You're My Baby (24 page)

 

A
NDY DROVE
, white-faced, in a manner that would bring an approving smile to any driving instructor but that caused Pam to bite her lip in frustration. Couldn't he go any faster?

By the time they reached the hospital her contractions were about four minutes apart and she had a new appreciation for the word
travail.
A sweet-faced nurse, who looked like one of her students—what could she know about childbirth?—settled her in the labor room, decked out to deceive her that she was in a luxury hotel. She could see Andy hovering anxiously in the hall. Finally the nurse finished her ministrations and nodded to
Andy. “You can come on in now and keep your mother company.”

Pam momentarily shut her eyes. If only that were true.

Andy peered nervously around the room, studying every detail except her mounded stomach. “What are those things?” he said, pointing to the fetal monitor apparatus.

She explained to him about tracking the baby's heart rate as well as the length and strength of the contractions. He leaned over to study the erratic scratches on the paper feeding through the machine. “Cool.” Then he stuck his hands in his pockets and stared over her head. “That a boom box?”

“Yes. There are some CDs in my bag.” Just then a contraction tightened her stomach, and she concentrated only on the crescendoing sensation.

“Pam?” Andy's voice sounded strained.

The pain ebbed. She smiled. “It's okay. Just a contraction.”

“Isn't there something I'm supposed to do?”

“Not a thing, except cross your fingers all goes well.” She studied his drawn face, his clenched hands. “You don't have to stay with me. Maybe you'd be more comfortable in the waiting room.”

“No!” He seemed shocked at his own strong reaction. “I'm responsible. Until Dad gets here.”

Pam smiled, then held out her hand. “Thanks, Andy. I'd like you to keep me company.”

And, for the next forty minutes, that's exactly what he did, putting on some soothing CDs and holding her hand until Grant, face flushed, burst into the room. “Thank God, I made it in time.”

Pam had never been so glad—or so sad—to see
somebody. The moment was here. But what she had was a birth coach, not a husband.

 

T
HE NEXT COUPLE OF HOURS WERE
a blur of reassuring voices, intermittent examinations and the inevitable surges signaling contractions. Dr. Ellis had arrived, checked her and given Pam a big thumbs-up. “You've slowed down some, but we should have a baby before this youngster's bedtime.” The doctor winked at Andy, who had steadfastly refused to leave Pam's side, except when the nurse asked him to step into the hall while she did some tests. About four in the afternoon, he picked up the bedside phone. Grant was feeding her chipped ice and stroking her forehead. They couldn't help overhearing.

“Angie, yeah, uh, I'm not gonna be able to make it this evening. My stepmom's having her baby, and I gotta be here…. What's it like? Well, it's not the easiest thing in the world, you know?” He listened, then grinned. “You're right. I guess that
is
why they call it ‘labor.'… You, too. Yeah, I'll call you as soon as he comes.”

“She,”
Pam murmured just before another contraction crested.

“Deep breaths,” Grant coached. “Atta girl. Just a little longer.”

When the pain passed, she gazed into his eyes, arrestingly blue and heartbreakingly full of concern. She clutched his warm hand. “Thanks for being here.” Then she looked over at Andy. “Both of you.”

“You're going to have a beautiful, healthy baby. Keep focused on that.” Grant's voice was like a lullaby. He projected calm, confidence. No wonder he was an effective basketball coach.

A beautiful, healthy baby.
Tears welled and splashed down her face.

Grant leaned over. “Are you all right?”

She tried to smile through the tears. “Yes.”
Except for the fact my baby will never know you as a father.

 

A
T DINNERTIME
the nurse suggested Grant and Andy get something to eat. “You have a long night in front of you. Best to be fortified.”

Grant didn't like the sound of that “long night.” Labor was supposed to come more quickly when a mother's water broke. What was taking so long? Watching Pam's struggle was pure agony. He ached with love each time she endured a contraction, each time she gripped his hand in concert with her body's upheaval.

“Do we have time to run home?”

When the nurse learned they lived close by, she told them to go on, saying nothing much would change in the next hour or so.

“Dad, are you sure we should leave?”

“We won't be long. There's something I need to get at home. We'll grab a bite at the drive-through and be back in a jiff.”

“What'd you forget?”

“Never mind. It's between Pam and me.”

Andy shot him a strange look, but didn't question him further. Grant concentrated on his driving. And on thinking.

He'd missed Pam these past few weeks. Oh, sure, they'd occupied the same space, but the old intimacy was gone. Until today. Logic told him this wasn't his wife. Wasn't his baby. But with each contraction, each heartbeat ticking away on the monitor, he kept thinking, “I love you, I love you.”

He left Andy in the car and raced to his desk in the den and pulled out the envelope. Maybe this was a crazy idea, but it was no crazier than his idea of getting married in the first place.

It was a desperate game plan, but winning meant putting everything on the line.

And, God, how he needed—wanted—to win!

 

D
AD LOOKED SO SERIOUS
, so worried, Andy figured he'd better say something. Help get his dad's mind off Pam. But that was hard 'cause that was all he was thinking about, too. About how tinkly her laugh was, about how she made him feel good about himself, about the way his dad stared at her when he thought nobody was looking. He'd been pretty much an ass about learning the baby was somebody else's. You had to look at it from the kid's point of view. He'd need a family. And it wasn't like Andy had any other siblings. Besides he couldn't believe he was actually going to be there when the baby came. Well, not
there,
like in the delivery room, but right outside. Like a regular brother. Andy gazed out the window. They were only a few blocks from the hospital. “Dad, I've been thinking.”

“What about?”

“I'd like to stay.”

“Well, sure, son. Pam and I want you at the hospital.”

“Uh, that's not what I meant.” Andy cracked his knuckles, desperate to make his dad understand.

“I'm listening.”

“I want to stay in Fort Worth, go to Keystone, be part of your, uh, our family.”

He'd thought his dad would break out one of those world-class grins. Instead, he looked pained. Didn't he
want him? “Nothing would make me happier, Andy. It's been great having you here. But—”

“I know. Mom.”

“I have no sense of how she would react.”

“Couldn't we try?” Looking down at his lap, Andy realized he'd crossed his fingers.

His father's features relaxed and, with a sigh, he smiled. “Yes, son. We'll try.”

 

“Y
OUR HUSBAND'S HERE
,” Dr. Ellis announced, peeling off her rubber gloves. “I'd say he's just in time. You're dilated to eight.” When the doctor stood aside, Grant hastened to Pam's bedside. She was so relieved when he returned. His presence soothed her in a way back rubs and foot massages never could.

He picked up her hand and held it against his chest. “How're you doing?”

“I just want it over,” she moaned. “Why can't this baby hurry up?”

“I guess he takes after his mother. Wants to make a grand entrance.”

She couldn't hear the rest of what Grant said. She closed her eyes and screwed up her face. Through the red mist of a strong contraction, she made out his one word. “Breathe.”

From the foot of the bed, a nurse said, “It won't be long, now, honey. But you've got to work with me.”

Her body felt as if a battering ram had taken up residence in her pelvis. No sooner would one wave crest and break than another would take its place. The only constants were Grant's deep voice and his gentle hand tenderly wiping the damp hair off her forehead. “Please!” she heard herself call out.

Time stood still, yet rushed past with a fury, bringing with each movement of the clock hand another spasm.

“Don't push,” the nurse admonished.

Dr. Ellis swept into the room, gowned and masked, her eyes dancing. “Show time, Mama.”

“Thank God,” Pam managed to say before becoming aware the room had suddenly been transformed into a brightly lit surgical theater.

“Breathe, then hold it,” the doctor said.

Pam felt herself lifted and cradled in Grant's strong arms.

“Now—” the obstetrician's voice was emphatic
“—Push.”

Pam gripped the sheet and bore down with all her might. She felt tears on her cheeks as she slumped against Grant, helpless to deliver the massive weight pinning her to the bed.

“Rest.” The nurse sponged her face.

“One or two more,” the doctor intoned.

Again the cataclysm—cramping, exploding.

“Okay, okay,” Dr. Ellis murmured. “The head is crowning.”

Pam knew she couldn't possibly do anything more. They'd just have to take the baby some other way. “I can't.”

Suddenly Dr. Ellis stood over her. “Stay with me, Pam. Your baby wants to meet you.”

Then Pam was filled with a fierce urge, magical in its intensity, followed by a rapturous kind of pain.

“Push!” the doctor ordered.

Then, as if a huge hole had been blown in the dam of her body, she felt release, and almost before she could process the change, the doctor held up a tiny, perfect infant, bawling its head off in greeting.

“You have a beautiful baby girl,” Dr. Ellis said, beaming. “Would you like to hold her?”

Would I like to hold her?
Pam held out her arms. “Thank you, thank you all.” Then she welcomed her daughter, wrapped loosely in a warm blanket. A miracle. Amazingly, the baby quit crying while Grant cut the umbilical cord, and then through unfocused deep blue eyes studied her mother.

The medical personnel were busy doing something at the other end of the bed, but Pam didn't care. Her precious baby was here. Safe and sound.

Then she looked up at Grant, intending to thank him. The words died on her lips. He made no attempt to wipe away the tears streaming down his cheeks. “You're so beautiful,” he said to her, his eyes awash with love. Then he looked at the baby. “You both are,” he whispered.

Holding her daughter, gazing at the man she loved—a man who'd stood by her even through this miracle—she knew that her dad was right. She could no longer risk the pain of not knowing.

She offered him her daughter. “Here, you take her.”

His eyes clouded with uncertainty. “You're sure?”

“Oh, yes.” She placed the baby in Grant's arm, tucking the blanket around the tiny form. Then she found his eyes. “I'm sure, because I love you so very much.”

For one heartbeat, she thought he was going to drop the baby, but he recovered, nestling her even closer to his chest. His voice caught. “Does this mean what I think it does?”

Her eyes never left his. “What do you think it means?”

Cradling the baby like a football, he reached into his pocket and withdrew an envelope. “I hope it means that
I can tear this up.” It was their written agreement. “That we don't have to wait till September to decide about the rest of our lives.”

Gently he placed the baby in her arms, catching one of her hands and kissing it reverently. “I love you, Pam. I've loved you from the beginning, all along, and most especially right now.”

She felt a warm glow radiating throughout her body. She sighed contentedly, pointed to their contract, and then smiled into his dear face. “Tear away, beloved.”

 

A
NDY COULDN'T BELIEVE IT
. They were letting him in the delivery room. Right away. “Is it a boy or a girl?” he asked the smiling nurse.

She winked. “Why don't you come see?”

He opened the door carefully, peering around the edge. He didn't wanna walk in on, well, yucky stuff.

“Son? Come in.”

His dad sat on the edge of the bed, his arm around Pam. Cradled in her arms was this round-faced baby with squinty eyes, rosy-red cheeks and lots of black hair. Andy edged closer. “Jeez, he's kinda little.”

Both his dad and Pam chuckled like they were in on some big joke. “What's so funny?” He didn't know crap about babies. Had he said something wrong?

“
She,
Andy,
she,
” Pam said with one of those laughs like warm butter.

“You mean it's a
girl?
” That was weird. He'd all along figured it was a boy. He hung his head for a minute, remembering all that energy he'd wasted being jealous of a brother.

His dad's eyes danced. “Do you need to check the equipment?”

“That's okay.” He took another step closer. “She's got lotsa hair, doesn't she?”

“She'll lose most of it,” Pam told him. “The main thing is she's eight healthy pounds of baby.” She motioned toward a chair. “Pull that over here and sit down. Then I'll let you hold her.”

“That's all right. I don't know any thing about—”

His dad muscled the chair into position. “Nonsense. Every man's got to do it sometime. She won't bite.”

The next thing he knew he was sitting there with this warm, squirming baby in his arms. She smelled good, like talcum powder or something. And she kept moving these rosebud lips and making little kissing noises. A
girl.
He still couldn't get over it. Just let any creeps try going out on a date with her. He'd show 'em. “She's awesome. It feels kinda like she's our baby, you know, Dad?”