“I guess I’ll go check on him,” Christine said. “Just to make sure he knows he shouldn’t open up.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” Susan said.
“But you’ll sit with the baby? I don’t think Audrey likes it when he’s all alone in there.”
“Of course,” Susan replied. “Me and Scott will keep watch.”
CHRISTINE DROVE THE familiar route over to the Sunrise Cove Inn and Bistro. In his familiar parking spot, Zach had parked his car, and the sight made Christine’s heart burst. It was both normal and completely not. It was like watching the sunrise and knowing it would be the last day on earth.
It was just past noon, which was normally a time when the doors whipped back and forth, and guests eased in and out for lunches with friends and family or business meetings. It felt strange and eerily quiet, entering those doors and Christine soon found that she couldn’t. They were still latched shut.
She turned left, sauntered down the sidewalk, and appeared at the front desk of the Sunrise Cove. Sometimes, if the light hit the foyer just right, she found it difficult not to imagine her mother, Anna, stationed at that very desk. But the man who peered back at her to greet her was Sam, the new, handsome twenty-something. Christine tried on a smile in return, but it felt false.
“Christine! Good to see you,” Sam greeted her. He flung his fingers through his hair, then added, “I don’t know how to say this, but I’m just really sorry about everything that’s happened. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
Christine knew the appropriate thing to say was, thank you, but she couldn’t muster the strength. Instead, her smile just fell, and silence flung itself between them. Awkward.
But a second or two later, Amanda popped out from the office. Christine was shocked to see her, as she’d thought she was back home with Audrey. Amanda’s eyes scanned from Sam to Christine and back again.
“Aunt Christine. What are you doing here?”
“I just wanted to check on something at the bistro,” Christine said. “Is Audrey okay?”
“She’s fast asleep already,” Amanda said. “Grandpa Wes, Charlotte, and Aunt Lola are all there, and I had to run a few errands for work. So here I am.”
“I see,” Christine said. Her eyes again returned to Sam, who, she knew, crushed hard on Amanda. The feelings were mutual, she thought, although at so soon after Amanda’s failed engagement, it seemed like the two of them planned to keep it slow.
Still, it was like there was a bubble of hope around them.
“Anyway. I’ll say hi when I head out,” Christine said as she headed down the hallway toward the bistro. “Don’t work too hard, Amanda. You’ve been through a lot. We all have.”
When she reached the bistro, she heard it: the speaker system in the kitchen blared loudly, as though there was a whole nightclub packed in there. Christine froze at the doorway. She glanced left, toward the empty chairs and tables. A horrible thought came over her. Would they be able to take care of the bustling crowd again? Would she and Zach ever work side-by-side?
How had this all gone so terribly wrong?
Christine stepped toward the swinging door. After a deep breath, she pressed it open to find Zach.
He looked different than she’d ever seen him.
He leaned heavily against the walk-in fridge and banged his head strangely with the horrible, loud rock music that blared from the speakers. He had a glass of whiskey in one hand, and he wore stained chef's whites as though they were the only wardrobe he could find in his closet. When his eyes lifted toward her, they were red-tinged. They were proof of just how drunk he was. If Christine had to guess, he’d probably started drinking about five or six hours before.
“What the hell happened to you?” she breathed.
Zach gave her a horrible smile. For a moment, Christine was taken back to long-ago fights she’d had with her previous boyfriends in New York City. All of them had been borderline alcoholics; all of them had had anger problems. They’d always fought like cats and dogs.
Not her and Zach. They’d never been like that. Ever.
She had thought she’d broken the pattern.
“What do you mean, what the hell happened to me?” Zach demanded in a voice Christine hardly recognized. “I’m here, aren’t I? Hell. We should open up the bistro, shouldn’t we? I couldn’t help but notice there’s no freshly baked bread and no croissants, but we can make do. Can’t we?”
Christine’s heart dropped into her belly. “You’re drunk.”
“Of course I’m drunk,” Zach spewed. “I’ve been drunk for days.”
Christine’s lower lip bounced. She had to keep it together. She couldn’t burst into tears in front of this borderline madman.
This was the man she loved. She had to remind herself of that.
They had to be there for each other.
“Zach, I know this has been really confusing and really hard for all of us,” Christine whispered. “But we have to hold it together. The baby is sick, but he — “
“But what, Christine?” Zach demanded. He sauntered toward the counter, where he poured himself another two fingers of whiskey. “Then what? Now, I take care of a sick baby?”
Christine wanted to tell him that everything would be all right. It was no use, though. He’d already been through something that really hadn’t turned out all right, and he was no fool. Pleasantries and “things you said” couldn’t distract him from all that.
“Zach, babe, I know this is horrible for you,” Christine tried. She stepped toward him as her heart pounded. “But Zach, we can do this. We can make this work. And once the baby gets out of the hospital —”
“And what if he doesn’t get out of the hospital, Christine?” Zach spoke down toward his drink. “Then what?” He gasped for air as though his lungs struggled just like the baby’s. He then lifted his glass, took a huge gulp of whiskey, and then turned to pummel the glass against the wall.
Glass shards sprung out every which way. Christine leaped back, totally panicked. She’d never seen Zach like this. As the glass settled down around them, Zach placed his head in his hands and moaned into them.
“I can’t be a father again, Christine. I can’t. It’s too much. It’s too much. I should have known. Not enough time has passed. I miss her. I miss her so much. I can’t miss someone else. I can’t.”
It took a number of minutes, maybe even close to a half-hour, for Christine to get Zach into her car. She watched as he collapsed into the back seat. She was reminded of her mother, who’d seen her father in similar states throughout their marriage. How had she dealt with it?
Oh. Right. She’d had an affair.
But Christine loved Zach. She loved him with her whole heart. Zach needed her right then, just as she would certainly need him in the future. Resolute, she drove him back toward the house they shared, helped him to bed, and listened as his first early-afternoon snores rang out through the air.
When she reached the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of wine and nibbled on a cookie. She hadn’t eaten anything in terms of “meals” in the last seventy-two-hours, it seemed like.
She had no idea how any of them would make it through this. But she knew they just simply had to.
Chapter Nine
Audrey awoke. There was always this first, beautiful, hazy part of the morning when she was allowed to feel and think and act just like a nineteen-year-old college student, a woman with her grip on the world. But all that crashed down around her the moment she felt it: the subtle pain, the fear that her baby, over in the NICU, wouldn’t make it through the night.
Slowly, she removed herself from bed, then turned to find Amanda alongside her. Audrey had forgotten that, too: that she’d crawled into bed the previous night with Amanda, longing to be close to anyone. She had asked Amanda to tell her a story while she fell asleep, and she’d done it. Amanda told Audrey the extended story of how she’d first met her ex-fiancé, Chris, and fallen in love. Just before she had f
allen asleep, Audrey had whispered, “Isn’t it painful to talk about this? You can choose another story.” But Amanda had said, “Actually, I’m in the process of trying to appreciate the story around Chris, while knowing that we weren’t right for each other. Every person comes into our life for a reason. Don’t you think?”
“I hope so,” Audrey had breathed as she’d drifted off. “I really do.”
Now, in this fresh morning, Amanda reached for her phone and read the time. “Babe, it’s only five. We should rest a little bit more, don’t you think?”
“What? No.” Audrey slowly slipped out of bed and made her way out of the first-floor bedroom and headed up to her room, where she dressed in a pair of leggings and a big Penn State sweatshirt. After a pause, she slid some eyeliner around her eyes and placed some blush over the apples of her cheeks. Even though she wasn’t trying to impress anyone, she wanted to look a little better than how she felt.
There was that wishful thinking again.
Downstairs, Amanda rubbed her eyes and shrugged herself into a coat. When she glanced up, she said, “You did your makeup.”
Audrey shrugged. “It’s not the first time I’ve dressed up for a guy.”
Audrey told Amanda she didn’t have to go to the hospital with her so early, but Amanda wouldn’t hear of letting her go alone. Everyone in the Sheridan family regarded Audrey like a little lost dog or a toy that was on the verge of breaking. She hated it. She was nearly twenty years old, and she’d just given birth for Pete’s sake. She wanted more power over her life again.
Once at the NICU, Audrey rushed toward the glass to spot her little boy. She pressed her fingers on the glass and felt her heart fall through her ribcage and through the space between her and her son. “I love you. I love you so completely,” she whispered.
A few minutes later, Amanda joined her, bleary-eyed. She passed her a cup of bad coffee and a packaged muffin, cinnamon-flavored.
“I think he’s getting better,” Audrey whispered as she took the coffee. “I can feel it.”
Amanda’s eyes didn’t know what to do with that information. She cast them down toward the coffee. After a small moment of silence, she said, “That’s good,” then added, “I think I might be getting used to this coffee. Is that crazy?”
At just past nine, Christine and Lola joined them. Audrey fell into the hug with her mother and breathed the words into her ear, as well. “I think he’ll be okay. I can just feel it.”
But of course, nobody could believe her. She wasn’t a doctor.
At ten, Christine, Lola, and Audrey met with the baby’s doctor. With stale, flat words, he explained that baby Sheridan had to remain on oxygen for a number of days more. This sent Audrey’s heart into a dark place.
“But when can we take him home?” Audrey demanded. She hated how panicked she sounded.
The doctor’s words remained somber. “I don’t know yet. We’re monitoring him at every stage. Sometimes, these things take time. But in the meantime, this will allow you to heal and regain your strength because once he comes home, you’ll be busy.”
When they left the office, Audrey felt listless and strange. Christine’s face reflected back the same emotions. Her mother looked at both of them with shock etched over her forehead.
Audrey sat on the bench outside of the NICU and blinked at the glass for a long time. Minutes passed. Occasionally, she had to get up and pump the milk from her breasts, which had grown into a near-constant annoyance. She hated it, especially when she threw the milk down the drain—what a waste.
Just past one, Lola admitted she had to run off to meet Tommy for something. She kissed Audrey’s forehead and said she would see her in a few hours. “I’ll text you. Have your phone on you,” she insisted.
This left only Christine and Audrey, the two “mothers” of the ailing baby. Christine looked just as depleted as she had when Audrey had first met her the previous summer. Martha’s Vineyard had initially filled her with light. That light now seemed to be gone.
“I THINK WE SHOULD GO get some food,” Christine finally said. Her voice was low, strange.
Audrey coughed once and the look on her face was pure horror. Christine grabbed her arm and asked, “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Audrey's hand went to her crotch and then she started laughing. “I think my vagina just fell out after that cough.”
Christine laughed alongside her niece as their moods lightened a little.
“Come on. We should eat something. I haven’t really fed myself in days, either.”
When they walked into the light of the early afternoon in early March, Audrey immediately noticed a strange shift in temperature. The previous day had been frigid and winter-like, but this, on the other hand, had a touch of spring to it. Audrey wasn’t sure how to feel. On the one hand, she resented the fact that the seasons could go on without her son. On the other, she longed for spring, for summer, for the freedom the sun brought along with it.
Christine led her toward a little restaurant situated along the waterline. Before they entered, Audrey glanced left, toward the docks that flung out near to the hospital. She remembered her mother’s story of how she’d first encountered Tommy out on those docks — how she’d just walked up to him and demanded his attention. The brashness of Lola Sheridan! She wished she could bottle it and take it as a pill. Especially right then.
Christine and Audrey sat near the back, with a perfect view of the springtime waters. Christine ordered a glass of Italian wine while Audrey opted for apple juice, along with gourmet sandwiches, olives, fresh fruit, and dessert. Audrey ate slowly. With each delicate bite, something in her told her she didn’t deserve such beautiful foods. Everything was delicious, though, and she was grateful that she could leave reality behind for a moment.
With every moment that passed, though, Audrey felt sure there was something really wrong with Christine. But before she could ask, Christine turned a question on her, instead.
“Why haven’t you named him yet?”
Audrey’s lips opened with surprise.
But Christine continued. “If it’s because you’re afraid it will jinx it, I don’t think you should be afraid. That baby has been on this planet since February 27, and he deserves a name to call his own. Maybe it will give him something to cling to. I don’t know.”
Tears sprung to Audrey’s eyes. She knew how right her aunt was.
“I just. I hadn’t even. I—” “She stuttered for a moment, then continued. “I hadn’t even considered any names for boys—only for girls.”
Christine chuckled sadly. “You were so sure.”
“I really was.”
“Why were you so sure? Because Susan and your mom said you were carrying high? That’s just an old myth.”
Audrey shook her head. “Youthful ignorance, maybe. I thought all of life would be exactly as you planned it. But in fact, the surprise pregnancy should have been proof enough that life doesn’t work like that.”
Audrey scrunched up her nose and again sipped her juice. “But a baby boy. I really just never thought I could. I’d always heard stories about my grandmother, Anna Sheridan. And then, I grew up with my mother. And I just felt that I wanted to extend that line.”
“The three of you do look exactly alike,” Christine affirmed. “It’s uncanny.”
“But maybe he’ll have a different look,” Audrey breathed. With a jolt, she sat up straighter in her chair and said, “Actually, maybe he’ll look like Grandpa Wes!”
The idea surprised her and then excitement washed over her. Christine actually laughed, although she looked as though she didn’t fully want to.
“That’s something you want, isn’t it?” Christine asked.
“So, so much,” Audrey said. “Grandpa Wes has been one of my greatest friends this past year. While the frat parties rage on, me and Grandpa Wes eat M&Ms in peace and share old stories.”
Audrey was also surprised about this sentiment. Had she made a joke? She hadn’t made on
e of those in days.
Maybe it was the springtime sun.
Maybe it was hope.
“I’ll think of a name,” Audrey said softly. “Something that will suit him perfectly.”
She rested her chin against her chest and pondered it for a long time. Occasionally, Christine spit out various names.
“What about Oscar?”
“Yuck,” Audrey said.
“Timothy?”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Adrian.”
“What! No.”
The conversation lingered on for quite some time, until suddenly, out of nowhere, Audrey said, “Maxwell,” and their eyes locked. There was something so powerful about it. Maxwell Wesley Sheridan. They said his name over and over again. Maxwell Wesley Sheridan.
“I love it. We can call him Max for short.” Audrey beamed. “It’s perfect.”
Just as Christine lifted her wallet to pay for the wine and food, Susan Sheridan burst in through the far door and growled at them. “Where have you been?”
Audrey looked at her aunt with surprise.
“Relax, Susie,” Christine said with a bright smile.
Susan paused at their table and turned her eyes from Christine to Audrey and back again. “What’s gotten into you two?”
“Well, for one, we finally ate a good meal,” Christine replied. “Which solved quite a few of our issues.”
“And for two, we named the baby!” Audrey cried.
All the tension fell from Susan’s face. She dropped her hands on either side of her waist and blinked at them with huge eyes.
“Are you going to tell me?”
Christine scrunched her lips together while Audrey said, “I don’t know. Are you going to keep yelling at us?”
Susan rolled her eyes. “I just wanted to let you know that we’re planning a big family dinner at the house. You should both be there. We need you.”
Audrey and Christine locked eyes again.
“What do you think, Momma?” Christine asked.
A Vineyard Lullaby Page 6
