“My parents stayed here, but otherwise…yeah. Ma deployed the troops. But nobody’s trying to bulldoze you, it’s just—”
“Kevin, stop. It’s okay. I get it. When I go home everything’s going to be ready for the baby and the place will be spotless and, knowing your mother, my fridge will be full and my laundry clean. Not for any other reason but that they care about me and that’s what your family does.”
“My family loves you.” And he was about to say it—that it wasn’t just his family who loved her—but another contraction hit her hard and the nurses had to check her and then there was another contraction and the moment was gone. He could tell her later, maybe when she wasn’t screaming in agony. For now all he could do was hold her hand, help her breathe and wait.
At some point during the ordeal his mother slipped into the room. She smiled at him while brushing the hair back from Beth’s sweaty face. “The storm’s easing up in Florida and your parents hope to board soon. They want me to tell you they love you.”
“Part of me hopes they get here in time,” Beth said. “But another part really doesn’t want this to take that long.”
Mary laughed and wiped Beth’s forehead with a cool cloth. “Why don’t you take a break, Kevin? Go get a coffee or something?”
Before he could tell her he wasn’t going anywhere, Beth dug her nails into his wrist. “No. Please don’t go. I need you here.”
“I’m not leaving.” He shifted his arm to gently break her death grip and hold her hand instead. It felt good—her needing him—even if it was under extreme circumstances. “I’m okay, Ma.”
She stayed a few minutes, then kissed them both on the forehead and headed back to the waiting room. He knew she’d call everybody and give them an update—no news yet.
He mopped Beth’s forehead. Fed her ice chips. Held her hand. Coached her through breathing. Dried her tears. Promised her again and again it would all be over soon.
Six of the longest and most grueling hours of his life later, the doctor held up a slimy, squalling, squirming red thing and said, “It’s a girl!”
“A girl,” Beth whispered.
They took the baby away for a few seconds and then they laid her on Beth’s chest. She looked a lot like a startled and unhappy tomato with arms and legs.
Kevin thought she was gorgeous. “Lily.”
Lily Ann Kowalski. Beth stroked their daughter’s almost bald head and then gave him the most achingly beautiful smile he’d ever seen.
All the frustrations and fears of the last few months fell away and Kevin simply basked in the warmth and joy of the most perfect moment of his life.
***
When Beth opened her eyes, it was to a headache, a hospital room and Kevin snoring in the visitor’s chair. She thought maybe she was dreaming, but a hazy memory of screeching metal and flying glass dragged her firmly into the present.
The baby. Pressing her hand to her stomach, she found only the deflated and doughy lack of a child. Then the painkiller-induced sleep fell away as she remembered the hours of labor. Of Kevin holding her hand and stroking her hair.
She must have made a sound because Kevin jerked awake. “Beth.”
“Lily?”
The smile that lit up his face told her everything important. “She’s beautiful.”
“Where is she?”
He moved to the side of her bed, sitting gingerly on the edge. “She’s in the nursery, probably wondering why a bunch of people who look like her Daddy and two who don’t have their faces pressed to the glass, staring at her.”
Her parents had made it. “Is she okay?”
Kevin lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. “She’s perfect. Loud, but perfect.”
Tears blurred her vision and she was grateful he hadn’t let go of her hand. She could use some of his strength. “I feel like I got hit by a bus.”
He laughed so hard the nurses came, which meant he had to let go of her hand and get out of their way. But he didn’t go far. He sat back in the chair, listening as they assessed her.
She had a lot of pain, not only from childbirth, but aches and pains from the accident. Her head was pounding, for one thing, and the entire right side of her body throbbed.
“Will you have help at home?” the older nurse asked. “You won’t be going home until at least tomorrow, but it’s still going to be difficult with your additional injuries, so we need to know you’ll have assistance.”
Kevin winked at her behind the nurse’s back. “Trust me, she’ll have help.”