Legacy (10 page)

Chapter 13

“C
orinne? Wake up...Wake up, Corinne,” Wes had her by the shoulder and was shaking her rudely.

Why is he breaking House Rule #1? He’s only been here three weeks? Has he forgotten already?

Corinne could tell that the lamp by her bed was on even before she opened her eyes. When she finally blinked awake, she found Wes standing over her, shirtless, glaring angrily and holding his phone.

“What the hell are you on, Corinne? I’ve been trying to wake you for like five minutes. Morgan’s in labor,” he said, shoving his phone in her face. “You weren’t answering, so she called me.”

Oh, shit!

Corinne tried to push herself into a sitting position, but she felt like her head weighed 100 pounds.

“Crap. What time is it?” she croaked, reaching for her phone. 2:12 a.m. Six missed calls.

Shit.

Corinne hit Morgan’s number, and Greg answered on the first ring.

“Jesus, Corinne. Where the hell have you been?” her brother-in-law scolded.

“I’m sorry, Greg. I was asleep. I must have left my ringer off,” she lied. Wes raised an eyebrow at her and crossed his arms over his bare chest. “Where are you? How’s Morgan?”

“We’re getting in the car and leaving for the hospital. Her contractions are about two minutes apart,” Greg said, sounding breathless and a little panicked. “Morgan wants you and her dad there. Can you pick him up?”

“Um...I guess so...” she hedged. Corinne thought she heard moans in the background.

Morgan!

“We’ll be at Women’s,” Greg said. “Call when you get there.”

And he hung up.

“Shit,” Corinne muttered, staring at her phone.

“Call your dad and get dressed,” Wes barked. “I’ll take you.”

Corinne frowned up at him.

“I can take myself. Go back to bed, Wes.”

Wes shook his head, scowling.

“You are in no condition to drive. You’d probably fall asleep at the wheel and plow into somebody.”

Corinne gasped at the suggestion, and Wes’s eyes lost some of their rancor.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean that.”

Corinne bit her lip and blinked at him.

“I’m sorry they woke you. You seem really upset.”

Wes’s brows rose.

“That’s not why I’m upset, C.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and dragged it through his hair. “Look, just call your dad and get dressed.”

Corinne figured it was best not to argue anymore, even if she knew she could drive safely. The idea that she could ever hurt someone the way Michael had been hurt was too much for her. She shook the thought from her mind and called her father.

Ten minutes later, she found Wes in the living room, dressed and carrying a duffle bag. She gave him a questioning look, but he just stuck his hand out.

“Where are your keys?”

She dug in her purse and handed them over, feeling like a child.

They didn’t speak the entire drive to Emeritus. Corinne sat awkwardly in the passenger seat of her little-used Mazda 3 and dreaded what was ahead. Morgan had asked her to attend the birth, and Corinne had agreed, absently, but now that it was upon her, she didn’t really know if she could go through with it. It would be too intense, and Corinne didn’t think she could handle intense right now.

She leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes for just a moment, but suddenly they were outside her father’s apartment. It surprised her that her dad waited by his front door, leaning against his walker.

“Good morning, Mr. Granger,” Wes greeted him with a pasted on smile as he got out of the car. Corinne followed, unsure how Wes would explain his presence.

Corinne’s father mumbled a greeting, but he eyed Corinne with a question she couldn’t misinterpret.

“Wes gave me a ride be—”

“Because I didn’t want her to drive across town alone at this hour,” Wes declared, offering her father his left hand to shake, matching her dad’s good arm.

Half her father’s face lifted in surprise, followed by a smile.

“Thank you, Wes,” he managed.

Before Corinne knew what was going on, Wes had settled her father into the back seat of the car and tucked his walker into the trunk. As Wes started the car, her father leaned forward, squeezed her shoulder, and gave her an approving look.

What the hell just happened?

There was only one intersection separating Emeritus from Women’s & Children’s Hospital, so Corinne had no time to ponder the question. She did breathe a small sigh of relief that Morgan and Greg had picked this hospital over General where Michael had spent his last days.

Still, the smell was the same, and it hit her as she stepped through the automatic doors. A shudder ran through her, and she crossed her arms around herself. An instant later, Wes placed a hand between her shoulder blades.

When she glanced up at him in surprise, she saw the same haunted look in his eyes that she must have worn.

“That fucking smell,” he whispered.

They found Morgan’s birthing suite on the second floor, and Wes stopped outside the door.

“I’m going to find the waiting room,” he said. Corinne checked her watch. It was almost 3 a.m.

“Wait, don’t you have work in a couple of hours? You should head back,” she said, frowning. “Greg can take us home later.”

Wes just shook his head and gave her an enigmatic smile.

“I’ve got it covered,” he said before heading down the hall.

Corinne watched him go and then followed her father into Morgan’s room where she found her sister sitting on a giant exercise ball, panting. Greg sat in a chair in front of her, bracing her up.

Whoa.

Morgan’s eyes were closed, but her brow crimped, and her light brown hair crowded her face in damp curls.

“I need more ice chips...” she begged. “More ice chips, please, Greg.”

“Of course,” he promised before waving Corinne over and whispering. “She’s transitioning. The nurse said she’s at six centimeters. Come sit with her while I get more ice. Remind her to breathe.”

Greg stood, still cradling Morgan’s head and shoulders, and when Corinne made no move to take his place, he glared at her.

“Sit!” her brother-in-law hissed, so she sat, and before she knew it, Morgan was slumped against her, her legs and the stability ball tucked between Corinne’s knees. Morgan’s skin was hot and flushed, and when the next contraction came, Corinne thought her sister would pull her out of the chair.

“Breathe, Morgan,” her father said, as clearly as he could. Somehow, he had appeared by Corinne’s side in a chair identical to hers, and he helped to brace Morgan’s weight with his left arm.

“Oh, Daddy...” Morgan whimpered, still not even opening her eyes.

“Shhh. Doing great, Morgan,” he cooed.

Corinne watched her sister with a mixture of fear and awe. She’d heard Morgan talk all along about going natural, but she’d always doubted her sister’s commitment to it when the going got tough.

Well, the going seemed to be getting pretty tough, and Morgan wasn’t crying out for drugs.

Corinne swallowed. On the next contraction, she reminded Morgan to breathe.

Three hours later, Corinne held Clementine Granger Bates in her arms.

She didn’t know what to feel. Her niece was the color of a peach and softer than any earthly thing could ever be. Corinne was enraptured with her.

And still with every breath-taking moment—from the one when she’d actually seen the baby’s head crown to the one when the little life she was holding locked eyes with her and
saw her
, Corinne couldn’t silence the voice.

Michael will never get this. We’ll never have this.

“Don’t cry
on
her, Cory,” Morgan scolded, gently, reaching for the baby.

“Ah! I’m sorry,” Corinne sniffed, handing Clementine over and wiping her eyes.

Greg was snapping pictures, which he’d been doing almost non-stop since he and Corinne had bathed the baby—under the watchful eye of one of the nursery staff. Corinne’s father stood at the edge of Morgan’s bed where he’d positioned his walker; he was radiant with pride, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes.

Corinne realized without warning that he was missing their mother, that Alice Granger should have been there beside him to welcome their first grandchild. At least little Clementine wouldn’t know the difference, she’d never know what it felt like to lose her. If she was lucky, maybe she’d make it through life only losing loved ones to old age.

Corinne looked around the room and frowned.

“Where’s Wes?” she blurted.

“Oh, he left a while ago,” Greg said behind the camera. He looked up and pointed toward the door. “He asked that you bring home his bag, and he left your car keys.”

Corinne saw the duffle bag that had been dumped in the chair by the door. When had that happened?

Corinne eyed her brother-in-law.

“Well,...How did he leave? Did he get a ride?” she asked, mystified.

“No, he ran to work,” Greg said, casually, raising the camera to his eye again, seeing only his little family.

“He
ran
to
work?”
Corinne gaped.

“Yeah, that’s what he said.”

“When was this?” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Had that been his plan? Wes had said he had it worked out. Did he just plan to take off on foot in the dark of night?

“It was when I went out for ice chips. Right after you showed up.”

Corinne went to the door and grabbed her keys and the duffle. The bag was completely empty. Whatever had been in it, Wes had taken with him. The guy had planned to run to work.

Because of her.

Corinne bit her lip. She knew it probably wasn’t that big a deal for Wes to run across town, but the fact that he’d insisted on driving her—of getting up hours early to drive her—and running the four or five miles back to the health club more than awed her.

It also made her a little worried. The roads from Women’s & Children’s Hospital to LFC were major thoroughfares with speed limits of 50 mph.

Corinne found her purse and pulled out her phone.

Monday, May 19 8:20 a.m.

You ok? I can’t believe you ran to the gym.

Corinne stared at the screen, waiting for him to reply. She let her breath go once her phone chimed.

Monday, May 19 8:22 a.m.

All good. No worries. Baby?

Corinne smiled in relief.

Monday, May 19 8:23 a.m.

Clementine Granger Bates. 8 lbs, 4 oz. Mom and baby are just fine.

Monday, May 19 8:23 a.m.

Awesome. See u @ home.

“Oh, I think she’s hungry,” Morgan announced. Corinne looked up from her phone to see Baby Clementine rooting eagerly at Morgan’s hospital gown. When her sister made to lift it to suckle the newborn, Corinne took her cue to leave.

“C’mon, Dad. I think we should leave this little family unit to themselves for a while.”

Her father muttered his agreement, but he shuffled to the head of Morgan’s bed to kiss his daughter and granddaughter and once again slap his son-in-law on the back.

Corinne rolled her eyes at his obvious pride, but her face ached with the smile it gave her.

The trip back to Emeritus was short, but more than once, Clement Granger uttered—clearly—the same words.

“A new life...a new life...”

When they reached his apartment, Corinne retrieved her father’s walker from the trunk and walked him to his door.

“One day, Cory,” she thought she heard him say.

Corinne pressed her lips together because it would do no good to tell him that he was wrong; besides, she probably wouldn’t be able to get through it without breaking down. And that wouldn’t help anyone.

Instead, Corinne kissed her father goodbye, promising that they would be the first to visit the little family at home once they were discharged the following day.