Surrender To Sultry

by Macy Beckett

  They jumped out of bed and scurried around their bedroom, clumsily hopping into pant legs and yanking shirts over their heads. Five minutes later, they dashed down the front walk to Colt’s cruiser, looking disheveled and mismatched, but giddy as kids on Christmas Eve. Colt flipped on the siren, and they barreled to the hospital, linking their fingers and holding tight to one another.

  Once they arrived, Colt parked at an awkward angle, taking up two spaces, but he didn’t seem to care. They jumped out of the car and jogged to the afterhours entrance.

  Leah flashed her employee badge to the security officer stationed at the front desk, and he waved her through. When they reached the elevator, the excitement that had propelled her into a frenzy began to morph into the sick weight of anxiety. Colt noticed at once, which didn’t surprise her. He knew her better than anyone.

  “You okay?” he asked, punching the up button.

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “What if she changes her mind?”

  Leah had refused to allow a single baby item inside their home for that reason. Not one pacifier. She’d even made Rachel promise not to throw her a baby shower. If the adoption fell through, she didn’t want to come home to a painted nursery or heaps of presents to remind her of their loss.

  The elevator doors parted, and Colt wrapped an arm around her shoulders, leading her inside. He pushed the button to take them to the fifth floor, then cupped her face. “If she changes her mind, we’ll try again. As many times as it takes.” He pulled her into a tight hug that promised he’d never falter. When they parted, he made sure to add, “And whatever happens, you’ve always got me.”

  She warmed all over with loving him. “We’ve got each other.”

  The doors opened, and they walked hand-in-hand to the labor and delivery waiting room. Shannon, their adoption facilitator, was already expecting them. With a wave, she stood from her chair, and Leah immediately scanned her face for signs of trouble, finding none.

  “Congratulations,” Shannon said with a sleepy smile. “It’s a girl.”

  Salty tears rushed Leah’s vision, forcing her to blot her eyes with her shirt sleeve. “And Rosaria?” she asked. “Is she okay?”

  Leah knew firsthand the agony the young woman was facing. They’d never met the birth mother in person, because Rosaria had insisted on a closed adoption with no contact whatsoever. But they knew she was a young second-generation citizen without much family support, and the baby’s father had been deported to Ecuador. Leah’s heart broke for the girl, and she finally understood how Diane had felt all those years ago—overjoyed to add a child to her family, but bereaved for the woman making the sacrifice.

  Shannon nodded, but dropped eye contact. “I keep offering to have the baby brought to her room, but she insists she doesn’t want to see her. It’s easier that way for some women.”

  Leah couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. At first they leaked silently down her cheeks, but then memories of Noah’s birth resurfaced, and a series of wet sobs wracked her chest. Colt snatched a tissue from the nearby coffee table and handed it to her before surrounding her in his embrace. She clung to him and cried violently for what seemed like forever—first for herself and then for the woman who’d given her a second chance at motherhood. When the pain finally dulled, she apologized to Shannon.

  “You have nothing to feel sorry about,” Shannon said. “This is an emotional process for everyone involved.” Then she said the only thing that could possibly make Leah smile. “Are you ready to hold your daughter?”

  She and Colt shared a bittersweet glance, sorrow from their past mingling with hope for the future. “Absolutely,” Leah said.

  They followed Shannon to an empty recovery room and washed their hands, then sat beside each other on the bed while Shannon called for the baby. Minutes later, a nurse wheeled in a plastic bassinet with a pink tag affixed to the top, labeled Girl, Sanchez, 6.2 oz. 19 in.

  Leah’s pulse quickened, and she couldn’t sit still any longer. She stood and peered down at the baby girl, barely visible beneath white swaddling blankets and a pink-striped newborn cap. Leah had already been invited to do so, but she felt like she needed permission to touch the child. She gave the nurse a questioning glance.

  “Go ahead,” the woman prompted with a smile.

  With careful fingers, Leah worked one hand beneath the baby’s delicate neck and the other beneath her diapered bottom. Supporting her head, she lifted the tiny sleeping bundle from her bassinet and cradled her against her chest. She was so light, and yet she pulled at Leah’s heartstrings with ten tons of force. With her puffy eyes, smooshed nose, and light bruising along her forehead, she was the most beautiful baby Leah had ever seen. Tufts of jet black hair peeked out from beneath her cap, just like her daddy’s, even though they weren’t genetically linked.

  Leah took a step back and rejoined Colt on the edge of the bed so they could share this moment. He scooted closer and wrapped an arm around Leah’s waist, admiring their baby in silence for a while. With one light fingertip, he stroked the baby’s cheek and said, “Hello, Grace. We’ve waited a long time to meet you.”

  “Grace,” Leah repeated. Until now she’d barely allowed herself to speak the name for fear of jinxing herself. But she wasn’t afraid anymore. “We love you, Grace Rosaria Bea.”

  Leah lifted Grace high enough to take in her sweet newborn scent. She bonded to her baby at once, her body recognizing this child as her own and overwhelming her with a maternal urge she’d only felt once before—when the timing wasn’t right.

  Gazing into her baby girl’s cherubic face, Leah wondered how she’d ever believed God had forsaken her. How shortsighted she’d been. He hadn’t left her side for a moment—instead, He’d guided her to the perfect family for Noah, and when she was ready, He reconnected her with the only man she’d ever truly loved. Now He’d blessed them with a child of their own.

  A warm feeling of peace stirred inside Leah’s breast, faith that she’d found her purpose on this earth, and realization that she deserved the gift of happiness.

  Leah rested her head on Colt’s solid chest, and they cherished their baby girl together. As a family.

  About the Author

  Macy Beckett is an unrepentant escapist who left teaching to write hot and humorous romances. No offense to her former students, but her new career is way more fun! She lives just outside Cincinnati in the appropriately named town of Loveland, Ohio, with her husband and three children. In addition to romance, she publishes young adult science fiction under the name Melissa Landers. Visit her on the web at macybeckett.com.