by Dahlia Rose
The baby picked that time to kick, and Christine placed her hand on her belly. “He’s just cheering us on, not objecting.”
They all laughed, and when the minister said you may kiss the bride, Wes did so thoroughly, leaving her flushed and wishing they didn’t have to wait months until they could consummate the relationship. After they paid the man who proceeded over their wedding, her aunt brought them a nice lunch of lobster salad and squash soup, and she had made them Italian panini and a small wedding cake to mark the occasion. Wes’s hand was over hers as they cut the cake, and while it wasn’t a church wedding where all eyes were on her as they walked down the aisle, it was perfect for Christine.
“Do you guys have a name for our little man?” Aunt Martha asked as they enjoyed the vanilla cake with butter cream frosting.
“We actually discussed that last night and came up with something we both like,” Christine said with a smile. “You unveil the name, Wes.”
He swallowed his bite of cake and smiled before announcing. “Wesley Jacob Kent.”
Aunt Martha pressed her hand over her heart. “You used our last name as his middle name. Your mother would be thrilled.”
Christine smiled. “I figured that Leonard stole everything from her, including her last name, and in this way we can give her the honor she deserves. She went through so much with him, and we agreed if we ever have a daughter she’ll have mom’s name.”
“I know she’s looking down at us now smiling.” Aunt Martha patted Christine’s leg. “Which leads me to your wedding gift.”
“I’m going to point out, Gary is a strong name for future sons,” Gary said and winked at Christine.
“Grant works, too,” Grant added and wiped some icing from his mustache.
“We’ll take them both into consideration,” Wes said dryly.
‘”Let her open my gift,” Aunt Martha said. “Men, always trying to carry on their names one way or another.”
“I can’t have more kids at my age,” Grant said. “My daughter had all girls.”
“Uh huh, but Gary can have a few, maybe he’ll loan you a name,” Aunt Martha said.
Gary almost choked on his champagne. “I need a wife or something first. Besides, I’m too young…”
Wes laughed. “Look, he’s getting pale at the mention of a family.”
“No one can just fall into the best woman on earth to marry and fall in love with like you did,” Gary pointed out. “I’ve had zippo luck with relationships.”
“Hush, let me open Aunt Martha’s gift before she takes a spoon to you all,” Christine chastised.
Aunt Martha shook her head and handed Christine an envelope. She read the front of it. “For my niece, who has now become my daughter, and my son-in-law. May each day of your lives together bring you love, laughter, and joy. Blessed be.” She looked at her aunt and felt her tears well up. “Oh auntie, you are like my mom. I wanted to reach out to you so much more, but I didn’t want Leonard to ever hurt you like he did mom.”
For a long while now, Christine had tried to stop thinking of Leonard as a father, since he never acted like one anyway. After he tried to have her and the baby hurt or possibly killed, it was definite. Whatever loyalty she felt because of her mother was gone. He was dead to her, and hopefully when his court case came due and she had to testify to everything she’d seen, heard, or compiled on him. Then she could watch them throw the book at him for all the wicked things he’d done.
“He never could or can do this now,” Aunt Martha said. “Open it, you guys, and see what it is.”
Christine opened the flap of the envelope and pulled out the title to a house. She looked at her aunt with a question in her eyes. “A house deed?”
“Specifically to this house.” Aunt Martha smiled and Grant walked over to take her hand. “We’re going to get married, and I’m moving into Grant’s house. I want you to have this house. Consider it a vacation home for when you visit and bring baby Wesley to visit his grandmother.”
“This is too much,” Wes said. “Martha…”
“No, my loves, you two have brought life to this old girl. I have a family again,” Aunt Martha said. “We don’t need two houses. Grant’s ranch is more than enough. Wesley can learn to ride horses when you visit. And when you get tired of New Mexico you have a home waiting.”
Wes got up and came around to hug Martha and to shake Grant’s hand. “I’ve never had a good family life. Mom dropped me off at a police station when I was five and never looked back. My grandmother raised me, and that was to get the check from the government. When I was eighteen and those stopped she took me to the first recruitment center. But Christine gave me love, and then she gave me you.”
“You say the sweetest things,” Aunt Martha sniffed.
Christine nodded. “Doesn’t he, though?”
“Great charm, all the ladies,” Gary said and grinned.
The sun was coming through the window, and the breeze was still warm for September. Christine looked around the room at all the people she loved. Her aunt, who’d taken on a mother’s role; her new husband, who swept her off her feet; Grant, who was her cowboy hero in a sheriff’s uniform; and Gary, who protected her for his best friend and was now like a brother. Wesley would be born into so much love, and they had the rest of their lives ahead of them.
* * * *
Life loved coincidences, and fate laughed when it managed to twine its way into lives. Christine thought this was one of the times where she could smile along with both. At six p.m. in the afternoon, the same day Wes was to be coming home, her water broke and she was in labor. Her hip hardly hurt anymore. There was a twinge every now and again, or it was stiff when she moved because she was on bed rest. That evening, she was taking a shower while Wes was downstairs heating beef stew for dinner. She’d grabbed the towel off the hook while standing in the tub and was drying off when she felt some pressure between her legs, then felt a small pop. Fluid ran down her legs not in a trickle, but a full gush. She looked down in shock.
“Wes!” she yelled and called again. “Wes!”
“Coming!” he called back.
“Hurry!”
She heard his footfalls and then the bathroom door hit the wall as he pushed the door open.
“What is it?” he asked. “The beef stew is almost done.”
“We can’t eat, my water just broke,” she said and giggled in panic. “Oh shit, we’re going to have a baby.”
Wes went pale and sat down on the toilet. “Oh my God, what do we do?”
She slapped at his shoulder. “Wes, calm down, you look like you’re going to pass out. I need to get cleaned up, and we need to go to the midwife clinic.”
He nodded. “Okay, we can do that. I can do that… what am I doing?”
“I need you to call Beverly and tell her we’re on our way in, and call Aunt Martha and Grant to meet us there,” Christine said, calmer than she was feeling. “Then you help me get dressed, and we drive to the clinic.”
“Okay, I can do all that, get dressed, and go to the clinic.” He nodded and turned to run out the door.
“Not without me,” she yelled. “Wesley Kent, get focused and don’t leave me here!”
He turned back to look at her, shocked. “Who does that?”
“It’s happened. Some of those fathers get to the hospital without the mother,” she said and closed the shower curtain. “I’ll be out as soon as I wash up.”
He pulled back the curtain and grinned. “I love you.”
She smiled back at him. “I love you too. Go do your duty, soldier.”
“I’m on it,” Wes said.
The first contraction hit when she was pulling on her loose yoga pants, and she had to hold on to the chest of drawers and breathe through it. It wasn’t that bad, more like cramps and her stomach tightening than pain.
“This wasn’t so bad,” she murmured to herself.
Wes came back in and helped her with her top and getting her feet in her shoes.
“I had a contraction. I think this may be a breeze,” she said cheerily.
“That’s because you’re strong and amazing.” He stood and kissed her. “Let’s go have a baby.”
In less than an hour they were settled in a birthing room at the midwife clinic. The reason why she loved it was because the birthing rooms looked more like bedrooms at home than a sterile hospital room. Monitors still listened to the baby’s heartbeat and made sure she was okay. The room was a calming lilac color with rustic beige undertones around the window frames. There was a vase with long stalks of wheat and also a water feature fountain with a rolling crystal moved by the water. Soft, relaxing music filtered through the sound system, and the lights were soft so she wouldn’t be affected by a harsh glare while she was in labor. Aunt Martha and Grant showed up around the same time as they did, and they waited outside the room for her to get settled and Beverly to examine her. When they came in, she was sitting in the bed with a loose nightshirt bearing the clinic’s emblem on the front. Wes was sitting next to her holding her hand.
“How are you doing, lil lady?” Grant bent to kiss her and his mustache tickled her cheek.
“I’m doing good. These contractions are a breeze,” Christine pointed out.
“Um, okay.” Grant smiled. “They do get worse, Chrissie.”
Beverly smiled. “I told her that. Christine is about four centimeters dilated, fully effaced, and ready to face natural labor.”
“Yes I am,” she replied. “I got this.”
Wes kissed her temple. “And I’m here for support.”
Seven hours later she was rethinking her choices when the contractions got stronger. The day had turned to night as she labored, and it was well after seven in the evening. Aunt Martha and Grant were in and out of the room as it progressed. Mostly because Grant got squeamish, and her aunt, who never had a child, didn’t want to actually see what the process entailed. She was lying on her left side and Wes was rubbing her back. Nothing worked, she was in pain and she wanted drugs. She sat on the ball with her doula and the soft voiced young woman sat with her, breathing and keeping her body relaxed through the pain. Wes was in the warm bath with her, and that helped for a little but soon even that made her miserable. Beverly placed a cool washcloth on her head. It smelled like lavender to promote relaxation. It was not working.
“Darling, use the focal points in the room, the fountain or the wheat in the vase,” Wes encouraged gently.
She opened her eyes to glare at him. “How about you focus on them and kiss my rear end, Wesley Kent? Have you ever given birth?”
“No, honey, I have not.”
Thank God he had the presence of mind not to crack a smile. Christine didn’t know how she would react.
“When you can birth what feels like a ten pound honeydew melon, then you can tell me about focal points,” she snapped. Christine instantly regretted her harsh words and began to cry. “I’m so sorry! I don’t mean to be upset with you.”
He kissed her temple and wiped her tears away. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Yell at me all you want if it makes you feel better.”
“She’s in the transition phase so her emotions are heightened,” Beverly explained.
“It doesn’t,” she sniffed. “But no more focal points okay? Oh God, another contraction is coming.”
Beverly stepped forward. “I have to check you while it’s happening to see how far you’re dilated.”
“Are you crazy?” Christine said through panting breaths. “That’s going to hurt. Nope, not happening.”
Beverly sat on the bed and put on her rubber gloves. “Christine, you’re feeling a lot of pressure, I know it, and I’m thinking it’s time for you to push.”
Christine shook her head. “I don’t want to do this. I changed my mind.”
Beverly chuckled. “If I had a dollar for every time I heard those words in the last twenty years, I could’ve retired to Boca by now.”
“Are you moving to Boca?” Christine asked. She wondered why that question was important enough to ask. Am I mentally fractured from the pain?
“No, I’m not. I love St. George, I need seasons, Boca is a sweltering hell,” Beverly said. “Stop trying to avoid the fact that I’m going to check you. Let your legs fall apart wide and relax. Breathe through it.”
Christine moaned in agony and did as she was told, but Beverly had barely touched her leg and looked before gasping. “Wow, no need to check, I can see a small tuft of hair. This baby is coming.”
There was a flurry of activity as extra blankets were placed beneath her and then a rubber pad. While they were getting her prepped, Wes went to tell Grant and Aunt Martha it was time. He came back, and Beverly instructed him to sit behind her with his back against the headboard and then she would be resting against him.
“You are going to help her bear down and push this little guy out,” Beverly explained. “The doula would help her hold on to her legs. Ready, Christine?”
She felt tears well up. “No, I’m not.”
Wes pressed a kiss against her neck. “You can do this, darling, just a little longer and we’re going to hold our son.”
“Okay.” She wiped her tears away and took a deep cleansing breath. “I can do this.”
It took an hour of pushing before baby Wesley made his appearance. Instead of ten pounds that she assumed when she snapped at his father, the baby weighed eight pounds seven ounces. Aunt Martha and Grant came in to see him and congratulate them before heading home for some rest. Beverly and the doula got her cleaned up and dressed then moved her to one of the delivery suites in the building. She wasn’t the only mother in one of the six bedrooms. She heard the soft cry of at least two other babies when she was settling in. He was so beautiful. Christine looked down at him after the birth as she held him in his arms and he nursed at her breast. His soft hair was light brown curls with lots of blond highlights. Wes ran his finger along the tiny palm and laughed softly when the tiny fingers clasped around the tip of his digit.
“He is amazing,” Wes said in awe.
“And amazingly enough, I don’t even care about the pain, just him,” she replied.
Christine felt so full of love looking at him. He was suckling strong, and she could feel him draw the milk from her breasts.
“Beverly said we get to take home day after tomorrow,” she said.
“I guess I better hold him all I can now then. I think Martha plans to bogart our baby,” Wes replied.
Christine grinned. “She may have a fight on her hands from Grant.”
“Look at me,” Wes said suddenly and she met his gaze. “You’ve given me so much, love, a son, a lease on life I never thought I’d have. Thank you, Christine, for all of it.”
“We made a family. We all were different pieces of a puzzle and now with Wesley as our center, the picture is complete,” Christine said.
Wes bent to kiss the baby on his head and pressed his lips against hers for the longest of moments. Christine looked down at the sleeping baby who’d fallen asleep nursing and knew everything they went through was all worth it. She missed feeling him move within her already, but knew the best was yet to come, watching him grow up with the man she loved by her side.
* * * *
It seemed like life came full circle again, because around the holiday season they were back in Los Alamos. Christine was sitting in her favorite coffee shop, but this time along with her laptop and her notebooks beside her was a baby carriage. It was the kind with the stroller beneath and the car seat on top. Wesley was in the comfortable seat, happily chewing his fist. He was a chubby almost three month old, who smiled and cooed when he saw his mommy or daddy’s face or anyone who cooed with him. He was such a blessing, a joy to wake up to each day.
She watched him when he played on his floor play mat. He’d already figured out how to turn over, and she swore he used his legs to scoot to things he wanted. Each day was something new and exciting with him. It was almost six in the afternoon,
and they were waiting for daddy to come pick them up. Wes loved the role of being a dad. Each day he came home he kissed her hello and went straight to his little chubby choo-choo. Technically, it was a game Wes played with his son, but Christine heard him call the baby that more than once. Her husband was the epitome of a loving husband and doting father.
The word father made her frown, because Leonard Chapel had taken it up as a new mission to reach out to her from prison. His case hadn’t been called up as yet, but he was arraigned and held without bail until trial. Apparently, he’d found religion and was sending her a series of letters begging for forgiveness. Christine had no doubt that it was a ploy to get an easier prison term, probably cooked up by him and his lawyer.
She wrote him back, it was two sentences and was succinct. You’re not my father, why do you keep writing me? I suggest you contact someone who cares about where you’re heading. Still, he tried, and each time she saw a letter she opened it and read it, then proceeded to put it in the trash. She felt no empathy toward the man, and when it was time to speak it would not be on his behalf. But she would speak, and she hoped her words sent him to jail forever.
The merry tinkle of a bell heralded someone entering the coffee shop. She looked up to see the man who made her breath catch each time she woke up and saw him next to her in bed. Wes met her gaze and gave her that boyish grin before walking over.
“How’s my best lady and my lil’ man doing?” Wes said when he stood by the table. He bent to kiss her. “Have you been waiting long?”
“No, Cara dropped us off like an hour ago. I used the time to do some work.” Christine smiled up at him. “Want to some coffee or chai before we go?”
He shook his head. “No, I’d like to sleep tonight, enough caffeine for the day, plus I have news.”
Christine stopped gathering her things and turned to him. At his words her heart dropped, and she pressed her hand against her heart. “Are you getting deployed again?”
“No, darling no,” Wes said. “I got offered the position of a flight instructor and I took it. No more deployments.”
She hugged him tight. “Oh, that’s great news. You won’t miss the deployments and flight missions?”
