The Miracle Baby Box Set: Volume One: Books 1 - 4

by Hamel, B. B.

  I shouldn’t be so afraid but I can’t help it. After hearing his voice again after so long, I haven’t been able to get him off my mind. I reach the bottom of the steps just as I hear Eleanor’s voice coming from the kitchen.

  “Hello?” she says, her normal sweet greeting. There’s a short pause. “Hi there, Will. Yes, I know, you have been calling a lot. Yes, she’s here, hold on.”

  I back up against the wall, eyes wide, as Eleanor comes into the hall. She spots me there by the steps, and I shake my head at her.

  “Get the phone,” she hisses. “You have to stop being such a damn fool.”

  “I’m not a fool. Just tell him I left.”

  “Addie,” she says. “Please, just talk to the boy. I’m sick of him calling.”

  “No, I don’t want to talk to him. Stop trying to make me.” I can feel my own anger rising in response to Eleanor pushing me.

  She sighs, shaking her head. “Since when did a conversation ever hurt someone?”

  I look away from her. “I can’t,” I say, and I quickly walk to the front door.

  “Addie!” Eleanor says, but I open it up and step outside. I pull it shut behind me and walk out onto the front yard, arms crossed around my body.

  It’s a clear, bright day. The road is about a half mile off, through some trees, and for a second I can pretend like I’m the only person in the world. Birds take flight nearby and scatter, coming into a flock and pulsing in that strange way groups of small birds sometimes do. They land on another tree and for a second, I wish I could climb up there and join them.

  But that’s stupid. My daughter’s coming outside with Julissa, and we’re taking a walk. I can just forget about Will Eaton. He’s not in my life anymore, and I don’t plan on letting him get close again. I know Eleanor means well, but she’s wrong.

  Sometimes a conversation can change a person’s life completely, and I’m just not ready for that.

  4

  Will

  I step gingerly over a fallen log, wincing as I put weight on my knee. It’s not too bad though, and the walking stick helps as I put my weight on it. I get over the stump and continue on along the dirt path that sticks close to the Saugatuck river.

  The river’s running high today from all the rain these past three weeks. I’ve been stuck inside my father’s house, wallowing in my own fucking self-pity and grief, unable to do much considering the weather and my knee injury. Fortunately, my father’s been away on work, probably busy shoving fake pills down desperate people’s throats like usual, although I don’t bother asking any questions.

  It’s nice to have the house to myself. I remember coming downstairs as a kid when my parents were out and pouring a huge bowl of Captain Crunch before watching cartoons all morning. I’d stay in my pajamas, my hair messy and greasy, and I’d ignore the phone if it rang. Even if it was nice outside, I didn’t want to go out and play. I just wanted to be in my own little world, safe and comfortable and jacked up on sugary cereal.

  That house is full of childhood memories, some of them good, most of them fucked up, like the time my dad screamed at my mom so loud that she dropped the frying pan, sending eggs spilling all over the floor. Our dog, Ruffy, starts to lick them up but my dad kicked him in the side, making him yelp in pain.

  That’s actually one of the last memories I have of my mom.

  I crunch over some leaves, taking my walk slow. My knee doesn’t hurt too badly, just a dull ache, which I assume is a good thing. The ground is a little soft still, but not too bad. I skirt around the muddiest parts and keep my eyes on the trail in front of me. I can’t afford to trip and fall and fuck my knee up even more.

  When I got older, and my mom was long dead, I used to come out onto these paths just to escape my dad’s anger. Now I’m using them just to give myself something to do. I need a little purpose. I can’t just sit in front of the TV anymore eating sugar cereal. I’m not a kid, even if I sort of default back to being one whenever I’m back in my father’s house.

  There’s this spot not too far away near the waterfall that I used to come to all the time. Back then I wasn’t alone, though. I met Addie a year earlier and we discovered the waterfall on one of our first hikes. We’d go back to that spot all the time and watch the water fall off into space, sunlight making rainbows in the spray if we were lucky, and we’d talk for hours.

  I don’t know what’s drawing me back there. I guess it’s just that Addie won’t talk to me, and I don’t know what the fuck to do with myself. I want to get back into hockey, but there’s a voice in the back of my head that keeps telling me it’ll never happen. I know that voice is right but I’m not ready to listen to it, not yet. I might heal or maybe there’s surgery that can help. I can make another KHL team, I’m sure about that. I just need some time to heal.

  I come around a bend in the path and it skirts closer to the river. I can hear the falls now, just ahead. It’s like white noise out of nowhere, like a fan in an empty room. I can’t quite see it through the trees and the foliage, but I know it’s there.

  At least some things never change. I hate Weston, mostly because of my father, but I can’t deny how beautiful it is. That’s the thing that kept me going back then, that and Addie.

  I keep going, knee aching with every step, leaves crunching underfoot. I grip my walking stick a little harder as I step around another mud puddle, nearly slipping on a wet rock. I grunt as my bad knee takes some of my weight, but it doesn’t buckle, which is a good sign.

  I come around another bend and I can really hear the falls now. The path is slowly angling down, and if I kept to the path, it would eventually take me to the river below. Instead, I cut to the right and trek through the underbrush, pushing aside sticker bushes and tree branches.

  This should be a familiar path, since I walked it thousands of times back in high school, but it feels new. I recognize the big rock to my right, the sound of the falls getting closer, and the old tree split in half just ahead as the cliff comes near. I slow down and stop, hand on the tree, as the world falls off in front of me and the falls comes roaring into sight.

  It’s not a huge waterfall, but it moves fast, the water frothing white at the edge. I stand there gripping my walking stick, my other hand on the split tree, feeling the old, rough bark on my fingertips. I forget all about my father and my aching knee for a second as I watch the water rush over the edge, flying through the air and dropping down to the river below.

  I take a deep breath and I smile. This was all fucking worth it.

  I stand and watch the falls for a minute before turning to my right. This is the tricky part. I don’t remember it being so steep and terrifying around here all those years ago, but I was a lot younger, a lot more reckless, and a lot less injured. Still I came all the way out here, so I head over to the edge of the cliff and shove my walking stick forward.

  Sure enough, the ledge is still there. I shuffle forward a little bit and manage to climb down onto it. The rocks jut outward in a steep step until it reaches the bank of the river, right at the edge of the falls itself. I have a few more steps to climb down, and then I’ll be at the main rock, this big, solid thing that’s practically off the edge of the world.

  I get down a couple more ledges and take a step forward. Before I can drop down onto the last rock, I stop dead in my tracks and stare.

  She’s not moving at all, her back to me, hunched over slightly and sitting cross-legged. Her hair’s longer than I remembered, but still thick and dark. She’s looking out over the falls, staring at it like we used to, her hands splayed out behind her. She has on a dark sweatshirt and khaki shorts.

  “Addie,” I call out, but my voice is drowned by the falls. I take a breath and let it out. “Addie!”

  She hears the second one. She turns around and it’s like slow motion. There’s an odd smile on her face that falters once she sees me standing there, looking down at her. We lock eyes and it’s like time never passed at all. I’m back in her apartment, her body underne
ath mine, sweating and groaning together. I’m back in this very spot, talking over the noise of the falls, trying to understand how things got so fucked up.

  She shakes her head and scrambles to her feet. “Will?” she yells back. “What are you doing here?”

  I sit down on the ledge of the rock and slowly drop down, wincing a little bit. She doesn’t move at all, and we’re about six or seven feet apart.

  “Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “I just… I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  I run my hands on the stone. “Haven’t been back here in a while.”

  “I come sometimes,” she says, still staring at me. “Nobody else ever does. People probably think it’s too dangerous.”

  I grin at her. “It’s definitely too dangerous. But I guess nothing changes with you, huh, Addie?”

  She smiles a little bit but it quickly goes away. “I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you.”

  I bark out a little laugh. Typical Addie, straight to the point. “Yeah, I was wondering about that.”

  “It’s just, I don’t know.” She grabs her arm around her back awkwardly, not meeting my gaze anymore. I want to walk across the rock and hug her, but I resist.

  “It’s cool,” I say, playing it off, pretending to be casual. “I’m sure you’ve been busy. How’s Eleanor?”

  “She’s good,” Addie says. “But you knew that already. You guys have been talking a lot lately, huh?”

  Her little smirk means she’s teasing me, which I think is a good sign.

  “Yeah, well, I guess I’ve been calling too much, huh?” I shuffle my feet and lean back against the rock, taking my weight off my aching knee. I cross my arms in front of my chest. “You know I’m not the kind of guy that gives up easy.”

  “I know that,” she says, and sighs. “How have you been?”

  “Okay.” I glance down at my knee. I have a brace on just below my hiking shorts. “Fucked up my knee.”

  “I’m sorry,” she says, and I believe her. “Is that why you’re back?”

  I nod. “Can’t play hockey with a fucked-up knee. Not even in Russia, apparently, and they have low standards.”

  The joke makes her smile a little bit. It suddenly feels warmer than it was just a minute ago.

  “Is your dad still an asshole?”

  I laugh at that. “Yep,” I say. “Hasn’t changed one bit.”

  “I guess that’s why you’re out here.”

  “He’s out of town, actually. You know, ripping people off.”

  She grins a little. “His favorite thing to do.”

  “That and drowning kittens.”

  “With his bare hands, of course.”

  “Naturally.”

  It feels good to fall back into our regular banter. Her eyes flash at me but the smile fades away again.

  “I should go,” she says, moving to my right and stepping toward the rocks.

  “You can stay,” I say. “I mean, we can catch up if you want. I’ve got a lot of stories about Russia.”

  “Do they all involve vodka?”

  “Of course they do.”

  She laughs a little and steps up to the rock step. She hoists herself up quickly, faster than I think I can.

  “Another time,” she says. “Bye, Will.”

  I watch as she climbs back up the rocks. She disappears up the edge and back into the woods, and I’m left alone in our spot, my whole body vibrating with the encounter.

  She’s just like I remembered. Full figure, fast smile, funny as hell. Beautiful and broken. She has no clue how I felt about her back then, because I never told her.

  And I hate myself every day, just a little bit, for being such a fucking pussy.

  I sit down at the edge of the rocks, legs straight out in front of me, knee aching, and I pretend like my best friend doesn’t hate my guts.

  5

  Addie

  I thought I was in a dream. I was sitting in our spot, thinking about him actually, about that time we shot bottle rockets off the falls and into the river below.

  They exploded with little cracks, audible over the rushing water. We’d laugh every time, even though it wasn’t that exciting. We were probably sixteen when we did that, although I feel like we were even younger.

  Those were easy days. I still had that nostalgic glow when he called my name and lowered himself down onto the rock.

  The hate didn’t come back right away. I forgot about what happened between us, at least for a second. Will was standing there, looking like his old self, handsome and boyish and cocky and perfect, smiling at me like he used to. He and I, alone in our spot near the falls, just like old times.

  The anger came back, and I got out of there as fast as I could.

  That was two days ago. I haven’t stopped thinking about him since. I clench my fists as Cara plays at my feet. I’m leaning back against the couch and staring at the TV, but not really watching it.

  “What’re your plans for today?” Eleanor’s voice calls from the kitchen.

  “None,” I call back, sitting up. “Just watching Cara.”

  “Have time for a little get-together?” Eleanor walks into the room and looks at me with a smile.

  I narrow my eyes. “Get-together?”

  “Sure, just some people coming over for tea.”

  “Tea? Since when did we serve tea?”

  “Oh, stop.” She’s smiling too sweetly, and I’m suspicious, but Cara starts tugging at my pants.

  “Okay, yeah, sure,” I say to Eleanor as I get down on the floor to play with Cara. “I’ll be around. Tea sounds great.”

  “Wonderful.” She disappears back into the kitchen.

  I play with Cara for a couple more hours until it’s time for her nap. She’s sleepy when I get her upstairs and start reading her book. Julissa’s off today, which is good. I feel too spoiled when she’s around. I love the help, but I love being a mom, too.

  Cara gets snuggled and I kiss her on the forehead before turning toward the hallway. I hear the doorbell downstairs as I use the bathroom, and the sound of Eleanor welcoming someone filters up. There’s a male voice with her, but I don’t recognize it, maybe because I’m too distracted thinking about Will. I finish up, wash my hands, and head downstairs. I don’t know who Eleanor’s invited over for tea, but I know I’m going to be expected to sit around and make small talk for an hour or more, probably with some old guy she knows from a million years ago.

  I get down the steps, taking my time, and poke my head into the kitchen. I stop short when I spot Will sitting at the table with Eleanor, both of them smiling at each other. His back is to me, but Eleanor spots me right away. I’m about to turn and run when she speaks up.

  “Ah, there she is.”

  I turn back to them, looking sheepish. Will’s grinning at me like he knows I was trying to escape.

  “Hey, Addie,” he says. “Eleanor invited me over.”

  “I see that,” I say, trying to smile back. “How nice.”

  “Yes, how nice,” Eleanor repeats. “This boy was a fixture in our house for years and it’s about time he visits me.”

  “Sorry I didn’t come sooner,” he says to her.

  “Don’t mention it,” Eleanor says, waving him off. “Come over here, Addie dear, join us.”

  I glare at her behind Will’s back and her sweet smile suggests that she doesn’t give a crap if I’m angry. I sit down at the table and look between them, completely unwilling to start this conversation.

  “So, Will dear, I hear you were off playing hockey.”

  “That’s right,” he says. “In Russia.”

  “Russia?” She raises an eyebrow. “Do you speak it at all?”

  “Da, nemnogo. No ya ne govoryu khorosho.”

  Eleanor laughs, delighted. “What did you say?”

  “I said, I speak it a little bit, but I don’t speak it well. Actually, my team manager told me that I sound like a dog getting strangled one time, and I shoul
d avoid interviews in Russian.”

  I can’t help but laugh at that one, and he grins at me.

  “He should’ve told you to avoid interviews in English too, what with that ugly mug,” I say to him.

  He laughs and Eleanor gives me a look. I just ignore her, smiling back at him. This is something we used to do, make fun of each other’s ugly mug. The joke just came tumbling out of me, totally unbidden, like it’s completely natural to fall back into old habits after all this time.

  “Yeah, well, my ugly mug was the most popular on my team until my knee exploded.”

  “What happened?” Eleanor asks him.

  “I was battling for the puck behind the net and this idiot goon lost his footing as he came over to help. Slid right into my knee, bashing it up against the wall all the wrong way. They had to drag me off the ice and I thought I’d never walk again.” He shrugs a little bit, still smiling. “At least I was wrong about that.”

  I wince. I remember watching him play at Notre Dame all the time. I used to sit there on the bleachers, ass freezing, terrified that he’d get killed by one of those big players always trying to check him. But Will was fast and strong and could fight guys off if he needed to. That guy must have been huge if he broke Will like that.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Eleanor says softly. “It must be hard, being unable to play.”

  Will’s face goes blank for a second as he looks down at the table. “Yeah, it’s tough,” he says, and looks back up. “But who knows. Maybe I’ll heal.”

  “Of course,” Eleanor says softly. “You’ll be back on skates soon enough.”

  Will’s face doesn’t inspire much hope in me, though, and I remember how slow he was when he climbed down that last step out on the rocks. He wasn’t putting any weight on that knee, and I could tell it was bothering him, even then.