Chapter Eleven

“Brave, beautiful, Lilah. How are you?”

“Tired.” Too tired to open her eyes. Too tired to speak.

“You’re doing amazing. You really are.”

His voice sounded so near and so much clearer than before. She wanted to see him, but her eyelids weighed too much. Her whole body weighed too much. “I’m not.” In her mind, she shook her head but wasn’t sure her muscles carried out the order. “The first hour or so, I thought I could do this.”

She honestly had believed it. After arriving at the clinic, she’d changed into a gown all on her own. No problem. She’d walked around a little between long, but manageable, contractions. She’d even joked some with Beverly—“call me Bev”—Owatch, who’d assured her that after birthing five kids of her own—three of them at home—she could deliver Lilah’s in her sleep if Doctor Devan didn’t make it back in time.

Young, healthy thing like you? Piece of cake.

She’d always liked Beverly, even babysat her youngest daughter occasionally, but now she realized the plump, smiling office manager was Satan’s henchwoman disguised in a perky, dimpled package. This wasn’t a piece of cake. It was a slice of hell.

“I was wrong,” she confessed. Tears choked her throat. Exhausted, miserable tears. “I can’t do it. This was a huge mistake.” The slow, steady blip of the fetal heart rate monitor she’d once found comforting now mocked her. Between relaying labor progress telephonically to Dr. D, who was still on her way, Bev kept saying the baby was doing great. But she also kept saying Lilah was doing great, which made her insane as well as demonic.

“It’s not a mistake. I promise. You can do it. Look at me, Lilah.”

She turned her face in the direction of his voice, cracked her eyes just enough to see the room in soft focus. And there he was, Shay, leaning close, his eyes a stunning, electric blue, shining with some internal light. He looked so peaceful and positive it triggered her usually dormant temper. “You’re wrong. Or maybe you’re a fucking liar and you’re really here because I’m dying. You’re dead, I’m dying, and our poor baby’s going to grow up an orphan.”

He responded with a gentle smile. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you use the F-word.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, immediately contrite. “Maybe you’re a freaking liar.”

That earned her a quick laugh. “I’d never lie to you, even if I could, which I can’t. I’m here because you want me here, not because you’re dying. You’re just taking a little nap. In a few seconds you’re going to wake up, and then the fun’s really going to start.”

“A few seconds? There’s no way. I need more time.” Could he hear the desperation in her voice? “More rest.”

“Don’t worry. You’re on my time now. There’s a universe of rest in every second. Just float for a bit.”

At his words, the table beneath her disappeared. Her body felt weightless, as if suspended in blissfully cool water. “I can’t do it. I can’t have this baby.” The words came out fast, tripping on each other. “I literally cannot push it out of me. I don’t know what made me think I could. It’s not doable.”

He laughed again. “It’s doable. I swear.”

“Fine. You do it.”

His smile faded. “I wish I could. I know it’s hard. I know it hurts. I wish I could be there with you in the flesh, to hold your hand, to rub your back—”

“Be glad you’re not. I’d probably punch you,” she admitted, “for leaving me to deal with everything alone.” Except that was wrong. It wasn’t his fault he’d died. She bore some of that blame. A lot of the blame.

“I’d deserve it.” He smoothed a hand over her forehead, but she couldn’t feel his touch, just a faint trace of cool air on her skin. Like magic, her turbulent thoughts leveled out. “But you’re not alone, Lilah. Dr. Devan’s going to come through the door in under a minute and everything’s going to move really quickly from there. Ford’s got your back, and if you need to punch someone, punch him. He can take it.” Shay’s smile made an encore appearance. “You’re going to drop someone hard before things finally come together, but you won’t let loose before then, so make the most of this opportunity.”

She didn’t know what to say to that, but the slow, heavy tightening of her womb warned her another contraction built. “Oh, no. Not yet. Please…”

“Let’s skip this one.” He placed his palm on her stomach. Again, she couldn’t feel his touch, but the heavy sensation eased.

Relief filled her, and gratitude. “Can you keep doing that? Can we just stay here like this and skip the rest?” Outside the bubble of respite, Bev chattered into the phone while a sure, steady hand held hers. Ford’s hand. The feel of his long fingers between hers basically gave her the answer to the plea she’d put to Shay, but she held her breath and waited for him to respond.

“I’m sorry. No.” For one of the few times in his life—or maybe that was the wrong terminology, all things considered—he actually did look sorry. Still concentrating on her stomach, he added, “I can only give you this little rest.” He glanced to her. “And tell you I’m proud of you.”

Tears prickled her eyes again. “Of me? Why? For letting you think I knew what I was doing when I didn’t and getting knocked up like some kind of careless teenager.” And worse. Much worse. Self-recrimination left a bitter taste in her mouth.

“Shhh.” He skimmed his fingertips over her forehead again, and the dark thoughts faded along with the bitterness on her tongue. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart. Not a thing.”

No. That wasn’t true, was it? Pulling her thoughts together suddenly took a lot of effort. “I shouldn’t have…shouldn’t have…”

“Lilah.”

She looked at him, squinted because he glowed like…an angel. “What?”

“Everything happened exactly as it was meant to happen.”

The anger rushed back, frighteningly huge and ferocious. “How can you say that? How can you even think it?” She spat the questions at him. “You died, Shay. Died at twenty-five, never knowing your own child. My mother loathes me for going and doing the one thing she warned me she’d never forgive. If I even do manage to pop this baby out into the word, it’s stuck with a mom who doesn’t have a clue how to raise another human being. How could any of that be meant to happen?”

From galaxies away someone’s phone rang, and the piercing noise had the power to yank her out of the current she floated in. A low voice cursed at the same time the exam table solidified under her. The overhead lights burned bright, steadily dimming Shay from her view.

“You’re going to be the best mom,” he said in a soft, distant voice. “You already are. You’re a natural, and you’ve taken such good care of her. Wake up, now, and have our baby.”

She turned her head to try and follow his voice and ended up locking gazes with Ford. “Sorry,” he said and leaned close to brush her hair off her forehead. His dark eyes looked so serious. “That was my phone.”

“I barely heard it. I was dreaming.” Her voice sounded thick. “I think.”

He frowned. “You only closed your eyes for a second or two.”

“That’s it? It felt like…oh god, oh god, oh god…” And then speech became impossible because another contraction caught her in a ruthless grip. A grip so punishing she had to bear down to survive it. The blip of the fetal heart rate monitor speeded up, reverberated in her ears.

“Breathe. Breathe, baby,” Ford murmured. Strong arms supported her as she gripped the bedrails, drew herself up, and cried out through the fiercest of the pain. “Just keep breathing.”

“Doc’s on her way from the airfield,” Bev chirped from her seat at the end of the table, between Lilah’s stirrup-braced heels. “She better hustle her butt, or she’s going to miss this one’s big entrance.” As the contraction faded, the heart rate monitor’s blips spaced out. Lilah blinked sweat from her eyes, stared through the V-shaped gap of her bent, parted legs, and brought Bev into view. The woman sat there, beaming and eager, as if awaiting opening curtain on a Broadway show. “I can feel her head easily now,” she said helpfully.

She wanted to scream, Pull her out! Pull her out! For the love of God, pull her the fuck out! But her muscles gave out and she sagged into Ford’s arms. Instead of a shout, she managed to whimper, “Can you pull her out?”

“Not yet, honey.” Bev shot her a sympathetic smile. “Another few contractions, and we’ll see.” She patted Lilah’s trembling leg. “I’ve been where you are, honey, and I know you want to kick me smack in the face just about now, but you’re doing great.”

Lilah dropped her head back to the pillow and closed her eyes so nobody would see her cry.

Bev patted her leg again. “That’s it. Rest while you can. Breaks are going to be few and far between real soon. The baby’s nearly crowning. Come on down and get yourself a front row seat, Ford.”

Her eyes popped open at the suggestion and met his panicked gaze.

“No. No, no. I don’t need to do that,” he replied rapidly. His stare didn’t so much as waver from her face. It clung there, somewhat desperately. “I’m fine right where I am.”

“I don’t care,” she said and realized it was true as she started to float again. Her body was a temple of pain, a stretched and torn casualty of science and nature. The baby was the only important thing. “Go watch her, if you want to.”

“Her?” Even with her eyes at half mast, she saw his deep brown ones somehow soften. He swept strands of her hair off her damp forehead. “I thought you didn’t know.”

“Shay…just told me…” The words came out whispery. Maybe they hadn’t come out at all?

Ford’s endlessly fascinating eyes flicked away. He said something she didn’t catch, but he sounded worried enough for her to try to dredge up the strength to ask him to repeat himself. Bev replied, though, and then Ford spoke, and she let it go. Let their conversation drift over her.

Minutes or hours later, another contraction took hold. A bad one. It dumped her unceremoniously back into her body, gave her no choice but to lean forward and push. “Jeeeesus…it burns, it burns, it buuuurns.”

“It’s okay, honey. It’s normal,” Bev insisted. “Means your baby’s almost ready to—”

A ringtone jangled into the conversation, insistent and unignorable. The sharpness of it stabbed directly into her brain. Ford swore and shifted, making her aware that sometime during the last contraction he’d switched from the chair by her bed to the bed itself, sliding in behind her to support her back and help her maintain her forward posture when pushing. “Sorry. I thought I silenced it,” he murmured and pulled the phone from his pocket. The ringing got louder—like some godawful torture device—then suddenly stopped as he flicked a switch on the side. Silence reigned, broken only by the beeps of the monitor.

“Can…I?” she panted and held out her hand.

“Anything, baby. Anything you want. It’s yours.” He dropped the phone into her palm. “Just tell me—”

She levered her arm back and hurled the phone through the gap in the privacy curtain, just as Dr. Devan came through with Bridget behind her.

Oh, damn.

The phone whizzed by the doctor, struck Bridget in the shoulder, and bounced off to land with a solid thump on the smooth tile floor.

“Ow!” Bridget rubbed her shoulder as she crouched to pick up the phone. “I knew labor was painful, but I didn’t expect it to be painful for the bystanders. Hey, Ford.” She crossed the small room and handed him his phone. “Fancy meeting you here.” In an uncharacteristically gentle voice, she said, “Hey, Lilah.”

“Sorry.” She looked from one friend to another, craning her neck to meet Ford’s eyes. “I’m sorry.” The apology came out on a pant. “If it’s broken, I’ll pay for a new one.”

“It’s nothing,” he said and smiled at her. “Forget about it.”

“I’ve never done anything so…destructive.”

“Oh, please. Was this fool texting while you’re experiencing the miracle of birth?” Bridget grabbed the phone from him and threw it through the gap in the curtain. This time it landed somewhere beyond with two thuds. Wall and floor. “There.” She winked at Lilah. “Serves him right.”

“Hey!” Ford menaced her with a glare. “You’re not in labor. Go get my fucking phone.”

“Geez,” she whined as she stomped out, “Lilah’s having a kid and Ford’s having a cow.”

Despite everything, Lilah let out a tired laugh. She tried to suppress it until she heard Ford’s reluctant snicker. He leaned back and settled her against his chest, wrapped his arms loosely around her. “Okay?”

Facing front, she nodded, suddenly overwhelmed to have his support. Bridget’s. Everyone’s. Grateful beyond words, she rested her forearms on his. He flipped his over and linked their fingers together—palm to palm. “I’ve got you, and you’ve got this,” he murmured into her ear. A flash had her looking up. Bridget stood at the gap in the privacy curtain, framing them in the camera of Ford’s phone. “That’s a keeper,” she said and pocketed his phone.

Dr. Devan turned away from the sink, where she’d scrubbed up and snapped gloves on. From the foot of the bed, she assessed things down in the birth zone. After conferring briefly with Bev, she smiled at Lilah. “Your little one isn’t going to wait much longer to meet its mama.”

“Her mama,” Ford corrected.

“Her?” Bridget’s eyes narrowed. “Says who?”

“Says Lilah.”

“Ready to see if you’re right?” Dr. Devan asked.

“Uh-uh. No.”

“Well,” she lowered to sit on the rolling stool Bev had vacated, “ready or not…”

She wasn’t ready, not at all, when the next wave of pain rolled through her, followed quickly by another, and another. She could barely get a breath between them. Couldn’t rest or recover. They crushed her. Left no room for anything else.

Only bits of other things made it through the haze of constant agony. Dr. D saying something about crowning. Ford, behind her, anchoring her as she pushed, pushed, pushed with every ounce of energy she had inside her and some she didn’t. He spoke to her, a low steady stream of compassion and encouragement she couldn’t make out distinctly but tried to draw strength from. Bridget held her left knee, easing it toward her chest while Bev did the same with her right. Dr. D sat at the foot of the bed, smiling behind her librarian glasses and mouthing something to her.

“What?” She shook her head, trying to clear the of rush of her own heartbeat from her ears.

“One more,” Dr. D said. “Come on. One more push. You can do it.”

She couldn’t. She was going to snap like a wishbone. Strangling on defeat, she shook her head.

“Do it, Lilah,” Bridget urged, turning a flushed, teary face toward her. “Ford doesn’t think you can—”

“That’s bullshit,” he interrupted in a voice hot with denial. “I never said—”

“It’s not bullshit,” Bridget insisted. “He thinks you’re a little girl. Too young. Too sweet and sheltered.” Bridget’s smile turned fierce, and Lilah felt more weight against her knee as her friend leaned closer. “He’s…you know…sorry.”

Sorry? Sorry? She’d show him sorry. Anger boiled up from someplace deep inside her. Powerful fuel that propelled her to prove him—prove everyone—wrong. “I’m not a little girl.” She wrapped her hands around the bedrails and pulled herself forward as the next wave lifted her. “I’m not too young,” she screamed through the contraction. “I’m not sweet. I’m not a sheltered girl. I’m…a…fucking…woman!”

Her rant echoed in the suddenly quiet, curtained space. “A fucking mother,” Bridget whispered just before a thin, warbly cry filled the silence.

“A what? I’m a what?” Jolts of lightning fired in her muscles, had her straining to lean forward. To see…

“Congratulations, Mom,” Dr. Devan said softly and placed a tiny, warm, wet, blotchy bundle on her bare stomach. “You have a beautiful baby girl.”

“Girl.” Bridget laughed and sobbed at the same time. “Fucking Shay.”

“Good job, Mommy,” Bev cooed, then switched her attention to Bridget. “Maybe we could watch our language now that baby’s here?”

The odd creature on her stomach sort of moved. A scrawny leg with a small foot kicked out. With shaking hands, she gathered it up, brought it to her gown-covered chest, and stared into the little face.

Oh.

Such a sweet face. Tiny damp eyelashes. Round cheeks. A precious rosebud of a mouth. As she drank in every perfect detail of this person she and Shay had created, something moved inside her—some blissfully painful and profound shift in her heart and her soul. And she knew with utter certainty those pieces that moved would never go back to where they had been. She would never be the same. She wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Oh, my. Hi. Hi, baby.” Unable to resist, she uncurled a miniature fist and swept her thumb along the fingers, all the way to the impossibly delicate, translucent nails at the tips.

“Look at her.” She didn’t even know who she was talking to. She couldn’t take her eyes off the baby. Her daughter. “She’s so…amazing.”

A big, gentle hand swept her hair back. A low voice caressed her cheek. “She takes after her mom.”