to that behavior.
I sat with six other ladies, listening to them talk. That tended to be what I did. Listen. I sipped my tea. Paloma had a baby, and The Farm was buzzing with it. She was powerful, Makenna’s mouthpiece most of the time. I’d been there to deliver the baby, but no one seemed to be very interested in the part I’d played.
Ari, by contrast, was a hero. I was glad to see it. He really did deserve it, not just because of what he did for Paloma and Benjamin, but because of how many times his actions had gone unnoticed. In fact, all of the doctors working hard for us deserved recognition.
“They’ll have a party. Mark my words. Makenna will throw a party for Paloma’s baby. It will be so much fun.”
The woman speaking was named Shannon Miranda. She was tall, dark haired, with pixie eyes and a pert nose. Tall was a relative term. She was shorter than me. Her body would be called athletic, and her curves were small, proportional to her body, unlike my breasts, which were so large I’d likely give myself a black eye if I tried to run anywhere or topple forward. She was always looking for a party. I couldn’t blame her. She’d come on a ship with her brothers, who had taken her with them when they fled their planet after Sandler took control of it.
I didn’t know them, but I was told that they were brave and strong.
Shannon liked to talk. A lot. In a loud voice. Over and over.
She’d only recently joined our group and was already in charge. Out of the other five of us, she had the strongest personality, and my friend Jamie from Marias Five called Shannon exciting. I was really dull in comparison.
“The baby is here. We’ll celebrate, and then all the men will come and we can meet husbands. Brave rebels fighting the good cause. Jamie,” she said, drawing attention to the girl next to me. “I bet my brothers would like you. Any of you really. Well, not you, Waverly. I mean, the height? You know? That’s hard. They’ll never pick a girl taller than them. You’ll need a really tall man.”
I gave her a tight smile. “I know.”
This wasn’t the first time she’d followed this particular train of thought directed at me. I needed to change the subject before we analyzed the ways I could make myself prettier. “Who would be your husband if you could pick one?”
That should get her talking and off of the subject of me for a good long while. She sighed and picked up her fork to point it at the doorway. “Him. I would pick him.”
I followed where she indicated. Jackson stared at the room, seeming to take in everyone as he entered it. When he wasn’t traveling through time to save us all, he was in charge of security on the station. Nolan, Melissa’s husband, used to have that job, I was told, but he’d stepped back to focus more on his family. He helped, but this was Jackson’s show, so to speak.
“Jackson is so dreamy. All that ink, and I hear he has a sordid past. Like he was alone and dying on a spaceship. He fought tooth and nail to survive,” my friend, Carla, tiny and on the run from a fiancé who would have beaten her, sighed. “But he only has eyes for the most gorgeous women. He’ll pick someone truly special.”
My friend, Tina, drummed her fingers on the table. “I hear he lost a wife. She was murdered. He’s seeking vengeance.”
I didn’t know about any of that. For all I’d imagined those strong arms holding me in the night, I knew very little about him. He walked toward the food line and took what he wanted. What was he eating?
My friends were still talking, and I’d lost track of the conversation. I tried, and failed, to tune back in.
I almost always ate the same thing. I was a nurse. I understood how weight loss worked. Give out more energy than you took in and you would lose. After twenty-two years, I had come to believe there was something wrong with my metabolism. If I lost weight in my breasts, my stomach looked bigger. Or my ass. I was big, everywhere.
Maybe two pounds would come off of me if I really tried. I wasn’t small. I didn’t inspire men to want to care for me. I was on my feet nearly all day, every day, and I was perfectly strong.
I had good qualities. I had to remember them. I needed to drill my strengths into my psyche.
Jackson added a piece of chicken, a carton of milk, and some carrots to his plate. I was eating turkey soup. I ate it so frequently I could barely taste it anymore.
He grabbed his tray and strode into the Mess like a person who was confident in his ability to belong wherever he placed himself. I always kept my head down and walked over to my table, hoping not to trip.
It took me a second to realize he was coming straight in my direction. Gasps sounded around the table, and Tina grabbed Shannon’s arm. “Do you think he’s coming to speak to you?”
She had said she wanted to marry him. Had she somehow called him to her? Instead, he strode to the end of our table and sat down right across from me.
Technically, Carla was directly across from me. But she was tiny, and there was space next to her.
“Waverly, hello.” He glanced at the rest of the table. “Ladies.”
Hellos were said in various degrees of high-pitched glee. He ignored them. “How are you today?”
I swallowed. “Okay. How are you?”
“Just okay? I hear you were pivotal in saving Paloma and Benjamin.” He cut into his chicken, picked some up with his fork, stuck it in his mouth, and chewed. I watched, transfixed, as his mouth worked.
My cheeks heated. He was waiting for me to answer. “It was really all Ari.”
“Not what he said.” He took another bite. I could become preoccupied watching him eat. “He said you were right there, anticipated his every move, kept the patient calm, and took care of the father, uncle situation. He says he couldn’t have done it without you.”
Had he really? Jackson had talked to Ari about me? “Well, he’s being kind.”
“Not usually.” He set down his fork. “Is soup your second lunch or all you’re eating?”
What? Oh, my lunch. I looked down at my soup and then back at Jackson. “This is what I usually eat.”
“Really? How do you get through the day with so little food in your stomach?”
“This is Waverly,” Shannon called out, laughing. “She’s just sturdy. Doesn’t need a lot of food and keeps on pushing through.”
Jackson raised his eyebrows slowly and regarded Shannon. “I’m sorry. Who are you? Remind me. I do thousands of security clearances. I can’t remember everyone. Sharon, is it?”
Her face turned red. “Shannon. With Ns. Not Rs.”
“Oh, that’s right. Your brothers are great allies. What do you do? I mean, I could look it up. If I cared.”
On one hand, Shannon should be thrilled. Jackson was paying her a lot of attention. On the other, I never wanted him to look at me the way he was glaring at her. Why was he doing this?
She cleared her throat. “I work in the clothing manufacturing. You’re probably wearing socks I helped to sew.”
“That’s really important. Thank you for that. I really do appreciate everyone who works so hard for all of us.” He sighed. “Would you like to do something else? Say, off The Farm? On a ship headed for the Dark Planets?”
She paled. “No.”
“Just checking.” He rose. “I need some air. Want some air, Waverly?”
“I…” Shannon was glowering. There was no way I was going to avoid having to talk about the trouble with my facial features now. “Yes, I’d like some air.”
Jackson nodded. “Great. Grab your coat and your soup. We’ll eat outside. Thanks for the conversation, Sharon. See the rest of you ladies soon.”
“It’s Shannon,” she shrieked after us as we walked.
When we got outside, Jackson sat down on a bench. I didn’t know who kept decorating The Farm, but every time I came outside, someone had put in more landscaping. I was glad I wasn’t the only person who meant to make this place home. I’d never leave if I could avoid it.
I loved it here. For the first time ever, I wasn’t afraid.
Dark Demise: Wings of Artemis, Book Seven Page 3