by Susan Gable
“Whoa, wait a minute. Portland? I made all the arrangements for Dr. Wong to handle the transplant here.”
Amelia cradled her belly in her hands. “And I unmade them. I’ll be taking Jordan and the baby back to Maine as soon as your sister says we can leave. In about a week, she’ll be back under the care of her original hematologist, and preparing for the transplant.”
“But—”
“No buts.” Amelia’s expression was frosty. “Let me remind you, these are my children. I will decide what’s best for them. And what’s best for Jordan is to return to her original care team for the transplant.”
The muscles in Finn’s neck knotted and his hands curled. “What happened to Jordan being our daughter?”
“You put me out! And now I’m doing the same to you. Get out! And don’t come back!”
Bethany bustled into the room. “Sounds like your five minutes are up, Finn. You need to leave.”
He backed toward the door, hands in the air. “Fine. I’ll be in the waiting room.”
Bethany advanced on him, pressing him until he finally stepped out into the hallway. “No, you won’t. Because I can’t trust you not to sneak in there and upset her again. I told you not to upset her. Can’t you see the woman has enough going on without dealing with you?”
“But he’s my son.”
“And once he’s born, you’ll be allowed to see him. I told you, as long as he’s inside her, he belongs only to her. I’ll call you after the delivery.”
“Any idea when that will be?”
She shook her head. “Babies have their own timetables. But it’s going to be hours at least. I’d wager on tomorrow being his birthday.”
“Can I at least see Elke before I go?”
“Elke’s in no shape for visitors, either. You can see her after her boy is born, too.” Bethany laid a hand on his arm. “I know it’s hard.”
Finn glanced down at the floor, cleared his throat against the sudden lump in it. “I—I wanted to be there. To see Chip born. I at least wanted to be in on the start of his life if she’s going to take him away from me.”
“I’m sorry it’s not working out for all of you.” His sister rubbed his shoulder. “I’ll call you. Go home, Beginagain.”
“Begin again.” He snorted. Yeah, he wished he could rewind the last three months and start over.
IN FRESH’S PRIVATE DINING room, which, thankfully, had been unoccupied tonight, Finn shoved his empty glass across the white linen tablecloth at Hayden. “Another round, bartender.”
Greg sat at Hayden’s right, across the small table from Finn. A full glass of vodka occupied the only empty place.A tribute to Ian, the missing of the Four Musketeers—the four middle Hawkins boys. A maudlin touch Finn had felt appropriate tonight.
Hayden, self-appointed guardian of the bottle, splashed more into the rocks glass.
Finn lifted it. “All for one and one for all.”
Greg and Hayden repeated the toast, clinking their still very full glasses against his.
“I really ’preciate you guys bein’ here tonight.”
“Shut up,” Hayden said. “No one likes a sappy drunk.”
“I’m not drunk.” The tightness in his chest that at times seemed like a vise grip crushing him had dulled only a little. Likewise, the image of Amelia’s pained face, which had kept appearing in his mind, had only fuzzed, not vanished.
He drained the vodka. The ice cubes rattled when he slapped the glass down in front of Hayden again. “My son’s birthday, and I’m not there.” And given Amelia’s intention to return to Maine with his children, it would likely be only the first of many birthdays, many other special moments he missed out on.
Greg and Hayden exchanged a look. Greg shrugged, then nodded. Hayden poured. “You’re going to regret this in the morning.”
“No, I won’t. Just gotta get through tonight. Tomorrow I can go see my son. Bethany—Dr. Hawkins—said so.”
“She’s not going to let you near him if you’re hungover,” Greg said.
“I don’t get hangovers. From vodka, anyway. Which is why we’re drinking it.” He squinted at his brothers’ glasses. The booze level didn’t seem noticeably lower in theirs. “You guys aren’t keeping up. Not even close.”
“I have to deal with a hundred teenagers at school—” Hayden glanced at his watch “—in six hours. The administration frowns on staff showing up reeking of alcohol.”
Finn hoisted his glass again. “Sorry.”
“S’okay. All for one, right?”
“Right.” Finn slugged back two more gulps. “So, Greg, when are you and Shannon gonna have a kid of your own? I mean Ryan’s great, but…”
Greg grinned. “As soon as I can convince her.” He toyed with his glass. “She’s preoccupied with the court stuff so we can adopt Ryan. But his father’s an unexpected issue. You’d think being convicted of murdering your wife in front of your kid would automatically terminate your parental rights, but it doesn’t. She and Cathy are petitioning the court to make that happen.”
“You mean a murderer has more rights to his child than I do to Jordan? Crazy.”
The door opened and Kara stepped in, a blue plastic Quickie Mart bag in her hand. “I got what you wanted, Finn. You can’t honestly tell me you’re going to eat this.” She dropped the bag on the table in front of him.
“Yep. And if you tell anyone, you’re fired.”
“Ooh, I’m shaking. I’ve got another job, remember?” She leaned over, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “Hang in there, big brother. Love you.”
He patted her arms. “Back atcha.”
“Night, guys.”
Judging by Hayden’s shifting expression as Kara left, Finn figured his little sister was making hand signals behind his back on her way out the door. He turned, but she was already gone.
The plastic rustled as Finn dug into the bag. He pulled out three packages, tossed one to each of his brothers. They tore them open. Finn sank his teeth into the spongy, cream-filled yellow cake. Despite the stiff texture, the preservatives, the fact that he could easily make far better, there was something comforting about scarfing down Twinkies with his brothers.
Especially Twinkies washed down with soul-numbing vodka.
Which blissfully had started to quiet the torment. Finn pillowed his head on his arm and closed his eyes.
“Think he’s had enough now?” Greg asked.
“Looks like it. Let’s pour him into bed so we can both get some sleep.” The faraway sound of a chair pushing back from the table followed Hayden’s response.
One on either side of him, his brothers hauled him to his feet. Which Finn did his best to move.
“Up, Finn. Lift your foot up,” Greg ordered when they got to the stairs.
“Oh, hell, I don’t have the patience for this,” Hayden said. He hefted Finn like a hundred pound sack of flour and draped him around his shoulders in a fireman’s carry.
“Never leave a man…” Finn murmured.
“Semper fi, bro. Stay behind me, Greg.”
“Like I’m going to catch you both if you go down with him? I don’t think so.”
The bobbing motion as they climbed the stairs made Finn’s stomach queasy. He closed his eyes.
His next sensation was free-falling onto a mattress. Somebody tugged off his sneakers, which thudded on the floor.
Somewhere, a muffled cell phone rang. Finn’s butt vibrated.
“Where the hell’s his phone?” Greg asked. Hands patted down his front pockets.
“Roll him over. It’s in the back.”
Finn found himself flipped on his face. He moaned in protest.
“It’s Bethany,” Hayden said. “Is the baby here yet?”
Finn struggled to roll back over. Like a turtle stuck on its shell, it took him several tries.
“Elke’s boy is? That’s great.” Silence passed. “You’re kidding. Amelia changed her mind? Gotta tell you, that’s not happening. He�
�s in no shape to go anywhere right now. He’s…kind of under the table.”
“’Melia changed her mind?” A surge of hope flooded Finn. He tried to sit up, but fell backward as the room started spinning. Blackness closed in from all sides.
Shitdamnhell…the oblivion he’d been seeking claimed him.
“HE’S NOT COMING?” The shriekiness in her voice made Amelia cringe. She trembled, the sheets beneath her in the upright hospital bed soaked with sweat. “Why not?”
Bethany laid a calming hand on her shoulder. “Apparently he’s had a little too much to drink tonight.”“That figures. That figures.”
“Well, sometimes men do stupid things. As a chef, Finn loves his ale and wine, but he generally can hold his booze. It’s not often he’s drunk.”
“Sure. Sure he’s not. Doesn’t matter. I asked him to come, and he’s not coming. Figures.” Fire flashed across her stomach as another contraction gripped her. Marie helped her roll to her side, and used a tennis ball to provide counterpressure to her lower back. By the time the contraction ebbed, panic had given way to defeat. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I’m done.”
“Amelia, you can. You’re almost there,” Bethany soothed, stroking her hair. “Soon you can start pushing, and Chip will be here.”
Amelia burst into tears.
Marie passed a picture of Jordan to Bethany. Bethany held it in front of Amelia’s face. “For her, right, Amelia? This is all for her. You can do this.”
Maybe Finn’s inability to come was fate’s way of keeping her from making a bigger mistake.
Her uncertainty was washed away by the tidal wave of another contraction.
FINN LEANED HIS HEAD against the nursery window, hand splayed across the Plexiglas. On the other side, his son slumbered. In the next clear-plastic bed over, his son’s cousin, Jeremy Kristoff, Jr., to be called JJ, squirmed despite being tightly wrapped in a blanket.
Finn didn’t even know his son’s name. They’d discussed it, but never come to an agreement on one. And now he had no idea what Amelia had chosen to call him.Then again, it was going to be hard to think of him as anything other than Chip.
Finn had awakened late that morning, hangover free, but hazy on some of the details of the night. A voice mail from Bethany provided the details of his son’s birth. She’d told him to come to the hospital during afternoon visiting hours, when all the babies would be in the nursery instead of their mothers’ rooms. Finn had called his staff and given them the day off, then slapped a Closed and It’s a Boy sign on the front door.
After that he’d contacted a florist and sent Amelia a dozen red roses. His next call went to his sister Cathy, a lawyer who specialized in family law.
“He’s a fine-looking boy.” Michael Hawkins clapped his hand on Finn’s shoulder.
“He looks so small next to Elke’s son.” Compared to most of the babies in the nursery, actually.
“He’s six pounds, two ounces. That’s a fine size for thirty-seven weeks. Remember, JJ is only a few days from full term,” Lydia said.
“Still…” The knot in Finn’s stomach had nothing to do with what he’d consumed the night before, and everything to do with his worries about his son. And his daughter.
“He’s big enough,” Lydia murmured. “You have to have faith. We are not going to lose another one.”
Michael crossed behind Finn to wrap his arms around his wife as she looked through the window. He nuzzled her ear.
Finn’s chest tightened. He’d never expected to have what his parents had, not after two divorces. But now…he wanted it. More than anything else in the world.
And he wanted it with Amelia.
If that wasn’t to be…
He stared at the two boys. Cousins born the same day. Three hours and change apart.
He vowed that whatever he had to do, his son would know his family. Know him.
Bethany rushed down the corridor, cheeks flushed, the edges of her coat flapping, exhaustion in her eyes. “Sorry I’m a little late. Got backed up at the office.” She excused herself as she wound her way around several other family members gathered to gaze at the two babies, and pressed next to Finn. “So what do you think?”
“Is he okay? He looks so little.”
“If he wasn’t okay, he’d be in the NICU, not here. His Apgars were 9 and 10 out of 10. He’s a miracle on so many levels. Come on.” Bethany crooked her finger at him.
“Where are we going?”
“You want to hold him, don’t you?”
“Absolutely.”
Bethany led him to an empty LDRP room. Like the ones he’d seen Amelia in, it had glossy wooden floors, a green love seat under the window and a gliding rocking chair. The empty bed was covered with a green-and-yellow floral bedspread.
His parents settled on the love seat. Finn paced the small space while Bethany went to get the baby. She wheeled him into the room in his bassinet. “Sit down.”
Finn sat in the rocking chair while his sister lifted Chip. “Make sure you support his head,” she said, placing him in his arms.
“I’ve held a baby before, Bethany.”
Warmth from the tiny wrapped bundle radiated against his chest. Brown peach fuzz passed for Chip’s hair. Finn chuckled, caressing the down with one fingertip. It circled the baby’s head, with sparse clumps on the top, like a balding man. “I hope this doesn’t indicate what he has to look forward to later in life.”
Chip yawned, then opened his eyes, looking up at Finn.
The hospital intercom chiming with pages, the murmur from the people in the hall by the nursery, even the presences of Finn’s own parents and sister in the room faded. His focus narrowed until it was just him and his little boy. A mutual admiration society of two as they stared at each other. “Hey there, buddy. It’s me. Daddy. Happy birthday, Chip. Sorry I’m a little late.”
A flash shattered the moment, making them both blink, as Lydia captured the scene. Chip’s nose scrunched up and his lower lip quivered.
Finn sucked in a deep breath. His son had Amelia’s nose, and her eyes. If he only had some teeth to bite down on his lower lip…
“He looks like you,” his mother said, leaning over to stroke Chip’s cheek. The baby’s head turned toward her finger, mouth working.
“Really? I was just thinking how much he looked like Amelia. And that seems only fair, given that she did all the work.”
“You helped,” Bethany said. “You took excellent care of his mother when she needed you.”
Finn shrugged. “I suppose.”
Lydia held out her hands. “Can I hold him?”
He tightened his grip for a moment. Then sighed. “Sure.”
Bethany took the camera, snapping various poses. Chip with his grandparents. With his grandparents and father. It was the shot of three generations of Hawkins men that made Finn blink hard.
He cleared his throat. “I’ve got to talk to her, Bethany. And I’m taking our son with me.”
His father transferred the baby to him. Then he cupped Finn’s cheek, giving it a gentle tap. “Good for you. You fight. For all of them. I promise you, son, it’s worth it. Don’t you give up.”
“No, sir.” With Chip cradled firmly in his left arm, Finn strode down the hall to Amelia’s room. He paused outside the door, dragged in a deep breath. Then he looked at the ceiling. “If you’re listening…I could use some help here.”
He rapped on the half-opened door, then went in.
Jordan lay curled on the love seat, her video camera on the cushion, under her hand. She was asleep with her mouth slightly open. Amelia, partially upright in the bed, was also dozing. “Shhh,” he said to Chip. “They’re both sleeping.”
He carried the baby across the room, then knelt in front of the love seat to look at Jordan. Her pasty skin made the dark smudges under her eyes stand out even more. Finn’s stomach rolled. He hadn’t seen her in over a week, since the last time he’d taken her to Dr. Wong’s. She hadn’t needed a transfusion t
hat day, only platelets, but now…she really didn’t look good.
“This is your sister, Chip. Have you met her yet? She’s the princess you’ve come to save. Daddy’s little hero.”
He carried his son to the empty bassinet in the corner of the room, laid him inside. Then he eased down on the edge of the bed. Even in sleep, Amelia looked exhausted. He brushed the hair back from her forehead. Unable to stop himself, he leaned over and kissed her.
Her mouth softened beneath his lips. For a moment, she kissed him back. Then she inhaled deeply and her eyes flew open.
He drew away.
“You’re kinda late, pal.”
“You kicked me out.”
“I changed my mind. A woman’s allowed to change her mind when she’s in labor.”
“I’m sorry. I sent flowers.” He offered her a hopeful grin.
“And they’re very lovely. You were drunk?”
He shifted farther from her on the bed. “I was looking for a way to forget not being here with you. It seemed like a good idea at the time. It was killing me.”
She shrugged. “Your loss.”
“Yeah. It sure as hell was. Look, Amelia, I’m here to ask you, one more time. Don’t leave me. Stay! Let Jordan have the transplant here, so I, so the whole family, can help. I mean, how are you going to take care of her, and take care of Chip at the same time?”
She blew out a long breath. “Finn…it’s a done deal. The cord blood’s been processed and shipped to Portland. As for Chip, I’ve already made arrangements with a nanny agency in Portland. Look, I have a life in Maine. I have a practice. If anything’s left of it at this point. But it’s how I support myself and my kids. What would you have me do? Just give all that up?”
“I can support you all. The restaurant’s doing well—”
“How would you feel about giving up everything? Why don’t I hear you saying you’ll give up career and family to come to Maine with us? Why is it all about us sacrificing to stay here?”
Finn opened his mouth, but wasn’t sure what to say. So he closed it.
“Exactly. That’s what I thought.” She took his hand. “Look, Finn, you’re a really great guy. More prince than toad.”
