The setback, p.28
The Setback, page 28
“Your son is just fine, but he needs some oxygen and heat. Now you will sit down, or I will bodycheck you.” The nurse has followed Ethan’s mom out, and she’s big. She’s also not afraid of Abigail.
I’m worried for her.
Abigail looks like she’s about to plow right through that woman. But then her nostrils both flare, and she nods. “Fine. But I want to see him soon.”
“Sit.” The nurse points.
Abigail complies.
Ethan and I sneak around the corner and hover at the edge of the room.
“You had an epidural. You cannot just hop up and start running down the hall, you crazy lady.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to call me crazy.” Abigail arches her eyebrow.
I’ve seen that eyebrow cow very scary men. I’ve seen it make my dad pretty nervous, actually.
The nurse just sniffs. Abigail may have met her match. “Now lie back, and let me check your stomach.”
Abigail’s glaring at the ceiling while the nurse presses all over her midsection. She doesn’t look very comfortable, but she doesn’t make a peep either. “The epidural wore off before he was even born. They inverted me, remember?”
“Be that as it may, we have protocols. Before you can leave this room, you have to pass—”
“Alright.” Ethan grabs my arm and wheels me out the door again. “Let’s go see where Izzy and Whitney and Gabe are. Since they’re not in there, they might not have seen anything. They may be able to eat food again sometime in their lives.”
I swąt his arm. “Stop being so melodramatic.”
He shakes his head. “Oh, this is me being calm.”
I’m still rolling my eyes when we find the kids. Izzy wants to see the baby right away, but the others are starving.
“I think we have to wait until we have permission,” Ethan says. “But I’ll go check again in a minute.” He mutters, “Once I’m sure Mom will be fully dressed and upright.”
Half an hour later, Steve comes to check on us. “The baby’s doing great.” He smiles. “He’s on oxygen, but his saturation levels are alright, and he looks good. We’re just going to have to be patient for a bit, until they can get him strong enough to breathe on his own.”
At least helping the kids, and then walking in groups of two with Steve to see the baby, gives me something to do. I can’t stop thinking about what will happen if my baby comes early. Will she be able to breathe? To eat? Will she be fine?
“You’re young,” Steve whispers.
“What?”
“You look nervous, and you keep touching your stomach.” His half smile’s a little sad. “Pregnancies are harder when the mother’s over forty. Don’t worry, alright? I bet yours is much smoother than this.”
I sure hope he’s right.
I really don’t want to give Donna a defective baby. Something about my heart contracts when I think about that. I don’t want to have a defective baby. What would that mean for the rest of her life?
An hour later, Ethan and I take the kiddos home. It’s clear that the baby won’t be released to his room any time soon, and it feels like the other children are stressing Steve and Abby out.
A few days later, Ethan tells me he’s off the oxygen. “They just need him to eat on his own.”
A week later, I get a job down by Vernal, and when I call Ethan, I find out the poor little guy’s still not eating well. After my photoshoot, I decide to check in on them.
Abby’s holding a sleeping baby in her arms when I walk in, but he’s covered in something strange. It’s like a little coat or something, but there’s light seeping out of all the cracks and he’s wearing some kind of weird glasses over his eyes.
Or maybe they’re not glasses. Is it a mask?
“He has jaundice,” Abby says. “Come on in, Beth. You can meet Nathan Archer.”
Wasn’t her first husband named Nate?
Abby laughs. “Yes, we named him after my kids’ dad.”
“Why?” I wish I hadn’t asked, but she doesn’t seem to be angry.
“Nate didn’t want me to have more kids,” she says. “He was a very smart guy, but I think he was wrong. I think more children means more love, and I think our family will be stronger for remembering all the good times we had before, and making more good times in the future.” She shrugs. “Steve liked the idea, too.”
It seems really weird to me, but she seems happy. I guess that’s the important part.
“Well, I just wanted to drop this off.” It’s a plate of cookies Donna and I made. “They’re probably not as good as yours, but I bet they’re better than the hospital ones.”
“Thank you.” Abby tosses her head at the table. “Can you set them there?”
“What’s jaundice?” I set the cookies down and then sit next to the bed.
“When babies poop and pee, they clear out things their body doesn’t need. But when they don’t eat enough, their body can’t clear it all out. When they have too much bilirubin in their system, they start to look orange, kind of like an oompa loompa.”
“Like a what?”
“You’ve never seen Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?”
I shake my head.
“Forget it, then.” She smiles. “Beth, why did you really come?”
“I had a photoshoot,” I say. “It was over here, so.”
“So you came to see your boyfriend’s mother in the hospital?”
I nod.
“If that was it, you’d have dropped those cookies and bolted like a rabbit.” She tilts her head. “Why’d you stick around? What did you want to ask me?”
I don’t want to ask her anything, so I shrug.
“You’re planning to leave after you have the baby.” She’s not asking, so Ethan must have told her. “Did you come to see what I thought about it?”
“I’m sure you think it’s stupid.”
“I don’t.” She looks totally calm—much more like the Abigail I know. It was disconcerting, seeing her frazzled and upset after Nathan was born.
“You don’t?”
She sits up a little more and sets the baby on the top of his table cart. “I know a lot about the law. I know a little about babies. I know a lot about Ethan. I know very little about your life, your goals, and your dreams.” Her voice drops. “I’m not sure you know what you really want right now.”
How does she always say stuff like that?
“I think you came by to see whether I’ll try and convince you, like I’m sure my son will, to stay.”
“I can’t stick around,” I say. “It’ll be way too hard. I can’t watch Donna raise my baby.”
“Are you sure you want to give her up?” She looks like she can’t even imagine the concept.
“I want what’s best for her.”
“Why isn’t that you?”
I look down at my stomach. “Maybe it is.”
“Is it?” She’s not baiting me. She seems to really want to know.
“I know nothing.”
“No new mother knows how to parent. We all learn as we go.”
“I don’t want a baby yet.”
“I don’t want another snowstorm to show up, but the weather says I’m out of luck.” She looks pointedly at my belly.
“But giving this baby to Donna is a good option,” I say. “And she really wants her. Then this little girl would have competent parents who know what they’re doing, and who are ready to have a baby.”
“Is that what she needs most?”
“It’s what I need,” I say.
Abigail smiles. “Good.”
“What?”
“You can’t be a mother if you can’t take care of yourself,” she says. “And you need to put yourself first. Once you can manage your life, you can take on another one.”
“So you think I should give her to Donna?”
She shrugs. “Only if you think you should give her to Donna.”
Ethan’s mom is making my head hurt.
And my heart hurt.
“Beth, I can’t tell you what to do, because I don’t know what you need, but I can tell you this.” She leans a little closer. “All the things you think you know might look different after you’re holding that little baby in your arms.”
“Okay.”
“Babies change us.” She turns and looks at her new son. “They change everything.”
25
Helen
I should buy a hospital.
I bought that ultrasound machine, and that made the last few weeks way better. And now that we’re here, and people keep coming in and poking and prodding Abby and little Nathan, I just want to scream. Why can’t they all come in during the same hour? Why do they have to come in the second mom or baby fall asleep?
“Helen,” Abby says.
“What?”
“Everything’s fine.”
“Huh?” I turn to face her. “What are you saying?”
“You’re wearing your slay-a-dragon face, but there aren’t any dragons. It’s fine.” She spins the bottle she’s holding. “Now if this little guy would just eat another few ccs, I’d be delighted.”
“Why does he fall asleep so much?”
“He’s a preemie,” Abby says. “They all sleep a lot. He’d normally still be in my belly.”
Steve walks in right then.
“You’re off shift?” Abby asks.
He nods.
“Why did you drive out here? I told you Helen would be coming by.”
He pats Nathan’s head, and practically collapses on the chair-bed thing that sits on the window wall. “I wanna see him when I get up.”
“But now we have to be quiet,” I complain. “Why can’t he—”
He’s already snoring.
Not a loud snore, but still.
“That’s annoying,” I say.
Abby smiles. “He only snores like that when he has a stuffy nose. I think it’s kinda cute.”
“Being in love makes you dumb.”
“What about you?” Abby asks. “You’re the one with a new boyfriend. You should be disgusting me, not the other way around.”
“You’re not disgusting me.” I scowl at Steve. “He is.”
Abby rolls her eyes. “How’s it going with him?”
“I should never have said we should date for real.” I fold my arms.
“Why not?”
I huff. “He wants to see me every single day.”
“Some people would like that,” Abby says. “They’re called everyone who’s dating.”
I laugh. “Well, not me. It feels like he’s trying to stick me in a box and tape it shut.”
Someone clears their throat from the hall.
We both swivel our heads to look.
“I didn’t bring any tape.” David Park’s standing there holding the biggest floral arrangement I have ever seen. “I swear.”
Abby bursts out laughing.
I want to crawl into a box and disappear. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
David turns to glare at me. “Well, as it happens, I didn’t even come by to see you. I came to see my girlfriend’s sister and her new baby, and I waited several weeks to do it.”
This man is infuriating.
“Also, for the record, it’s not that I have to see you every single day. It’s that I have to try to see you every day if I want to successfully see you a few times a week.” He sets the floral arrangement made for a giant on the floor in the corner, and then he circles around to look at little Nathan. “He’s so small.”
“Yes, that’s how babies come,” I say. “I was shocked, too. If I ever did want one, I’d ask to get a larger size.”
“He was born almost five weeks early,” Abby says. “But we found out this morning that he can probably go home tomorrow.”
“That’s great,” he says.
“Not for him.” Abby leans forward. “It means he’s getting circumcised today.”
David winces, and then leans closer to Nate. “Sorry, my man. But trust me. Better now than later.”
“If you’re done talking about genitalia,” I say.
“Actually, we are done with that,” David says. “So maybe it’s time for me to do what I came to do.”
What does that mean?
He crouches down over the floral arrangement and pulls out a blue box.
A Tiffany’s box.
What is that for?
He drops down on one knee. He’s staring right at me. “The last few weeks have been some of the best of my life.” He’s smiling like an idiot.
“What are you doing?” I ask. “Get up.”
“Helen, if you told me a year ago that I’d be dating the scariest woman in the business world, I’d have laughed in your face. But now that I know you, you aren’t scary at all. Your threats and your posturing are all very endearing.”
“David, stop right now.”
“You and I started out fake, but now?” His eyes are intent on mine. “Now I wake up every day and look for a box that I can tape you into.”
I am going to slap him.
“So, please, please do me the honor of—”
“No.” I stand up. “No, I won’t marry you. Don’t even ask.”
David opens up the box.
There’s a gold pacifier inside. “I was hoping you’d hand this to your sister for me.” He stands up. “But I guess I can do it myself.”
My sister’s trying really hard to keep from laughing. I’ll give her that. “Wow, that’s a fancy pacifier. I’m not sure what outfit it would match.”
David shrugs. “You can melt it down and sell it and add it to his college fund. Whatever.”
“Why in the world would you buy something that stupid?” I ask, getting angrier by the minute. “And you got down on one knee.”
David takes my chair. “You see, just last week, I saw Steve working with a horse on a trailering issue.”
“What are you talking about?” I ball up my hand, because no matter how hot he is, punching him feels like a good option right now. “You stole my seat.” I kick the chair leg.
“No, you vacated this seat, and I claimed the empty spot.”
“What were you saying about the trailer?” I saw it too. “Is that horse still struggling?”
“Denver,” David says. “I think that was his name. He’s a big chestnut with a blaze.”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“I asked Steve to help me find some good trail horses,” David says. “You know, for the Ellingson’s ranch that we’re going to be opening up as an attraction soon.” He leans a little closer. “You know, the one I didn’t sell you?”
The ranch he stole from me. Like the chair.
“Anyhow, Steve told me that Denver would be a good option, but he can’t sell him to me until he’s gotten over his trailering fears. See, he got injured in the trailer once.”
“David.” I’m losing my patience. “Get out of my chair.”
He stretches out, crossing his legs at the ankle. “Now he’s spooked around them and doesn’t ever want to get in. Trailers are scary for horses. They’re prey animals, and the idea of getting into a tiny metal box that moves and makes noise?” He shakes his head. “It’s a non-starter.”
“And did he get in?” Abby asks. “My kids really like Denver.”
“He didn’t get in yet,” David says, “but Steve has faith. See, horses need conditioning. If they’re scared of something, like a big metal trailer, you expose them to it a lot.”
Is he kidding? “Is that what you were doing with the ring?”
“What ring?” He stands up. “Here’s your chair, milady.”
I sit down. “The pacifier, I mean.”
“Oh, that was just a gift for Abby’s new baby.” He smiles.
“He’s a smart one,” Abby says. “I wonder how many times you’ll have to fake propose to Helen before she stops spooking.”
“Not funny,” I say. “I’m not scared of being married.”
“So you want kids now?” Abby asks.
“No way,” I say. “And I don’t want to get married, but it’s not because I’m scared.”
“Denver didn’t get in the trailer yet,” David says. “But he did put one hoof up there. He did it over and over. Steve thinks that, given enough time, he’ll eventually get in.”
“Maybe Steve should find you another horse,” Abby says. “Denver sounds like he’s a real pain.”
David smiles so big that his dimples show up. “Oh, I’m a patient man. I don’t mind waiting, if the horse is good enough.”
“What if he turns out to be a janky old mess and Steve can never fix his idiocy?” Abby asks. “Then you’ll have wasted all that time.”
“I have faith in Denver,” David says. “I think he’ll pull through.”
“I’m going to buy that horse and sell him to the glue factory,” I say.
But later on that week, I notice Steve out by the trailer. Denver’s still not on the trailer, but he’s got both front feet on it, and he’s standing still. It’s not very fast progress, but he’s getting closer.
I hate that David’s using that stupid horse as an allegory for me. The more I think about it, the more angry I get. Angry enough that I call him.
“Hey, Killer,” he says.
“No, that’s your name.”
“I’ve been thinking about it. You can call me Sunshine, and I’ll call you Killer. They fit better.”
I huff. “Sunshine and Killer are two names that would never go together.”
“Opposites attract, or hadn’t you heard?”
“But they never work out in the long run.”
“How’s Denver doing?”
“That’s why I’m calling,” I say. “You’re pissing me off with all this horse stuff.”
“I am?” David asks. “I mean, I told you about him that day at the hospital, but I don’t recall bringing him up since.”
“Maybe not, but Steve’s working with him here at Abby’s.”
“Isn’t the ranch Steve’s place now, too?”
“I mean, yes. But they’re moving to Steve’s place once the renovations are done.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“I have to watch him try to get that stupid beast into the metal box every day, now. I hate watching it.”
