One of the wheels on the gurney wobbled. Probably not enough for anyone to notice, but Dan’s attention was zeroed in on Trish. Did she feel the wobble? Probably not. But it wobbled as it was pushed along the hall and the stuttering rub of the wheel against the tile figuratively rubbed along Dan’s overtaxed nerves.
“I can’t go into the operating room with you,” said Greg as they walked next to the stretcher. “One of the scrub nurses will tell you what to do. As long as you listen to her, you’ll be fine. I’ve already filled her on your blindness and using the clock to guide you.”
“Thanks, man.” Emotion blocked Dan’s throat, preventing him from saying any more. Maybe more wasn’t necessary, though.
“Okay, now we’re almost there so I have to tell you a couple of things. Warn you what to expect.” Greg laid his hand over Dan’s where it rested on his forearm. “You’ll be wearing a mask, but you may still smell the blood. It’ll be worst when they make the opening incision. And they’ll cauterize a lot of the bleeding vessels as they go along but that’s maybe going to cause you problems. There is nothing, as far as I’m concerned, that is worse than burning flesh. And it may remind you…”
…of being in a bombing. Dan couldn’t help but complete the statement in his head and his stomach flipped when he did. He had to put it out of his mind, though. Had to. He clenched his teeth. “You think I’ll freak out.”
Greg tapped the back of Dan’s hand twice. “I think you need to be prepared so you don’t freak out. I know you can do this.”
Dan wasn’t so sure about that. “Maybe I should just—”
“Okay, Mr. Fiskar, I’m afraid this is as far as you can go.” A warm hand touched Dan on the forearm. “Dan, my name is Carrie. I’m going to help you get ready. Your wife will be waiting for you in the operating suite.”
The panic that had begun when Dan had realized he’d have to go it alone slipped away at the mention of Trish. His wife. The woman about to be cut open in order to have his baby.
You can do this because she’s doing it. You can be there for her. You have to be there for her because she has no choice so neither do you. Put the other crap out of your head. It’s gone. Over.
He pulled in a long breath and eased it out. We’re going to have a son.
Nothing was more important than family. His memories and the remnants of his emotional issues were the least of his concerns now, trivial things to be shoved to the back burner.
“Okay, you’re standing at a sink.”
Carrie startled him by taking his hands and moving them forward. Then warm water struck them. He’d been so filled with his self-pep talk he hadn’t been aware of his changing environment. Running water gurgled in front of him, over his hands and arms, up to his elbows, as Carrie guided them under the faucet.
“I’m going to put some antiseptic soap on your hands and I need you to rub them together, then you’ll need to let me scrub them because I don’t know how to show you.” Something cold oozed into his right palm. “Will that be all right with you?”
It’s about Trish and the baby. Dan nodded. “Yeah, sure.” It didn’t matter that he felt as helpless as that baby they were trying to have. It’s not about me.
Carrie was gentle but thorough and quick. “I’m using sterile towels to dry your hands and then we’ll get you gloved and gowned, and I’ll get a hat and mask on you. Even so, Dan, I need you to not touch anything you aren’t handed, okay?”
Again he nodded. “Right, don’t touch anything. Thank you — for helping me.”
“You and your wife just enjoy that baby when he gets here.” She spread his fingers open with hers. “Keep them just like that. Then she began the tedious process of slipping on the first latex glove.
It was sticky and kept hanging up, and just as Dan was certain they’d send him in with the fingers flapping uselessly, it settled into place. The process of getting dressed for the operating room seemed to take forever. They’d have the baby out before he even got inside.
“Okay, take a deep breath, because here we go,” said Carrie, slipping a hand under Dan’s elbow.
He’d been prepared for the assault of an antiseptic on his olfactory sense, or maybe the scent of blood or human bodies. What he got was… nothing. No smells teased his nose. But the room was almost bone-numbingly cold. An involuntary shiver began in his toes and drifted upward.
“Here you go, Dan. There’s a tall round stool behind you. I need you to sit here and don’t move unless someone tells you to.”
He started to reach behind him to locate the stool with his hand but froze as he recalled the admonition not to touch anything. So instead, he drew his hand back and cautiously aimed his butt for the seat, easing out a sigh of relief when he managed to connect with a solid surface.
Carrie placed both his hands on a thick metal bar. “Hold onto this and don’t let go no matter what. You’re next to Trish’s head. Dr. McLaren, the anesthesiologist, is standing on the other side of her. Trish? Guess who this is.”
“Danny? It is you!” Her words were thick, but Greg had warned him that Trish would be sedated. Even so, she managed to sound elated that he was there.
He smiled, even though he knew she wouldn’t see behind the mask. “It’s me. All wrapped up in paper like some kind of Christmas present.”
“My very own gift,” she said with a sigh.
“Okay, folks,” said Dr. Peroli from what Dan estimated to be near Trish’s feet. “All the players are here. Dr. Rapp, is your team ready?”
“Absolutely.”
“Dr. McLaren, is the anesthesia team ready?”
“The team is ready,” murmured a soft feminine voice from across the table. “The epidural anesthesia was delivered and found to be adequate, and the patient is stable.”
“This so wasn’t the plan…” mumbled Trish, her sad words striking a chord in Dan’s heart.
“Hey, I’ve been thinking about that,” he murmured, wishing he could lay his forehead against hers… or touch her in any way, for that matter. “Remember what the nurse in our childbirth class said?” He fumbled through his memory. “What was her name… it was strange, not a real name but a place…”
Trish laughed softly. “Chynna with a Y. And she said a lot of things.”
“Yeah, but one that particularly applies here.” He paused, trying to remember the exact words but failed and gave up. “Remember… no matter how the birth goes, if Mom and Baby are fine, it’s a victory.”
Her laugh drifted into a sigh. “She did say that, didn’t she? A lot of times.”
The loud wail of a newborn split the air around them.
“We got him!” called out Peroli. “Ten fingers and ten toes, Mom and Dad. And he cried before we even got him all the way out.”
“That’s our baby!” said Trish in her teary voice. “That’s Greg!”
“Our son,” whispered Dan. Emotion compressed his chest and prevented him from saying any more. But maybe no more needed to be said on that score, either.
The raucous cries moved across the room. He sounded a bit like a demanding seagull. Maybe best to keep that thought to yourself, Conway.
“He’s marvelous,” announced Dr. Rapp. “Nice and pink. Feels like he’s about seven pounds. Just give us a second to get him all cleaned up.”
The scent of searing flesh tickled Dan’s nostrils. Even though Greg had warned him it would happen, the smell turned his stomach and Dan found himself holding his breath.
“You’re doing just fine, Trish.” Peroli chuckled. “We’re getting the placenta increta cleared up here. You’ll be ready to do this again in a year or two.”
The blood drained from Dan’s brain. Do it again? His stomach threatened to embarrass him at the mere thought.
“Hey, Daddy,” murmured Nurse Carrie from behind him. He half turned, but the motion was awkward while he was sitting down and holding onto the metal bar. “Turn loose of the bar and just relax a second.”
He did as instructed. A tiny cry protested from very close, and then a warm bundle was placed in his arms. “Hold him tight, don’t drop him. I’ll stand right here in case you get into trouble.”
“My son,” he whispered, aware of tears welling, stinging the backs of his eyelids. “Our boy.” His voice shook. “Can you see him, Trish?”
She didn’t answer.
“Trish?” Why was she so quiet? Why wasn’t she answering?
Finally, a tiny sob came from the table. “He’s so beautiful, Danny. He has a round pink face, and his hair…it’s so dark and it’s really thick. He needs a haircut already!” She sniffed. “He’s our little miracle… our victory.”
****
“Do you need anything for the pain?” asked the nurse from the foot of the bed.
Settling herself back in the bed, Trish took stock and shook her head. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”
As the nurse left the room, Trish’s gaze drifted to Dan, seated in the vinyl cushioned chair next to her bed. The casual observer might have made the mistake of thinking him deep in sleep while he held their son, his arms wrapped snugly around the tiny baby, their foreheads touching. But she could see his lips moving and knew her two men were sharing secrets.
The door from the hallway pushed open and Ashley poked her head in. “Are you decent?”
Trish laughed. “That’s what they tell me. Come on in.”
“You have a slew of visitors out here.” Ashley sauntered through the door. “Apparently there are no rules against small parties on the mother and baby unit. But I thought I’d better check things out first.” Her gaze fell on Dan and the baby and she smiled. “What a doll!”
“Which one? I think they’re both kind of cute.” A chuckle eased through Trish’s lips but she quelled it. Laughing and sneezing were currently on her not-to-do list and would stay there until she didn't feel like a can opener was working its way across the bottom of her belly with the movements.
“Yeah, we can hear you over here,” murmured Dan.
“So, I’m not going to ask how it went… I got the gist over the phone from Greg.” Ashley ran a nervous hand through her long blonde hair. “What are the little guy’s particulars?”
“He weighed in at seven pounds, two ounces, and is a very long twenty-one inches. He has ten fingers and ten—”
The door burst open so hard it hit the wall with a thud and stuck in the open position. Bella raced through. “Mama! I thought — you were going to — wait to — have the baby.”
This time the laugh wouldn’t be held back. Trish slid her hand under the covers to hold her insides in. “Well, sweetie, your baby brother didn't want to wait.”
Bella bounced up onto the bed and leaned into Trish’s face. “You make me — wait for things — I want.”
“She’s got you there, I’m afraid.” Dan stood and walked to the side of the bed. “Can’t show favoritism, you know.”
His normal self-assurance had returned and he already handled the baby like a pro. Smiling, he placed a kiss on their son’s forehead and held him out. Trish took the sleeping infant and held him close to her breast, pressing her own kisses to his cheeks, his forehead. She closed her eyes and inhaled his scent.
Oh, new baby smell, you just don’t ever get old…
Bella heaved a huge sigh, evidently not ready to lose center stage without a final effort. “But Daddy and I — did not get — your present finished.”
“I’m sorry about that, Princess.” Dan’s face clouded and he held out his hand to their daughter. “We’ll get it finished as soon as we get home. I promise.”
Bella slipped her tiny hand into her father’s big one. “It — is finished, Daddy. And — Amelia made — one for her Memaw, too. Grandma Elsa — helped.”
Frowning because she didn't understand the reference, Trish lifted her gaze to Ashley’s and mouthed, “Grandma Elsa?”
Ashley offered a shrug. “Mrs. Schmidt.”
“Bella… did Mrs. Schmidt say you can call her Grandma Elsa?”
“Did I hear my name?” Mrs. Schmidt herself stood in the open doorway.
Trish’s jaw dropped and she could do no more than stare. Speech, even the ability to smile, escaped her.
“Well, are you going to ask me in? I shouldn’t be on my feet, you know.”
“Ahh… yes! Come in, please. It’s…” …a shock… “…really nice to see you.”
“Grandma — Elsa knows about shells!” announced Bella, jumping off the bed and crossing the room to take their neighbor’s hand. “Come and — sit next to Mama.”
Ashley dragged a hard plastic chair over, and Mrs. Schmidt arranged herself with regal style. She leaned over and squinted at the baby. “That’s him, eh. Cute little insect.”
Trish swallowed her sarcastic retort. Their elderly neighbor was outspoken and sometimes tactless, but much nicer than she appeared on the surface. And her pride and guilt had cost her a lot over the past decades.
“Mama, here! Daddy and — I started and — Grandma Elsa helped — me finish.” Bella thrust a flat box wrapped in metallic-finished paper that was swirled with pink, blue, and lavender and topped with a puffy white bow.
“And who helped you wrap it?” asked Trish, lifting the box and weighing it in her hand.
“That was — Aunt Lina.”
A smile tugged at Trish’s lips. Aunt Lina… It seemed their family had grown by several more than one overnight. She slipped her thumb under one end and lifted the carefully folded paper. Then she slid the flat gold box out and lifted the top. Inside, a silver-toned metal medallion gleamed up at her. Sand had been spread into a background, and a ridge of metal formed the shape of a heart in the center. A mosaic made of crumbled bits of shell filled in the inside of the heart. The whole thing had been dipped into some kind of polymer.
“Bella, this is beautiful,” murmured Trish.
“It was — Daddy’s idea for the — necklace. And my — idea to put beach — sand and — shells.” Beaming with pride, Bella looked from Trish to Dan, then back to Trish.
“Thank you, sweetie. It’s very pretty.”
Dan held out his hand and she set the necklace in his palm. He ran his thumb over the trinket and a smile spread across his face. “I can still feel the heart, Bella, but the necklace feels smooth, too. Nice job.”
“Grandma — Elsa knows about shells and — art. And she had — just the thing to make it — shiny.” Bella grinned at Mrs. Schmidt.
Trish sent her own smile to their curmudgeonly neighbor. “Thank you.”
A blush added color to the wrinkled white cheeks and Mrs. Schmidt waved her hand. “Someone had to help the girl finish her project.”
Ashley glanced at the door for the fifth or sixth time since Mrs. Schmidt had entered.
“Where’s Nick?” Trish asked, taking the necklace from Dan and laying it back in the little gold box. “Is he on his way here?”
Ashley averted her gaze. “Yea-ah… He had to take care of something first. But he should be here any time. You know, your guests are all waiting out there, too. They wanted to stop in before they dropped Greg off.”
Trish frowned. Memory stirred at the back of her mind. “Wait! Dropped Greg off? Oh, dear. He was supposed to report to his unit this morning at seven o’clock but he couldn’t have because he was here… with us.”
Dan cursed under his breath.
“All taken care of!” Nick entered the room with Greg on his heels and Kevin and Lina following with the two kids. “I explained the situation to Colonel Edgerton, who then spoke with the three-two’s CO. Lieutenant Fiskar has been assigned as your assistant until oh-eight-hundred tomorrow morning.”
“Edgerton did you a solid?” asked Dan, incredulity painting his voice. He leaned back on one hand and shook his head, obviously taken aback.
“There were — ex…tenuating circumstances. Whoa!” Nick crossed the room and leaned close. “Look at this little guy. So what’s his name?”
Trish straightened her back and grasped Dan by the hand. She held their baby face-out to the crowd that had gathered in her room. “Everyone… We want you to meet Gregory Victor Conway.” She kept her eyes on Greg as she spoke.
Greg’s jaw fell open and his shoulders sagged forward. Then he swallowed so hard the sound was audible against the silence that had fallen. Trish motioned him closer with an inclination of her head. His eyes were suspiciously bright but he remained the stoic marine as he stared down at the baby. Trish lifted Baby Greg and Big Greg bent forward, then slid one wide and capable hand beneath the infant’s head and wrapped the other around his tiny body. A tear spilled over but he brushed it away with his shoulder.
“You took care of my husband,” murmured Trish, smoothing the baby blanket. “Twice. Once when he was hurt and… today.”
His cheeks reddened. “Aw, it was—”
“If you say it was just your job, I’ll find more ice cubes to pitch at you.” She tempered her words with a smile.
“It was my pleasure.” He bent and kissed his namesake on the forehead. “This is a beautiful baby boy, Trish.”
Emotion swelled as she thought of what might have happened had she not taken in the extra guests over the holiday. But she pushed the thoughts aside. “We did pretty good, didn’t we… Dan and me… and you?”
Greg settled the baby back in Trish’s arms.
“Hey,” she whispered before he stood up.
Greg froze, sending her a raised-eyebrow gaze.
“You take care of yourself out there and come back to us, you hear me?” She blinked back tears. “Remember, you’re family now.”
Greg traced one finger along Baby Greg’s cheek. His smile warmed his dark eyes. “I’ll be very careful,” he murmured.