The Doctor's Secret Son

by Deb Kastner

  “Sounds good,” Ben replied.

  “You get the bassinet and I’ll find some sheets,” Zach suggested.

  Ben nodded and headed for the bedroom, while Zach began investigating closets, looking for towels and sheets.

  “They’re in the cupboard in the bathroom.” He hadn’t heard Delia approach, but now she was close enough for him to inhale the sweet scent of coconuts.

  Even though he had no idea how she’d known what he was looking for, he was glad for the assistance, as he’d just opened the door to his fourth closet and instead of finding the items he was searching for, had instead encountered what was clearly the cleaning closet—housing a vacuum, a mop and a broom, and assorted cans and spray bottles.

  He turned and their eyes met. Despite the fact that they were both on duty, his pulse experienced the same jolt it always did when he saw her.

  “Thank you,” he said deeply, not quite able to mask his emotions.

  She looked calm. Composed. Under control.

  He felt anything but.

  She’d pulled her silky black hair up off her face, but a strand had escaped. He was briefly mesmerized by that single lock of hair, distracted by the way it curled across the blushing rose of her cheek. Inhaling sharply, he reached out and swept it back behind her ear with his fingers, his palm brushing across the softness of her skin.

  It was only the smallest movement—in reality no more than a few seconds of time.

  Their gazes locked. Powerful rivers of emotions rushed back and forth between them.

  Delia broke the contact, looking first at the floor and then over her shoulder to the bedroom where Phoebe labored.

  “Can you get me a couple of clean sheets while you’re at it?” she asked as if nothing had just happened between them.

  He cleared his throat.

  “Will do,” he said, following her lead. He hadn’t forgotten that they had work to do—a baby to deliver safely.

  Delia returned to Phoebe, and Zach found the cupboard full of clean sheets and towels in the bathroom right where Delia had indicated. Indiscriminately, he scooped up a handful of sheets, and then piled several colorful bath towels on top of them.

  Chance and Phoebe would have a lot of linens to replace, he noted absently as he worked. But he supposed they wouldn’t mind. Not when they held their baby in their arms.

  Children made everything worth it, any sacrifice a pleasure.

  Zach returned to the bedroom and placed half the pile of sheets and towels on a nearby chair. Delia was once again busy tending to Phoebe and merely nodded her thanks for his filling her request.

  Taking the rest of the linens with him, he returned to the end of the hallway, where he found Ben stationing the bassinet.

  He laid the sheets aside as the two of them set up an oxygen tank next to the baby’s bed. Zach hoped they wouldn’t have to use it, but he knew it was common enough for newborns to need a little extra air when they took their first breath.

  Phoebe screamed and a chill sprinted down Zach’s spine. He never imagined having a baby could be so heartrending. He didn’t know how Chance could bear it, much less Phoebe.

  Experiencing the real thing was far from taking an exam on paper. He’d only seen one emergency childbirth in his ride-along field training, and he’d been watching, not participating. The woman had been in a car on her way to the hospital and she hadn’t quite made it. Her baby had been born quickly and without much of a fuss. It seemed to Zach that whatever Phoebe was experiencing was quite different—and maybe much worse.

  He returned to the room and stood at the end of the bed, smiling his encouragement to Phoebe as she rested between contractions. She looked exhausted beyond belief and the really hard part—pushing—hadn’t even started yet.

  He cringed along with Chance as the next contraction started. Delia seemed to be the only one in the room unaffected by Phoebe’s condition, calmly talking her through the contraction from start to finish.

  “I’m done with this,” Phoebe announced as the contraction ended. She sounded as if she meant it with all her heart, as if she were going to rise from the bed and walk right out of the room, leaving the pain and agony behind. “I want out.”

  Delia chuckled. “There’s no way out but through, hon. Just think of your precious baby. I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but you’ll forget all about the pain the moment your child is in your arms.”

  “Forgive me if I don’t believe you.” Phoebe groaned loudly and clenched Chance’s hand until it was white with pressure. “Here comes another one. Can this just be over already?”

  “Soon,” Delia promised. “For now, just concentrate on getting through this one contraction.”

  Phoebe nodded, but then her face creased with the pain of another contraction.

  “The pressure is unbelievable,” Phoebe said through gritted teeth. “So intense.”

  “As soon as this contraction is over, I’m going to check you again,” Delia stated, pulling on a pair of neoprene gloves. “I have a feeling you’re ready to push.”

  Zach stepped out of the room to give Phoebe a little privacy.

  “We’re at zero hour,” he informed Ben. “I think she’s getting ready to push. The little one may be here soon.”

  Ben grunted. “That could be hours yet. We’re ready when the baby is.”

  “I know this is Phoebe’s first baby, but nothing else has been going by the book on this delivery. I wouldn’t be surprised if we don’t have to wait as long as you think.”

  Ben shrugged. “I’m on duty either way. And I’m glad to be here to help the Hawkinses.”

  “Yeah,” Zach agreed, leaning his shoulder against the wall and jamming his hands into the pockets of his blue jeans. “Me, too.”

  And glad to be here helping Delia, he added silently.

  He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, praying for the baby’s safe delivery and for God to guide Delia’s hands.

  He was glad for a moment to regroup, but it didn’t last.

  “Zach,” Delia called from the bedroom, her voice strained. “I need you in here—now.”

  Chapter Twenty

  This baby was coming now. Delia couldn’t believe it.

  Zach sprinted into the room, an expectant look on his face. He pulled up short next to Delia at the foot of the bed. Gazing down on Phoebe, his expression altered to an absorbing combination of determination and compassion.

  Love welled in Delia’s heart, knowing that this man cared so much. He was as prepared as he could be, but Delia still sensed the tiniest bit of uneasiness in the way he shifted from foot to foot and clenched and unclenched his fists.

  He was a man of action. He wanted to be doing, not watching, which was, unfortunately for him, the larger part of delivering a baby—unless you happened to be the mother in question, of course. She well remembered her own birthing experience—one that Zach hadn’t been a part of.

  Was that why there was a hint of apprehension in his eyes? She was certain no one else in the room could see it, but Delia knew—and the moment her eyes met Zach’s, he knew that she saw right through him.

  His lips quirked into a half smile and his eyebrows rose.

  “What can I do?” he asked pointedly, his gaze turning to Phoebe as she gasped for breath.

  “Phoebe needs support when she curls up to push,” Delia explained to both of the men.

  That was all the direction Zach needed. He stepped to Phoebe’s side and gripped her hand, using his other arm to support her under her shoulders as she pushed.

  Without a word, Chance quickly followed suit.

  “I want you to bear down really hard with this next contraction, Phoebe,” Delia encouraged. “The baby’s head is crowning. I can s
ee a thatch of black hair. Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

  Phoebe pinched her lips and shook her head.

  “We wanted it to be a surprise,” Chance inserted when he saw that Phoebe was unable to speak.

  Zach whispered some form of encouragement into Phoebe’s ear. Chance was mimicking Zach’s movements from the other side of the bed, but rather than speaking, he simply brushed her hair off her face, kissed her forehead, and nodded.

  Phoebe smiled resolutely and nodded back at her beloved husband, determination replacing trepidation. That was the expression Delia had been looking for. Phoebe was ready to have this baby.

  The next contraction started with an intensity that took Phoebe off guard. She screamed as her body racked with pain. Both men looked to Delia with wide, concerned gazes.

  Delia had seen this before. At this point, her job consisted not only of delivering Phoebe’s baby and making sure mother and baby were both safe and comfortable, but also keeping two very concerned men on their feet and coherent.

  With Chance, it wasn’t so hard to imagine why he might be feeling a little bit woozy. Many fathers were overwhelmed by the whole encounter of having a baby and the knowledge of suddenly becoming a father. But because this wasn’t Chance’s first go-round with childbirth, she hoped he’d hold up just fine.

  For Zach, who knew?

  She hadn’t the slightest idea if he’d ever seen a delivery before, although she assumed his paramedic training included emergency childbirth. Even if it didn’t, he had to have seen enough blood and guts during regular rounds not to be squeamish about seeing a baby being born—and yet he definitely looked a little green around the gills. How peculiar.

  “Okay, Phoebe, make it a good one,” Delia said, reaching for the bulb syringe on the accent table where all her equipment was prepared and waiting.

  Phoebe gasped for air and then rolled up, supported by the two men at her sides. She groaned and squeezed their hands tightly and then pushed for all she was worth.

  With that effort, the baby’s head was visible and Delia quickly cleared the airways of any remaining moisture. What a cute little nose and mouth the infant had. What a blessing.

  “Hold on there for a second and just breathe,” Delia instructed as she worked. “I know it’s hard not to push, but please give me just a moment and then we’re good to go.”

  Phoebe panted her way through the rest of the contraction. Zach and Chance both puffed along with her. They were coaching her, but it struck Delia as humorous to watch the two men gasping for breath as if they were the ones doing the labor.

  “This is the last push,” Delia said. “Give it all you’ve got, Phoebe.”

  Delia supported the baby’s head and prepared to turn it so the shoulders could slip through. It was usually a seamless process, and Delia had made dozens of deliveries without incident.

  It only took her a second for her to realize something was wrong. The baby wasn’t turning. She pulled gently but with no success. The shoulders were firmly wedged and the baby wasn’t budging.

  They needed to get the baby out immediately.

  Zach was by her side before she even had the opportunity to ask for his assistance. Somehow he knew there was trouble, even though she hadn’t said a word. It was critical for her to stay controlled and keep Phoebe and Chance from panicking.

  “The shoulder is lodged in tight,” she told him softly. “I don’t have any high-tech devices here, so we’re going to have to get this baby out the old midwives’ way.”

  “Just tell me what you need me to do.” His voice was calm and reassuring, just what she needed to keep her own emotions under control.

  She wasn’t used to being this emotionally involved in her medical work, but she’d gone to school with Chance, and from the times she’d seen Phoebe socially, she’d gathered that the woman was super-sweet and the perfect woman for him.

  Doctors were supposed to remain detached, and for good reason. If anything happened to this baby, she didn’t know what she would do. She was responsible for making sure this little life came into the world safely.

  She’d faced her own fears, the apprehension of every expecting mother, the day Riley was born. Despite her years in medicine, she couldn’t fight the lightning-hot bolts of panic surging through her.

  I am with you always.

  It wasn’t audible speech. Rather those words were heard by her heart and felt in her soul. This baby was God’s creation. He knew the days of the child’s life before the little one was even born.

  Thank you, Lord, for Your presence here, she prayed silently. Please help us deliver this child safely.

  Zach placed a hand on her shoulder. Their eyes met, his gaze strong and sure.

  Zach had faith in God. And he had faith in her.

  “We need to push this little one out,” she explained, still keeping her voice low. “Phoebe is too weak to do it on her own. Slide your fingers under the shoulder and apply gentle pressure. We have to get this baby turned around.”

  Zach nodded. Together they worked on the delivery, Phoebe supporting the baby’s head and neck while Zach worked on the shoulders.

  There was a tense moment when nothing seemed to be happening, and then just as suddenly, the baby was free, sliding out into Delia and Zach’s hands with unexpected ease.

  The baby scrunched up his little red face and howled.

  Zach’s fingers touched Delia’s. Together, they cradled the precious, perfectly formed bawling infant. Their gazes locked. She’d never before seen the look that was flooding through Zach’s eyes, the pure elation of hearing a baby cry for the first time.

  She had taken that away from him. He should have experienced the joy of the birth of his own son.

  “It’s a boy,” Zach announced with a laugh as he slid the baby more firmly into Delia’s arms so she could transfer him to a wide-eyed Phoebe, who was crying almost as loudly as the baby.

  “A boy,” Chance repeated, leaning over his wife and newborn son. “Hello, little Aaron.”

  Phoebe hiccupped. “Aaron Joseph Hawkins. We keep the name in the family, you know. It’s traditional.”

  “Congratulations, you two,” Delia said with all her heart. “He’s a beautiful boy.”

  “Handsome,” Zach amended. “Boys don’t like being called beautiful. Just listen to him protesting.”

  He was, until the new mama whispered to him.

  “Thank you, Jesus,” Phoebe said softly, cuddling the infant to her neck and kissing his little cheek. The baby immediately quieted, his dark, cloudy blue eyes staring adoringly at his mother and his little hands reaching up to touch her face.

  Delia stepped back, letting the new little family rejoice by themselves for a moment. The bonding time between mother and baby was a sacred thing, especially with the father hovering protectively over both of them.

  Full of emotion and wanting to cry herself, she didn’t realize Zach had moved to her side until he laid a hand on her shoulder.

  “You did a great job,” he said, leaning close to her ear. “You should be proud of yourself.”

  “I never would have made it without you.”

  Now she was really about to cry. A tumult of emotion built from deep within her, all the many things she’d kept hidden all these years suddenly threatening to explode. She closed her eyes as she struggled to keep her feelings contained thinking her chest might burst from the effort.

  All this time, she’d gone it alone. Zach hadn’t been there to see the birth of his son, and it was all her fault. She had denied him one of the most precious moments in a man’s life. He had to realize that now.

  And he had to hate her for it.

  As if he’d read her mind, he dropped his hand from her arm and moved to the bedside.
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  “Ben and I need to check this little guy over real quick,” he said to Phoebe, who gave Aaron one last cuddle before reluctantly handing him over to Zach.

  Zach didn’t immediately head for the hallway. He stood immobile, cradling the new life in his arms, staring at the child with such an expression of wonder that Delia felt as if she’d suddenly been pierced by a million jagged fragments of glass.

  What a horrible, horrible thing she’d done.

  Zach carried the infant into the hallway where Ben was waiting. Delia still had work to do, so she returned to Phoebe, using the familiarity of practicing medicine to distance herself from the barrage of emotions she would eventually have to deal with.

  And she would have to deal with them. She only hoped that she’d be able to hold them in until Zach was gone.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Something was bothering Delia, and Zach couldn’t imagine what it could be. She’d just taken part in an amazing birth experience. Aaron was a perfectly formed, strong-lunged baby boy who hadn’t even needed any oxygen.

  She should be thrilled at how well this home birth had progressed—and she should be proud of herself for a job well done, not to mention full of joy at introducing a new life into God’s world.

  But she wasn’t any of those things. Now that Jo and Lucy had arrived, Delia remained in the background, her arms wrapped tightly around her middle. If Zach didn’t miss his guess, she was on the verge of tears.

  Happy tears?

  He didn’t think so.

  “Thank You, Jesus, thank You Lord,” Jo exclaimed as she scooped little Aaron into her arms. “Look at that cute little button of a nose. And Chance, dear, I think he’s going to have your dark eyes. He’s definitely got your hair.

  “But you favor your mama in good looks, now, don’t you, sweetie? You’re a real little beauty,” she cooed to Aaron.

  The baby squealed.

  Zach stepped closer to Delia. He was near enough to be invading her personal space, but she didn’t appear to notice he was there.