Passionate Kisses

by Various

  As the car lumbered and shook onto the freeway, Delores asked, “Is there anyone you want me to call when we get to the hospital? Any of your friends who could maybe come and be with you?”

  Sam wasn’t at all startled when John’s image flashed into her mind’s eye. Would he be willing to come to the hospital? He had to. He just had to. Brushing away a tear, she fumbled through her purse for her cell phone and punched in John’s number, praying he’d answer. His voicemail picked up. She hung up and tried the main number of the gym. “Gym Everest,” came the static-ridden voice over the line.

  “John Everest, please.”

  “May I tell him who’s calling?”

  “Sam Rossi.”

  “One moment.” Soft rock music took the woman’s place.

  Tears welled in Sam’s eyes. She couldn’t do this alone. She was too scared.

  “Who’s John Everest?” Delores asked.

  “He’s the father,” Tanya piped in. Then she obviously realized she might have betrayed a confidence. “I mean, he’s the father, but he’s not the father. I mean, he doesn’t want anything—”

  “It’s okay, Tanya,” Sam said, feeling okay between contractions. Music still echoed over her phone. To Delores she said, “I asked him to help me father a child, but he won’t be raising the baby.”

  “You want to raise the baby alone?” She caught Sam’s eyes in the mirror. “Sorry. Not my business. I’ll step on it.”

  Sam pulled the phone away from her ear. “I think she forgot about me.” She hung up and dialed again. This time she got the gym’s voicemail. “I can’t get through.” Her voice caught.

  “Hey,” Tanya said suddenly. “Isn’t Mr. E’s gym downtown, off James Street?”

  Sam nodded, grimacing as another contraction loomed.

  “Mama, can you drop me off there? It’s only a couple of blocks out of the way. I’ll ride to the hospital with him.”

  The gym receptionist directed Tanya to the weight room at the opposite end of the building. She walked fast, almost running along the wide corridor, past the aerobics studios, past the racquetball courts. When she rounded the corner to the weight room, she almost turned back when she saw Alex working out with John. It was weird seeing him, knowing it wouldn’t be long before he knew who she was. That terrified her. Would he accept her as his daughter? Or would he think she was a major loser?

  Tanya took a calming breath and plunged into the room full of muscular men and women.

  Alex spotted her first. “Tanya, what are you doing here?” he asked, putting the heavy bar and weights onto the rack. John sat up on the bench and wiped his face with a towel.

  “I came to tell—” she looked at John and sort of pointed, “you, that Ms. Rossi is having her baby and wants you there. She couldn’t get a hold of you on the phone, so I—”

  John shot to his feet like a rock from a slingshot and gripped Tanya’s shoulders. “Sam’s having her baby?” Tanya nodded. “But it’s not due for— for another four weeks, right? Where is she, what hospital?”

  She told him. “My mom took her, cuz the lady who was supposed to coach her or something is out of town or something.”

  “Nina,” John murmured. He drew the towel over his face again and hurried toward the door. “Do you want to ride with me, Tanya?”

  “Yeah, but, um, Mr. E?” she began, wrinkling her nose and eyeing him up and down. “You might want to change or something first. I mean, you don’t want to gross her out or anything.”

  Alex’s laughter made her turn his way. “I think that’s the first time a woman has told you that you stink, John-Boy.” He nudged her shoulder. “I think I like you, Tanya,” he said with a wink.

  Tanya blushed and turned back to John, who looked down at his sweat-drenched workout clothes. He glanced at the clock on the wall. “If Sam’s all by herself there—”

  Something whizzed by Tanya’s head and John caught it. Alex had thrown him a sweatshirt. “Just go,” Alex told him. “I’ll shower fast and bring your clothes.”

  John nodded, then sprinted out of the room with Tanya at his heels. “Wait for me, Mr. E,” she called after him. Boy, for a guy who supposedly wasn’t linked romantically with Ms. R and who didn’t have an interest in her baby, he sure moved fast.

  John’s car flew up Pine Street toward the hospital, making record time despite the traffic, although he cursed up a storm under his breath the entire time. Once inside the hospital, he ran to the front desk for directions. One of the two women there pointed him toward the elevators.

  As Tanya charged after him, she heard one of the women chuckle and say, “Poor guy. This must be his first.”

  Reaching Labor and Delivery, Tanya saw her mom in the waiting room, who stood as they rushed in. John didn’t stop for introductions and made his way to the nurse’s station.

  Delores met her halfway, staring at John’s disappearing back. “That’s him?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Hmm. Cute.”

  Tanya eyed her mom, taking in the somewhat disheveled and tired appearance. “Did you put any makeup on this morning, Mama?”

  Delores turned to her. “What?”

  Tanya glanced around the waiting area and saw signs for the women’s restroom near the elevators. She grabbed her mom’s arm. “Come on. I’ve got some makeup in my purse. You’ll want to freshen up a bit.”

  “What are you talking about, young lady?” Delores asked, resisting.

  “Mr. Drake is on his way here,” was all Tanya said, and her mom led her to the ladies’ room.

  Chapter 25

  John’s only exposure with this whole birth experience was from television, so he was surprised when he wasn’t asked to put on a gown over his clothes and a nurse named Cindy led him straight to Sam’s room.

  “How’s she doing?” he asked as they walked.

  “She’s progressing nicely, dilated to five.” His expression must have shown his ignorance, so she explained, “When she’s dilated to 10, she can push.”

  “But what about the baby? It’s so early.”

  Cindy stopped outside a door. “It’s premature, but we have her hooked up to a fetal monitor that tells us baby is doing just fine.”

  “But will it, will it—?” He swallowed hard. The term “premature” had such scary connotations. Please, please, please, let everything be okay.

  Cindy squeezed his arm. “Four weeks is early, but not that early. Everything looks great and Sam is anxious for you to be with her.” She pushed on the door.

  “Uh, Cindy?” he asked, stopping her. “This is all new to me. She probably told you her regular, uh, coach is out of town. I’m clueless.”

  Cindy’s smile was warm. “The main thing is just to be with her so she’s not alone. Tell her she’s doing great, feed her ice chips, rub her back if she wants you to, that kind of thing. Don’t worry. I’ll be with you guys every step of the way.” She squeezed his arm again and pushed on Sam’s door.

  “Sam?” Cindy parted the curtain. “Look who’s here.”

  “Is it John?”

  “Hi,” he said, entering the room. She was in a semi-seated position, the bed reminding him of those instamatic ones on late-night infomercials. She had on a pink hospital gown with tiny white flowers, her hair was disheveled and she looked relieved to see him. Hesitantly, he took her hand. “How are you feeling?”

  “Tired. Scared.”

  “Is— is everything okay? I mean, with the baby being early?”

  “They don’t seem too worried at this point. I’ll go with that unless they tell me different.” She squeezed his fingers. “Thanks for coming. I had no one else to call.” Her gaze shifted to a space behind his head.

  He glanced away, too, uncomfortable. He was trying to figure out something to say when her face scrunched into a grimace and she applied a vice-like squeeze on his hand. “Oh, no. Here comes another one.”

  “A-a contraction?” John looked from Sam to Cindy and back again.

  “Sam, open your eyes
and find something to focus on,” Cindy said. “Come on, deep breath in, deep breath out. That’s a girl. Slow breaths. Concentrate on your breathing. That will help manage the pain.”

  “It’s! Not! Helping!” Sam mumbled between clenched teeth. Her grip remained so tight on John’s hand, the tips of his fingers tingled.

  At a loss for words and actions, he focused on her pain. “You’re doing great.” What else could he say? “Just a little longer.” Or so he assumed. For all he knew, it could take another ten hours. He felt helpless, knowing there was nothing he could do for her. He also felt an irrational guilt that it was him who got her into this condition.

  Finally, the contraction was over and Sam relaxed back into the pillows with a loud sigh. She pressed his hand gently this time. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

  He forced a grin as he pulled his hand from her grip. “I think I have the better end of this deal.”

  When Cindy left them alone, Sam said quietly, “Thanks again for coming.” She lowered her gaze. “I’m sure this is the last place you want to be.” A tear dripped onto her cheek.

  He felt about two inches tall. She shouldn’t be concerned about him while going through labor. “I just hope I can be of some help to you since I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing.”

  “Just your being here makes it better.”

  Her comment shrunk him to one inch. Glancing away in shame, he noticed the fetal monitor doing weird things. He cleared his throat. “I think you might have another contraction coming, if the zig zag line is any indication.”

  Sam’s teeth clenched in preparation for the pain. He didn’t have the slightest clue about labor, but he figured it wasn’t too different from a hard workout. In essence, that’s what her body was doing — a workout of marathon proportions. He may not have known labor, but he knew exercise. Since Cindy wasn’t here to guide him, he went on gut instinct.

  “Try to relax, Sam,” he said, forgetting for the moment his need to stay away from her. “Open your eyes and focus on something.”

  “No!” she screamed through gritted teeth.

  “Then focus on your breathing. Feel it in the back of your throat as you inhale. Come on. That’s a girl.” He gave her his hand to squeeze. “Okay now let it out slowly. Good.” He glanced at the monitor. After what seemed an eternity, the line leveled off. “Okay, the contraction is ending.”

  Her grip on his hand waned and finally loosened all together. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the pillows to rest.

  Tanya looked up from her magazine when something large and dark burst out of the elevators and into the waiting area. Her stomach did a major roller-coaster dive and she nudged her mom in the arm.

  “Hmm?” Delores muttered, following Tanya’s gaze. “Oh, my God. It’s him.”

  Alex turned at that moment and spotted Tanya. His eyes didn’t even go to Delores. His face was tense, his brows furrowed. “How’s Sam doing? Has she had her baby yet?”

  Tanya shook her head and stood. Her legs felt like rubber. Any moment now he would notice her mom, and then... She couldn’t swallow the giant lump in her throat. “We haven’t heard anything since Mr. E went in.”

  Alex must have picked up on the “we” as he turned his gaze toward Delores, whose head was down. Her hands were clenched and quivering in her lap. “Is this your mom?” At Tanya’s nod, he said, “Well, it’s nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Smith. I’ve been wanting to—”

  Delores lifted her head. If it were possible for a black man’s face to pale, Alex’s did. He froze, except for his trembling hands. “Lori.”

  “Hello, Alex,” Delores said. “It’s been a long time.”

  “Seventeen years.” Alex blinked a few times, as if trying to see more clearly. “You’re Tanya’s mom?”

  She nodded.

  Tanya watched the awkward exchange with growing anxiety. Was he happy to see her mom, or was that just surprise on his face, nothing else? It was only a matter of time before—

  Alex spun slowly toward Tanya, his eyes narrowing. “Oh, my God.” He turned back to Delores. “Lori?” The simple question asked it all.

  Tanya held her breath as she waited for her mom to answer. Finally, Delores whispered, “Yes.”

  Tanya was afraid to look at his face, afraid of what she might see, but she had to. Lifting her gaze, she saw confusion and surprise in his eyes.

  He stepped toward her and lifted his hand to her cheek, brushing away a narrow braid. “You’re my daughter?” he asked. His voice, which was usually so strong and forceful, sounded raspy and tentative.

  She nodded, still holding her breath. What was probably only a millisecond seemed to go on forever as he stared at her. Finally, he reached for her and wrapped her into a bear-like embrace. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God,” he muttered, rubbing his cheek against the top of her head. “I’m a dad.”

  “Okay, push, Sam. Push,” Dr. Westmore commanded. “That’s a girl. Keep going, bear down. Okay, take a deep breath and push again.”

  John’s outer movements were normal. He dutifully leveraged Sam’s leg when told to, massaged her back and neck between contractions, and smiled encouragingly when necessary. But inside, he prayed like a crazy man. Please let this baby be okay. Please, please, please let this baby be all right.

  After two more contractions of pushing, Dr. Westmore said, “There’s the crown. There’s your baby.”

  John looked at the mirror and saw a little diamond of matted black hair. “Oh, God. Sam,” he said in amazement, his fear receding to the back of his mind for a moment. “It’s the baby. Open your eyes, do you see it?”

  She looked. “That’s it? That’s really it?” She met John’s eyes in the reflection. He wanted to hold her gaze, he really did, but he couldn’t. He didn’t need to have her look at him like that. The love of his life, the woman who loved him, was about to have a baby he’d fathered, yet this was probably the worst day of his life. He squeezed his eyes shut. Please let it be okay, he prayed again.

  After the next contraction, Dr. Westmore said, “Okay, mama. If you can give me a monster push this next time, we should be able to deliver the head.”

  John had a momentary vision of just a head being born, and had he not been so worried he might’ve smirked. He looked in the mirror where everyone’s attention was focused. There was no way a head could fit through there.

  Oh. My. God. He was wrong.

  “Oh, John. Look. Look,” Sam said, reaching for his hand.

  The doctor and nurses rushed about to suction the throat. The baby’s face was blue-tinged and lifeless. It looked dead. John glanced around, near panicked, but none of the medical staff seemed concerned.

  “Okay, Sam. One more big push and you’ll have yourself a baby,” Doctor Westmore said.

  Sam gave it everything she had, bearing down as hard as she could. She wanted this baby out! Then the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard reached her ears. A baby crying. Her baby.

  Dr. Westmore held up a squirmy, red infant for her to see. “You folks have yourself a daughter.”

  Tears fell down Sam’s face. She had a daughter. A little girl. She’d been expecting a boy all these months for some reason, and had been thrilled with that. But a daughter... it just seemed more perfect. She grabbed John’s hand and peered up at him. “Thank you,” she choked out, hardly able to speak.

  His eyes welled and he blinked fast a few times. Clearing his throat, he finally glanced away. She didn’t have time to analyze his reaction because Dr. Westmore laid the baby on her stomach. Ten tiny fingers, ten tiny toes. And a shock of black hair on the perfect tiny head. “Oh, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” she whispered, gently caressing the little head. The baby’s face puckered and she gave a meek wail.

  “Dad, do you want to cut the umbilical cord?” Dr. Westmore asked John.

  He shook his head and took a step backward. Sam’s encouraging smile faltered.

  After the doctor cut the cord, a woman in
mint green scrubs approached the bed. “Sorry, Mom and Dad,” she drawled, “but I need to take your little darlin’ over yonder and check her out.” She moved the baby to a table across the room. The rest of the high-risk team joined her.

  Sam’s gaze didn’t leave her baby. “How is she?” she asked, a ball of fear in her gut.

  One of the team working on the baby came over to the bed. She squeezed Sam’s hand reassuringly then addressed both her and John. “I’m Dr. Roblinski. We’re going to take your daughter to the NICU and run a few tests. She’s having a little trouble breathing on her own, but that’s really common for a baby born at thirty-six weeks’ gestation. Her lungs probably have a bit more developing to do.”

  Sam reached for John’s hand. “But— but that’s normal? She’ll be okay?”

  Dr. Roblinski smiled. “Why don’t you and Dad come down to the NICU just as soon as you’re able.” The high-risk team whisked the baby out of the room.

  “Have you guys picked out a name?” Dr. Westmore asked as he finished tending to Sam, obviously trying to distract her.

  Sam bit her lip, unable to look at John as she said, “Danielle.”

  When he didn’t say anything, she glanced up at him. His face was stoic, but the corner of his mouth trembled ever so slightly. “Sam, that-that’s—” he stammered and cleared his throat. “Daniel is my middle name.”

  “I know,” she whispered.

  John pushed through the doors of the waiting area. Alex, Tanya and a woman he didn’t recognize jumped to their feet at the sight of him. Alex and Tanya spoke in unison. “So? Has she had the baby?” That from Alex. And from Tanya, “Is it a boy or a girl?”

  John held up his hand and forced a grin. “Yes,” he said to Alex and “Girl,” he told Tanya. “Sam’s doing fine, and the baby — Danielle — is in the intensive care unit for newborns.”

  Alex took a step forward. “Intensive care? What’s—?”

  “She’s having a hard time breathing on her own. Apparently this is normal for babies born early.”