If he cared, he would be contacting her more frequently, Valerie thought, not wanting to dwell on that downer. She was considering getting the whole labor and birth over with on her own and then telling him after the birth.
“I’ll try,” she replied. “But if he’s out of the country, he’s going to be difficult to reach.”
“Not an excuse,” Marilyn said. “If you can’t reach him, I’m sure Jasmine’s husband can.”
***
Five days later, Valerie was in the hospital being prepared for the caesarean. She was nervous, but glad to be in Englewood Hospital. The affiliated doctors were skilled in performing many complicated procedures without immediately resorting to blood transfusions, which was another issue for her because she had a rare blood type and finding a match was difficult. Her obstetrician and hematologist were optimistic. They’d made sure her blood count was higher than normal to offset any possible bleeding issues. Blood transfusions were a consideration only as a last resort.
Aaron received her call late at night in his spartan hotel room in Santo Domingo, where he was sprawled, completely clothed, across the bed, attempting to rest after a grueling sixteen hours entrenched in rescue and recovery efforts on a neighboring Caribbean island that had been devastated by a 7.1 magnitude earthquake.
He was so physically drained from the intense, difficult labor that it took him a while to realize that the piercing sound was not someone screaming in pain, but was in fact the phone ringing.
“Weiss,” he barked into the receiver, nearly knocking the phone off the night table.
“Aaron?” The tentative, questioning voice immediately got his full attention.
“Valerie, ma shlomekh?” He didn’t even realize he’d asked her how she was in Hebrew until she replied.
“Lo ra. Did I just say I’m not bad, or something to that effect?”
His heart hammered in his ears. He was surprised that she even remembered one of the few phrases he’d taught her, since she’d told him the language was difficult.
“I’m okay,” she restated, when she got no reply. “Noah told me where to reach you, and I realize it’s late, but I just wanted you to know that I’m in the hospital and I’ll be having the baby tomorrow.”
“What!” He sat up straight, the erratic pounding in his chest morphing into a distinct ache. “I thought you had another month?”
“They decided to do it earlier.” Her voice sounded calm, too calm. “Tomorrow afternoon.”
His first reaction, which had been shock, possibly tinged with fear, transformed to a vague annoyance and then indignation, senseless indignation. “I’ll be there,” he said.
“You don’t have to.” She must have caught the edge in his voice. “I mean, I heard about the earthquake…that you’re involved in relief work over there, and of course my hysterical little world pales in comparison to what those poor people are suffering. I called you simply because I thought you’d like to kno—”
“I know why you called, and I told you I’d be there,” he interrupted.
“Do whatever you think is best,” she said.
He heard the phone click, and he considered calling her back in order to apologize for his cold, brusque attitude, but he realized that he didn’t have the hospital phone number. If he went through the effort to find it, he’d probably only say something to dig himself deeper into a hole. Let it go. He’d try to be more compassionate and understanding when he saw her in person. That is, if she survived the caesarean.
Aaron stood up and paced around the room, knowing that even though he was beyond exhaustion, he’d never be able to fall back asleep. With only a small strip of sea and a crummy hotel building separating him from the chaos on the bordering island, he could still smell the scent of death hanging in the air and could still see the burned-in-his-brain images of mangled bodies, dead babies, mothers crying, and orphaned children roaming the streets in rags.
He was used to this, though, way too used to it. Only this time the form of devastation was a little different. This devastation hadn’t been caused by war—mankind’s own peculiar brand of barbarism—this time; it had been from nature, an act of God some called it. He’d witnessed these acts of God before and wondered idly why they always seemed to occur in places that were already impoverished and barely standing to begin with.
What were the believers in a divine creator saying about this one? What did pain and destruction have to do with a God who was supposed to be kind and merciful?
Except for individuals like himself, who made themselves available to assist in troubled times, who really cared about the survival of disparate humans anyway? Human lives were cheap and expendable. Routinely seeing their blood soak into the earth, their frail bodies decomposing, confirmed this.
He squeezed his burning eyes shut and opened them again. Who was he? Who was Valerie in the grand scheme of things? Yes, he might lose his wife forever. In the blink of an eye, he could lose his own life, too, right here, right at this very moment. It seemed quite probable even, because not only did his chest ache, he also felt oddly light-headed. He sat abruptly on the bed and contemplated the possibility of having a fatal heart attack—a possibility that ironically caused no sense of panic or regret, only the ludicrous thought of Noah’s reaction to discovering his dead carcass slumped on the bed in a cheap hotel room. The unheralded demise of Mr. Ace Pilot, Guerilla Warrior, Can-do Rambo. He chuckled aloud and waited.
Nothing happened. The queasy feeling lifted. Stress, he concluded, or more likely the delayed reaction from the acidic glop masquerading as lasagna that he’d gulped down earlier.
Chapter 32
He’d said he would be there, but he wasn’t. She realized that he probably was needed more where he was, assisting with the earthquake rescue efforts. Maybe she was even being selfish for wishing him to be at her side when God possibly wanted him there, helping countless others. And it wasn’t as if she were alone. Her closest supporters, Jasmine and her aunt, were sitting in the hospital waiting room. Perhaps it was best this way. When Aaron finally did show up, his daughter would be born. He would see her and fall in love with her.
As she drifted into a hazy realm of partial consciousness from the anesthesia, her thoughts were of Aaron and their daughter. In her peaceful cocoon, she was a disembodied apparition, watching as the tall man pushed the little girl on a park swing. “Higher, Daddy, higher,” the shrill childish voice rang out.
“No, that’s high enough,” the calm voice of the father, the protector.
She wanted to be there in the park with them, but somehow she simply could not break out of the shroud that confined her and she drifted into total unconsciousness.
***
“Mrs. Weiss. Can you hear me? Look, you have a beautiful daughter.”
Valerie felt the haze slowly lifting, and she stared in awe at the tiny miracle swaddled in pink blankets who was being presented to her like a sacred offering by a petite white-masked nurse. Valerie focused on the infant whose tiny rosy-cheeked face was contorted as she shrieked high-pitched, angry, indignant shrieks—definitely not cries of pain or even discomfort, but more akin to outrage at having been pulled from a warm, quiet environment into the loud, blinding light of the world.
Surprisingly, her beautiful daughter had silky wisps of reddish hair, and, not so surprisingly, dark blue eyes like Aaron’s—at least they were blue at the moment.
“It’s all right. Don’t cry,” she croaked hoarsely to the baby, who stopped in mid-wail, long enough to seemingly make eye contact, and then toned the shrieks down to whimpers. Valerie’s arms ached to reach out and hold her, but for some reason she could barely move.
“It’s okay. The baby’s fine,” the nurse told her, “but we can’t leave her with you just now because she needs monitoring.”
“Monitoring?”
“Well, she is slightly premature and her lungs are a little weak.”
Weak? How could she have weak lungs and scream so loudly?
“Can I go with her?”
“Not now. You’re still in the recovery room and you have to rest. Your doctor will come in to explain things to you.”
Explain things? She didn’t like the sound of that, and she didn’t understand why she felt so feeble.
“Are you sure the baby’s okay?”
“Yes, Mrs. Weiss. Don’t worry. You’re going to be fine, too. Just rest. When the anesthesia wears off, everything will make sense.”
Of course it would. She knew all about standard procedure, so why was she acting so dense? Valerie closed her eyes and allowed her thoughts to drift.
***
“It’s all over. Can you believe that, Val? I got to see her for only a second, but gosh, she’s a living doll.”
Mildly surprised that she felt very little pain, Valerie looked at a beaming Jasmine, who was standing by her bedside, gripping her hand. A few feet away, she could see her Aunt Marilyn seated in a nearby chair in the claustrophobic room. To her left, the open privacy curtain revealed that the bed next to her was unoccupied. She breathed a sigh of relief that she was in a regular room and not in ICU. She also noticed that there was only a saline solution dripping into her veins from the towering IV and no trace of blood being transfused. The doctor had talked to her while she was in the recovery room and she knew her baby was okay in the neonatal unit, but, for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what else had been said and there was only one major thought on her mind.
“Where…where’s Aaron? Did he come?”
“He’s here,” Jasmine said. “Just got in a little over an hour ago. He was in your room but you were asleep and he didn’t want to wake you.”
Aaron had flown back. He had been in her room. Her heart thudded so loudly, she wondered if Jasmine heard it. “But that’s so ridiculous. He should have awakened me. He is coming back, isn’t he?”
“Of course he is.” Her aunt joined Jasmine at the bedside.
Confused, Valerie looked at her aunt. “What time is it?”
“Almost nine o’clock.”
“What?” She stared incredulously at the black slit of night sky that was exposed by the window curtain. “But it’s dark.”
“That’s right. It’s nine at night,” Aunt Marilyn said. “You had the caesarean in the afternoon around three o’clock, remember? There were some complications, and…”
“What complications?”
“Nothing too obvious,” Jasmine said calmly. “Besides, you have a beautiful little girl.”
“I bled a lot, didn’t I?” Valerie asked, starting to remember what she had been told in the recovery room.
“Yes,” her aunt admitted, “but the doctor’s got it under control and you’re okay now. You might have to stay in the hospital a few days longer than you intended, though.”
Valerie let it sink in and shrugged. What she had been told was hardly a surprise. Her mind wasn’t really on her own health issues anyway, because her heart ached with frustration over not being able to hold her newborn; she felt sorry for her tiny daughter who was among strangers. “Where’s my baby?” she asked, momentarily forgetting what the doctors had told her. “Why can’t I hold her?”
“You need to rest,” her aunt said, “and the baby is being taken care of. She’s perfectly okay.”
“She’s just a little premature, like Jonathan was,” Jasmine added. “They have to monitor her. You know about that stuff.”
“Jasmine, did Aaron say when he was coming back?”
“No. But I’m sure he’s hanging around nearby and he’ll be in any minute.”
Hanging around. She grimaced. She’d just had his baby and he was hanging around. Well, what did she expect? Nothing had changed for him. She was, after all, still his estranged wife, so his feelings would be twisted, not to mention that he’d been yanked away from the trauma of rescuing earthquake survivors in a foreign country. Surely there was reason enough for her to extend to him a measure of empathy and consideration.
“Did…did he say anything to you?”
“I didn’t really see him long enough to have a conversation,” Jasmine said uneasily. “But of course he’s coming back. It wouldn’t make sense to fly all the way here and just leave without speaking to you.”
“Sense?” Valerie muttered in an undertone, realizing that it was quite possible that Aaron could have done just that. “Remember, we’re talking about a man who has no common sense.”
Aunt Marilyn sighed. “I know it’s difficult, honey. Pray for him and just try to be patient.”
Valerie inhaled deeply, felt a burning pain from where she had been stitched, and exhaled more cautiously. “I must look like the Wicked Witch of the West,” she said, licking her dry lower lip.
Jasmine laughed. “Now you’re starting to sound like yourself.” She fumbled in her bag for a compact. “Take a look. The mirror won’t break.”
Nervously, Valerie glanced at her reflection and noted that she didn’t look as hideous as she’d imagined. True, her skin was rather pale, and her lips were slightly chapped, but her hair was neatly combed and shiny, her eyes clear. Aaron shouldn’t be overly appalled by her appearance.
“Noah’s here with me,” Jasmine said. “They’re not allowing too many people in your room at one time, so he’s waiting outside.”
“That’s sweet of him to come.” Valerie smiled, remembering Noah’s reaction upon seeing his own newborn, and at that moment her heart warmed as the thought occurred to her that Aaron was probably in the neonatal unit right now visiting their daughter. Of course that’s where he was, and when he returned he’d have that same ingratiating smile on his face.
***
Grateful to her friends and family for affording them the moment of privacy, Aaron, dressed conservatively in black pants with a gray shirt and tie, entered Valerie’s room, bearing a vase of exquisitely formed red and white roses. He set them on the nightstand and studied the gorgeous woman who had literally enraptured his world and then shattered it, all in the course of one year.
The nurses at the station had told him that she was doing very well, all things considered, and that they were checking on her frequently. She certainly didn’t look bad; she was delicately beautiful, actually. Her eyes were shut, as they had been when he’d glanced in the room earlier, but he knew she was awake, and he beheld in reverence the artistry of her long eyelashes fanning against her flawless sienna skin. Yet, relieved as he was to see her looking so well, he knew better than to trust appearances.
“Hey, angel.” He gently kissed her on the forehead and watched as her eyelashes fluttered. “How are you feeling?”
“Aaron.” She breathed his name, her eyes wide open, gazing lovingly into his. “I’m glad you came.”
“I told you I would.” He held her hand and she squeezed his. “I still care deeply about you. That hasn’t changed,” he said.
“You look so tired.” She reached up to trace her finger lightly across his jaw, making him aware that he had done a lousy job shaving.
“I’m fine,” he replied.
“Isn’t she gorgeous?” Valerie murmured, taking his hand again.
“What?” He leaned closer, momentarily confused by her soft-spoken question.
“Her name’s Aisha Joelle. Joelle is for my father…unless you have an objection.”
“No,” he said, suddenly realizing that she was talking about the baby. “That’s a good name.”
“She’s just got the sweetest little face, and she has your eyes.” Valerie smiled in pure bliss. “Did you notice her red hair?”
“Well…no.” He blinked involuntarily. “Actually, I haven’t seen the baby yet.”
“What!” Her hand went limp in his and she withdrew it, as if she’d touched something vile and contaminated.
“Hey, listen, it’s okay. I am going to see her. It’s just that I wanted to see you first.”
Valerie’s eyes darkened in emotional turmoil and she turned her face away from him. “Jasmine told me you
were here an hour earlier.” She spoke through clenched teeth. “Your daughter’s right on this floor, and you’ve had plenty of time to go see her.”
Surprised by the fierce intensity of her response, Aaron placed a hand on her shoulder. “Val, relax, there’s nothing to get upset about. I told you I’m go—”
She turned to look at him again. “Get out!”
He hesitated, momentarily stunned.
“I said get out of my room!”
Aaron recovered and instantly stepped back, giving her space. “Valerie, listen…”
“I don’t care what you have to say!” Her smoldering eyes burst into flame, reducing him to a heap of ash where he stood. “Don’t call me, and don’t you dare come back until you’ve seen your daughter.” Her eyes filled with tears, which began spilling down her face. “Get out now!”
Speechless, he did an about-face and exited just in time to see Jasmine and Valerie’s aunt coming down the aisle.
“Aaron?” Jasmine started, bewilderment in her eyes.
“Excuse me,” he said curtly, emotionlessly “I think she would like you both to go back in.”
“But…but,” Jasmine started, “aren’t you…?”
“Later.” Aaron continued down the hall without looking back.
By the time he reached the neonatal unit, some of his shock had dissipated and changed into resentment at her audacity in ordering him around. He didn’t take orders from anyone—particularly anyone using that tone, and in most cases no one dared. What was the big deal? He really had intended to see the baby, eventually. Why such overwrought anger and urgency? He’d been told the kid was healthy, and it wasn’t like it was going anywhere for the next eighteen or so years. As long as he lived, he didn’t think he would ever understand women.
He hesitated near the door that had a buzzer and was opened only upon showing ID. There was a plaque on the wall nearby that heralded all the rules: All visitors must wash hands, wear provided mask and gown, no smoking, no cell phones, etc., etc. Rules, rules, rules. Frowning irritably, he resisted the urge to leave. He started to push the buzzer but his cell phone rang. Distracted, he went farther down the hall to answer it.
The Sea of Aaron Page 24
