Jack is hanging on the ropes, watching as two men circle each other in the ring. One is a regular, a trainer. The other I don’t recognize from the back. I remember Jack and Dad mentioning a new trainee. Marines, both current and former, from the surrounding counties often came here to train. My dad had been a coach the few years he’d been in the service. When he retired to run the gym, his students followed and they’d been here ever since.
The bell dings as the door closes behind me. Jack looks up, surprise crossing his face followed by an easy smile. The smile doesn’t last long when he takes in my appearance. He motions to the trainer to continue, then hops from the ring and strides to my side.
“Livvie. You look like shit.” He wraps an arm around my shoulder and steers me toward the office.
“Thanks.” I clear my throat. “Is Dad around?”
Jack holds the door open for me. “No. Why? Do you need to talk to him? He’ll probably be on the water, even though it looks like it’ll be raining buckets all day.”
I set my purse on the floor beside the couch and shake my head. “No. I came here to talk to you, actually.”
He settles into the chair behind the desk and guzzles from a bottle of water. His hair is wet with the sheen of sweat. He is a miniature version of Dad. The same strong jaw, powerful but sleek build and discerning brown eyes. “Well, I’m here. Talk to me. Does it have anything to do with why you look like death?”
I laugh, but it’s hollow-sounding to my ears. “I don’t know where to start.”
His eyes narrow. “Spit it out. What the fuck is wrong? Are you hurt or something?”
“No, no.” I take a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.”
The news rocks him back in his chair like a powerful blow to the solar plexus. “You’re pregnant?”
“Yes.”
He shakes his head as though the information doesn’t quite fit. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” I roll my eyes.
“How can you be pregnant?” His voice is disbelieving. What am I, a sexless creature with no reproductive organs?
“The usual way, Jack.”
“Smartass.” He rubs a hand over his jaw. “I didn’t know you were serious with anyone.”
I study the blotter on the desk because I can’t bear delivering the news to his face. “I’m not.”
“So, who’s the father?” He’s near-shouting now, and I glance at the door to make sure it’s closed all the way. The last thing I need is for a roomful of Jack and Ben’s old buddies to know I’m pregnant with Ben’s kid. That’s a conversation I know I’ll have to have with him…eventually.
My cheeks burn. “Not that it’s any of your business, but we got together at Ben’s going-away party a few months ago. I don’t think you can classify our relationship as dating. Currently.”
“I really don’t want to know this.”
“I really don’t want to tell you.”
“What’s his name? Jesus Christ, it’s not that Chad idiot who’s been drooling after you, is it?”
“Well, see, here’s the thing—”
“Jesus Christ, Livvie, spit it out.”
“Don’t,” I warn. Then I do spit it out before I lose what little courage I’ve built up. “It’s Ben, Jack.”
He doesn’t even blink. In fact, if I didn’t know him better, I’d say he didn’t even look surprised. My face scrunches in confusion and Jack finally says, “Shit.”
He stands and starts pacing back and forth. “How long have you known? Does Ben know?”
“I’m around ten weeks along. The first trimester. And no, Ben doesn’t know yet. I’ve tried emailing him, but he hasn’t responded back yet. He told me that he’d probably be out of touch for a while. I guess he’ll get back to me when he can and I’ll let him know then.” I pick a paperclip up off his desk and start making it my mission to take it apart. Anything to keep me from having to look at my brother any longer while we discuss the logistics of me telling his best friend that I am knocked up with his kid. “God, that’ll be a fun conversation.”
“I’d definitely like to see that go down.” Jack plops back down in his chair. “I’ve always known there was something between the two of you. On Ben’s side, at least. But there’s no way in hell I expected you to come in here and say this. Shock the hell out of me, why don’t you?”
“You?” I sputtered.
He purses his lips. “Not that I want to be having this conversation with you, but you two are old enough to have had the safe-sex talk.”
I groan and cover my ears. “Anyway.”
Jack eyes my belly. “I thought you were gaining some weight. I was about to tell you to start with some more cardio.”
I growl at him and aim for his head with my paperclip-sword, though it sails past him when he ducks. “Asshole.”
“Is there anything you need? Do you want me to be there when you tell Dad?”
I shuffle out of my lightweight jacket, suddenly feeling hot and cold with dread. Again. “I’ve actually already told him. I was more worried about you, to tell you the truth.”
“There’s nothing to worry about, baby sister. I’m just glad it’s you and not me.” He studies my face again. “Are you sure? Could the doctors have fucked up?”
It’s at that moment when I promptly motion him with my finger to hold on a moment, while I proceed to throw up in his trash can.
THE DRIVE TO the doctor’s office took a small eternity, even though it’s usually possible to get anywhere in Nassau within ten minutes. Both Jack and Dad had offered to come with me. Even Sofie wanted to take off work and drive down. I told them all the same thing I’d repeated since I told them I was pregnant: I could do it myself. None of them believed me. Dad even threatened to show up anyway. “Tough shit,” he told me. I managed to convince him not to follow through, as long as I called him right afterwards with the news about the gender.
I smooth the skirt of my maternity dress with clammy fingers. My knees tremble as I open the door to the cool interior. The person behind me pushes it open more fully and I turn to thank them, until I see Jack’s familiar face.
My jaw drops. “What are you doing here?”
I throw my hands around his neck and he responds in my ear, “You should know better by now than to think I would let you do this alone.”
Tears threaten, but I urge them away with a few deep breaths. “Thanks, Jack.”
“Anytime,” comes the rumble from his chest. He sets me back with his hands on my arms and nods. “Let’s do this.”
I check-in with the nurse at the front desk and head over to the waiting area where Jack sits in a too-small chair with a pinched look on his face. His obvious discomfort makes me smile and I forget the anxiety that had begun to build on the drive over.
“What exactly are we doing today? There isn’t—” he clears his throat. “You aren’t going to be getting naked or anything, are you?”
I laugh. “They’re just going to do an ultrasound, make sure the baby is still developing as he or she should.”
“He,” Jack says. “It’s definitely a he. There’s no way Ben’s sperm made a girl. That boy is jacked on testosterone. You should come see him next time he’s at the gym. He’s a fucking powerhouse.”
I elbow him in the ribs when a mother shoots him a stern look. “Watch your mouth,” I whisper-scold , “The last thing I need is for the kid to come out cussing like you guys.”
Jack just grins and I know that’s exactly what is probably going to happen.
The tech calls us back and either my nerves or the baby make my stomach flutter. I’m going to ignore the nerves and focus on the baby. Either way, I can’t wait to find out what I’m—what we’re—having.
The exam room is separated into two different areas with a green paper curtain dividing them. The tech indicates the farthest table and I hop up, my clammy hands resting on my lap in front of my little stomach.
“Why don’t you lay back?” the tech suggests with
a small smile. “Then we’ll take a looksee.”
Jack takes the chair by the table and places my hand in his.
I pull up my top and settle back. The tech squirts the gel on my stomach and I flinch a little at the cold.
“Sorry about that,” she says.
A blurry image appears on the screen and I squint to discern some type of body shape, but I don’t recognize anything at all.
“What the hell is that?” Jack says, leaning over me for a better view at the monitor.
I sigh and resist the urge to tell him to shut up. Thankfully the tech laughs him off and wiggles the gelled wand on my stomach. “Ah,” she says. “There we go.”
The picture coalesces and I recognize the roundness of a little belly and what looks like and arm…or maybe it’s a leg. Either way, my eyes grow wet and I press a hand to my lips.
I’ve always treasured the Walkers. To me, they are my family, no matter what. But the moment I see my own flesh and blood, I realize that there has always been a part of me looking for that connection; something I know is wholly mine. It floors me to find it in such a small person. I’m speechless as the tech points out each body part and prints off the photos. I don’t even notice when she stops speaking or when she leaves the room.
Jack, who remained quiet the whole time, finally pipes up. “I don’t know why you’re over there crying. It looked like an alien to me. Are you sure you weren’t abducted?”
I don’t even smack him this time.
When the tech returns, it takes me a moment to sense the seriousness of her demeanor. But the downward pull to her lips is unmistakable. My elation starts to melt away and I feel my heart start beating more quickly in my chest.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I don’t want to worry you, Mrs. Walker, but there were some areas that I felt Dr. Hamilton needed to take a look at. Just a precaution,” she explains as though to stem my growing worry.
I appreciate the sentiment, but it doesn’t ease my fear. Jack squeezes my hand. I return it, probably cutting off his circulation in the process.
Doctor Hamilton, a stout older man with grey hair and a matching a no-nonsense mustache appears with his white lab coat billowing behind him.
“Mrs. Walker,” he says.
“Ms.,” I correct, my voice faint.
“Ms. Nothing to worry about, but let’s just take a look and see what we’re dealing with.”
He settles down in the chair with the tech hovering behind him. Everything in my vision narrows to the little monitor that I’d been watching so reverently only moments early. Now, a feeling of doom settles in my stomach and it makes me want to snatch the wand away from the doctor and throw the monitor out of the nearest window.
I try to discern the abnormality they’re looking for, but every body part looks perfect to me. As the doctor shifts the wand I see two arms, two legs. The outlines of fingers and the shape of the baby’s head. It’s so beautiful and perfect that it makes me want to cry.
Then the doctor pauses and says, “There seems to be an abnormality in the development of your baby’s heart. I want to order a fetal echocardiogram, just to be sure.”
My own heart skips a beat. “Abnormality? What’s wrong?”
“I can’t say for certain without more tests to confirm, but I’m concerned about the size the left side of your baby’s heart. At this stage it would be larger than it is which leads me to believe he may have hypoplastic left heart syndrome, which simply means the left side of the heart is underdeveloped. It’s a serious condition so I’m going to have you schedule an echocardiogram before you leave. We have an excellent cardiology and neonatal unit here at the hospital.”
I can barely speak but I force the words out. “Is—is it fatal? Is my baby going to die?”
“With early detection and care, there is a good chance of survival. If the echo confirms HLHS, he’ll need several surgeries after birth to redirect the blood flow of the heart. I don’t want you to worry about this until we do the echo and confirm. In the interim, I recommend that you take good care of yourself. Make sure you get enough rest and stay healthy. I know this isn’t easy news to face, but you are in excellent care.”
After a few more words and recommendations from the doctor, Jack and I are left alone. I immediately crumple into a heap of tears on the exam room table.
This is supposed to be one of the happiest moments of my life and it’s probably horrible that I spend it mourning the baby I am still carrying. As tears wet the shoulder of Jack’s shirt, I cry for the healthy, happy baby I’d dreamt of for the past four months. I wish for a magical clock to turn back time to the night I told my dad I was pregnant and that joy that I felt when he was so excited to learn he was going to be a grandpa.
Jack holds me through it all. He hears the deepest, darkest of my fears and allays them with quiet murmurs and a strong hand rubbing my back. He exchanges dark words with a nurse who asks when we’re going to leave the room for the next appointment.
I don’t know how much time passes before I’m able to staunch the flow of grief. By the end of it, my eyes feel swollen shut and my nose won’t stop running. Jack offers a handful of tissues and I take them gratefully.
“You know I love you, right?” Jack says, his hand cupping my raw face. “No matter what happens, we’re here for you. We’re a team.”
I sniffle into the tissues. “I love you, too, Jack. I’m so glad you came.”
He grins, but I can see the redness in his eyes, the evidence of his own tears. “Of course you are.”
The nurse knocks impatiently on the door and I turn to look. “We better get out of here before they call the cops or something,” I tell him.
“Take all the time you need, Liv. I’ll take care of them if I need to.”
“No, it’s okay. I need to go tell Dad. Do you think you can call and have him meet us at my house?”
He kisses my brow. “Anything for you, sis.” He turns to head out while I collect my things and to wipe the gel from my stomach, but he stops by the door, turns and says with a grin, “You notice that the doctor said ‘he,’ right? You’re having a baby boy.”
So like Jack to play games and make jokes, even during a serious moment, and then wiping away all the pain by reminding me of the joyous parts.
“When is the next whatchamacallit?” Dad says a few hours later.
“Echocardiogram,” I supply, having researched the hell out of it when I got home. “And it’s in three weeks. Apparently Child’s has a neonatal unit and one of the best cardiology departments in the state. From what I understand, they’ll use the echo to get a better look at the heart and see what we’re dealing with.”
Dad palms my head and face plants me in his chest. “Whatever the results, you know Jack-boy and I will take care of you.”
“I know,” I say, my voice thick with emotion.
“I’m sorry, baby girl.”
“Me, too.”
“What happens after the echo?” he asks.
I sit up and wipe my puffy face with the back of my hand. “There’s nothing really they can do until the baby is born. Most of the fetal procedures right now are experimental and I don’t like the thought of them doing an experimental surgery. After he’s born there will be a series of surgeries to redirect the blood-flow from the smaller left section of his heart to his lungs.”
“He’s a Walker,” Dad says. “He’s a fighter. He’ll make it through all the damn surgeries.”
“That reminds me…” Jack plops down on the chair across from where Dad and I are sitting on the couch. He has a beer in hand and a bowl full of chips and dip in the other. “Since you found out it’s going to be a boy, have you thought of any names. Personally I think Jack’s a winner, but that’s just me.”
“Over my dead body,” Dad retorts. “She promised your mother when she was fifteen that she would name any son she had after me. Henry Arthur Walker. He’ll be the best looking kid in the state of Florida. I guarante
e it.”
I shake my head at the both of them. “There’s no way in hell I’m naming him Arthur, Dad. And I only promised her that because she said she would get me a convertible for my sixteenth birthday. Considering I got a ten-year-old sedan, I believe that promise is null and void.”
“The hell it is,” Dad sputters. “I won’t have any grandson of mine named some frou-frou name.”
“It won’t be a frou-frou name, Dad.”
“Damn right it won’t.”
“Because she’s going to name him Jack.”
I sigh. “I’m not naming him Jack or Arthur, so get it out of your heads right now.”
“Then what are you going to name him?”
I blush furiously and stare at my toes.
“Oh God,” Jack scoffs, giving me a disgusted look. “You’re going to name him after Ben aren’t you?”
When I don’t respond, both my dad and Jack groan.
“I can’t believe you’d name him after that dick face and not your own brother!”
“Hey!” I say. “He’s your friend!”
“Which gives me the right to tell you he’s a dick face and that Ben is a shitty name.”
“It is not. Stop being an ass.”
“Hmmm,” Dad says. “Benjamin. Benny. I like that.”
“I was thinking something like Benjamin Cole. Maybe call him Cole?”
Dad smiles at me and throws an arm around my shoulders. “Benjamin Cole it is. God help us all if your mother kicks all of our asses when we join her in heaven.”
After they leave, the lighthearted feeling goes with them. The darkness and uncertainty presses around me like a thick noxious cloud. Doubt and fear crowd the bed as I lay my head down to sleep. I wrap myself in second guesses and what ifs.
What I didn’t tell my Dad was that there is a one in five chance the baby won’t survive the first procedure. That there’s a chance the three surgeries won’t make a difference and he’ll still require a heart transplant before his fifth birthday. After the transplant, he’ll still have to be on preventative medicine to make sure that his little body doesn’t reject the new heart.
Warrior (First to Fight #1) Page 5
