Chapter Eleven
Maggie stood and gazed at her reflection in the triple-mirrored dresser and wondered if she wasn’t simply dreaming.
In less than half an hour she was going to become Mrs. Dylan O’Connor. The thought sent her heart into a tailspin, and she drew a shaky breath trying to steady herself.
She was wearing a pastel pink maternity dress made of chiffon and silk that swirled around her like a cloud and stopped midway between her knees and the floor.
Silently Maggie admitted to herself that for a woman who was almost nine months pregnant, the dress made her look both sexy and feminine.
She’d bought the dress purely on impulse a few weeks ago in Portland at a sidewalk sale. Needing to get away from Grace Harbor, she’d driven to town to wander the stores, making plans and dreaming dreams for herself and her baby.
But only in her wildest dreams had she indulged in the fantasy of one day becoming Mrs. Dylan O’Connor. Today that fantasy was going to become a reality.
The past week had gone by in a flurry of activity. Dylan had quickly set about making the necessary arrangements, and she’d welcomed his suggestion that they have the small private ceremony at Fairwinds.
He, in turn, had concurred with her idea of asking Richard and Beverly Chason to stand up for them. And she’d called Jared to invite him and his wife, Paula, to the ceremony, only to discover they were out of town.
A tap at her bedroom door startled Maggie, and she turned to see Beverly enter.
“Oh...Maggie! You look absolutely lovely,” Bev exclaimed, her eyes glinting with tears. “And your bouquet of red rosebuds and sprigs of white heather from the garden is simply perfect. Are you nervous?” she asked.
“A little,” Maggie responded, wondering if she should have brushed her hair into an elegant knot on the top of her head instead of letting it hang loose about her shoulders.
“Everything’s ready. We’re just waiting for Reverend Stanley to arrive,” Beverly told her.
“How’s Dylan holding up?” Maggie asked. She hadn’t seen him all morning, which was quite a feat, considering his room was right next door.
Bev had been the one who’d insisted on standing guard, scouting the hallway whenever Maggie needed to leave.
“He looks as nervous as a skydiver on his first jump,” Bev remarked. “But that’s exactly how Richard looked the day we got married.” She laughed softly. “I do adore weddings, don’t you?” she added with a sigh.
“Bev...” Maggie began. “I want to thank you and Richard for your support. I’m sure you must be wondering about my relationship with Dylan—”
“Maggie, you don’t have to explain,” Bev interrupted. “It isn’t anyone’s business but yours and Dylan’s.” She took Maggie’s hands in hers and gave them a squeeze. “And whatever it is will sort itself out. All that matters is that you love him. You do, don’t you?” she asked, gazing intently at Maggie.
Maggie’s eyes instantly filled with tears, and her throat closed over with emotion. She couldn’t speak, didn’t dare, because she knew it would open the floodgates, and once started she might never stop. And so she nodded.
“And Dylan loves you, too. I see it in his eyes and the way he looks at you,” Bev said.
Maggie was silent. She wished she could believe her friend, wished Dylan was in love with her, but wishing didn’t make it so.
“Richard was lost to me for a while,” Bev continued in a husky voice. “But fate brought us together, and I believe fate stepped in and brought Dylan back to you.”
Maggie drew a shaky breath and gave her friend a watery smile.
“I’d better see if the minister is here.” Bev gave Maggie a quick hug and slipped from the room.
Maggie plucked a tissue from the box on the dresser and blew her nose. She pondered Bev’s words. Had fate stepped in?
Shaking her head, she reached for the tube of lipstick on the dresser and felt a stab of pain across her lower back. She’d been aware of the dull ache throughout the morning, but had put it down to a mixture of stress and excitement.
Frowning, she stretched a little, attempting to ease the discomfort, but the pain persisted.
Maggie picked up her lipstick and applied a layer, then dabbed a few drops of her favorite perfume at her throat and wrists.
There was another tap on the door and Bev reappeared. “Reverend Stanley’s here. If you’re ready. It’s time for the bride to put in an appearance....” she said in a cheery voice.
Maggie nodded and ignoring the pain in her back, she gathered up her rosebud bouquet and followed Bev from the room.
 
Dylan stood in front of the fireplace, waiting for Maggie to appear. He hadn’t seen her since last night when they’d sat with Richard and Bev, sipping tea at the kitchen table.
Maggie had seemed more than a little distracted then, with tiny lines of worry marring her lovely features, leaving him to conclude that she was still having second thoughts about the wedding.
He’d wanted to reach out and cover her hands with his, reassure her, but he’d been having second thoughts of his own.
He’d spent the night tossing and turning, asking himself if he was being selfish asking Maggie to marry a man she didn’t love simply for the sake of the baby they’d created.
In his determination to do what was right, he hadn’t really given Maggie’s feelings on the matter any consideration.
Dylan’s thoughts kept circling back to her announcement that he was the father of her child, knowing she could just as easily have stayed silent and denied him the truth.
But she had told him, and he’d believed her, and over the past two weeks the knowledge had come to affect him profoundly, forcing him to accept what he couldn’t change and take that first step toward getting on with his life.
He’d meant what he said about wanting to start a new life with her and their baby...but he was beginning to wonder if he’d only end up hurting them both.
What if he made a lousy father? He knew nothing about parenting—he couldn’t even remember what his own childhood had been like. And as for sustaining a relationship? He had no memories of that, either.
Maggie had given him the impression that their relationship had been little more than a one-night stand, but after spending the past two weeks with her, he found it impossible to believe she was the kind of woman who would give herself freely to just any man.
Perhaps he’d taken advantage of her at a highly vulnerable time in her life, perhaps he was a man without scruples, a man who’d selfishly put his own pleasure first, a man no woman in her right mind would want to marry.
Maggie was a beautiful, intelligent, caring and very desirable woman, a woman he’d grown to admire and respect...a woman any man would be proud to have as his wife. But in persuading her to marry him was he perhaps depriving her of a chance at true happiness?
Dylan drew a ragged breath, reminding himself that ever since he’d emerged from the coma, he’d been relying on his gut instincts. And this time they were telling him not to back out...not to throw away the only future he might have.
Suddenly Bev appeared in the living room doorway, and behind her Dylan could see Maggie. His heart leaped into his throat at the sight of her looking amazingly beautiful in a pink dress that flowed around her and almost reached the floor.
Her hair fell in silky waves to her shoulders, and although she looked a little pale, he’d never seen her look more lovely.
When she drew nearer he reached for her hand, noting as he did that she was trembling. He smiled at her and was rewarded with a tentative smile in return. Giving her hand a squeeze, they turned to the minister.
“Friends, we are gathered here today...” Reverend Stanley began.
Maggie tried to concentrate on Reverend Stanley’s words, while the pain in her back steadily worsened. As the ceremony progressed, she managed to smile and make the correct responses, all too aware of the constant ache in her back.
When Dylan slid the gold band on the fourth finger of her left hand, her heart skipped a beat at the look she could see in the depths of his eyes.
“And so, by the power vested in me,” said Reverend Stanley, drawing the ceremony to a close. “I now pronounce you man and wife.”
Suddenly a sharp pain gripped her abdomen, effectively stealing her breath away. “Oh-h-h-h.” The moan slipped past her lips, and she clutched at Dylan in startled reaction to the pain she knew had to be a contraction.
“Maggie...what?” Dylan broke off abruptly. One look at her contorted features and he knew what was happening. “Dear God...she’s in labor!” he exclaimed as he tightened his hold on her. “Maggie? Why didn’t you say something?”
A ghost of a smile flitted across Maggie’s face as she tried to breathe into the pain, riding out the contraction. “I thought I just did,” she said a little breathlessly as the pain gradually subsided.
Dylan took control. He turned to Richard. “Call Dr. Whitney’s service and tell him we’ll meet him at the hospital, and then call the hospital and tell them we’re on our way,” he instructed.
“Come on, Maggie. Let’s get you to the car.” He led Maggie toward the hall.
“Bev...?” Maggie said.
“I’m right here,” her friend responded anxiously.
“There’s a small overnight bag in the baby’s room—”
“I’ll get it,” Bev said, and disappeared down the hall.
Maggie was soon sitting in the passenger seat of Dylan’s car. Bev appeared with the bag and put it in the back seat. Dylan started the car and rolled down his window just as Richard came running from the house.
“The doctor will meet you at the hospital,” he said, as Bev moved to stand by her husband.
“We’ll be waiting to hear,” Bev said.
“Good luck!” they added in unison.
Maggie didn’t recall much of the drive to the hospital. She had two more contractions on the way, and the time between each of them was ten minutes. A third contraction hit just as Dylan pulled into the emergency bay at the hospital.
He brought the car to a halt and turned to Maggie, who he could see was focused on her breathing in an effort to work through the pain racking her body.
Feeling helpless and totally at a loss, he took her hand in his and waited until the tension left her face and her breathing returned to normal.
Dylan quickly climbed from the car and saw a nurse pushing a wheelchair, hurrying toward them. In a matter of minutes Maggie was seated in the chair and on her way inside. Grabbing the bag from the back seat, Dylan followed.
Once inside, he glanced around the busy area in search of Maggie. When the nurse reappeared pushing the empty wheelchair, he stopped her.
“Could you tell me where I can find my...wife?” he asked.
“I took her right through to the delivery room, sir,” the nurse told him. “If you continue past the emergency area. The door is marked, you can’t miss it.”
“Thank you.” Dylan followed the nurse’s instructions and easily found the delivery room. He stopped outside, undecided whether to go in or not.
“Ah...Mr. O’Connor,” Dr. Whitney greeted him with a smile. “You got your wife here in good time. Put on this gown and mask,” he said picking up the items from a trolley nearby. “Let’s see how she’s doing shall we?” he invited.
Dylan nodded and fumbled with the gown, then he followed the doctor through the swing doors. His gaze immediately flew to Maggie, no longer wearing her wedding dress, her face was wet with perspiration, and there was a look of fear in her eyes.
“Maggie, my dear girl,” Dr. Whitney grinned at his patient. “Looks like it’s the real thing this time,” he commented.
Dylan dropped the bag inside the door and, pulling the mask over his face, crossed to take Maggie’s hand. “How are you doing?”
Her lips curved into a fleeting smile. “Fine,” she told him, though she looked far from it.
“Would you like me to stay? I mean...I can leave if you—” Dylan stopped as her hand tightened around his in a grip that told him another contraction was upon her.
“Stay...please...” Her plea came out in a harsh whisper before she began to pant in earnest. His hand felt like it was being squeezed in a vise, and he was surprised at her strength, in face of the pain racking her body.
“That’s the way,” Dr. Whitney said in an encouraging tone. “You’re doing just fine, Maggie. But you’re not fully dilated yet,” he told her.
Maggie made no response as she struggled through the wave of pain assaulting her. She clung to Dylan’s hand, glad he was there, immeasurably pleased that he’d asked if she wanted him to stay.
She’d been coping on her own throughout her pregnancy, dealing with all the changes in her body, trying to prepare herself mentally for this moment. Now that the baby’s arrival was imminent, she was both happy and relieved to have Dylan with her to share the wondrous moment, the birth of their child.
The pain subsided once more, but before she even had time to rest she could feel another contraction taking hold, and she moaned aloud in protest. It was all happening too fast....
“Breathe...that’s right, Maggie, you’re doing great.” Dylan’s voice, near her ear, was low and strangely soothing, and Maggie reined in the feeling of panic tugging at her.
She felt a cool cloth on her forehead and glanced at Dylan, who smiled as he continued to wipe her face.
Time seemed to creep forward as the contractions continued one after the other, with only minutes separating them. The pain intensified until the urge to push became all-consuming.
A nurse had given Dylan a stool to sit on, and he’d moved close to her side, holding on to her hands, gently encouraging her to breathe or pant, and wiping her face when the need arose.
“I want to push....” Maggie moaned, giving Dr. Whitney a pleading look.
“Just watch in the mirror, Maggie...the baby’s head is right there,” said Dr. Whitney. “Wait...hold it! Don’t push yet,” he cautioned.
Maggie focused her attention on the mirror, gritting her teeth together to stop herself from yelling at Dr. Whitney that she couldn’t wait any longer, that he could go jump in a lake.
“Hold on, sweetheart,” Dylan whispered in her ear. The casual endearment sending a warmth scurrying through her, effectively distracting her militant thoughts.
“Okay, Maggie...push!”
“Oh...” Maggie held her breath and pushed. Her fingers were digging into Dylan’s hands as she emitted a long low moan.
“Okay...hold it! Take a rest,” she heard Dr. Whitney say. “The next push should do it.”
Maggie was gasping for breath. She felt as if she’d just completed a marathon.
“Push!”
“I can’t!” Maggie groaned aloud not sure she had any strength left.
“You can do it!” Dylan said, and at his words she pushed with all her remaining strength and brought their baby into the world.
Exhausted, exalted, she sank back, fighting to get air in her lungs, when suddenly she heard what had to be the sweetest sound...a baby’s cry.
“It’s a boy!” Dr. Whitney announced. “Maggie, Dylan. You have a son.”
Tears rolled down Maggie’s cheeks, and she turned to Dylan, who’s face was a picture of pride and awe. His gaze locked on hers, and for a heartstopping second Maggie saw a look of love flash briefly in his eyes.
“Want to hold him?” Dr. Whitney asked, breaking the spell and capturing Dylan’s attention.
Maggie let go of her grip on Dylan and felt her heart swell with love and pride when he reached for his son.
“Congratulations, to both of you,” said Dr. Whitney. “I hear the wedding was just in time,” he added with a soft chuckle.
Dylan gazed down at the tiny infant wrapped loosely in the towel. He couldn’t take his eyes off his son. Dylan nudged aside the towel and counted ten fingers and toes, grinning at the halo of dark fuzz that was his son’s hair.
He’d witnessed a miracle...plain and simple. Dragging his gaze away from the baby, he looked at Maggie. “He’s absolutely perfect,” he said. “And beautiful, just like his mother,” he added, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Maggie reached out, and with some reluctance Dylan handed his son over to her. As she gathered the baby into her arms, he leaned forward and tenderly touched his lips to hers. “Thank you,” he said, with heartfelt emotion.
 
Half an hour later Maggie was being wheeled into a private room on the third floor of the hospital.
Exhausted as she felt, her first concern was for her son. “Is the baby all right?” she asked. She’d reluctantly given him to the nurse in the delivery room in order that he could be cleaned up and weighed and measured.
“He’s fine,” the nurse assured her. “He’s tired after all the work he did. He’s in the nursery having a nap. They’ll bring him to you the minute he wakes up. In the meantime you should try to get some sleep...you’re going to need it.”
“And...uh, my husband?” Maggie asked with a sigh.
“He’s in the nursery,” said the nurse. “I’ll tell him you want to see him, shall I?”
“Please,” Maggie responded as she relaxed against the pillows.
When the nurse left, Maggie tried to stay awake. She wanted to see Dylan, wanted to thank him for his support and help during her labor. Her eyelids grew increasingly heavy, and she finally succumbed to the fatigue washing over her, drifting into a dreamless sleep.
An hour later she awakened, and her heart filled with love when she saw Dylan asleep in a chair near the bed. The dark stubble of beard emphasized the squareness of his jaw, and she noted his long eyelashes, lashes the same color as the lock of hair curling on his forehead.
She felt her pulse kick into high gear as she gazed longingly at the father of her child.
Suddenly she heard the sound of a baby crying, and moments later the noise increased when the door to her room opened and a nurse entered pushing a small bassinet.
“Excuse me.” The nurse flashed a smile at both Maggie and Dylan. “Your son is hungry. If you’d prefer... We can give him a supplement—” she began.
“No... I want to breast feed him,” Maggie said.
“Good.” The nurse reached into the bassinet and lifted the crying baby into her arms. “Shhh...” she cooed softly as she waited for Maggie to get comfortable.
“Thank you,” Maggie said, taking her son into her arms.
“It’s a bit tricky trying to get them to take the nipple,” the nurse said. “He’ll get frustrated and cry harder,” she warned. “Just be patient. You might be lucky. Some babies and mothers have no trouble at all,” she added encouragingly. “I’ll be back in a little while to see how you’re both doing.” With a nod to Dylan, the nurse withdrew.
Maggie, dressed now in the nightdress from the suitcase she’d packed was trying to free her left breast.
The baby was already rooting around, his soft cries turning to whimpers of impatience, as if he sensed nourishment was near. Using her fingers Maggie gently prodded her breast, helping the baby locate her engorged nipple.
His mouth closed around the tiny bud and he began instinctively to suck. Suddenly Maggie experienced a tugging sensation deep inside her breast, like a tiny electric current, and she knew they’d succeeded.
Making sure the baby could breathe, she relaxed against the pillows and smiled. She glanced up to see Dylan standing at the foot of the bed, his gaze transfixed on the baby now clamped to her breast.
Her smile widened, her heart overflowing with love for the baby in her arms and the man close by. “He’s a quick study,” she said proudly.
Dylan opened his mouth to speak but he couldn’t seem to find his voice, and so he nodded. He continued to stare at his son suckling at Maggie’s breast, listening to the muted whimper of contentment coming from the baby, a sound that to his astonishment was drawing a response from somewhere deep inside him.
Confused by his reaction, Dylan closed his eyes, shutting out the tender and loving scene, and instantly there flashed into his mind an array of images, so clear, so incredibly vivid, they stole his breath away.
“Dylan?” Maggie spoke his name, and he could hear concern and something more vibrating in her voice. “Is something wrong?” she asked. “You’ve gone as white as a sheet.”