by Amie Knight
“You remember that girl, right, buddy? The one I told you I got the tattoo for? The one I was with when Mom called? She’s back. And I love her.” I thought of the night I’d gotten the tattoo only six months after Charles’ death. How I’d driven to the tattoo parlor knowing exactly what I wanted. Him. Her. Me. I missed us all. I’d been so long, but I’d promised myself that night that I’d try. I’d always try for Charles. For all the children like him.
I used my shirt sleeve to wipe the wetness from my face because I couldn’t see him. I couldn’t see him through the tears. His smiling face and messy hair.
“We have a baby. Her name is Hope. She’s beautiful and perfect like her mother, but she’s sick, bud. She’s sick like you were and I’m so scared. So fucking scared because I love her, too, and I think I’d die if something happened to her.” My voice caught on a sob at the end. But saying it, saying how scared I was, was almost a relief. I hadn’t been able to tell anyone. To voice it. I’d been protecting Kelly and my mother. I couldn’t tell them how I woke in the night with racing thoughts of Hope’s impending death. How in my dreams I sometimes lost her.
I thought of my mother and how sad and worried she was all the time after Charles was born. I’d been a naive kid. Twenty wasn’t really adult yet and I’d been the optimistic one telling her we’d get through it. How the doctors would help him. But I understood now. I understood her worry, her despair. I was living it, because when it was your child it was different, and Hope wasn’t mine biologically, but she was mine in every other sense of the word. I couldn’t have loved her more even if she were of my blood. She was mine. It was a different kind of worry. The love you feel, it’s unexplainable. I hadn’t been able to understand my mother’s undying love and devotion to Charles until I’d held Hope between Kelly and me in that dark closet the day she’d been born. When she’d cried, my heart had soared.
If I lost her, I would lose part of myself.
I finally sat on my behind, the grass soaking me through, but I didn’t care. I needed to think. I just needed to be for a few minutes without the chaos of beeping machines and sick babies. I needed to breathe. I needed to know how to make this better. I sat there for a long time thinking.
“I don’t know what to do.” I stared at his dancing green eyes, expecting answers I knew he couldn’t give me. I just wanted a sign, something. I needed to know Hope was going to be okay. “I can’t visit her here. I just can’t,” I cried into the night. I refused to walk through a slew of graves to get to her. I couldn’t do it.
I thought of how stupidly optimistic I’d been and I’d still lost Charles. In fact, I lost people every damn week.
“Mom must have thought I was so ridiculous, always thinking the doctors were going to save you. Save our family. You were gone and Dad left. I still haven’t talked to him in years.”
I let out a chilling laugh. Fuck, I’d been so young, innocent, so unassuming of the real ways of the world. You couldn’t guarantee anything, especially life or health. They could be snatched away from you any moment. The next day, the next minute, the next second were never a sure thing.
“I miss you, bud. I think of you every day.” I smiled sadly down at the only piece of him I had left. “I used to tell Mom you were our miracle. We weren’t expecting you but that didn’t mean you weren’t the best surprise ever.”
I thought of how much we immediately loved him even knowing we might not get to keep him forever. Medicine had progressed so much in the last ten years, especially hearts. Back then, the type of surgeries I did now were just in the early stages and a lot of babies just didn’t make it.
My mom had been terrified every time he’d gone into the operating room. I remembered sitting there with her, my arm around her slender shoulders. “Mom always knew. It was like she knew you were too good for this world, but not me. I was always blindly hopeful. Every time you were in surgery, I’d tell Mom, ‘Never lose hope. There’s always hope.’”
Hope. My breath stopped. I felt like my heart might have paused, too. Never lose hope. I hadn’t thought about saying that to Mom in years, but I had. I’d said it time and time again. And now I had Hope. I looked at that precious picture of my brother that held all of my love and memories and thought that maybe he had sent me her. Hope.
I’d hated how the night with Kelly had ended, with me yelling at her, screaming to leave. But if it hadn’t, I wouldn’t have Hope. And God, I loved her as much as I loved her momma.
“Never lose hope.” I smiled down at the headstone. “I have to go, buddy. I have to go find Hope. I love you.”
I grabbed his picture off the headstone and placed it back in my wallet carefully behind my driver’s license. I’d show Kelly him. I would because I loved her and I wanted her to know how this two-year-old boy I adored had unknowingly mapped out the last ten years of my life and given me Hope.
I laid my hand to the gravestone one more time, the granite cold against my fingers. I ran to my car and jumped in the driver’s seat, scanning the car for my phone. “Fuck,” I banged my hands on the steering wheel. The damn phone was back at the office. I felt sick. I had to get to her. I’d been gone for hours. And I had no way of knowing how Hope was. I was sure Kelly was worried out of her mind. God, I was a fuck up. I had no idea why she put up with me. It could only be love.
I started the car and hit the interstate. I had to get home. Home to Kelly and Hope.
We had finally been transferred to a room and while Hope rested on, Lucy beside her sleeping in a recliner, I sat in my own recliner, unable to catch a wink.
It was almost dawn and still no Anthony. Lucy was worried, too. She tried to act like she wasn’t, but her sleep was fitful and I noticed because I hadn’t slept at all. Where was he? I thought for sure he would have contacted me by now, at least to check on Hope. It was so uncharacteristic of him. And I’d called him for what seemed like a million times during the night only to get his voicemail.
Hope was doing better. She was on IV antibiotics and they were controlling her fever with meds. She already seemed more like herself, a little more alert. I’d even managed to get a smile or two.
My eyes drifted closed finally as I leaned my head back. I’d had a hell of a day and a night and I was worn out despite my worries over Doc. I couldn’t fight sleep anymore. I’d wait for the sun to come up and call my momma and let her know we were in the hospital with Hope. She’d want to come up and check on her today. I’d try calling Doc again, maybe have Lucy go check the office and the apartment. Those were my thoughts as I drifted off into a light sleep.
It was the sound of quiet humming that woke me as the very beginnings of dawn came through the window. I creeped my eyes open slowly. I thought I was dreaming, him standing there in front of the big window behind Hope’s hospital crib. That green shirt I’d kissed him goodbye in yesterday morning was untucked and unbuttoned, revealing the white cotton T-shirt beneath it. His hair was a damn mess and I knew why; my Doc loved to tug on those golden locks when he was upset. He was holding our baby to his chest, the beginnings of daylight peering through the window and just barely shining on them. He looked like an angel, a big, strong angel holding my baby. I felt like all I’d done was cry for the last twelve hours and still more tears poured from my eyes. Relief swept through me. I didn’t care where he’d been or why he’d gone, only that he was here now.
“Doc,” I said before I could stop myself. I wanted to make sure this wasn’t some dream. I wanted to make sure he was here with us.
His head turned my way, his eyes meeting mine. “Shh,” he said quietly. “You’ll wake her.” He placed Hope in her crib carefully before smiling at his sleeping mom in the chair next to the crib.
He walked over to me and kneeled at the foot of the recliner. “Hey there, shorty.”
I ran a hand through his disarray of hair. “Hey, Doc.” And the tears kept coming. I tried to smile through them.
He laid his head in my lap. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. �
��I’m so sorry.” He pushed his hands past my seated legs until they gripped me low on my waist, between my lower back and the recliner, pulling me closer.
Pushing my hands through his hair, I said, “It’s okay.”
His head shook back and forth against my legs. “It’s not.”
“I have things I should tell you. My brother. He—”
But I cut him off. I didn’t want him to have to tell me. I didn’t want him to have to relive that right this moment. He could tell me everything when he was ready. “I know. Your mom told me.”
His face rose from my lap and he smiled up at me. “Of course she did.”
I giggled softly.
“I heard that,” came Lucy’s croaky morning voice from across the room.
Anthony laughed low and deep before standing up, stretching, and walking toward his mother, who met him in the middle of the room.
He wrapped her in a deep, heartfelt hug that had me hoping and praying Hope loved me like Anthony Jackson loved his mom. Their relationship was the stuff that dreams were made of.
“Thanks for taking care of my girls,” he said into the top of her head.
She leaned back, smiling up at him. “Hey, they’re my girls too. Stop being so greedy,” she joked.
They hugged again and she stepped out of his embrace before leaning forward and straightening the collar on his shirt. “Did you go see my baby?”
“I did.” His answer was so unashamed, so sweet, Lucy’s eyes shone.
She bit her trembling lip and I wanted to hug her. “And did he help you?”
Doc nodded. “He did, Mom.” His own eyes full of heartache and love all rolled together.
She pulled on Anthony’s collar again. “Well, of course he did. I have the two best boys ever.” She looked over at me and then at Hope. “The two best girls now, also. I’m a lucky old lady.”
She kissed Doc’s cheek. “I love you, honey.” And then she turned toward me and was on me, hugging me tightly. “I love you, too. I should go. I’ll be by later to check on Hope.”
And she was gone, like she hadn’t just broken and then healed my heart in the last five minutes.
“Your mom’s pretty damn amazing, Doc,” I said through my tears.
“I know. You’re pretty amazing, too.”
I stood from the chair and made my way to stand in front of Hope’s crib. My face flushed at his compliment. If I was only half the mother Lucille Jackson was then I was doing pretty damn good.
Doc came up behind me, laying his hands on my shoulders. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t there for you guys last night when I should have been.”
“It’s okay.” I’d already told him it was okay. And it was. I understood.
He let out a long breath. “It’s not okay, Kelly. I don’t want you to think I’m like Cash because I’m not. I promise I won’t ever let you down like that ever again. I love you and I love Hope and I’m in it for the long haul. I want to call her daughter and I want her to call me daddy. I want you to call me husband. Do you understand?”
I turned to face him. “I do, honey.” I rubbed the scruff on his chin and he pulled me into his chest where I could smell and feel him, the only man who could comfort me like he somehow did.
“I’m still so scared, Doc. We still have two more surgeries. I don’t know if I can dream for that long. I don’t want to be terrified anymore,” I said into his chest, my eyes leaking all over his shirt.
His palms met my cheeks and I closed my eyes. This. This was what I’d missed last night. His big hands on my face. His thumbs on my chin. His face a breath from mine. His caress sweeping me away for just a mere second, but it was enough. It would always be enough.
“No, baby. We’re not dreaming big anymore. We’re living big. We did it. We’re doing it every day. And we’ll do it tomorrow and the day after that. We’re not dreaming, we’re making memories because at some point your dreams can’t even touch the miracle that is your reality. And look at our miracle.” He turned us to face Hope. “Wake up, Kelly. You’re here. You did it.”
He was right. Looking down at my daughter, I realized all we’d accomplished. She’d made it through one life-threatening surgery. And we’d get through two more together. I wasn’t wishing or dreaming anymore. I was here and fear was keeping me from missing it all, but I hadn’t done it alone.
I grabbed Doc’s hand in mine. “No, we did it.”
His grinning lips met mine. “We did,” he whispered against them.
Seven Months Later
The heart is amazing. Other doctors might tell you different. A psychologist will tell you the mind is an unyielding, intricate place. And he wouldn’t be wrong, but the mind didn’t have anything on the heart. An obstetrician will tell you there’s nothing in the world better than babies, but I’d just tell her there wouldn’t be babies without hearts. A pulmonologist will go on and on about the respiratory system, but I’d just tell him to stop blowing hot air. Damn, I was funny nowadays. And while all of those doctors have very valid points. Nothing. Nothing, is as exquisite as the heart.
The thump thump sound everyone adores about the heart is the sound made by the four valves of the heart closing. Pretty cool background music, huh? And because the heart has its own electrical impulse, it can continue to beat even when separated from the body as long as it has adequate oxygen. It’s true, I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I’ve held it in my own hands.
The heart is beautiful and strong.
The heart is the most powerful organ. What besides the heart could break, heal, and become stronger again from it all? The heart knows things that mind can’t quite explain.
Yes, the heart is brilliant.
Nearly half of the deaths due to congenital heart defects occur during infancy; younger than one year of age.
As I watched Kelly hold on to Hope’s tiny hand, I realized how damn lucky we were. It was two days after her second surgery. She was already looking better, stronger. This was the surgery that fixed her poorly formed heart. We were two down, and one to go. Our girl was a rock star and Kelly was hogging every bit of her attention.
I sat across the room eyeing my ladies, the loves of my life; the women I’d die for.
“Marry me,” I said from my spot propped by the window. I’d just thrown it out there, not thinking. Not planning it at all, but it was so us. We didn’t really plan things.
The hospital room was small so I knew she heard me. She was rocking Hope in a chair in the corner. She always ignored me when she thought I was being too rash or excitable, which I was admittedly known to do.
“I said, marry me.”
She pursed her lips as her eyes met mine. “Oh, I heard you, Doc.”
“Well?” I smirked. I loved our dance. Our battle of words. Our bickering. They made me smile. They made me laugh. They made me hard.
One half of her mouth tipped up. She was trying to hide that grin from me. “I don’t know. It depends. Was that a question or an order?”
I chuckled. “Which one is gonna get me the answer I want, tater tot?”
Giggling, she shook her head. “Tater tot—that’s a new one. You have an endless supply of short girl names, you know that?”
She was putting me off. I walked to her side of the room. “You have an endless supply of evasion strategies. What’s it gonna be?”
She grinned down at Hope, who was looking up at her smiling. “What do you think, boo boo? We gonna marry your Doc or what?”
Hope turned her gummy smile on me like she knew exactly what we were talking about.
I leaned close to Kelly’s ear and whispered, “Come on, Kelly, how many orgasms is this gonna cost me?” I made sure to sound exasperated even as I smiled.
She turned wide eyes to me and placed her hands over Hope’s ears. “Oh my God, Doc. Watch your mouth around the baby.”
“She didn’t hear me. Besides, she doesn’t even know what orgasms are.”
Her eyes got bigger if possible. “Let’s not give
her a lesson this early, then.”
“Well?” I waggled my eyebrows suggestively.
“I don’t know if you have that kind of stamina, Doc.”
I laughed loudly. “I’m willingly to give it a try if you are.”
Her face softened, her heart in her eyes. “Yes.”
“Yes to orgasms or yes to you’ll marry me?” I asked even though I knew. I could read it in every ounce of love on her face.
“Yes to everything.”
Four Years Later
Everyone was there. Well, everyone who mattered to Kelly and me. The waiting room was littered with our people. Miranda and Ainsley had driven up early that morning at 4:00 a.m. so they could arrive for Hope’s final surgery. They sat there, chatting quietly to each other, clutching balloons and flowers in their hands. Their husbands, Adrian and Holden, had stayed home with their herd of children. Our mothers sat nearby, their own flowers and stuffed animals tucked around them while they talked not so quietly.
And my girl, she was seated beside me. Her leg bounced next to mine and I lay my hand on it. She was nervous. So was I. But we were in the home stretch. With two surgeries under our belts already this should have been old hat. In truth, it never got any easier. Every time our baby underwent surgery we sat on pins and needles, waiting for news. Open heart surgery was always risky business.
But this was it, Hope was four now. This was the last of the three surgeries that would finally fix her heart. And ours. Long, sleepless nights of feedings and watching our baby girl in pain would come to a close soon enough. She’d probably never run track, but she’d run. Her prognosis was good. It was all we could ask for.
“It’s okay, baby. She has the best doctors in the world in there working on her.” I said the same thing every time our baby went under, but even the best failed. I was terrified, too, but I’d hide it for her.
She gave me a close-lipped smile. “I know. But I can’t help but worry, and I’m not feeling so great.” She lay her hand to her round stomach. She was almost thirty-seven weeks along. It was another girl. A healthy girl. We were ecstatic, if a little scared, but it was time.
