A Nantucket Christmas (13 page)

“James,” she sobbed. “I was mean to Maddox. He wants to keep a puppy he found and I said he couldn’t. He said Santa brought it to him. I said …” She couldn’t finish. She hated herself at that moment. She was the worst mother in the world. “I told Maddox he was
bad
. On Christmas Eve. So he ran away.” She bent over double with pain.

James wrapped his arms around her tight. He was so strong. His love for her was a healing balm. “Let’s get you back inside. You need to take care of yourself. I’ll go find Maddox. He can’t have gone far.”

Sebastian and Nicole approached, ghostly in their snow-covered clothing.

“He’s not in the yard or garage or at the front of the house,” Sebastian announced.

Kennedy choked back a sob.

Nicole had a sudden thought. “Maybe he went up to his room. I’ll check.” She raced out of the mudroom, through the front hall, and up the stairs. The door to Maddox’s room was open. The room was empty.

“He’s not there,” she called as she hurried back down the stairs.

“We’re going to look for him,” Sebastian yelled.

“We’ll find him!” James promised desperately. The two men hurried out.

The front door slammed. Nicole hesitated in the hallway, wondering whether she should join the search party, too.

Just then, to her great surprise, there came from the mudroom an extended, anguished, guttural bellow. It was a sound Nicole knew well from her days as a nurse. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Katya was helping Kennedy into the front hall.

Katya looked exasperated. “For heaven’s sake, Kennedy, enough with the melodrama. They’ll find him.”

Nicole said, “It’s not melodrama, Katya. Your daughter’s in labor.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Katya countered.

Kennedy was almost crouching, hands on the wall for support.

Nicole went to the young woman. “Let’s go into the living room. It’s the warmest room in the house. I’ll check your contractions.”

Unable to speak, Kennedy allowed Nicole to support her as they slowly made their way into the living room. A fire flickered brightly in the fireplace, and the Christmas tree glittered in the window.

“Put your hands on the back of the chair,” Nicole told Kennedy.

Kennedy leaned on the armchair with Nicole standing behind her. Suddenly, a gush of blood-tinged water flooded from her body.

“Kennedy! What are you doing? The rug is Turkish!” Katya cried.

Nicole ignored the other woman, her hands on Kennedy’s belly.

“Katya, the baby is coming. Call 911.”

“The baby isn’t due for three more weeks,” Katya argued, adding, “Maddox was ten days late.”

Kennedy was growling constantly now. Digging her hands into the back of the chair for support, she gasped, “Mommy.
Call 911
.”

With a sniff, Katya took her cellphone out of the pocket of her cashmere skirt and punched in the numbers. She punched them in again. She looked at the phone, mystified. “It’s dead. My cell is dead.”

“Try the landline,” Nicole told her. “In the kitchen.”

“Oooooooooh.” Kennedy’s legs were shaking. “Nicole, I think I’m having the baby.”

“Yes. I think you are, too. Don’t worry, Kennedy. You’ll be fine.”

Kennedy lifted her face to the ceiling, straining. A long wail tore from her body.

Katya ran in from the kitchen. “That line’s dead, too.”

“Must be the storm,” Nicole murmured, preoccupied.

“Kennedy, are you okay?” Katya’s splendid forehead wrinkled in concern.

Nicole calmly informed her: “Katya, she’s having the baby. Now.”

Katya opened her mouth to object, but her daughter’s moans drove the reality past her doubts. “Dear Lord. What can we do?”

Nicole guided Katya’s hands onto Kennedy’s waist. “Hold Kennedy. Support her from behind. It’s good that she’s standing. Gravity will help the baby come down the birth canal.”

“Where are you going?” Katya shrieked, her voice shrill with fear.

“To scrub up. I’ll get some scissors, twine, and towels.”

Katya went white. “I’m going to faint.”

“Not now you’re not,” Nicole said in a tone that brooked no disagreement. She hurried from the room.

In the kitchen, she quickly, knowledgeably, gathered the things she needed. She dashed into the guest room to collect a pile of towels and pillows. She scrubbed her hands with hot water and soap, then raced back into the living room, where Kennedy was roaring in pain while Katya held her daughter up. It was impossible to guess which woman was trembling the most.

Nicole knelt behind Kennedy and lifted the skirt of her red dress, tucking it into the neck. She sliced off Kennedy’s sodden maternity panties.

“Kennedy. I’m going to check how far down your baby has come.”

“I can’t do this!” Kennedy howled. “Give me something for the pain! Please!”

“Whiskey? Brandy?” Katya offered helpfully. “I have some Advil in my travel kit.”

With expert gentleness, Nicole put one hand on Kennedy’s hip, and with the other hand, she slowly explored the birth canal, delicately moving her hand up. She felt the head. As always, this first touch filled her with wonder and gratitude.

“Kennedy. Your baby’s almost here.”

Kennedy screamed. “Please! It hurts too much! I can’t!”

Katya was weeping. “Help her, Nicole. Do something.”

“Do you think you can move to the coffee table?” Nicole asked.

“Are you mad?” Katya asked. “The coffee table isn’t long enough for her to—”

“I don’t want her to lie down on it. I want her to lean her arms on it. I don’t think she can stand up much longer.”

Gasping, crimson-faced, Kennedy managed the few awkward steps, supported by her mother and Nicole.

Nicole swept the bronze bowl of nuts off onto the floor and tossed a pillow in its place. She helped Kennedy lower herself so that each knee was on a pillow and her arms and upper body were supported by the table. She put another pillow between Kennedy’s legs.

“Oh, God!” Kennedy shrieked. “The baby’s coming! The baby’s coming! I can feel him coming!”

“Kennedy, listen to me. I want you to take a deep breath. When I say, I want you to push.”

“What can
I
do?” Katya wrung her hands with worry.

“Go around to the other side of the table. Hold Kennedy’s shoulders. Hold her tight when she pushes.”

Katya did as Nicole said, kneeling on the floor among the flung walnuts, putting her hands on Kennedy’s shoulders.

“Now, Kennedy,
push,
” Nicole said.

Kennedy gripped her mother’s arms and pushed down so fiercely her body shuddered with the effort. When she stopped, she collapsed against the pillow on the coffee table, gasping for breath, too drained to speak.

“Okay, Kennedy. Again.
Push.
”

Kennedy pushed. She felt a force helping her. Her mother was helping her, holding on to her shoulders with a strength Kennedy never knew Katya had. Nicole was helping her. Nicole was a calm blur of movement and words, a serious, capable, confident strength. Something else possessed Kennedy now, a formidable, irresistible power that filled Kennedy’s body like water rushing into a vessel.

She pushed, lowing like a beast.

Pain tore through her. Something ripped inside her. She bellowed.

“Your baby’s crowned,” Nicole said. “One more push and he’s here.”

Shuddering, lost to the world, surrendering to what she could not evade, Kennedy yowled and pushed. The pain was unbearable—and then it diminished. She sagged against the coffee table, broken, mute, and helpless.

Behind her, Nicole was moving rapidly. “Come over here, Katya,” she directed. “Give me the twine. Cut it here. Tie it here. Okay, now cut.”

“Oh, God,” Katya wept. “Oh, God, oh, God, oh God. Kennedy, you have a baby!”

Kennedy could only keen as she felt the placenta move through her, carrying more pain along with it.

“Kennedy, we’re going to help you lie down now,” Nicole said. “Katya, pile those pillows on the floor. Kennedy, you’re going to rest against the pillows so we can put your daughter in your arms.”

Through the fog of shimmering fatigue, one word stood out, in startling, terrifying bluntness. When the ultrasound was done months ago, the technician had told them the baby was a boy.

“Something’s wrong with the baby,” Kennedy sobbed.

Katya and Nicole laughed together.

“Nothing’s wrong with your baby,” Nicole insisted. “Now I’m going to help you lie down. Come on, lean on me, I can take your weight, we’re going to turn a bit … there. More comfortable?”

Kennedy’s eyes cleared as her weight was supported by the cushions behind her. She saw her mother kneeling next to her, holding a naked baby in her arms.

“Kennedy, she’s a little girl.” Katya lowered the baby into Kennedy’s eager arms.

The baby was magenta-pink, covered with white wax, peeping like a bird, waving its arms and legs. Kennedy checked: yes, she was absolutely a little girl. The most beautiful little girl in the world.

“Oh, my baby darling,” Kennedy cooed softly.

The baby turned her face toward Kennedy, instinctively settling into Kennedy’s arms, against her breasts.

Kennedy looked up at Nicole. “Is she healthy? Does she have everything?”

Nicole was weeping and laughing at the same time. “She’s perfect. She has everything. She doesn’t even seem underweight. And she’s long. Look how long her legs are. She’s got her all her toes, fingernails, eyebrows—she’s absolutely complete.”

“She’s beautiful,” Kennedy whispered.

“She is. As soon as we can get hold of a doctor, or get over to the hospital, we’ll get some antibiotic ointment to put in her eyes.” Nicole held up her hand. “It’s state law. It’s done for all babies at birth, to prevent infection, but it doesn’t have to be done immediately, it can wait, don’t worry.”

Kennedy couldn’t stop staring at the tiny creature in her arms, so strange, so unknown, so entirely, absolutely belonging to her.

“Katya,” Nicole said, “could you please get something clean and warm for Kennedy? Something soft, that opens in the front? Perhaps a cotton robe?”

“I don’t want to leave the baby,” Katya confessed with tears in her eyes.

Nicole laughed. “She’ll be here when you get back. Go to my room. My softest old robe is tossed over a chair.” Nicole bent over Kennedy. “I want to wrap your baby in this towel for warmth, then I’ll give her back to you.”

Kennedy was vaguely aware of her mother leaving the room. When Nicole lifted the baby away from her, Kennedy realized how uncomfortable she was, and how soggy the towels were beneath her bum.

“Am I okay?” she asked. She realized she was shaking.

“You’re fine. Childbirth is a messy business.” As she spoke, Nicole wrapped the baby and placed her back in Kennedy’s arms. “You’re trembling because you’ve just had a baby. It’s normal.”

Katya returned with the white terry cloth robe.

“Help your daughter put it on,” Nicole said. Once again, she took the baby.

Kennedy groaned as she struggled to sit up. Her mother knelt behind her, unzipping her red dress and pulling it up over her head. She unsnapped the maternity bra, which was wet with sweat, and swiftly patted Kennedy’s neck and back with a towel before helping her slip her arms into the downy robe. Katya’s delicate ministrations released memories of her long-ago childhood, when her mother had helped her dress. As her mind cleared of pain, a kind of bliss replaced it at the thought of such care, such tenderness.

“Do you think you could stand up?” Nicole asked. “You’d be more comfortable on the sofa.”

Kennedy nodded. With her mother’s help, she shoved herself into a standing position. Fluids ran down her legs. “Sorry,” Kennedy said. “Gross.”

Nicole chuckled. “Natural.” With another towel, she dried Kennedy’s legs.

Katya supported Kennedy as she limped toward the sofa. “Don’t fall on the nuts.”

“Now why do I find that statement humorous?” Nicole wondered aloud with a grin. She was layering the sofa with more towels and plumping up pillows, working with ease and efficiency with the baby tucked in one arm.

“I need a pad between my legs,” Kennedy said.

Nicole paused. “I don’t have any.”

“I haven’t had any for some time,” Katya said.

The two women looked at each other and a comradely expression of relief mixed with regret passed between them.

“Well, I certainly haven’t needed any for months,” Kennedy told them.

“A towel will work,” Nicole decided.

Kennedy lowered herself onto the sofa, which took her weight like a mound of clouds. Her mother arranged the robe over her legs. Nicole laid the baby in her arms. Kennedy gazed down at the pink, serene, wondering face, a face completely radiant with trust. Someone, her mother or Nicole, tucked a warm blanket around her, and Kennedy thought what a blessing it was to have that, just that, a person who covers you with a blanket and tucks it around you with care. Right now, it seemed a good reason to be born.

Maddox ran and ran. He ran down the block and around the corner before he had to stop to catch his breath. Setting Pooh down, he huffed, “Don’t run away.”

The little dog cocked his head, wagged his tail, and scooted next to Maddox’s leg.

At the other end of the street, a group of people were coming out of a restaurant, guffawing, hugging, patting one another on the shoulders. The sight and sounds encouraged Maddox, drew him toward them.

It was cold. Maddox glanced at Pooh. “You have fur,” he reasoned. “I don’t. I’ll hold you if you get cold, okay?”

Pooh wagged his tail, so Maddox took his coat off the puppy and slipped his own arms into it. The warmth was immediate and wonderful.

“Come on, Pooh,” Maddox said, lifting his chin and setting out optimistically, kicking his way through the snow. “Maybe we’ll find some nice people with a cellphone. They can call Daddy and Mommy and then …”

His imagination took him no further. He would get there and see what happened next. They would be sorry, his parents, especially his mommy, who had screamed at him in the most terrible voice he had ever heard, as if she hated him, as if she had turned into one of those monsters on the games big boys played. At the memory, his eyes welled with tears. He had
not
been such a bad boy. He’d done worse things before. He’d spilled stuff and been sassy, and he wasn’t good at sharing.