Jade counted the ceiling tiles as the nurse pricked her arm to start an IV. Since she’d arrived at Baptist St. Anthony’s, they’d put her in a gown, moved her to the OB wing, and drawn several tubes of blood.
Ten tiles down. Ten across. The window in the far left corner was dark save for the room’s overhead lights bouncing off the glass.
Besides the number of the tiles, another number surfaced in her mind and demanded an account. Five. She’d been pregnant five times. Five times she’d lost.
Oh, Lord, another baby? A mournful moan sent a plea across her soul to her heart.
Max squeezed her hand. He’d not let go since the medics lowered her to the stretcher. The nurse bumped the bed and Jade moved her gaze to Max. He traced his finger along the curve of her cheek, smoothing away the residue of tears. Her eyes welled up again.
“Hey, babe,” he whispered in her ear, “the baby is going to be fine. I feel it. Right here.” He tapped his free hand to his chest. “Brenda’s activated prayer meetings and prayer chains all over Colby.” Max spoke low, tender and steady. “Dr. Gelman is on her way.”
Jade nodded, crushing her fingers harder into his. “You have always been there for me. I ran and you chased me. I was so . . . so mad about Rice, but you are the one person in my life who never left me.”
“We don’t have to talk about this now, Jade.” He kissed the back of her hand. His eyes searched hers, reflecting his heart. Jade knew. She had to let Max all the way in. Open up all of her heart’s doors and windows, and trust. This beautiful man God gave her would never rob her soul.
“I trust you, Max.”
“What’s this all about, babe? I know you do.”
“No, babe, I trust you. Trust. You. I see it now, so clearly.” She struggled to sit up, a surge of passion and confidence overpowering her momentary sorrow. “You love me.”
“You’re just now figuring that out?” His smile was saucy and sexy.
“Yeah, I am.”
If Jade had known at sixteen what she knew now, she’d have never let fear reign in her life. She’d never have lied to marry Dustin Colter, no matter how passionately he wooed her heart. She’d never have let her broken heart agree to Mama’s “choice” for her baby—a Des Moines women’s clinic. Don’t get her started on the irony.
Remorse took a slow ride down her spine. She’d have never healed from the abortion without Jesus. Her heart condemned her, but in the end, He didn’t. Kind God with kind eyes and a balm to heal the destruction of sin on her heart.
But now she lay in a hospital, again, losing the little life she already loved. Surely He did too. Lord?
A fresh wash of tears rode down her cheeks.
“More tears?” Max caught them with the curve of his finger. “What’s going on behind your eyes?”
“Just realizing how blessed I am, Max. More than I deserve. But I don’t want to lose this baby.” Desperation filled every part of her. “Do you think unborn babies go to heaven, Max?”
“I’d bet my fortune they do.” He brushed her hair with the tips of his fingers.
“We have four babies there.” He arched his brow. Are you hearing me? “But not this one. God didn’t bring us to Texas to lose. Football games, yes, but not babies.
Let’s just trust Him to lead us to a level place. No matter what, we’re together.”
Max tapped his forehead to Jade’s. “Jesus, we trust you to keep this baby. To heal, to redeem, to stop the bleeding.”
Closing her eyes, Jade formed the words heal and redeem in her mind and made them her offering to the Lord. Peace, like a royal blue ribbon, swirled in her soul. It was then, when her mind cleared, she realized the pain had subsided. The blood flow had eased. “Max, the cramping . . . it’s stopped.”
“Babe, really?”
“Actually, I don’t think it’s happened since we got in the ambulance.” Fear had robbed her reason. Turned her focus inside out.
“I told you.” Max squeezed her hand.
She smiled. “Maybe it’ll be okay.” Thank you, Jesus, thank you. “Hey, how did the game go?”
“We lost.” In an instant, they exchanged sorrows in their countenances. Max released her hand and walked toward the window. He wore his new red varsity jacket with a gold W on the back and black warm-up pants. He’d transformed himself this year. Exchanged addiction for freedom. Given up self for son.
“No, babe, no. You won. Those boys played like champs tonight. Did you see that kick? I mean see it? It was darn near perfect. Form and all. I’ve watched you all fall, Max. You’ve gone from privileged lawyer to redeemed cowboy to passionate football coach. From being fatherless to parenting a two-year-old and forty teen boys. All the while you chased me home. You never broke stride. You looked at yourself in the mirror and you said, ‘Man up,’ and you did.”
“I’m not a hero, Jade.”
“You are to me, Max. I never thought I’d have a true hero in my life and look, there he is, staring out a dark window with a loss on his mind but never once hinting that he needed to go, be with the team, talk to his coaches. Don’t you see, you really love being selfless. As much as any man can.”
“You think I’m all here mentally but I’m not. There’s a big part of my brain right here”—he tapped his fingers to the back side of his head—“wondering why I seem to fail when I look like I’m succeeding.”
“Because success always comes with a bit of failure—you know that, Max. You are succeeding. Look at the team. Babe, come on . . . they love you.”
“I just wanted to do something for the boys. Something that was just me. Not my dad’s or grandfather’s. Not a life that was handed to me. Don’t know why Bobby Molnar is so gangbusters to get his father’s legacy when he could be out there making his own.”
“Both are honorable, Max.”
“Yeah, I know. When I was at the ranch I realized how much I loved being challenged. How much I needed to be challenged. How much I loved coaching and working with the boys, sowing into them.”
“Don’t look now, but you just described your goal for coming here. And you’ve accomplished it. Winning a game is the cherry on top.” Jade folded her hands over her middle.
He adjusted his cap, settling it on his head with the bill in the back. “When you put it like that . . .” He grinned at her. “We make a good team, Benson.”
“I think so.”
The room door swung open. Dr. Gelman breezed in wearing an off-the-shoulder evening gown with her hair swept up, shining baubles swinging from her earlobes, a delicate strand of pearls jeweling her neck.
“Jade, what’s going on?”
“You’re dressed up . . . you were at a party . . . a date.” Jade moaned. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“Are you kidding me? It was a boring fund-raiser. My date abandoned me the first minute we walked in the room, completely oblivious to the pain and trauma I endured to look like a million bucks for his sorry self. Even worse, the filet mignon was overcooked. Who overcooks a filet?” She slipped into the white lab coat offered by the nurse. “Bring the ultrasound machine in, Linda.
Let’s get a look under the hood, see how this baby is doing.” Dr. Gelman reviewed Jade’s chart. “How’s the cramping?”
“Stopped. The bleeding too. As far as I can tell.”
“Well, that’s good news.” Dr. Gelman set up for an exam, talking the whole while about the fund-raiser, the music, the food, and the fashion. “I saw quite a few vintage gowns, Jade. You’d have been proud of those old ladies. And hats galore. Looked like a royal wedding. Remember that funky hat one of the princesses wore to Will and Kate’s?” She raised the exam table stirrups. “Jade, scoot down for me just a bit. Perfect. Anyway, saw four of those monstrosities tonight. Unbelievable. On the heads of good ol’ practical American cattle women. I almost wept.”
Jade peeked at Max, grinning. He appeared appalled by the exam while amused by the stories. “You don’t want to be a woman,” Jade said.
“No.”
“You’re right, Jade, the bleeding has stopped,” Dr. Gelman said. “Everything seems good. I’ll wait for the lab results, but I bet the bleeding was from the placenta attaching to the uterine wall, maybe forcing older clots to dislodge and flush. But I want to do an ultrasound just to make sure we don’t miss anything.”
“So, the baby is all right?” Jade said.
“As far as I can tell. In fact, you’re a lot more pregnant than I’d expect for thirteen weeks.” Dr. Gelman warmed her stethoscope and listened to the baby, making a face with a throaty hum.
“What?” Jade peered at Max. He reached for her hand.
“I’m not sure. I’ll know more with the ultrasound.”
The nurse had rolled in the ultrasound machine during the exam. Dr. Gelman adjusted the monitor for Jade and Max to see. After she’d prepped Jade, the good doctor ran the wand over her abdomen.
The screen remained dark for a moment—a frightening moment—then an instant image filled the black-and-white screen. A wee form, lying in a womb cradle.
“There he is, Jade.” Dr. Gelman pointed to the screen.
Jade caught her breath, hand over her mouth. Her eyes flooded. Dr. Gelman slid the wand to the other side of her belly and the baby kicked. She felt it. Then she saw it.
“He kicked. Max, we have a kicker in the family.”
“One down, ten to go, and we have our own Benson football team.”
Dr. Gelman pointed out the baby’s head and body. Emotion scorched Jade’s throat and burned her eyes.
“I can’t believe it.” Max held her hand so tight her fingers started to numb. But she didn’t care. “Is it a boy? Can you tell? Am I further along than thirteen weeks?”
“I’ll tell you what’s interesting me, folks.” Dr. Gelman moved the wand around to Jade’s side, pressing, shoving. “This right here.” She pointed to a round white image on the screen, beneath—or was it beside?—the baby.
Jade squinted. “Where?” She tipped her head to one side and angled for a closer look. “It looks like another . . . head.”
“That’s what I thought.” Dr. Gelman moved the wand again, pressing on Jade’s side. “When I was listening for the baby’s heartbeat, I heard an echo. And unless you have a really big uterus with mountains and valleys, you have two babies in there.”
Jade sat up, her heart careening. “Twins?” Jade said in perfect harmony with Max.
“Twins.” Dr. Gelman gentled her back down. “It’s probably why you were having trouble tonight, Jade. Your body’s setting up to care for two babies instead of one.” She slid the wand over Jade’s abdomen. “Looks like one sack.
So they’re identical.”
“Twins?” Her voice shook, her heart soared.
“Dr. Gelman, are you sure?” Max said.
“Well, 99 percent. Look, there’s her hand.” Dr. Gelman shifted her gaze from the monitor to Max, then Jade. “Can’t tell for sure, but they’re showing signs of being girls.”
Jade peeked at her rounding belly glistening with gel. “Dr. Gelman, you wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” Five minutes ago, she prayed one would survive. Now she had two—kicking and healthy.
“I don’t lie about babies. And I never joke about twins.” She maneuvered the wand for a better look, pressing Jade’s sides to see if the babies would move. But baby B remained cloaked by baby A. “I guess we can tell which one takes after Max.” Dr. Gelman grinned, tapping the image of baby A on the screen.
He laughed, a stunted, staccato sound followed by a cough and an eek. His summer tan had faded from his cheeks this fall, but this news made them instantly white. Ghostly white. His throat constricted with each breath and swallow.
“Two girls,” he said, his voice wobbly but passionate. “And we have a house full of boys right now.”
“Get used to it.” Dr. Gelman put the wand away and cleaned the gel from Jade’s belly. “If these two look like their mama, you’re always going to have a house full of boys.”
“I need to sit down.”
Dr. Gelman’s laugh chased Jade’s. “Man up, Max. Coaching football will seem like a cakewalk compared to this.”
“I know . . . and I’m not doing a great job as coach.” He sobered, sitting straight, surprised by his vocal heart confession to the doctor.
“You are a great coach. And if you raise your kids with half the passion you’ve poured into those boys this year . . .” Dr. Gelman took a measurement and snapped the image. “You’ll have a beautiful family.”
Jade shot him an I-told-you-so look because she could. And it was fun.
Upon consultation and discussion, Dr. Gelman admitted Jade for the night. Just to be safe. Her long emerald gown swirled and swayed beneath her lab coat as she addressed the night nurse. A strand of her golden hair slipped free from the knot and looped about her neck.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, squeezing Jade’s hand. “This is good news, isn’t it? I’m thrilled for you. Max, good game against Lubbock. A bunch of us were hovered in a corner of this snoozer fund-raiser listening to the game on an iPad.”
“Not one for the W column, but our best game yet.”
“Against a good team. Be proud, Coach. Hold your head up. You’re winning this town’s heart. And that’s not easy to do.” Dr. Gelman headed out of the room. “ ’Night, darlings.”
The sweet silence of good news lingered in the room long after she’d gone. The nurse checked Jade’s IV, then showed her the call buttons in case she needed anything.
When she was alone again with Max, he bent his face to hers, nearly nose to nose. “Score, Mrs. Benson. Twins.”
“Way to go, Mr. Benson.”
He grabbed and kissed her hand. “I think my heart stopped beating when she said twins.”
“Are you happy?”
“Delirious. Best news of my entire life.” He kissed her, soft and sweet. “Twins.”
“It’s on now, Coach. We’re going from one to three in six months.”
“Bring it.” A sober glint flashed in his eyes. “You want to go home? Be near the folks. The McClures? Our house in Whisper Hollow is big enough. All we have to do is fly home and unpack our suitcases. We’re set with friends and community.”
“You’d go back to Benson Law?”
“Yeah, of course. Got to earn a living, keep my chicas in the fine clothes and jewels to which my mother will make them accustomed.”
“But you don’t want to go back, really, do you?”
He twisted his lips. “This changes the game plan, Jade. Coaching is more than a full-time job. I can’t help you much once the season starts. Some dreams just need to stay in the hip pocket.”
“But if you could have any job you wanted. What would it be?”
He lowered his gaze to their clasped hands and ran his thumb over the back of her hand. “Coach.”
“Then be a coach, Max. If they’ll have you. Go for your dream.”
“But what about you? Your dream? Your shop?”
“I have my dream, Max.” The tears surged and overflowed the corner of her eyes. “Right here. Holding my hand.”