The Mommy Miracle

by Lilian Darcy

  Dress her in pink…

  She tried to picture it, and couldn’t. At all. With a stab of horror she realized, I don’t remember what she looks like. All she had were two vague images of a little face distorted with crying and then peaceful in sleep. Would she recognize her, beyond the familiarity of Dev’s arms, or Mom’s? Could she pull her own daughter out of a lineup?

  Another bizarre image came to her. Police station. One-way glass. “Now, Ms, Palmer, look carefully at the numbered cribs. Do you see your baby here? It’s very important that you make a correct identification.”

  But she couldn’t…

  “Dinner’s up,” Dev said. “I think we’re— I’m glad we said this.”

  She tried to stand, to go over to the bench and help him dish out the food, but her feet caught and she almost fell. He was there just in time.

  “He-e-ey. Who-o-oa.” He caught her and folded his arms around her. “You didn’t have to get up. I’m bringing it to you.”

  She felt his breath fanning her hair and his chin resting on her shoulder, and could have stayed like this forever. She loved the way they fit together despite their mismatched size. She loved the smell of him, the strength of him, the honor and humor and decisiveness and brains. She loved the fact that he could hug her like this so soon after they’d agreed—the only thing they could agree on, in this situation—that they weren’t dating anymore.

  It was just a hug, and yet if she just turned her face up, she was sure he would kiss her. The chemistry was still there, a deep pool of it, secret and still, magical and unspoken.

  She wanted him to kiss her.

  Desperately.

  Just kiss me, Dev, so I don’t have to think. Just kiss me, so I know that part is okay, even if everything else isn’t.

  I don’t care what we decided.

  I don’t care about sensible.

  Kiss me and say, “Let’s get married, and I’ll take care of whatever you need,” so that we can play by the rules and be a normal mommy and daddy and then maybe I’ll feel as if I belong in my own life, instead of being just a visitor.

  “This is the most insane situation,” he muttered. “I don’t know what to tell you. Just take your time. That’s all. We all need to give this time.”

  Kiss me. Say it.

  Shoot!

  This neediness, this wasn’t her! Jodie Palmer, don’t you remember who you are? You’ve been fighting your whole life to show how strong you are, and now you’re clinging to Dev as if he has all the answers and so you can just go with the flow?

  The familiar stubbornness kicked in. Maybe a little off-center, but at least it was there, and the feeling came as a huge relief. She pulled out of his arms and crisply said, “Thanks. You’re right. We’ll give it time. We’ll work it out. Thank you. Mmm, that smells good!”

  He steered her the few steps back to her seat then turned toward the stove, blinking as if he’d opened his eyes in bright light, and she was so happy that she’d held herself together. What if she had clung to him and expressed all that neediness?

  He spooned rice into wide bowls and added a ladle of the hearty stir-fry, then placed the bowls on the table, and as they began to eat—it tasted so good!—she found something she wanted to ask him that didn’t have the sense of dependency and need she so wanted to fight in herself. “The other driver, Dev. I—I haven’t felt ready to ask until now. And you know my family wouldn’t bring it up without direct questions.”

  “No, they wouldn’t. We’ve had a couple of discussions about that, too.”

  “I bet you have!” She folded her mouth into an upside-down smile. “Who was it? Were they injured, too? He? She?”

  “He.”

  “What happened?”

  Dev put down his fork. “He wasn’t badly hurt. You don’t need to know anything about him.”

  “You don’t sound too sympathetic. What went wrong?”

  “He was driving over the limit.”

  “Speed or alcohol?”

  “Both.”

  “Ah, okay. All bases covered, then. A fine upstanding citizen.” She gave another twisted smile.

  He shrugged and opened his palms. “Exactly.”

  “And where is he now?”

  “Tried and convicted. All you need to know.”

  “It happened and it’s over, and now we just live our lives. That’s it, isn’t it?”

  “Is that what you really think?”

  She paused with the fork halfway to her mouth. Most of the food fell off. She was still a little wobbly with her silverware control. “Yes. Don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do. I was a little concerned that you might feel differently.”

  “That I’d want a vendetta? Or that I’d brood and feel bitter?”

  “Many people would.” He was leaning toward her over the table, studying her the way he’d studied her several times today. She knew why. How was this going to work? How would baby DJ connect or divide them? What did they both want? Could they manage to keep this free of conflict and misunderstanding and hurt? Everything came back to that. Everything they said to each other gave a potential clue.

  “Well, not me,” she told him. “I just like to get back on the horse.”

  “Mmm,” was all he said.

  But she could see something in his face. Relief and approval. It was something they shared, this attitude to the accident and how to process it, and that was a plus. In life, you have to play the hand you’re dealt. She believed this, and so did he. You can’t waste energy in “if only” and regret. You can’t go looking for bitterness and revenge.

  Especially when she had other things to think about.

  Like a baby she didn’t know she’d had.

  Like a baby she wouldn’t recognize in the street.

  Too hard. Way too hard.

  She felt a surge of restlessness and fight, a need for the physical movement that was still so challenging, and told him suddenly, “I seriously do want to get back on the horse.”

  “The real horse?” She’d caught his attention again. “You want to ride your horse again?” They were both making slow progress with their meal. “Your thoroughbred? He’s leased out, since the accident, isn’t he?”

  “Leased out, to another rider, Bec, who’s a good friend and who would give him back in a heartbeat. She lives out near Pictonville, on forty acres. I could go see him anytime. He’s not sold.”

  She’d been so happy to discover this. Elin had told her, “Even though Mom’s never been a fan of your riding, even in the darkest hours when we questioned how much you’d recover, she wouldn’t hear of Irish being sold.”

  But now Dev said, “A spirited thoroughbred, Jodie? Twelve hundred pounds of muscle with a back higher than your shoulder?”

  “Of course not yet,” she said quickly. “Not him. I’d ride Snowy or Bess.”

  “Who are they? Are they quieter?”

  “They’re our hippotherapy horses, at Oakbank. They’re trained for people like me, disabled riders and riders with special needs. You wouldn’t believe how patient and understanding they are. They seem to know exactly what a rider is capable of, whether they have cerebral palsy or a missing limb or autism. I want to ride again. I need to ride. My life just can’t change that much.” She had to blink back tears, and was shocked at the way her emotions had shifted so fast. “Dev, I know this isn’t what we should be talking about. We should be talking about…about DJ, but that’s too big for me right now.”

  He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “Nobody said we had to work everything out in one night.”

  “No. Okay. Good.”

  “Just eat. Talk about horses, if you want.”

  “I think I should go home after we eat.”

  “So I’ll take you home.”

  “Thank you.” She was tired of saying the words, but it seemed as if there were a thousand thank-yous she needed to give, and at least half of them belonged to Dev.

  Jodie was quiet in th
e car, and Dev didn’t push. It had been a huge day, for both of them.

  Certain things stood out from the mess of conflicting emotions. First, the fact that she had never been given a real chance to hold DJ. He didn’t know if that was his fault, if he should have made space for it—forced it—in the highly charged atmosphere between himself, Elin and Barb. Second, her wobbly little question about whether they were dating. Last fall seemed so long ago to him, but to her it must be so much fresher.

  Those nights together. They were vivid and real for him if he thought about them, but too much had been overlaid since, and he didn’t think about them often. He hadn’t been in love with her last fall, and he couldn’t have fallen in love with her during her long sleep. This wasn’t Sleeping Beauty or Snow White.

  There’d been desire in their relationship, yes…a ton of it. Care, even. But “in love” meant forever, and he couldn’t see it, he wasn’t open to it, not with anyone. It didn’t fit with the way he saw himself and his life, and it never had.

  He loved his parents. He admired them. They were good people. But marriage had made them so slow and staid. They never left their comfort zone. They never seemed to want newness or adventure or zest. His mother said it to him sometimes, with a combination of smugness and resignation. “You’ll feel differently when you’re married…. You won’t care about those things when you’re married with a family.”

  He’d seen it with most of his married friends, too. They began eating at the same restaurant every week. “They do such a good veal parmigiano.” They didn’t renew their passport when it expired. “We won’t really travel until the kids are in college. Well, Orlando, of course, for the theme parks.”

  If marriage meant losing the capacity for curiosity and courage and adventure, he didn’t want it. He’d decided this at twenty and nothing had yet happened to make him change his mind.

  Not even DJ, because how would it be good for her, to submit to an institution he didn’t want to belong to, purely for her sake?

  All he wanted was to know that she was loved, so he could get his own life back on track and stop existing in this limbo of uncertainty.

  He wondered what would be happening at the Palmer house. When he pulled into the driveway there was no visible light in DJ’s room. The night-light would be too dim to show from the street. Was she down for the night? Should he take her home?

  Jodie hadn’t even touched her yet. Had he been wrong to let Barb and Elin whisk the baby back here? Should he have just ordered them to leave? He didn’t want the conflict that came with their differing interpretations of what Jodie needed. He wanted to see the bond between Jodie and DJ, but he was scared of it, too.

  Scared of its potential power.

  He jumped out of the car and came around to open her door and help her out. For a moment, she looked as if she might protest, but she was clearly too tired to manage on her own. The doctors and therapists had said it would be like this. The difference between what she could manage when she was fresh and what she could manage when she was fatigued might be huge at first.

  Sure enough, her body looked heartbreakingly awkward and frail in the passenger seat, and after several seconds of intense, futile effort, she told him, “I can’t.”

  He bent down. Slid his arm beneath hers and around her shoulders. “Hold on.”

  But she couldn’t do that, either.

  “I’ll carry you.”

  “Dev, no, I’m—”

  “You’re wiped.”

  He shifted position, one arm coming beneath her thighs. It was incredibly awkward, and if she hadn’t been such a featherweight, he couldn’t have managed it. Once he’d straightened, it was much easier. She laid her head against his shoulder, with her hip pressing into his stomach, and he felt this surge of tenderness and confusion and determination.

  Somehow… Somehow…

  Somehow, what?

  What did he have the power to do? To make her get better? To make her come to the right decisions about her future? What were they?

  “You can put me down now.”

  “I’m fine. You don’t weigh much.”

  “Please.” There was an insistence to it, the old stubbornness about her size and strength that had made him smile and piqued his interest at eighteen. How did such a small body house such a strong spirit?

  Gently, he let her down, still holding her firmly until they both knew that her feet would carry her weight. They did, but there wasn’t a whole lot of margin for error. “I’ll need to lean,” she said.

  “Leaning is fine.” Leaning was too fine, really. He liked touching her too much, felt too connected to the scent and softness of her skin. He had to fight to keep his awareness under control, with the slight weight of her breasts just above his hand and her silky fall of blond hair in kissing distance.

  They’d agreed on this. They weren’t dating. There was no place for this helpless attraction. Just imagine if they had a flaming purely-for-the-sex affair and then parted in conflict and anger. It happened all too often. Sex didn’t solve anything. It had too much of an agenda of its own.

  And where would that leave him? Shut out of DJ’s life forever? Or limited to a hard-won weekend visit every three months, exchanging her back and forth in the parking lot of a service-plaza fast-food restaurant halfway between here and New York as if she were a packet of cocaine? Meeting her at the airport, once she was old enough, and discovering she’d become a school kid or an adolescent or an adult since they’d last met?

  No. It wouldn’t be enough. No!

  He wasn’t going to be forced back to New York by the sheer strength of Palmer will.

  Barbara Palmer stood in the open doorway, having heard the car. She looked watchful and anxious, as if expecting them to have covered major mileage tonight in their talks about the future.

  They hadn’t.

  They’d barely talked about DJ at all. More about horses, in fact. And no matter how much Dev told himself to go with what Jodie needed, to give her time and space, it worried him a little. He didn’t want to lose his daughter to her mother, but he wanted her mother to love her. Anything else was unthinkable.

  “Did you have a good evening, honey?” Barb said to Jodie.

  She thumbed cheekily in his direction. “I never knew he could cook.”

  “Are you okay? You look—”

  “Tired. Of course. But I’m fine.” She managed the steps into the house. In some ways she was better on steps than on the flat ground. “I think I’ll go up right away.”

  “She’s asleep,” Barb said.

  But Jodie hadn’t been talking about seeing DJ. From the side, Dev saw the little look of fright and reluctance on her face and said quickly, “We’ll take a look at her, though, Barb.” He still had his arm around Jodie’s body and could feel her stiffen and flinch.

  Barb had seen nothing, it seemed. She began, “You’re not going to—?”

  “No, I’ll leave her here for the night,” he reassured her, “if that’s okay.”

  “Of course it is! Of course you shouldn’t wake her and move her!”

  “But we’ll take a look, make sure she hasn’t kicked off her covers.” He pretended he couldn’t tell that Jodie didn’t want to.

  Why didn’t she?

  Well, the hugeness of it. It made sense, maybe. She just needed that first bit of ice broken, that first sense of confidence in her new role, that was all. Maybe right now, if they just went into the baby’s room together and watched her sleeping, something in her heart would open and settle.

  He didn’t give her a choice, just took her with him, helping her up the stairs, opening the door of Elin’s old room, which was as familiar to him now as if it had once been his. Beside him, he heard Jodie’s quick, shaky in-take of breath, as if Elin’s door was the gateway to a whole new kingdom.

  Chapter Five

  Mom had used Elin’s room as a sewing den for years but hadn’t redecorated since Elin moved out. In Jodie’s memory, the walls wer
e still painted a defiant, brooding purple and were covered in posters of Elin’s teen heartthrobs— John Cusack, Michael J. Fox and Johnny Depp. Actually, Elin in her teens had had pretty good taste.

  Now, though…

  There was a ballerina night-light plugged into the socket low on the wall beside the crib, Jodie saw. It gave off a quiet, pinkish light, revealing a room utterly different to the one she’d always known. Gone were the purple and posters, to be replaced by walls of a soft golden yellow with a theme of ducks and daisies in the scattered groupings of toys and decorations. There was a crib made of blond wood, with linens of white broderie anglaise cotton, a white closet, chest of drawers and shelves, and in just a couple of places there were color accents in a light sage-green.

  On the chest of drawers sat the baby monitor, its glowing light showing that it was switched on. But there was nothing to hear. Baby DJ was fast asleep.

  Dev went across to her as if drawn like a magnet, his feet incredibly soft on the polished hardwood floor, a grin breaking onto his face in a way that told Jodie he didn’t even know it was there. He had Jodie’s hand trapped—not trapped, held—in his, so she had no choice but to go with him. He leaned over the crib and didn’t say a word, just gazed, and Jodie’s heart began to thump and her throat tightened, and the baby…the baby…

  Didn’t belong to her.

  Was gorgeous, an angel, a sweetheart, a darling.

  A stranger, when she should have been Jodie’s whole world.

  She knew this, because she’d seen it just today with Maddy and Lucy. Beyond the new-mother panic, or as a part of the new-mother panic, Maddy had been utterly mesmerized by Lucy, utterly in love with her. The way Elin had been with her firstborn, and her second and third. The way Lisa had been with hers.

  Transformed.

  Mothers to their bones.

  The way Dev was already a father to his bones. A daddy. DJ’s daddy. “Isn’t she beautiful?” he whispered, as if he couldn’t keep back the words.