She had to stop crying.
The baby had been gone for almost five minutes. She’d asked the nurse to let Marilyn and Michele have a chance to see her before taking her to her new parents. That would also give Christina a little time to pull it together.
The thing was, she wasn’t really sad. She wasn’t sure where the tears were coming from. She’d actually felt something pretty close to peace inside. From within that peace, she felt a sense of assurance that everything would be fine, that her baby was in good hands and that God would take care of her from now on. It was like the tears had a mind of their own, like they were going to come and keep coming until they were done.
As she reached for another few tissues, she decided to stop trying to shut the tears down. A knock on the door. She looked up. A head popped in. A hand waved.
It was Doug.
She didn’t want him to see her like this.
“Okay if I come in?” He was still standing by the door in the shadows.
How could she say no? She sat up straighter, dabbed her eyes again, tried blinking her tears away. “I guess so.”
“If you’re not ready, I can give you a few more minutes.”
To feel good about seeing him, she would need a few hours. She looked down at her stomach, still big under the blanket. No, she would need a few weeks.
“I asked if I could go first,” he said, still standing by the doorway, “since everyone else had already seen you. But if you’d feel more comfortable starting with one of the ladies, I’m okay with that.”
“You can come in. I’m sure I look like a complete hag, but if you don’t mind—”
“You look fine. You just delivered a baby. I’ve never been in a delivery room right after a baby’s been born, but I’ve seen it in the movies plenty of times. You look better than most of the moms in the movies.”
She laughed, then winced. “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”
He approached the bed, stood to her left. “I wasn’t joking. Your eyes are kind of red and puffy. Your hair’s a little messy, but that’s really about all.”
She began fiddling with her hair. “How bad is it?”
He reached up and gently pulled her hands down. “You look fine, Christina. After what you’ve just been through, you look great.”
There was such tenderness in his voice, and in his eyes. And his touch. She knew they were just friends, but in that moment, how she wished they were something more. She instantly relaxed. The beat-up feeling was still there, but just barely.
“How are you doing?” he asked. “How did your time go, you know, with . . . the baby? If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay.”
“It was a little hard. But not traumatic. I guess God prepared me for it. I’ve been praying about it a whole lot, especially the last few weeks. I cried more than I thought I would, but look, I’ve already stopped.”
“That’s because I’m here.”
Just as she began to wonder what he meant by that, he said, “You know, to take your mind off it.”
Yes, you did. “It’s really not a depressing thing.” She pointed to the note sitting on top of the white envelope. “That’s the letter from the couple adopting the baby. They are so excited, and she’s going to such a great home. It sounded like their family is bigger than yours.”
“That’s cool you have something like that already, so you don’t have to wonder about what’s going to happen to her.”
“They even made the baby’s middle name Christina,” she said.
“Really?”
She nodded, felt tears beginning to form. Change the subject. “It was so nice of you to come.”
“I had to,” he said. “What kind of friend would I be if I let you go through something this difficult all by yourself?”
She couldn’t help it. That made her cry. She didn’t care that he used the word friend. Or if that was all he was, or might ever be. He was that, her friend, the best kind. The kind that drops everything and runs to your side when they knew you were hurting. The kind who couldn’t bear to see you suffer alone.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He reached for the tissues and pulled out a few. “Did I say something wrong?”
She wiped her eyes. “No, dummy. That might have been the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
When she regained her composure, she reached for the letter on the nightstand. Seeing her stretch, Doug got it for her. “Would you like to read it?” she asked.
“Do you want me to?”
“Only if you want to.”
“Sure.”
He took it from her and began to read. She watched his eyes crisscross back and forth across and then down the page. When he finished, he said, “Wow. That’s pretty amazing.”
“Isn’t it? That’s why I have no reason to be depressed. God has given my baby a wonderful home, and he’s given me such wonderful friends to help me make a new start.”
He put the letter back in the envelope and set it on the nightstand. “To my folks, you’re more than a friend, Christina. They talk about you like family. You may not look like an Anderson or talk like an Anderson, but you’re pretty much an Anderson now.”
She wanted to ask him, in the worst way, was she more than a friend to him? But she already knew the answer. Why spoil such a beautiful moment? “Thanks again for letting me stay in the garage apartment.”
“You’re welcome. But it’s not much of a sacrifice, since I’m not sleeping on the sofa anymore. Now that Tom and Jean have moved into their new place, I got the whole upstairs to myself when I come home from school. Oh, I forgot to tell you. When this new semester starts, I’m moving out of the dorm and getting my own apartment. I’ve already picked it out. It’s smaller than the garage apartment in River Oaks but a lot bigger than the dorm room. I should have a lot more freedom there too.”
She wondered what he meant by that. Something in the way he said it made her a little concerned. No way she was going to ask.
“Well, I better go get my mom, Jean, and Michele,” he said. “Are you still up for seeing them?”
“Sure. I think I can manage that.”