The Promise Between Us

by Barbara Claypole White

  Maisie nodded, and for the second time in one week, Katie entered her former house and her old living room. She sank into a huge armchair that seemed intent on swallowing her, and shuffled forward to perch on the edge. Lilah sat elegantly on the overstuffed white couch like some idealized painting of a mother-to-be. Although, she would come to regret that decorating choice when the baby was a toddler with sticky fingers. White, really? And the glass-topped coffee table with angular edges? An accident waiting to happen. The voice showed her how. Katie cleared her throat.

  Maisie threw herself down and scooted close to Lilah.

  “I think it’s good for the three of us to talk,” Lilah said, and kissed the top of Maisie’s head.

  Could you hear a heart ripping? Did it make a sound?

  On the mantelpiece, Katie’s wedding picture had been replaced by a huge print in a silver frame. Maisie, in a white dress with a red rose pinned on her chest, smiled at the camera. Behind her, her new parents kissed: Cal in a dark suit with a red tie, and Lilah in a red lacy dress with sprays of white baby’s breath woven into her hair.

  Red and white. Blood and bandages. Katie tried to smile. Did that come across as a smile? Or was it a grimace? Was she grimacing at her daughter? The voice told her she was. “Maisie, what I did when you were a baby was inexcusable, and you have every reason to hate me.”

  “I don’t hate anyone.” Maisie snuggled up against Lilah. “Hate is a very bad word.” Then Maisie glanced up. “How’s my dad?”

  “Missing you dreadfully. Please don’t punish him. It’s not his fault.”

  “Oh, I’m not punishing him. I’m not, am I?” Maisie looked up at Lilah.

  I don’t love her. I can’t love her, not after I ran away and stayed away. I’m the worst kind of mother. How can I love her after the way I’ve behaved?

  I control fire; I am strong. I love Maisie with all my heart. This is my truth.

  “Adults, wow, we can really get things wrong, and all those years ago, I scared myself and your dad. He was simply trying to protect you, and now your mom is trying to do the same. Think how helpful it could be to both of them if the three of you could work together to get a handle on this before the baby comes. Babies bring a whole lot of disruption and change, and the voice doesn’t like either of those things, does it?”

  Maisie shook her head.

  The phone rang and announced, “Caller unknown.” After three rings, the answering machine kicked in and recorded nothing but a dial tone. Katie waited for silence before speaking.

  “I know life’s tough for you right now, Maisie, but you strike me as a fighter.”

  “Gosh, no. I dislike violence,” Maisie said.

  “I meant that you’re strong. A stormtrooper with a heart.”

  Lilah twisted round to kiss Maisie. “Yes, you are, my little M&M. That’s a good analogy, Kat—” Clasping her stomach, Lilah pulled back her lips in a contorted smile. “Wooow.”

  “What’s wrong?” Maisie said. “Is something wrong? Are you sick?”

  Katie rushed over to the sofa. “Braxton Hicks?”

  Lilah grabbed Katie’s arm and dug in. “Need. To pee.” She wobbled onto her feet. “Oh—too late.”

  Katie glanced at Lilah’s legs. A steady stream flowed down them, but it wasn’t urine.

  Maisie sprung off the sofa. “Mom, you’re bleeding!”

  “Lilah, I’m going to get you lying on the floor.” Katie moved an arm around Lilah’s waist. “Maisie, honey, please get me the phone. Now.”

  Maisie ran out of the room, and Lilah let out a groan. “Shiiit,” she said through her teeth.

  “Is it a contraction?”

  “Pain.” Lilah looked up at the ceiling and panted. “Everywhere.”

  Katie kicked the white sofa with brute force. It refused to move.

  “Damn,” she muttered, then eased Lilah back to a sitting position. “Sorry about the sofa.”

  Lilah made a noise somewhere between a snort and a moan, as Katie pushed the coffee table aside. Then she hauled Lilah back up and eased her down onto the carpet. She grabbed a no-longer-white cushion off the sofa, threw it on the coffee table, and, wrapping her hands around Lilah’s bloody ankles, lifted the other woman’s legs onto the cushion. Lilah groaned again, stopping when Maisie sprinted toward them and held out the phone.

  “Good girl.” Katie wiped her hand on her cutoffs, took the phone, and punched in 911. “Now can you go fetch me some towels?”

  “How many?” Maisie said.

  “As many as you can carry. The biggest towels you can find.”

  Maisie nodded and disappeared again. Her footsteps thundered up the stairs.

  “911. What’s the address of your emergency?” the dispatcher said.

  “1492 Dogwood Drive, Raleigh.”

  “Your name?”

  “Katie Mack. And I’m with a pregnant mother who’s bleeding heavily. Her name is Lilah MacDon—”

  “Tremblay. My. Last name. Lilah Rose Tremblay.”

  “Lilah Rose Tremblay.”

  “The phone number you’re calling from?”

  Katie rattled off her old phone number as Lilah huffed out little breaths.

  “Tell me exactly what happened, ma’am.”

  “Lilah was sitting on the sofa talking, nothing out of the ordinary, and she crumpled over in pain. We think it was a contraction. She said she needed to urinate, stood up, and started gushing blood.” Katie glanced up to make sure Maisie hadn’t returned. “She’s bleeding heavily. Did I tell you that already?”

  “How old is the patient?” the dispatcher said.

  “I—I don’t know. Lilah, how old are you?”

  “Thirty.”

  “Thirty.”

  “And she’s awake and talking. Is that correct?”

  “Yes. Yes, she’s conscious.”

  As Maisie reappeared, Katie leaned forward to cover the blood seeping out from under Lilah. She stretched her hand toward Maisie, took one of the towels, and dropped it over Lilah’s lap. Then she put the other towels on the coffee table. Maisie glanced at the scarlet smudges on the sofa, dropped to her knees, and grabbed Lilah’s hand.

  “Squeeze my hand if it hurts,” Maisie said. “Are you scared, Mom?”

  “Nah.” Lilah was horribly pale. “I’m a . . . he-he-hoo . . . tough Midwesterner.”

  “When’s her due date?” the dispatcher said.

  “Her due date?” Katie looked down at Lilah, who snatched the phone.

  “November twenty-sixth . . . and I’m hemorrhaging . . . so get a goddamn ambulance.” Lilah thrust the phone back at Katie. “Sorry, M&M.” She paused for two more pants. “’Bout the bad language.”

  “Uncle J uses that word all the time when we’re watching basketball.”

  Lilah closed her eyes. “Don’t. Tell. Your. Dad.”

  Katie grabbed a folded pale-yellow towel and pushed it under Lilah’s legs in a grotesque mimicry of a giant sanitary napkin. A bloodstain spread instantly across the middle.

  “Can you see or feel any part of the baby?” the dispatcher asked Katie.

  “You want me to put my hand between her legs?”

  Katie and Lilah stared at each other.

  “Ma’am, I need to know if the baby’s in the birth canal. Can you ask the mother?”

  “Lilah, is the baby in the birth canal?”

  “How the friggin’ hell should I know?”

  “Unclear.”

  “Then yes, you need to feel between her legs, ma’am.”

  “Lilah, I have to do this.”

  Lilah gave Katie a nod. “Maisie. Move up near my . . . he-he-hoo . . . head. We’re way past . . . he-he-hoo . . . PG-13.”

  Reaching under Lilah’s skirt, Katie balanced the phone on her shoulder and pushed aside the towel and Lilah’s panties. A blood clot slid out, and willing herself to not gag, Katie felt around for any sign of the baby. She glanced up and mouthed, Sorry.

  “Nothing. I don’t feel him.” Katie reac
hed for another towel and threw it over the blood clot. Then she put the folded towel back in place. “And I have her lying on the floor with her legs elevated.”

  “That’s not going to help, ma’am.”

  “Is there anything else I should be doing?”

  “Let her rest as comfortably as possible and tell her my partner’s dispatched the ambulance and first responders. Help is on the way.”

  “A whole battalion of help is coming.” Katie held up her thumb to Maisie and then realized it was covered in blood. She cleaned it discreetly on the bottom of her T-shirt.

  “Ma’am,” the dispatcher said. “I’m going to stay on the phone with you as long as I can, and I need you to let me know if there are any complications, okay?”

  “Lilah, do you feel the urge to push?”

  She shook her head.

  “Ma’am? Did something change?”

  “Sorry, I was trying to figure out if the baby’s on the move. I should probably call her husband, right?”

  “No, ma’am. Stay on the line so you can keep me informed about what you’re seeing.”

  Maisie kissed Lilah’s cheek. “Please be okay, Mom. Please be okay.”

  “Honey”—Katie held the phone aside and spoke to Maisie—“you know what would be incredibly helpful? Can you stand out on the porch and watch for the ambulance? The house numbers are hard to read on the mailbox.”

  Maisie nodded. “What about Daddy?”

  “Let’s deal with your mom first, and then I’ll call your dad. But right now, I need you to be my special helper and wait outside. Can you do that?”

  “Got it!” Maisie said and jumped up.

  The front door crashed open.

  “Ma’am? Ma’am!” the dispatcher said. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes, sorry. We have a child here, and I was trying to keep her occupied.” She gulped and looked down at the towels. They were no longer yellow. “Please tell the ambulance to hurry.”

  In the distance, a siren approached. As it got closer, so did the pool of blood.

  TWENTY-NINE

  KATIE

  “Which hospital are you taking her to?” Katie kept an arm around Maisie.

  “Raleigh Regional,” the medic shouted through the open window. Then the ambulance shot into the street, sirens blaring.

  “Come on, honey. Let’s get inside and call your dad and Uncle Jake.”

  Maisie nodded but kept staring into the now-empty street. Katie eased her daughter around to face the house. As they started walking, Katie scrolled through the list of numbers programmed into the phone, found Cal’s cell, and hit “Talk.” He answered on the first ring.

  “Darling?” he said.

  “Sorry, no. It’s Katie, and I’m here, at the house, with Maisie. Where are you?”

  “On campus. Why? What’s wrong? Where’s Lilah? Did she leave us?”

  With a glance at a bloody handprint on the frame of the front door, Katie shepherded Maisie into the hall. The siren retreated, and a mechanical click broke the silence in the house. Cold air descended on them from the vent above.

  “Yes and no. Lilah’s fine, but she had some bleeding. It came on suddenly, so we called an ambulance, didn’t we, Maisie? And Lilah’s on her way to Raleigh Regional.”

  “The baby?”

  “We don’t know.” Katie guided Maisie past the arch that led into the living room.

  “You said ‘bleeding.’ How much? You mean spotting?”

  “Maisie’s right here with me.” Katie spoke loudly and slowly. “She’s been incredibly brave.”

  “Understood. I’m leaving right now.” His voice started jiggling as he ran. “Answer with a yes or no: Is Lilah suffering? Is she in pain?”

  “Yes.” Katie smiled at Maisie; on the other end of the phone line, Cal sucked in a breath. “And I’m about to call Jake, ask him to come over. I’ll stay until he gets here.”

  “Can I talk to Maisie?”

  As they walked into the kitchen, Katie handed over the phone.

  “Daddy?” Maisie pushed up her glasses as she wiped her eyes. “Yes. Everything is fine here so please don’t worry, but you need to get to the hospital super urgently.” She paused. “And I’m sorry about—” Maisie plucked at her lip. This pause was longer. “I love you, too. And Daddy? Promise you’ll call when you get to the hospital so I know Mom’s okay.”

  She hung up and handed the phone back to Katie. “I didn’t want my dad to worry about me.”

  “That was very brave of you, honey.”

  Maisie went quiet.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  “Is it my fault?” Maisie glanced up, her eyes huge.

  “I figured the OCD would tell you that, but know what I think?”

  Maisie shook her head.

  “I think it was a very good thing that both of us were here today.”

  “But suppose we caused it? I’m really, really worried I did something to cause this. Deliberately! What if I wanted this to happen, what if—”

  “Aha! And that’s how OCD tricks you. If you wanted this to happen, you wouldn’t be upset, would you?”

  “I guess.”

  “I know the fear seems real, honey, and I know a huge wave of emotion is crashing over you, but OCD lies. A thought has no power. Even the scariest of thoughts can’t hurt you. In fact, we should take that stinky thought and put it in here.” Katie tapped a large metal trash can shaped like a red bullet. It matched the coffee machine, toaster, and a cheery blind. Otherwise the kitchen hadn’t changed. If she opened the cabinets, would she find her wedding china?

  “I’m super big on recycling,” Maisie said.

  “Even better! Put stinky thoughts in the recycling bin.”

  Katie rested her hand on one of the four white-and-chrome chairs placed around the white-and-chrome table. This breakfast set had been out of their budget, but Cal caved because he never said no to her. All that devotion, and it hadn’t been enough to save a marriage.

  “You’re very quiet,” Maisie said. “Is your voice bad, too?”

  “No. I’m lost in memories. I used to love this room. I think it was the view of the yard with the forest beyond. I put your high chair there, in the corner by the window.” Katie smiled. “Once, you knocked a bowl of butternut squash over poor Ringo, who was sitting underneath. I had to hose him down, which didn’t make him happy.”

  “Who’s Ringo?”

  “Your dad never told you we used to have a dog?”

  “Oh, I don’t think I would have liked that. I’m scared of dogs.” Maisie chewed her lip. “I’m scared of lots of things.”

  “You mean the stinky voice tries to make you scared of lots of things. When I look at you, I see someone’s who brave and strong. Which means the first thing we’re going to do, even before we call Uncle Jake, is tell the voice to go to hell.” Katie pulled out two chairs. She sat in one and patted the seat of the other.

  “Really?”

  “Yup. Shout it with me.”

  They did. Four times.

  “And now, we’ll boss back that stinky voice by lining up the facts of our case. Fact number one.” Katie held up her thumb. “The voice is a cheater. Fact number two”—Katie tapped her temple—“trust what your eyes saw, not what the voice tells you. What was the last thing that your mom did before the pain hit?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Think hard, sweetheart.”

  Maisie frowned. “She kissed me!”

  “Exactly. So our conclusion is . . . that she wasn’t angry?”

  “But you can’t always tell. It’s very hard to tell with my dad.”

  “True, but we’re not talking about your dad. Does your mom tell you when she’s upset?”

  “Oh, yes! She’s been so mad, we went shopping on my dad’s credit card.” Maisie slotted her hands under her legs and swung her heels out and in, out and in. “He’s not going to be very happy when he gets the bill, but she said that was the point.”

/>   “Good for her. And here’s something else I want you to think about. You were calm today. That was the real you. Not the poopy voice that screeches with alarm bells.”

  “I didn’t feel very calm inside.”

  “But you didn’t panic, which must have been really helpful to your mom.”

  “I’m very confused,” Maisie said.

  “About what, honey?”

  “Don’t you want me to call you Mom?”

  “I want nothing more. But I haven’t done a great deal to earn the honor. And with the baby coming, it might be easier for everyone if you call Lilah Mom.”

  “That’s what my dad says.”

  “Well, there you have it. Your biological parents are in agreement, so it must be right.”

  “Is the baby going to die? The voice is telling me—”

  Katie help up her hand. “The voice is telling you the worst thing you can imagine, because that’s what it does. It’s called catastrophizing. Isn’t that a great word?’

  Maisie nodded.

  “But you and I are going to stay positive and bring in Uncle J!” She scrolled through the phone to find Jake’s number. “You know, Maisie, you have four grown-ups who want to parent you. That says something about the kind of person you are.”

  “I guess . . . it’s almost like I have three moms, but three’s a very bad number.”

  “Jake isn’t a dad?”

  “I’m not?” the voice at the end of the phone said.

  “Hi, Jake. Katie here. And Maisie! Everyone’s fine, but we’ve had a bit of a situation. Can you hang on a minute?”

  “Ssssure,” Jake said.

  “Maisie, can you run up to your room and find some colored pencils and paper? We’re going to color through our fear. Create some art.”

  “Oh, that is an awesome plan!” Maisie said, and disappeared.

  Then Katie told Jake everything, in more detail than she’d told Cal.

  “Holy shit,” Jake said when she’d finished.

  Maisie tore back down the stairs.

  “Put her on.” Unlike Cal, Jake didn’t ask.

  “I love you, baby.” Maisie must have hit “Speaker,” because Jake’s voice filled the kitchen. “Hang tight. I’m on my way.”

  “We’re going to make art and think positive thoughts,” Maisie said.