“Excellent,” Dr. Mahoney reported from the front lines. “Do you want a mirror? The head is cresting.”
“Absolutely no,” Mia said, eyes squeezed shut. “No mirrors. It’s bad enough that you’re having to see it.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Babs said, shuddering.
“Suit yourself.” Helen shrugged. “It’s the miracle of life, right in our very midst.” No inflection in her voice, just a stubborn monotone that wanted to share in the miracle.
“Here it is. Push, Mia. Hard!”
Just when Mia thought she should start looking for a bright light or a halo and wings, Dr. Mahoney hooted.
“Baby’s out!”
Mia felt a titantic pressure lift off her body and she closed her eyes in gratitude.
Dr. Mahoney turned the squirming baby toward his mother and beamed. “It’s a boy, Mia. You have a beautiful baby boy.”
“A boy,” she said softly to herself, eyes riveted on the tiny, screaming baby Helen gathered into a blanket. She watched as the nurse wiped him down and wrapped him up, handing him to her carefully.
“Hey, there, sweet boy,” Mia said quietly, stroking his pink cheek with her fingers. “I’m here. Mama’s right here.” The boy’s weeping slowed, his brow furrowed at the warmth that blanketed him. “You’re okay, peanut.”
She watched him watch her, mournful indigo eyes searching the shadows above him for a first look at the voice that had served as his nine-month-long lullaby.
Babs wept quietly beside the bed. “He’s so perfect,” she said into the hand that covered her mouth. “Only God could make something that perfect.”
Mia pulled her fingers across the soft hair of her baby boy and felt the joy of ten thousand mornings fill her. The baby’s eyelids dropped without ceremony and he settled into the crook of Mia’s arms for a much-deserved rest. Only God could make something that perfect. She let the words ring in her ears like a layered peal of bells. Perfection from disaster, grace from self-punishment, beauty from ashes. She leaned to kiss her baby on his nose, offering the moment, the years that stretched in front of her, as an act of grateful worship.
Epilogue
Mia adjusted the baby backpack and pulled Charlie’s foot away from her badgered kidneys.
“It’s only a couple of blocks away,” she said for the fifth time.
“Bug repellent, bug repellent … I know I had some in here.” Adam began throwing things out of an inappropriately large canvas duffel bag and onto the sidewalk in front of Mia’s apartment.
“I’m pretty sure there are no bugs out yet.” Mia squinted up into a cloudless sky and let her eyes close in the warmth that had finally permeated winter. It had been a doozy, that winter, for a variety of reasons, so the sun’s glorious weekend appearance had been met with an impromptu decision to go for a picnic in the park. Adam, however, was not one for impromptu. In fact he had an uncanny ability to sap the spontaneity out of spontaneity.
“I knew it,” he said, holding up a plastic container of OFF! wipes. “And you, you naysayer,” he said, pointing the wipes at Mia. “You’ll thank me when no one comes down with West Nile. Charlie, tell your mom it’s always better to be safe when it comes to plagues.”
Charlie had his face smashed against the back of the pack and was intent on eating a canvas loop that sat at eye level.
“Thanks, dude,” Adam said, forcing Charlie’s pudgy hand into a fist for a knuckle bump. “You are wise beyond your six months.”
Babs burst out the front door in full regalia. A large-brimmed red straw hat topped a matching sundress, a bit optimistic for April, Mia thought. Babs had broken out the self-tanner weeks prior so her limbs looked sun-kissed and ready for the afternoon. Black patent leather flip-flops, impossibly heeled, showed off a recent pedicure.
“I’m ready!” she announced, striking a pose at the top of the stairs.
“Girl, you’re always ready,” Silas said with admiration when he joined her on the stairs. “How about turning a little readiness this way,” he said, puckered up and leaning in for a kiss.
“Stop it,” Babs said, shaking her head in feigned modesty. “Charlie is watching.”
“Ain’t nothing wrong with a man getting loved by his girl, am I right, little man?” Silas leaned down to give first Mia and then Charlie a peck on the cheek. “How’s my family?”
“Very well, Silas,” Mia said, smiling. She’d never had a stepfather, but she’d decided Silas would be a perfect fit. The wedding was scheduled for the end of the month, just before Babs returned to her seafaring duties with Silas at her side. Mia looked at her mother and noted again the way her eyes danced when in Silas’s company. After many years of covering it up, Babs had shed a layer of loneliness that was carefully folded and locked away by the man who now cradled her feisty heart.
“Shall we?” Adam said. He wore a canvas hat reminiscent of Gilligan and Mia had to suppress a grin at the effect.
“Flor and Frankie are meeting us at the park,” she said and fell into step with Adam behind her mother and Silas. The older couple began a leisurely stroll. Their voices were hushed, arms entwined with Silas guiding Babs and her heels around puddles in the sidewalk.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take Chaz?” Adam asked. “I feel really weird having you tote him around. You’re kind of short.”
Mia laughed. “Thanks. But I’m just fine. He’s a whole lot lighter than the load you’ve got strapped to your bod.”
He looked down at the picnic basket, the cooler, and the duffel, their straps and handles crisscrossed over his frame. “I hope I got everything.”
She took his hand and they walked in silence. Charlie babbled to a noisy bird that perched in a tree across the street. A car splashed through a deep puddle and a little girl laughed through the open window.
“We made it through the winter,” Mia said, shaking her head. “Didn’t it feel like it lasted forever?”
Adam raised her hand to his mouth to brush it with a kiss. “May I never see that side of you again.”
“Hey, that’s not fair! I—”
Adam was laughing. “I’m just kidding.” He jerked his thumb back to Charlie. “He wouldn’t eat well, wouldn’t sleep well, you wouldn’t let me help.…”
“Not entirely true,” Mia said. “You babysat so I could get my hair cut.”
“Right.” His tone was wry. “That occurred once every other month. What would you have done without me?”
“All right, so it took me awhile to let you help. I wanted to do it by myself. Prove that I could do it by myself.”
“Takes a village, people.” Adam let Charlie hold his finger in a death grip as they walked. “I’m just glad you got over yourself.”
“Me, too,” she said, not even bothering to argue the point. It had taken a good three months to reach the bottom of her reserves but by that time she was ready to officially denounce her pride and take any help even the postman would give her. Babs had done her best but had turned out to be useless during the night, late on the uptake before ten in the morning, and chomping at the bit to get out of the house by dinnertime. That allowed for a precious few hours of help, which Mia accepted with relief. The other sixteen hours a day were hers to deal with and she’d felt the need to do it solo. Charlie, though, packed a punch in such a small body, and Mia had finally admitted her little family would be better off welcoming the support they were offered.
They stopped at an intersection.
“Lars is coming this weekend, right?” Adam pushed the button to trigger a green crosswalk.
“Yes,” she said. “Friday to Sunday.” Her effort to keep the sarcasm out of her voice failed miserably. “Two and a half days to dabble in parenthood. Certainly a fair representation of what I do on a weekly basis.”
“Now, now, s
ingle mother. Bitterness does not become you.” The gentleness in Adam’s chiding told her he understood better than most the precarious balance she tread.
“I’m not bitter,” she said. “He’s doing what he can, I suppose. He does love Charlie, in his own way. And I’d never be able to pay for good child care without his help. But I can see him visibly relieved when he boards the plane back to Seattle after each visit.”
Adam squeezed her hand. “Aren’t you relieved too?”
“I would be if I didn’t have such a difficult relationship to tend to here.”
“That’s it,” he said, jogging ahead a few steps into the cleared crosswalk to block her progress. “Put down the baby. Greco-Roman.”
Babs heard the commotion behind her and stopped at the curb with one hand on her hip. “Children, can we make it one more block? We’re almost there and you’re scaring the baby.”
Mia and Adam laughed at her concern as Charlie was giggling like a fiend while Mia hopped around dodging Adam’s advances.
Silas chuckled and steered Babs by the elbow toward the park once again. Adam saw that they’d averted their eyes and pulled Mia toward him in a long, sweet kiss.
“You’re goofy,” Mia said, glancing at the cockeyed hat that topped his head.
“And yet you can’t get enough,” he said and kissed her again. He pulled away. “When will you marry me and let me make an honest woman out of you?”
She shook her head. “We just met.” She waited for an uproar and wasn’t disappointed.
“Just met?” he said. “We’ve known each other for years! Since you first came into the store and I started nursing my unrequited love! And I was there for all of Charlie’s pregnancy—”
“Not technically. Not for the very beginning, for example.”
“I’m choosing not to visualize that.” He continued over Mia’s giggling. “I brought you food, I calmed you in times of chicken-less-ness, I called the cab for the hospital.”
“Dr. Finkelstein cautions her patients against moving too fast.”
Adam groaned. “You mean the woman who can’t ever see you because she’s busy with Glitter the dog?”
“Sparkles.”
“You’re holding Sparkles and Friend’s opinions higher than mine?” His voice cracked with a forgotten adolescent charm.
“Actually I fired her.”
“Suh-weet. Really?”
“No. One can’t really fire one’s therapist. I just told her I wouldn’t need to see her anymore.”
Adam grinned. “Glitter will be so happy to have the undivided attention. Plus now you can put my education to good use and pay me for psychoanalysis. I’m the good guy here, remember? I’ve never once been unfaithful to you with a terrier.”
“I know.” She stood on her tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “You’ve been a rock star. And I’ve always wanted to marry a rock star.”
He smiled and they began walking again. “You would be a great rock star wife. Hot, a little trashy, big knockers.”
“Wait until I’m done breast-feeding. You’ll rue those words.”
Charlie laughed at something very funny to the infant mind; his timing was impeccable.
“Good man,” Adam said and blew a raspberry on Charlie’s chunky leg. “Already acknowledging the value of an hourglass figure.”
Mia rolled her eyes but felt happiness permeate her body, her mind, the movement of her legs onto the soft bike path entering the park. She took a deep breath of daffodil-drenched air and lifted a silent prayer of gratitude to God. Even in the bleak afternoons of December, January, February, when her heart was dangerously black with resentment toward Lars, toward her circumstances, even toward the baby that sucked her dry with his need for her, she’d felt underneath the layers of discontent an abiding and stubborn love reaching out to pull her in. She’d felt the heaviness of her journey lifted by people who stood committed to her and to her little family. The women from Ebenezer, who’d filled her apartment with home-cooked meals for eight full weeks after Charlie’s birth, clucking about his beauty and wrapping her in strong arms for a prayer of blessing each time before they’d leave. Silas, who’d sneak upstairs on his own and push her out of her apartment so she could go for a walk to “clear her mind.” Babs, who’d shown a different, tenacious mother love for her and for Charlie in the way she held them, cared for them, put them to sleep in beds that were never made any more. Frankie and Flor, who’d joined forces and given her in-home pedicures and demanded a monthly movie night, just the girls and Charlie.
Babs and Silas reached Frankie and Flor and gathered the girls in a large embrace. They turned en masse and waved like fools at the cargo strapped to Mia’s back.
“There’s Flor, Charlie,” she said, waving back. “And Aunt Frankie and Nana Babs and Pop … Look at all the people who love you.”
Charlie kicked in wild agreement, anxious to greet his adoring posse. Adam ran ahead to set the picnic table and Mia followed him with her eyes. She smiled as she approached, filled again with the strange beauty that comes from being loved by a man who knows himself and the girl of his affections well but chooses to build a life together anyway. Light filled the park and Mia allowed joy to sink into any parched and broken surfaces still living within her. She opened her arms to the bevy of hands reaching for her son, reaching for her, pulling them both into the bottomless embrace of family.
… a little more …
When a delightful concert comes to an end,
the orchestra might offer an encore.
When a fine meal comes to an end,
it’s always nice to savor a bit of dessert.
When a great story comes to an end,
we think you may want to linger.
And so, we offer ...
AfterWords—just a little something more after you
have finished a David C. Cook novel.
We invite you to stay awhile in the story.
Thanks for reading!
Turn the page for ...
• Excerpts from the private journals of Barbara “Babs” Rathbun
• Announcing with Great Joy …
• Adam’s Begrudgingly Vegetarian Portabello Burgers
Excerpts from the private journals of Barbara “Babs” Rathbun
January 1
Happy New Year! Could I possibly have a better job? I spent last night counting down to the brand-new year on the upper deck, next to the topless area that, thankfully, was not in use due to the hour. Though I must say I’ve seen plenty of those people only minimally interested in the sun and mostly interested in the parade, if you know what I’m saying. Last night I danced with not one but three doctors, one of whom is recently single and from SPAIN. He showed me how they eat one grape for every chime that sounds at midnight. Muy interesante. Unfortunately, he (Miguel? Manuel? Something like that) had to catch an early flight out of port to get back to saving the world, one surgery at a time. I certainly did not stand in his way. Where would all of us be without professionals like him?!
February 12
Having a very difficult time getting a hold of my daughter, who appears to be stuck in the late nineties with regards to her emotional maturity. I’ve already written at length about her similarly troubling FASHION time warp and will not take more time on the subject here. To date: twelve phone calls, ten answering-machine messages, two postcards, all unanswered. Considering taking more drastic measures.
Date Unknown
Mia is pregnant by that wretch of a Scandinavian. I’m nearly beside myself with horror and grief. I never should have let her watch that sex ed. video in sixth grade. My work experience has been called upon without pause; there’s something so comforting to people in having a sunny disposition in the face of crisis. Just this morning, as I was picking up Mia’s mail,
her neighbor, a very nice black man who might be related to Barack Obama, said I looked like the face of sweetness itself. I smiled a winner smile to show my gratitude but had to wipe away tears on my way back up to Mia’s place. Goes to show: The show must go on but the actress leads a lonely life.
Listened to Barbara Streisand the rest of the morning.
May 21
Wazzup wazzup wazzup! I’m hip to the hop with urban culture and putting down ROOTS in Chi-town. This is a city that explodes with high adventure and new experiences, not the least of which is soul food. Silas and I have visited three of his favorite restaurants. At Sugar Snap’s, I became fast friends with our waitress, Shanelle, who has invited me to her house to teach me how to braid hair. She swears it doesn’t matter that my last cut left me with no longer than two inches of length. I was forced to believe her. I mean, remember when Oprah showed up one day—just like that—with long and perfectly coiffed curls? If she can do it in Chicago, so can I! Peace out.
June 3
Mia is not far enough along to be acting so miserable. She absolutely wigged today when I surprised her by cleaning out her closet. Apparently waffle-print henleys are still all the rage among tree-huggers. She insisted on keeping ALL NINE.
June 30
Chicago has lost its luster. The heat today will reach a scorching 101 degrees, no breeze, 92% humidity. WHY oh WHY did I quit my job?!?!
July 15
Sweet Silas brought me a bouquet of baby’s breath today. Told me it reminded him of me, beautiful and delicate but undervalued by those who need my help. That man made me cry, I tell you.
August, doesn’t matter the exact day.
Hot, hot, hot, miserably miserable. I refuse to take public transportation just on the sweat principle. Even children seem tired out by summer. Were there not Lake Michigan, I think the entire city would go mad. I tried discussing the lunacy of living here with Mia, but she was not particularly receptive. Must be the final trimester. That and the swelling.
Stretch Marks Page 24
