Summer Sunsets

by Maria Rachel Hooley

  “Of course.” She pushes the fabric up higher, exposing her pale flesh, and the doctor promptly measures, probably checking to see if there are any changes. He’s completely silent the whole time, which unnerves me, and I know it can’t be doing much for Skye, either. We both watch as he sets aside the tape measure and picks up a small device. He nods to the nurse, who grabs a bottle of gel and walks over to Skye.

  “This might be a little cold, but it’s necessary for the Doppler to pick up the baby’s heartbeat.”

  Although Skye stiffens, preparing for the cold on her skin, she isn’t completely ready for its suddenness, and her body tenses. I don’t think all that is about temperature, if you want the truth.

  I watch her as one hand clamps the side of the table and she grits her teeth. I know what she’s expecting and that it has to do with a long-ago choice she can no more erase than I can, even though we both would, and in a heartbeat.

  When Dr. Klein first puts the Doppler against her skin, all we hear is silence. He shakes his head. “First thing, we have to find the little one.” He starts moving the small wand around, smearing more of the gel across her stomach.

  Skye closes her eyes, and her whole body is taut with tension and fear. I squeeze her hand, trying to reassure her, even though it’s probably not going to do any good. It’s only when the sudden, rapid whooshing sound fills the air that her eyelids flutter open and she gasps.

  “Is that…the baby?”

  Dr. Klein smiles. “Yes, that would be the baby. He or she is nestled a little deeper than I expected, but the heart rate sounds good.”

  A relieved smile crosses Skye’s face and she looks at me as though she’s finally able to take a deep breath and face me. She levels another question, probably just to make sure there’s nothing to worry about, not that it’ll matter. It’s in Skye’s nature to worry, worry, worry.

  “So is there anything I should be concerned about?”

  Dr. Klein picks up the Doppler from Skye’s tummy and hands to the nurse before walking over to flip through the chart. “Your weight gain is good, and the heartbeat is strong. Your blood pressure is fine. I know you have concerns because you passed out today, but I’m pretty sure that was heat-induced. Based on all this, I think the biggest concern you have at this point is staying cool until autumn finally decides to put in an appearance.” He closes the chart. “Everything looks good, and I think it’s fine to schedule an appointment for next month. Hopefully, at that point, we might be able to tell if you’re having a boy or girl.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Klein,” I say, feeling as though a weight has been lifted from my shoulders, too.

  “Here’s a tissue,” the nurse says, giving her a couple of Kleenex.

  “Thanks.” Skye takes them and dabs at her skin.

  “Come out front when you’re ready, and we’ll set up that appointment.” The nurse slips out, Skye’s medical chart in hand.

  Skye smiles as she starts to get up. Sensing an opportunity for her clumsy streak, I take her arm. “What’s so funny?”

  “It’s not funny,” she says. “It’s just I can’t believe I heard the baby’s heart. She’s going to be beautiful.” Skye peers up at me, this amazing smile on her face, a smile I haven’t see in a long while.

  “So you think it’s a girl?” I ask as we head toward the door.

  “I know she is.” Her hand drifts to her tummy.

  “Care to bet?” I drape one arm around her and use my free hand to pull open the door.

  “Sure. But you’re going to lose.”

  “Not a chance,” I argue, kissing her forehead. Then again, Skye does have a sense of things I can’t explain, and I’m more than willing to be wrong. I’d love a little girl just like her mama, but the fact of the matter is, so long as both Skye and the baby are safe, I’ll be happy even if we have tiger-striped twin boys.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Are you nervous?”

  I’m staring out one of the windows in a small church when I hear my dad’s low voice. We’re both sitting in a small room not far from the sanctuary, waiting until it’s time for the wedding to start. Turning, I see he’s got his tux on, with his tie already perfectly in place. It’s kind of weird to see my dad dressed in a black monkey suit. He’s much more of a jeans and t-shirt guy, like me.

  “I’m all right.” I reach up and tug at a collar that feels like it’s strangling me.

  “Mmhmm. Sure you are.” He pats me on the shoulder. “Just keep telling yourself that.”

  I lean against the windowsill. “Aren’t you supposed to be here for moral support?” I cock an eyebrow at him.

  “I am.” He nods toward my tie. “You’re tie is crooked. Of course, you tugging at your collar is only making it worse.” I reach to straighten it, but he brushes my hands away. “Let me. You can’t see what you’re doing.”

  He’s got a point, I think and stand still to let him have at it, hoping his hands will be steadier than mine.

  He tugs at the tie to even it out and studies my face for a minute, which feels strange. Although my dad and I have a great relationship, it’s been a while since we’ve really talked, and it’s been even longer since I’ve taken a good look at his face. There’re a lot of fine wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, and a few creases in his forehead from frowning over things one too many times. It’s weird to think of him getting older, but I can’t deny what’s right in front of me.

  “So, where’s your head?” he asks quietly. It’s his way of asking what I’m thinking.

  “Just worried about Skye.”

  He nods at my tie. “Much better--and you’ve always worried about Skye. How is this new?”

  “Yeah, but this is different. It’s like between the wedding and the baby, everything’s is so overwhelming for her, and the last thing I want to do is drive her away.” I take a deep breath, my hand drifting toward my tie.

  “Leave that alone before you mess it up,” he says, shaking his head. He walks to one of the nearby chairs and sits, cutting his eyes towards another, and I get that he wants me to join him. I sink into the other chair.

  “Dad, how did you and mom manage?”

  “Same chaos. We wanted to be together so much we didn’t listen to the doubts—and you can’t, either.”

  I nod slowly. “Looks like it’s about that time.” I swallow hard, suddenly feeling an eruption of hummingbirds in my stomach. I know I shouldn’t think it, but part of me wonders if Skye might try to run away. It’s not that I have doubts about how Skye feels; it’s the coping mechanism she usually reverts to in times of crisis.

  “You ready to head out there?” Dad nods to the door leading to the sanctuary.

  “Guess so.” I’m not. There’re a million fears rushing through me, and none of them have anything to do with Skye but with the promises I’m about to make. I want to be the best husband I can, but what if I fail? What happens then?

  “All right. Let’s go.” He steps to the door without looking to see if I’m following. He knows I’ll be there, hummingbirds and all.

  Even before we enter through the side door of the sanctuary, I can hear organ music filling the air. The piece is familiar, but not overwhelmingly so. I should know the title, but I don’t. It’s upbeat tempo and beautiful arrangement have a soothing effect on me, and by the time I step onto the sanctuary stage, I feel a little calmer than before, calm enough to glance out at the handful of people who are sitting in the audience, waiting for Skye and me to join our lives.

  While the small church Skye has always loved has been decorated with bows and plants, the simple honesty of light pouring through the stained glass windows is actually the real centerpiece. Somehow Skye knew the sunlight would be streaming through those windows at about 7 p.m., or at the moments we’d planned to start the processional, and I find myself staring down the aisle, waiting for her.

  As I’m not wearing a watch, I nudge my dad and ask, “How much longer?” The pastor, a man about the same age as my fa
ther, replies, “Patience, Devin.”

  Dad tugs up the sleeve of his tux jacket to check his watch. “Should be any time.”

  I nod to let him know I’ve heard and lean my head from side to side, trying to work out the knots in my neck. Part of me tunes out the music, and my mind wanders to my job and other stuff that’s far less important, but it’s my way of keeping the nerves in order, at least until I hear the music I do know—“Canon in D.” That’s when I see Skye’s mother, dressed in a beautiful blue, silk gown start down the aisle.

  Perhaps it’s strange Skye picked her mom as her matron of honor and I picked my dad to be my best man, but the truth is, both of us have never really needed other friends, not like we’ve needed each other. Most people don’t understand that, and I don’t care. My world is as it should be, and that’s enough for me.

  Helen ends up on the other side of me, her hands clutching a bouquet of daisies. Her long hair spills around her face, framing it, and in that moment, I can see Skye in her features, and that makes me smile. It’s hard to believe that she had a stroke so recently, and I know just how lucky Skye is that the effects were minimal.

  “Canon in D” abruptly gives way to the processional, and the few people in the audience, mostly relatives on my side, stand and turn to see Skye and Warren start down the aisle.

  In that moment, my world seems to shift as I take in the beautiful girl who has become a woman, soon to be my wife. Her long hair flows around her, and a simple veil covers spills down her back. The white gown is a simple silk affair, fitted to her bosom, where it eases and flows to the floor. Only the slightest bump of her tummy reveals the baby nestled deep inside, and to me that makes her all the more perfect and amazing. I’m one lucky guy. The sunlight flowing through the stained glass windows halos both her and Warren, giving them an ethereal appearance.

  As she makes her way to the stage, her steps are slow and uncertain, but her gaze happens across me and locks with mine. Her eyes are wide and luminous, so different than I expected them to be when this day finally arrived. Then again, this Skye is different from the girl I first fell in love with. She’s scarred and bruised from things neither of us were able to escape, but she’s also beautiful and strong enough to survive whatever life can throw at us. Of that, I’m sure.

  It seems to take forever before she finally stops right in front of me, her arm entwined with Warren’s as the pastor asks, “Who gives this woman away?”

  “I do,” Warren responds, and gently frees his arm from Skye’s so I can take it.

  The ceremony continues, and I don’t remember much of it. I’m pretty sure I said everything I needed to in all the right places because suddenly the pastor tells me to kiss my bride, and the rest of the world blurs as Skye’s dark eyes loom closer and I touch my lips to hers, no less surprised by the feel of them as the last time, and the time before that. Everything seems to stop as I touch her face, my fingers whispering across her cheeks. Even though I pull back, my hand reaches for hers and squeezes gently. As Skye and I face the handful of people in the sanctuary, we are being introduced as Mr. and Mrs. Devin Abbott.

  The recessional begins, and we walk down the aisle, both looking at each other as though we’re fifteen again. I’d like to be a teenager again, but this time I’d find a way to do things right with Skye. Somehow I’d make it work. That’s not possible. The best I can do is keep walking until we slip out of the sanctuary and into the hall beyond, where we both burst into nervous laughter as though neither of us can believe we’ve really done this. I stare at her perfect face, which is flushed with happiness. One hand touches her belly, as though she expects the baby to be laughing, too.

  Unable to resist her, I slip both arms around her and draw her to me. Our gazes lock, and a nervous breath ripples through her. “Did we really just get married?” Her voice wavers slightly in disbelief, and I nod.

  “Yeah, I think we did. You got a problem with that or something?” I lean close and kiss her ear.

  “Well, no,” she giggles and tries to duck her chin because my kisses tickle her. “But you might remember this is how we got Helena in the first place.”

  Grinning, I reply, “Biting your ear? That’s how you got pregnant? Boy, I can’t believe all those coaches got that wrong.” Then the other half of what she’s said finally dawns on me. “Helena? That’s what you want to name her—if it’s a her?” I pull back enough to stare into her face.

  “Yeah.” Her gaze meets mine, and a wistfulness seems to take over her expression. “For my mom.”

  I raise my hand and brush the hair from her eyes. “Then I guess you’d better be right about having a girl,” I challenge, cocking an eyebrow. “As much as I love your mother, I’m not naming my son Helena. Period. No way, no how.”

  Skye giggles again. “It will be. I know it.”

  “Mm-hmm.” I nod toward the sanctuary doors. “Maybe we should get back out there before they send a search party. Your mom was adamant about the wedding photos.” I lean over and steal a kiss. “Although I’d much rather just carry you out to the car and kidnap you.”

  Skye takes my hand and starts to lead me. “No, we don’t want my mom to follow us to the apartment with photographers in tow. That wouldn’t be good. So let’s go make her happy first.”

  “All right,” I concede, and let her lead me away. “I’ll kidnap you later.”

  Taking a deep breath, I nudge Skye toward the doorway and head back into the church, where the guests are standing around, waiting to see us. As I said, I see a lot of relatives from my family, but besides Warren and Helen, only one other person stands out, and I don’t mean stands out in a good way.

  Skye’s father, Ronald, slouches there. Granted, he’s alone and dressed in his chinos and a button-down shirt, but that doesn’t take back all the years of hurt Skye suffered because of him. Nothing can take that back, unfortunately. My back and shoulders stiffen as I see him walking toward us. Right about now, I try to gently veer Skye to the left so we might be able to dodge him, but no such luck, not considering she’s seen him, too.

  “Skye,” I say in a low tone while wrapping my arm around her more tightly. “Why don’t you let me handle this?”

  She pulls free no matter how diligently I try to keep my arm around her. “No, I think I can manage.”

  And manage she will, I think, because she’s folding her arms across her chest and glaring as he steps up to meet us.

  “Skye, Devin.” He nods to both of us. “Beautiful wedding.”

  “I didn’t even think you knew who I was,” I mutter, stepping toward him. “Oh, that’s right. The pastor did say my name, didn’t he?” I plan to continue, but Skye lifts her hand and gently nudges me back.

  “Just let me handle this, okay?” Her gaze seeks mine out, and even though I keep expecting to see panic or hurt as usual, this time her emotions are completely reserved, hinting she’s not going to fall into that trap again.

  “Okay.” I take a step back, noting the way Ronald keeps looking from her to me and back again. “I’ll just check with the photographer about what shots he needs.” I give Ronald one last parting look and head off to find the photographer who’s already walking around taking shots of the guests. He sees me approach and we talk about pictures and poses, yet the whole time I keep looking at Skye, wondering what’s happening over there. As the photographer and I finish our discussion and I start back to Skye so we can get things rolling, I see Ronald press a card into Skye’s hand and walk away. For a moment, she stares down at the envelope in her trembling fingers, and she looks kind of like she wants to cry, which is definitely my cue.

  I stride toward her and slip my arm around hers. “Hey, how’s my beautiful wife?”

  She looks at me, her eyes luminous with tears. She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. Her fingers clench the envelope so tightly her knuckles turn white, and I sense she’s really stressing.

  I bend low and kiss her temple. “It’s okay. Really.” I touch the envel
ope. “What did he want, anyway?”

  “Nothing.” She touches her throat, as if that’s going to steady her voice and keep all the pain inside. “He just wanted to see me and wish us well.”

  I pull her to me so her head rests just below my chin, and once again it seems that no matter if her father has appeared with well-meant intentions, they’ve turned out to be anything but helpful. “Okay, well, you need to forget about it for a while and enjoy the day you worked so hard to put together.” I kiss her forehead and smile.

  “Don’t you drop me!” Skye squeals as I carry her up the stairs to our apartment after we’ve left the chaos of the wedding behind. Normally, carrying her isn’t a problem; however, this time, she’s wearing this long white dress. Don’t get me wrong—it’s beautiful and has only a slight train—but it’s still getting in the way.

  “I’m not going to drop you—unless you keep squirming like that.” I level a warning gaze in her direction.

  “I can walk, you know.”

  I nod. “Normally, yes. Some days are a little more clumsy than others, but you’re still alive, and I’m only thinking of the life of our unborn son.”

  “Daughter!” she argues and sticks her tongue out at me.

  I laugh. “Yeah, that was really mature. Is it the best you can do?”

  “Just remember what they say about paybacks.”

  I look at the stairs we’re halfway up and shake my head. “That’s okay. We might never get off this staircase to worry about those.”

  She shrugs. “You were the one who wanted to carry me.”

  “It’s an important tradition,” I argue, and half stumble.

  Skye cinches her grip around my neck. “An important tradition that might just get us both killed.”

  “Very funny,” I mutter and manage to negotiate the rest of the stairs. The keys are in my hand already. I never thought it would be so difficult seeing around piles of white silk, but I still manage to find the lock and get the key in. The lock clicks, and I twist the knob, swinging it wide so I can carry her across the threshold before closing the door with my foot and heading into the bedroom, where I’ve scattered piles of red rose petals across a bed draped with mosquito netting. As she catches sight of it, she inhales and smiles again.