Secrets on Cedar Key

by Terri DuLong

  “Here you go,” Worth said, passing me a wineglass. “I picked up a nice Santa Cristina Sangiovese when I was in Gainesville last week.”

  I took a sip. “Excellent,” I said. “Thanks.”

  He reached over for my hand. “Tired?”

  “A bit. But happy.”

  He gave my hand a squeeze. “Good.”

  “You were right, you know.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You had told me months ago that everything would work out. And it has.”

  “Things usually have a way of doing that.”

  “I really liked Greg too. I’m glad he came here last month so we could meet him.”

  He was a very nice fellow, tall, good-looking, and obviously quite in love with Fiona. The way he looked at her said a lot, but he also displayed a caring concern toward her, and before he left to fly back to Boston, unbeknownst to Fiona, he’d taken me aside to tell me he loved Andrew’s daughter and welcomed the baby and he planned to support Fiona and his child, both financially and emotionally. I don’t think a parent could ask more than that for her daughter. He also made me promise to call him the moment Fiona went into labor because he planned to grab the next flight to Gainesville.

  “I liked him a lot too,” Worth said. “And I’m glad he was able to spend a few days here. It gave them both some time to discuss their plans in depth. I think their decision to go slow is a good one.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, but I do hope he’s able to get a position teaching down here. That would enable him to be more a part of the baby’s life.”

  “He seemed fairly confident that would happen. Apparently, he knows a couple of the professors in the English department, who are going to put in a good word for him.”

  “It also worked out well that Katy wants to keep renting Fiona’s town house. It will give her some extra income, and I don’t think she’s ready to sell it yet.”

  “Well, it’s really the only home she’s ever known. She moved there with her mother when she was five.”

  “For a girl who had no family to speak of, family really means a lot to her.”

  “I’m sure that’s why it meant so much when you asked her to stay here with you.”

  Worth brought my hand to his lips, placing a kiss on top.

  “You’re the one who hinted at that, and I’m not sure I ever thanked you. So thank you. You know . . . I’ve come to realize that family doesn’t have to be defined by blood relations.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  I nodded. “Family can be a group of persons forming a household—just people, sharing mutual interests, good times and mostly . . . love.”

  “That’s right.”

  I took a sip of wine and smiled before squeezing Worth’s hand. “Then Fiona and I have found a new family. Right here at Safe Harbor. In this house.”

  49

  The first of May arrived on Cedar Key with sunshine and low humidity, and before the day was over the town would have one more resident.

  I woke shortly before six-thirty and found Worth already in the kitchen preparing the coffeemaker.

  “Good morning,” I said, going to give him a hug and kiss.

  “Good morning. Sleep well?”

  “Always,” I said, bending down to scoop Toulouse into my arms. “And how’s my little boy today?” I received a musical trill in answer.

  I went to the counter and began spooning Iams cat food into his bowl and glanced out the window. That’s when I saw them. Down by the water, in the bright sunlight, a swarm of dragonflies hovering in the air. They were back. I remembered when I’d seen them the first time I’d come to look at the property and recalled what Berkley had told me about them. That they symbolized renewal, positive force, and the power of life. They also represented change and the sense of self that comes with maturity. I let out a sigh as I placed Toulouse’s bowl on the floor.

  “Let’s have our coffee on the patio,” I said, heading outside.

  Worth followed me out and sat beside me at the table.

  I nodded toward the water. “The dragonflies are back.”

  “I noticed.”

  I took a sip of coffee. “You know, yesterday I was thinking back to where I was a year ago. Andrew had been gone not quite two months. I still hadn’t accepted the fact that I was a widow. I had no idea where my life was going.” I continued to stare at the dragonflies swirling and dipping as their translucent wings caught the sunlight. “I hadn’t met you yet and I didn’t know a thing about Fiona. And now . . . I don’t know what I’d do without either of you in my life.”

  Worth leaned over and placed a kiss on my forehead. “I don’t think you’re going to have to find out. I love you, Marin, and I’ll always love you.”

  Later that morning Worth left to go downtown to the bookshop. He said that Lucas had called the day before to let him know a book he’d ordered had come in.

  Fiona had slept in later than usual and emerged from her room just after Worth had left.

  “Good morning,” I said, bending over to fill the dishwasher. “Sleep okay?”

  “Not really,” I heard her say and spun around to see a strange expression on her face.

  “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  “I started to have a backache about four this morning. I’ve been awake since then.”

  “Oh, God, Fiona. Why didn’t you wake me up?”

  “I don’t think it’s anything to be concerned about,” she said, waving a hand in the air as she went to pour herself some juice.

  She had no sooner said this than a gush of water hit the floor and Fiona gripped the counter.

  “Oh, my God! I think my water just broke.”

  “I think you’re right.” I ran to grab her arm. “Okay. Come on. Sit here while I get some towels. Maybe I should call Worth first, though,” I said, halfway to the linen closet. “No, towels first.” I grabbed an armful, racing back to the kitchen, feeling completely disorganized.

  I threw the towels on the floor, attempting to soak up the liquid as I shot questions at Fiona. “Any blood? Have the cramps increased? Still only in your back? Oh, I have to call Worth. He’s on standby to drive us to the hospital. Your bag. Your bag is packed and ready, right?” I looked up to see Fiona doubled over with laughter.

  “What?” I said, my concern increasing. “Are you okay?”

  She held a hand in the air. “I’m fine, but I don’t think you’re doing so well. Calm down, Marin. Really, I’m fine. Ouch,” she now said, bending forward, and I knew it wasn’t from laughter this time.

  “Right. Okay, I’m going to call Worth. You just sit tight.” As if the poor kid was going anywhere. God, I felt like a character in a sit-com.

  He answered on the second ring.

  “I think Fiona is in labor. Her water just broke. She’s been having back pain since four. I think this is it. We need to get to the hospital, Worth. Like now.” I knew I was babbling, but I couldn’t help it.

  Was that a chuckle I heard come across the line? Damn him. Men had no idea how serious this could be. I mean, God, Fiona could deliver her baby right here on the kitchen floor if we didn’t move fast.

  “Marin,” I heard him say. “You need to calm down. Hold on a sec. Josie is right here in the coffee café. Let me relay the info to her and see what she says.”

  Josie? Josie Sullivan? Oh, thank God! She was an RN.

  A few moments later Worth said, “Okay, Marin. I’ll be right along. Now, calm down. We’ll be at the hospital within an hour.”

  I had just finished helping Fiona change into dry clothes when Worth walked in, followed by Josie. I wanted to rush over and kiss the girl, but I was assisting Fiona to the sofa.

  “Oh, Josie, thank you so much for coming over. Will she be okay? Do we even have time to get to the hospital?”

  Josie shot me a smile as she knelt down in front of Fiona. “First babies usually take a while. I don’t think this one will be born on Cedar Key.” She proceeded to ask Fiona
a few questions, nodding and placing her hand on Fiona’s abdomen.

  Standing up, she said, “You’re definitely in labor, but you’ve got time to get to the hospital. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Are you sure?” I questioned. “Do you think maybe we should call an ambulance to take her?”

  Josie laughed as she patted me on the shoulder. “No, there’s no need for that. Take her in the car, drive safely, and I guarantee you won’t be delivering a baby on the way.”

  “Okay,” I said, beginning to feel a semblance of calm returning. “If you could call my mother at the yarn shop and let her know we’re on our way to the hospital, I’d really appreciate it. Ask her if she could come over later today to let Suzette out, and tell her I’ll call her as soon as I can.”

  “Will do,” Josie said. “Now, go. I’ll lock up here.”

  I raced outside to see that Worth had already assisted Fiona into the backseat of my car and placed her bag in the trunk. I jumped in beside Fiona, and Worth pulled out onto the road and headed to Gainesville.

  During the drive, Fiona began to have some pretty good contractions. She gripped my hand as perspiration began to dot her forehead and upper lip.

  “Doing okay?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Yeah, but, Marin . . . will you come into the delivery room with me?”

  We had never discussed this, so she caught me by surprise. “Are you sure? Are you sure you want me in there with you?”

  “I do. Very much. Please.”

  “Of course,” I reassured her. “Of course I will.”

  Worth was pulling into the emergency room entrance when another strong contraction caused Fiona to bend forward, gripping my hand tighter.

  “Okay,” I said. “We’re here. Hold on a little bit longer.”

  Worth pulled the car to the side, jumped out, ran inside, and returned with a nurse pushing a wheelchair.

  I got out of the backseat, allowing Fiona to scoot to the edge, then holding her arm and guiding her into the wheelchair.

  “Hi,” the nurse said, “I’m Susan. First baby?”

  Fiona nodded as I increased my pace to keep up.

  “Are you registered to deliver here?” she asked.

  “Yes, Fiona Caldwell.”

  The information was given to the woman in the cubicle we now found ourselves in. While Fiona produced an insurance card, information was entered into the computer, and Fiona experienced a couple more pretty good contractions, Worth went to park the car and returned.

  Just when I was convinced that maybe Fiona hadn’t given birth on Cedar Key but she most definitely would probably do so in this hospital admitting room, I heard the nurse say, “Okay, off we go. I’m from labor and delivery, so I’ll take you up there.”

  Finally, I thought.

  “Will you be with her for the delivery?” the nurse asked, looking at me.

  Before I could answer, Fiona said, “Yes, she will. She’s my stepmom.”

  “All righty, then,” Miss Cheery Nurse said, like this was just another ordinary occurrence in her shift. “And you are?” she asked, looking at Worth.

  “He’s my significant other,” I said.

  We were just about at the bank of elevators now, and I prayed we made the delivery room.

  “Okay, that’s fine,” Miss Cheery Nurse said. “You’re probably not going into the labor and delivery room also, but we have a nice lounge that you can wait in, so follow us.”

  The elevator doors had just closed when Fiona had her strongest contraction yet. Her hand shot out for mine, and she squeezed. Tight.

  The doors were opening as the nurse said, “Breathe, honey. In and out. Work with the contraction.”

  “Caldwell,” she called out as we passed the nurses’ station and waved her arm to the right. “There’s the waiting lounge.”

  I felt Worth take me by the shoulders, place a kiss on my lips, and say, “You’ll both be fine. Now, go become a grandmother.”

  I raced to catch up with Fiona and the nurse.

  “Okay,” she said as I followed them into a nicely decorated room. It resembled a lavish hotel room more than a hospital room. “We’re going to do an exam first to see where we’re at and get you hooked up to the monitor. Then we’ll take it from there. There’s a call out to your doctor.”

  I looked around the room and let out a huge sigh. My stress level had decreased dramatically. We were now in a controlled environment. We had proper medical personnel, should anything go wrong. We were safe.

  “Everything seems to be going along great. You’re in active labor and about five centimeters dilated,” the nurse informed us after the exam, grabbing a clipboard from the maple bureau against the wall. She pulled a sliding stool up to Fiona’s bed, reached over to squeeze her arm, and said, “You doing okay? Need anything for discomfort?”

  Fiona shook her head. “No, I’m okay so far.”

  The nurse looked at the papers attached to the clipboard. “Okay, well, the doctor ordered some pain med if you need it, and they’ll do an epidural right before the delivery. What time did your water break?”

  “Around ten?” Fiona looked at me.

  “Yes, I’d say it was a little after ten.” I glanced at my watch, surprised to see that it was already going on one-thirty.

  After the nurse asked the routine questions, I said, “Will she deliver in here?”

  Susan smiled and nodded. “Yes, the bottom half of the bed breaks away and becomes a delivery table. Any other questions?”

  “I’m very dry. Can I have some water?” Fiona asked.

  “I’ll get you some ice chips,” the nurse said, leaving the room.

  “You’re doing great,” I said, pushing strands of hair off Fiona’s forehead.

  Another contraction gripped her, and I knew they were now coming closer together and lasting longer.

  “Still okay?” the nurse asked, walking in with a paper cup and spoon and passing them to Fiona.

  “They’re getting stronger,” she said before spooning ice into her mouth.

  “That’s a good thing.” The nurse nodded. “That’s what we want.”

  I saw her glance at the monitor as Fiona clasped the bed rail with one hand while reaching out for me with the other.

  About ten minutes later, her obstetrician entered the room.

  “Hey, Fiona,” he said, perfectly at ease and friendly. “So you decided to have a May Day baby, huh?”

  She laughed. “I guess so.” And a minute later she doubled over in pain again.

  “Okay,” he said, waiting for the contraction to subside. “Let’s have a look and see how you’re progressing.”

  I stood at the head of Fiona’s bed and let out a deep breath.

  A few minutes later, he said, “Things are moving along pretty fast now. You’re almost at seven centimeters. The baby’s in position, so the contractions are going to get even stronger and they’re going to last longer. I need you to start using your breathing techniques and focus. Mom,” he said, looking at me. “She’ll be going into transition soon, so your job is to use a cool cloth on her forehead, rub her back, anything that will help her to relax.”

  I nodded and let out another deep breath and looked over to see the nurse had placed a basin of water on the table beside me with a washcloth.

  Within fifteen minutes I knew it wouldn’t be much longer. Fiona was struggling to maintain her composure, but fifteen minutes later she began to moan, moving from side to side. Sweat poured down the sides of her face, and I passed the washcloth over her forehead, down her face to her neck.

  “I can’t,” I heard her say. “I can’t do this.”

  I turned her face so she had direct eye contact with me. “Yes, you can,” I said with more force than I felt.

  “The baby’s coming too fast for an epidural,” I now heard the doctor say. “Fiona, the baby’s head has crowned, and I need you to push.”

  She shook her head from side to side, reminding me of a f
ive-year-old having a tantrum. “I can’t. I want to go home.”

  I took her face in my hands, forcing her to look at me. “I know you can do this. Fiona, listen to me. You have to focus and push. Your baby is almost here.”

  She let out a guttural sound, and I heard the doctor say, “Good, Fiona. Very good. Bear down. Give me another push.”

  I felt her entire body tense with the effort and a minute later heard the doctor say, “You have a daughter. It’s a girl. Well done, Fiona.”

  I looked to the foot of the bed and witnessed the miracle of life as Fiona said, “A girl? Really? Is she okay?”

  It was then that I realized we were both laughing and crying, clasping each other’s hands.

  “See for yourself,” the doctor said, holding up the most beautiful newborn I’d ever seen. “Give us a minute to get her cleaned up and you can hold her.”

  Fiona looked up at me with pure love in her eyes. “Thank you,” she said, still weeping. “Thank you so much for being here, Marin. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

  Hearing those words caused me to start sobbing with profound love for Andrew’s daughter and gratitude that I was able to be a part of this momentous occasion.

  The nurse placed the swaddled baby into Fiona’s arms, and I looked down at Andrew’s granddaughter. My granddaughter. The look on Fiona’s face radiated pure joy, all the pain of the previous hours forgotten as she looked into the face of her daughter.

  Fiona gently stroked the baby’s forehead. “She has a name,” she said softly. “I’m naming her Andrea, after my father, and her middle name will be Marin, after you.”