Pulled (48 page)

I gathered al my courage and scooped him up.

His cries quieted when he found safety in my arms. I made sure he was secure in one arm, holding him close to my chest as I fumbled around with the other to grab hold of the ful bottle beside his head. I lowered us into the chair, careful y protecting his head, shifting him so I could feed him. I found myself making little cooing noises, shushing him, whispering, “It’s okay, little man,” against the thin material of the cap that covered his head.

He made grunting noises as he adjusted himself to the feel of the bottle in his mouth, and he began to suck.

He fel into a rhythm, taking a few gulps and then stopping to catch his breath. They were the sweetest sounds I’d ever heard.

I wanted to look away and ignore the way he tugged at my heart, but his cal was irresistible.

With the bottle balanced between my chin and chest, I pul ed the little cap from his head, exposing his thin, blond curls. I ran my hand through the soft, fine strands, twisting them in my fingers, quivering with the warmth that sped through my veins as I did so. He released a satisfied, heavy breath from his nose and snuggled into my side, stil suckling, but at a less fevered rate. I ran the tip of my finger around the shel of his ear and over his cheek. His newborn skin felt like velvet from the soft, protective fuzz that covered every inch of him. His legs were long and thin but at the same time plump and healthy. I removed one of his socks so I could see his toes, grinning at how big his foot seemed compared to the rest of him. I cupped the whole thing in my hand and gently squeezed. He pushed back into my palm, the little muscles in his legs flexing their strength. He was perfect.

With the bottle nearly gone, his mouth had fal en lax, and I pul ed it away and set it aside. I turned him, picked him up from under his arms, and rested him against my shoulder. He stretched, his little bottom sticking out and his legs curling up underneath him, his red lips forming a tiny “O” as he expel ed a smal yawn.

I couldn’t help but nuzzle my nose in the crook of his neck, smel ing his soft, clean scent as I patted him on the back and coaxed the bubble from deep within his bel y.

His breathing evened out, and he fel asleep quietly panting. Soft puffs of air fel against my neck. When his hand came up to rest on my cheek, I nearly fel apart. I brought it to my mouth and placed a gentle kiss against his palm uttering, “I love you,” into the delicate skin, shocking myself with my own revelation.

Once I had admitted it, I was unable to keep back the torrent of love that came gushing forth from some unknown reservoir. I never thought I would feel this away again. I had always believed that if I al owed myself to love another child the way I loved Eva, it would somehow diminish the devotion I had for her. But my love for her stil burned bright, and I would never forget her, the child who had touched me so deeply. She could never be replaced. I would love her forever, just as I would love her brother forever.

I kissed his head as he slept against me, rocking him slowly. We sat like that for what seemed like hours.

With each passing minute, I fel further and deeper in love with him. Our spirits learned the other, our hearts melding together. I was bound to him for eternity. He was mine, and I would never let him go.

I didn’t try to engage Vanessa and al owed her to sleep, something she so obviously needed.

I turned to the door when I heard the sound of two faint, timid knocks. Dad peeked his head in, an apologetic scowl on his face. “I hope we’re not interrupting. We hadn’t heard from you in a long time, and we were getting worried.”

I smiled widely at him in reassurance, gesturing with my head for him to enter. The door opened wide, and he walked in. It was not surprising that his hand was firmly intertwined with Mom’s, both of them nervous as they entered the smal room. They stopped abruptly when they found me with my sleeping son cradled in my arms. My eyes were red and swol en from the tears I’d shed, this new love un-contained and dancing on my face. Mom and Dad had had no idea what to expect when they found me in this room, but from the relief that poured from them, it was clear that this was exactly what they’d hoped for.

Mom confirmed it when she started crying as she came to me and kissed me on the side of my head.

“I knew this would happen.” She beamed down at me, then extended the same love-fil ed gaze to my son, her hand coming out to caress the smal of his back as she leaned in closer. “He’s absolutely beautiful, Daniel. Oh, my goodness, he looks just like you!”

I nodded in agreement. He looked exactly like my newborn pictures that Mom so proudly displayed in the den, so much so that I was certain nobody would be able to tel us apart.

“May I?” She reached for him not waiting for permission and whisked him away with very adept hands.

Her tone was sweet and melodic as she spoke gently, swaying her new grandson in her arms. “Hel o, sweetheart.

You are just precious, aren’t you?” Dad sidled to them, joining in the slow dance and running the back of his hand tenderly over the swel of the baby’s plump cheek.

She looked at down on me, curious. “Does he have a name yet?”

I had no idea what to say. Vanessa may very wel have named him, but I had no clue. For some reason though, I thought not. Everything I’d seen so far had only given him the title of “baby boy Montgomery.” I shrugged, nodding my head in Vanessa’s

direction. “We haven’t talked about it yet.” I figured that was honest enough. If she had named him without me, that was my own fault. I hadn’t been here for his birth, and I figured I’d pretty much given up that right. I would be okay with whatever she chose.

They both turned at once toward her as if they hadn’t even noticed she was there. Mom had never even met her, and I could see curiosity burn in her as she stared down at her grandson’s mother. Vanessa lay with her back to us, completely stil , too stil , and I could tel she was no longer asleep as could my mother.

I real y couldn’t hold it against her. I couldn’t begin to imagine how uncomfortable she must feel, witnessing such an intimate exchange by a group of people she didn’t know, our only link to her found in the blood that ran through the child.

Reticent, Mom handed my son back to me,

mindful of the glaring unease Vanessa was experiencing with their presence. “I love you, Daniel. And you, too, little man. I’l see you both in the morning.” Her eyes were damp, fil ed with joy.

Dad kissed my baby’s forehead, before clapping me lightly on the back. “Cal me if you need me.” His simple words always meant so much more.

“I wil ...and thank you.”

They smiled warmly and left the room. The door swung closed behind them and left me alone with my son and his mother. Intense pressure weighed down the air in the room. Vanessa’s voice broke through the tension, coarse and muffled by the pil ow pressed into her face.

“You weren’t here.”

I sighed, readjusting my son and mustering the strength I was going to need to have this very difficult conversation. It was high time we had it, though, because our son deserved that we come to terms, and I knew part of those terms would include me conceding a bit.

I opened my mouth and accepted some of the responsibility, speaking softly to the woman who I stil held a great amount of animosity for, but with who I also shared this amazing child. “I’m sorry. I should have been.” She sniffled and turned her head in my direction, her cheek flat against the pil ow. I focused on her. Even in the subdued light of the dim room, the whites of her blue eyes were a shocking crimson from what appeared to be days of crying. There were dark bags under her eyes, and her face looked puffy and bloated, her lips cracked. A huge lump formed in my throat, and I nearly choked on my guilt.

She looked awful and incredibly tired.

She barely wheezed out, “I needed you,” before succumbing to another bout of emotion that racked her body as she wept into her pil ow.

I truly felt terrible.

“Vanessa,” I tried to comfort her from afar, but I had no idea how to do that. I real y didn’t even know her, and I had no idea what she needed to hear. “Please, listen to me. I real y am sorry I wasn’t here. Who was with you?” Her head snapped up, and she glared at me, yel ing, “No one, Daniel! I was
alone
! I don’t have anybody. I told you that already.”

I cringed at her harshness and shielded my baby’s exposed ear with the palm of my hand. I bit my tongue to refrain from shouting back at her, trying not to make matters worse. We needed a resolution, and I couldn’t al ow this exchange to end the way al the others had.

I focused on my son’s very rapid breaths that were a reminder of exactly why I was having this conversation.

“I’m sorry, Vanessa. You shouldn’t have had to go through this alone.”

It didn’t seem to placate her as she seethed back through clenched teeth, “Where were you?” In the face of such a distraught woman, it occurred to me that lying would probably have been a lot easier on her, but I had told her repeatedly that Melanie was my life.

She was just going to have to accept it.

“Melanie and I were out of town for the holidays.” She yelped as if she were in physical pain, her fists wound tightly in the sheets. The pained expression on her face was such that she could have been my wife, and I’d just told her I was having an affair. It would have made me angry if it hadn’t been so pitiful. I scratched my head, sighing as I pushed forward.

“Listen, Vanessa, what you did was wrong, but I can’t regret that now.” I glanced down at my son. The love I felt when I looked at his precious face sent my head spinning. I might regret her, but I could never regret him, and I’d accepted that I wouldn’t have him without her.

I thought about how terrible it would have been had I grown up with my parents despising each other. I couldn’t al ow for my son to grow up the way. I took a deep breath and made a concession—for my son. “Do you remember when you came to my office that day? When you asked us to be friends? Can we try that?” She froze, gasping, before turning on her side and raising herself up on her elbow. “You want to be friends?” she asked, dubious, but clearly excited by the idea.

I nodded, forcing a very meek, halfhearted smile.

“And see where it goes?”

I groaned, throwing my head back exasperation.

“No, Vanessa.” I shook my head, once again amazed at how irrational and immature she was.

“Look, I need you to understand something.” I don’t know why I felt compel ed to tel her, but maybe if I did, if I gave her the whole story, she would final y comprehend there was no possibility of anything ever developing between us. “I know you know very little about my past, much like I know nothing of yours.” I paused and searched her sul en and dejected face, praying what I was saying would some sort of impact on her.

“Vanessa, I fel in love with Melanie when I was sixteen.” Her sharp intake of air told me she was listening. I hugged my son to me, kissing him softly on the head, giving her a moment to recover. I could only assume she’d believed that dinner was the first time I’d ever met Melanie, and we were sharing nothing more than a torrid fling.

“We were so happy.” I laughed wistful y,

remembering how incredible those first years had been.

“We were so excited when we found out we were going to have a baby.” I chortled through the heavy emotion.

“Scared, but happy. We were going to get married as soon as Melanie turned eighteen.” I drew in a ragged breath. I felt so exposed sharing this with Vanessa, but for some reason I wanted her to know. “We were in a car accident...our baby...Eva...she lived for two days.” I gave myself over to the pain that surged through me, al owing myself to relive it for that short time, blocking nothing.

Through bleary eyes, I looked at Vanessa who had sat up. Wringing her hands together in front of her, she bobbed her head once, urging me to continue.

“Her parents separated us. We were both young and naïve. We let our fears drive us apart. For nine years, we believed a lie, but we never stopped loving each other.

My heart has belonged to her since the day I met her.” I hesitated before pressing forward. “That dinner you came to?” Vanessa nodded. “That was the first time I’d seen Melanie in nine years. You can probably put the pieces together from there.”

She sucked in her quivering bottom lip, turning away as she battled another round of tears, wiping them with the back of her hand. Feeling I’d final y gotten through to her, I felt satisfied we could push forward and unite or at least cooperate and put this child before al of our past grievances.

I laid him against my legs, and he stirred, yawning and drawing his legs up to his bel y. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he?”

Vanessa drew in a deep breath, whimpering as she grabbed a tissue from the box on the table next to her bed and vigorously nodded her head up and down as she squeezed her eyes shut, pressing the tissue against her mouth.

“Did you name him?”

She winced as if I’d slapped her. “No.” She gulped, looking down and tugging at the gown that was twisted at her waist. She took me by surprise when she suddenly rushed the words, “You name him.”

“Vanessa—”

She held up her hand, looking up to meet my eyes. “No. Just name him.”

She shuffled around, climbing underneath the covers and pul ing them to her chin. “I’m real y tired. Can you take him back to the nursery?”

I nodded, guarding my son protectively in my arms when I stood, kissing him and humming an indecipherable love song as I set him in the smal bassinet. Things I had thought would be so foreign to me now came so natural y, changing his diaper and dressing him in a fresh shirt, even wrapping him in the blue and pink striped blanket in the same fashion I’d seen others do time and time again.

Startled, I jumped when Vanessa broke through the silence. “Do you love him?”

I slowly turned to her, meeting her face and answering in al honestly, “With al my life.” Her lips spread into a flat line, neither a frown nor a smile, though enough to convey satisfaction. “Good.” I smiled at her, for the first time hopeful that she and I could work together and be the parents this little boy deserved. “Goodnight, Vanessa,” I whispered, but received no response.