The energy gathered, bunched up my muscles, and I gritted my teeth. I saw Anya's face reappear over Brawny's shoulder. Erik huddled beside her. The metallic scent of blood was in the air, along with a smell more primitive and raw.
“Push, Kiki, push,” said Brawny.
“I am pushing hard!” I wanted to slap her up the side of her head, and I would have, too, except I'd taken to grasping Detweiler’s forearms, a reaction to all the pain.
“He's halfway out,” she said. “Another good push should do it.”
I ground my teeth together and huffed and puffed and gave it my all.
Brawny yelled, “Anya? Get ready with a towel. Erik, hold the end of the towel, my wee man. You two are going to get to be the first persons to hold your brother. Are you ready?”
“Uh-huh.” Anya’s voice sounded far away. Along with it came a clicking sound. Familiar, and yet, I couldn’t figure out what it was.
“Push, push, push,” said Brawny. In the distance, an ambulance wailed. The sound was coming closer and closer as I took a deep breath and bore down with all my might. I pushed and pushed and pushed until I felt another sensation of release. A sliding wetness. A zing as my organs ricocheted back to their original spots. My muscles went slack. Brawny was fussing about, but I couldn't see exactly what she was doing because the afghan over my knees blocked my sight. Anya’s head ducked down.
“Woohooo!” yelled Detweiler.
“Hurrah!” said Erik.
When Anya straightened up, her face was full of wonder—and she beamed with joy as she presented my son to me.
CHAPTER 13
~Detweiler~
Ever since I can remember, I’ve wanted to be a father. In fact, I can’t remember a time when I didn’t want kids. Yeah, I know that most men don’t feel this way. I’ve had friends on the force who’ve proudly avoided procreating. Others who’ve denied their involvement in pregnancies.
But to me, there’s nothing more important that a man can do than being a good dad. Maybe I get that from my father, because he’s always been there for me. He’s the man I admire most in the world, so I guess it’s natural I’d want to follow in his footsteps.
After I married Gina, who had been my high school sweetheart, I would lie awake at night and imagine us having a child. When I broached the subject, she was quick to shut me down. “Are you nuts? We can hardly make ends meet as it is.”
She was right, but I figured we’d find a way. If we wanted to. But she didn’t want to, and she made that clear. There was that day she dropped her purse. Out spilled a diaphragm case. The sight felt like a swift kick in the gut. Without any explanation, she calmly took the equipment from me.
We didn’t discuss it. What was there to say? She’d made it clear she hated our life. I didn’t make enough money. She was bored. Just how bored I didn’t realize until the day she left me. The news that she’d gotten pregnant, and that the father was an African-American police officer, came as a shock even five years after she’d gone. Of course I would give her son, Erik, a home. Especially when he looked so much like his mother.
Brenda? She was a mistake. An error of ego. I thought I could save her from herself. Instead, she nearly drowned me, the way a person does when flailing in deep water. Have kids with her? No way. Brenda was on drugs from the beginning. Inside I knew it, but I would have been hard pressed to admit as much. After all, she was my sister Patty’s good friend. I had practically grown up with her. Each time I looked at her, I saw the gawky teenager she’d once been.
But Kiki was always different. Even from the start. Sure, I had to consider her a murder suspect. It’s always the spouse, isn’t it? Just doing my job. That said, she couldn’t have done it. That woman has this honesty about her, a clarity in her eyes that lets you see right through to her soul. Watching her with Anya, I recognized a kindred spirit. Kiki loved her daughter the way I always expected to love a child.
At the very least, I wanted her as a friend. When times got tough, she was the type of person you could depend on.
The worst time in my life were the weeks and months when she refused to speak to me. Not when I was accused of murder. I could live behind bars if necessary, as long as I had Kiki in my corner.
Over the time we’ve spent together, I’ve seen that woman grow. After George died, she was this butterfly struggling to unfurl its wings. Once that cocoon broke away, she used every bit of her strength to expand to her best self. Taking on challenges with the store. Standing up to Sheila. Becoming the head of a household. Encouraging me to bring Erik home. Agreeing to become my wife. When she first told me she was pregnant, I felt like I’d hit a home run. My mother warned me that being pregnant and having a healthy baby were not the same thing. She worried about Kiki, especially when she realized Kiki wasn’t going to sit home and wait for the baby to come.
But we can put that behind us now.
Watching her cuddle our son, I thought my heart would burst in my chest. Erik dropped to his knees so he could stroke his baby brother’s head. Anya took over the armrest of the sofa so she could be close to her mother. The four of them. They’re my whole life. My brain took a picture just as Brawny snapped one on her phone. I plan to keep that photo in my wallet the rest of my life. I’m going to tell everybody that I’m a dad!
“Can you believe it?” Anya proudly pointed at my son. “I’m grabbing my phone to take the pictures! Can you believe him? Huh? He’s so wrinkled!”
“A baby! A baby!” Erik moved away from the sofa and was doing a hip-hop, his version of skipping. His tiny hands clapped in a rhythmic pulse.
“You better call your parents.” Kiki smiled at me. She looked marvelous.
“I can start making the calls.” Brawny slapped me lightly on the shoulder. “Savor this moment.” I sank down next to Kiki on the sofa. But for the longest time I couldn’t see, couldn’t make heads or tails of the bundle in Kiki’s arms because my eyes were brimming with tears.
And then, wonder of wonders, Brawny helped me lap one arm over the other, making an oval, a protective circle. Slowly, with great tenderness, Kiki placed a bundle in that cradle. A small shape, warm, red, wrinkled and squirming. Too light to be real. Too new to be understood. And yet when I looked into his eyes, I felt a shock of recognition. This was my son!
CHAPTER 14
Three days later
~ Kiki ~
Anya was taking her sweet time about naming the baby, but she’d promised us that she’d come up with a name by Sunday, which was two days away.
“When the pediatrician asks me what to call this little guy, what do you expect me to say?” I rocked the baby in my arms while Detweiler was outside heating the car. Today was our baby’s first visit to the pediatrician, Dr. Yee. After the baby had been born, we’d gone to the hospital via ambulance. There the attending physician had checked me over, delivered the placenta, and given the baby a once-over before pronouncing him “fit as a fiddle.” I figured that Dr. Yee would say the same, but this well visit would go a long way toward putting my mind at ease. After all, we certainly hadn’t planned for a home birth.
“I’m not telling you his name because I want everybody to find out at once,” she said. “The whole family will be here on Sunday when Father Joe and Laurel come for the blessing ceremony. Mimi and Pop, Ginny and Jeff and Emily, and Patty and Paul, and Amanda and Catherine, and even Grandma Collins.”
Fortunately, my daughter is far too smart to call my mother “Grandmother Collins” to her face. My mother would come unglued. As far as she’s concerned, she’s far too young to be a grandmother. Under any other circumstances, the lack of a label for a grandparent would be problematic. But my mother is barely involved in my kids’ lives. In fact, she is barely involved in anything or anyone but herself, so references to her are blessedly meager.
“You’re sure you won’t drop a hint to us about what you plan to name the baby?” I asked Anya. Admittedly, I was concerned. What if Anya came up with some weird, wacky name?
Something like Moonwalker or Pedro or Manfred? I’d offered her the privilege as a sop, a way of helping her come to grips with her new role as big sister. Also, I’d hoped that by naming the new baby, she’d feel less alienated. When she first heard that a baby was on the way, she’d worried about being the only Lowenstein left, because Sheila was now married to Police Chief Robbie Holmes. Over the past three months, Anya had seemed to be at peace with our blended family. I only hoped that the peace was genuine and long-lasting.
“No,” she said. Her smile was one of supreme happiness. “I’m not telling anyone. It’s my secret. I’ve even got Robbie and Gran planning to join us by Skype.”
“That certainly was smart of you.” I tried to tamp down my fears.
“You ready to go?” Detweiler walked into the kitchen. He was wearing his winter coat, a sheepskin that made him look faintly like a rancher from Montana.
“Ready,” I said, as I picked up the diaper bag from the back of a kitchen chair.
Detweiler was puffed out like a peacock. You’d think he’d done all the pushing, although to be fair he also told anyone who would listen, “Kiki was so brave and strong. It must have hurt like crazy, but she was a total trooper. If guys had to give birth, our species would disappear from this earth. Trust me.”
Erik seemed to be more curious than jealous.
Anya? She was playing her role to the hilt. That mysterious clicking sound I’d heard had been my daughter documenting the birth of her brother. When she announced what she’d been doing, I nearly fell on the floor and foamed at the mouth.
“You are not, under any circumstances, allowed to take that camera or those pictures to school,” I had told her.
“Why not?” she’d said. “Childbirth is a natural biological function.”
“Yes, and that was my natural biological function. I deserve a modicum of privacy.”
“Modicum?”
“That means, a ‘little bit’ of something. I deserve a little bit of privacy.”
“But, Mom!” she had wailed. “You’re always talking about how important it is to learn new things. Just think how much my friends will learn when I show them the pictures. Who would have ever guessed it would be so…messy?”
“They can learn from another source. I’m warning you, Anya. You show those pictures to anyone—anyone—and I will ground you for the rest of your life.”
“Gee whiz,” she had said, stomping around in a circle. “One minute you’re all about education and learning and the next you’re withholding information. You need to make up your mind!”
“And you need to get out of my bedroom. You’re upsetting me and your little brother.”
I hadn’t meant to snap at her, but she’d pushed me over the edge. Her ploy, the suggestion that the photos were educational, was only half-way successful. In truth, I knew that she wanted to show off the pictures because she was probably the only kid in her class who’d actually witnessed a birth up close and personal.
Was I being a hypocrite because I’m such a big believer in documenting our lives—and here I was telling my daughter to hide the documentation?
I scooted down in the bed and pulled the covers over my head. I didn’t care if I was being hypocritical or not. Most of the CALA parents thought I was a little weird anyway. There was no good reason to give them more ammunition. Besides, my daughter had learned a lot about photography from me. We weren’t talking about blurry photos taken at a distance. We were talking sharply focused shots of my Southern Hemisphere, complete with the Parting of the Seas, and the Birth of a Nation.
That was definitely not something I felt like sharing.
CHAPTER 15
All our family members and friends dropped by to meet our newest addition. The parade seemed endless. Prize-winning cattle are viewed with less interest than my son and I were. My sisters were both giddy with joy. The crew from the store came bearing gifts and goodwill. My mother stayed away, claiming a cold. Detweiler’s sisters and his niece brought a huge selection of stuffed toys. When his parents arrived, my antenna went up, because Louis is generally the most happy of men. His hug felt strained. His eyes barely focused on me. But then, I was nursing and that makes some men uncomfortable. As for Thelma, she seemed stand-offish. There was a pain behind her smile. Her fingers reached for the baby almost like she was grasping for a last straw. Normally effusive, she said little.
Even Anya asked me later, “What’s with Mimi?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
“She was fighting with Detweiler. I heard them. They were in the laundry room with the door closed.”
“Anya, you shouldn’t eavesdrop.”
“I consider it research, Mom.”
That made me laugh.
Over the next few days, Detweiler seemed remote. Pre-occupied. Distant. I overheard him querying Brawny, asking questions about my labor. Although the post-partum visit to the hospital had resulted in me being pronounced, “Fine,” I didn’t feel like myself. My dreams troubled me and I woke up emotionally spent. I went through the motions of caring for my son, but there was an emptiness I couldn’t shake.
Finally, I decided I needed to talk to someone about what I was feeling. A voice inside told me it wasn’t normal. Dr. Yee, our pediatrician, had always been a good listener. He was a pro-mother doc, a man who put great store by the instincts of mothers. “If Mama say baby getting ear infection, but I no see problem, I listen to Mama. Mama knows,” he’d explained to me. “Mama and baby are connected. I am only observer.”
I wasn’t surprised when Detweiler announced he was coming with me to our son’s first appointment. But I wasn’t thrilled about it either.
“Looks like you’ve got a keeper here,” said Dr. Yee, his almond-shaped eyes crinkling with good cheer. “Everything is where it should be, and he’s hale and hearty. How are you doing, Mama? How are your spirits? Any signs of depression?”
I opened my mouth to say that I’d been a little down, actually, but Detweiler beat me to it.
“Kiki’s wonderful. Terrific. A fabulous mom. Came through everything like a trooper.”
“And your other children?”
“Anya took pictures,” Detweiler continued, handing the camera over to the doctor. “Now I can always revisit what it was like to see my son being born.”
Dr. Yee took the camera from Detweiler’s hands. I’d forgotten that I’d put it into my purse as a way of safeguarding my privacy. Detweiler must have seen it when he helped me into the car. I had ordered the camera in bright red, as a way of making sure I didn’t lose track of it. Sitting as it was on the top of all the other junk in my handbag, the gizmo would have been easy to recognize.
While Dr. Yee scrolled through the pictures, I looked at Detweiler. He was in charge. I opened my mouth again to tell the doctor that I wasn’t feeling very perky or happy, but Detweiler interrupted.
“Of course, we’d planned for the baby to be born in the hospital. In fact, I was stunned that Kiki went ahead and pushed rather than waiting. They specifically told us in the Lamaze classes what to do. Thank goodness the baby is okay.”
What on earth had gotten into him? My heart took an elevator ride to the soles of my shoes. My whole body flushed with anger, making me so hot I had to fan myself. “Dr. Yee, would you please explain to my husband that once labor began in earnest, I didn’t have a choice? It wasn’t like I gave birth at home on purpose?”
“I never said that!” Detweiler whipped his head around.
“I know you didn’t, but that’s what you’re wondering.” The baby squirmed in my arms. He could tell I was upset, and that bothered him.
Dr. Yee didn’t look up at us. He kept staring into the camera. While Detweiler and I glared at each other, the pediatrician grabbed a magnifying glass from a pencil holder on his desk. Holding the camera under the lens, he gazed down at the picture for a long, long, while.
Leaning against his desk, the doctor kept the camera in one hand. “Once labor has started
and the contractions are five minutes apart, there was no way that Kiki could have stopped herself from pushing. It was a biological imperative. Totally instinctive. It would have been like stopping a sneeze or a cough, only ten times harder.”
I could see Detweiler’s shoulders relax somewhat. But he still had an irritated expression on his face. I watched a muscle tense in his jaw as he said, “My mother told me we were lucky, really lucky, that our baby wasn’t hurt…or worse. She says Kiki should have fought the urge or paid more attention to her body and asked to go to the hospital earlier.”
I was speechless with rage. Thelma had gone behind my back and used her own nightmarish experiences to poison her son’s joy. If that didn’t beat all!
“I never argue with mothers,” Dr. Yee continued. “They’re more often right than wrong. Your mother is right. All three of you were lucky. But the credit for your healthy baby goes to your wife. It’s a good thing that Kiki followed her instincts and pushed hard despite the fact she wasn’t in an ideal situation. Look right here.”
He held up the photo and centered the magnifying glass over a picture of our son’s head coming out of the birth canal. “See that white thickness at his neck? That’s the umbilical cord. That’s the reason we prefer hospital births to home births. If Kiki hadn’t pushed, if she hadn’t delivered your son right then and there, there’s a good chance that he would have strangled because of that cord being wrapped around his neck.”
CHAPTER 16
“I’m so sorry,” said Detweiler, after we strapped the baby into the car seat. While the rear-facing seats are safer, they’re also awkward to use because you have to lift the baby over the seat itself. But Detweiler did it with ease. I’d have to get used to making the climb.
Right now, all I wanted was to go home and lick my wounds. My husband’s revelation that his mother thought I’d made a mistake hurt worse than my sore girly bits. How could Thelma have done such a thing? The fact that Detweiler had listened to her hurt me deeply. I tried to keep a smile on my face, but as he pulled out of the parking lot, I had to avert my eyes and stare out the window. I couldn’t stand to look at him. I felt the warm trail of a tear running down my cheek.
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