Pleasures of Promise Lake

by Marti Shane

  “Are you on the list?”

  “Sloane Martin.” Jake gave her name.

  “Patient?” the woman scorned, and Sam felt sick. She hadn’t asked for the name.

  “Lee,” she choked out, doubting the woman could hear over the busy beeps and buzzing coming from speakers lining the desk. The woman’s face softened immediately, an affection for her little brother clear. Her thin lips turned up in a smile as she picked up a phone.

  “Baby Lee has a visitor,” she announced sweetly to the person on the other end, and pointed to the clipboard for Sam to sign in. “He’s doing great,” she gushed. “His doc comes on shift in a few hours, and he might step him down tonight.” She retracted the clipboard when Jake went to sign. “Just her honey,” she said, pointing to a row of chairs. “You can park it over there.”

  Jake almost growled at the woman, and Sam didn’t want to go alone. She’d never held a baby or even wanted to. It’s not like it could talk or would even know she was there. Just as she started to skip it, a nurse in Marvel character scrubs pushed through the swinging metal doors.

  “Baby Lee,” she announced, her smile bright. “This way.”

  Jake gave her a shove, reading her thoughts. The nurse badged them back through the doors, the air frigid on the other side. She was handed folded scrubs from a rolling shelf.

  “You’ll need to change into these.” She pointed to a changing room.

  She did as she was told, topping the ensemble with a disposable cover over each shoe and covering her hair with the same. The nurse reported on Baby Lee the whole time, and she wondered how someone a few days old could have so much to report. Knowing only the basics on vitals, she hadn’t a clue what most of it meant. The peppy Baby Lee cheerleader took a pause, catching Sam’s hand and focusing on her ring.

  “That’s beautiful,” she gasped. Sam admired it along with her, having only had it a few hours.

  “Thanks. It’s new.”

  “That’s Jake Jaeger, right?” She blinked and cleared her throat. “And you’re Ducati Sam.”

  “Right.” She shrugged, relieved for the distraction as she processed a baby waiting for her in the next room.

  “Congrats.”

  “Thanks.” She took her hand back, and they stood side by side washing their hands.

  “So your prepared, there’s a lot of wires,” the nurse informed her, drying her hands. “And he’s impossibly small, but don’t worry. Believe me, this kid’s strong.” Like his older brother, Sam thought. Damn, she needed to call Nick. “Ready?” She badged them through the heavy door, the beep blending with boxes next to every Plexiglas bed. “He’s just over here.” The nurse led them to a crib by itself, two holes in the glass on either side.

  Sam stared through blurry eyes, the tiny hands with small fingers bunched under his chin. As small as he was, he favored Nick with a proud nose that hadn’t been broken yet and his pink lips in a scowl. There were microscopic leads attached to everything that seemed to cover every centimeter of skin. His knees were bent out to each side, his little diaper all he had on.

  “Hey Bruce,” the nurse cooed, handing Sam a pair of blue latex gloves. “That’s his nickname, after Bruce Lee. You can reach in and touch him so he knows you’re here.” Sam nodded, her voice clogged with tears. The nurse placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay sweetie. Take your time, I’ll be just over here.”

  The tears flowed then, streaking her cheeks. He was so helpless and hooked up to machines. His little chest pumped rapidly up and down and a tube ran from his nose. She put the gloves on for something to do, but couldn’t bring herself to touch him. He was too fragile, no matter how strong the nurses claimed. His hand popped from his chin suddenly, his mouth stretching wide in a yawn. She found herself smiling, becoming a little Lee cheerleader.

  Sam wasn’t sure how much time passed, as she stood lost in absorbing everything his little body did. A blue hand came into view, a tech adjusting one of his tubes.

  “This one doesn’t like to stay still,” she whispered over the crib. “Do ya Bruce?” she cooed to him. He stiffened his arms living up to his name with his hands balled into fists. “You can touch him like this.” Her glove gently smoothed over his dark hair. “Sometimes he opens his eyes.”

  Sam found her hand snaking through the hole, her gloved finger unable to feel the tickle of his fine hair. Working up her nerve, she repeated the tech’s motion and smoothed her glove over his small scalp. He grimaced, his little eyes squeezing closed before popping open with a bright blue stare.

  “Blue,” she said a loud.

  “Maybe,” the tech said. “Most babies are born blue or brown. Then they change, like yours.” Sam had no clue, and there was no one to ask if she was born with blue eyes or brown.

  “Hey, sleepy head.” Nurse cheerleader was back, cooing at Baby Lee. “Did you wake up for Sam?” His eyes drifted close, worry plaguing Sam. “They don’t stay up for long,” she explained. “Sorry, sweetie. You can come back in a few hours.” Sam pulled her gloves off, taking another look before she had to go.

  Jake’s legs were stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. Anna sat next to him and they both stood when she entered the room. He registered the evidence of tears, rushing to her and wrapping her tight. The embrace pulled a new wave of tears.

  She had no clue what to do, just that she was connected to little Baby Lee’s survival.

  “Anna’s worked out a place for us to stay. Come on.” He nudged her gently, and she let him take care of everything. In what felt like hours later, they were in a private room on the second floor. She inventoried two recliners and two smaller chairs around a breakfast table. There was no patient bed, just plugs for monitors and oxygen labeled on the wall.

  “You haven’t said a word,” Jake said, settling in a recliner and draping her over his lap. “How is he?”

  “Small.” She held up the palm of her hand, marking her forearm just past her wrist to explain his height.

  “He’ll grow.” Jake kissed her crown. “Jax and I were only three pounds. The nurse said he’s breathing on his own. Pretty soon he’ll be able to eat.”

  “He looks like Nick,” she said sleepily against his chest. “Before he broke his nose.” Jake laughed softly, the rumble soothing against her ear. His hand was hypnotizing, rubbing small circles on her back.

  “So it is a puppy?” he joked. “I called him. I told him not to rush over tonight. There’s nothing he can do.” Sam breathed a sigh of relief, letting her lids close. She needed a moment of reprieve from the overwhelming news. Secure in Jake’s arms, she let the world slip away.

  Sam woke to Jake’s voice, soft murmurs from across the room. Blinking her eyes open, she found herself alone in the recliner under a polyester blanket she quickly threw aside. The lights were dimmed, but she noticed the crib added to the room. Jake sat on the other side, rocking with Baby Bruce in his arms. He was swaddled in striped blankets and a knit cap covered his dark hair.

  “Hey.” Jake smiled up at her. “I was getting worried about you.” She took tentative steps toward him, jealous at how relaxed he looked.

  “Be careful,” she warned, his size making her anxious with the fragile bundle in his arms.

  “We’re fine.” He smiled. “Aren’t we?” he asked Bruce, who provided no response. “Doc said his lungs are good and, after a few feedings, they’ll take out the tube.” All good news, but her heart sank. She had decisions to make. “He’s healthy enough for travel in two weeks,” Jake continued, patting the chair next to his. Sam lowered herself down, nervous not to bump Jake while he held the baby.

  “Where’d you learn to hold a baby?”

  “Clint has six,” he reminded her. “None this small though.” He stood easily, but her heart skipped a beat. Geez, he was way too comfortable.

  “Take the rocker.” He gestured with his chin. “You can hold him while I make a call.”

  “Are we supposed to be holding him?” She g
lanced to the closed door of the room. Just hours ago she had to change clothes and wear gloves.

  “Yes. He’s a baby. What else would we do with him?” Jake lifted a brow and she slid into the rocking chair. She mirrored his arms with hers, watching him support his head and place him into the crook of her arm. Bruce stirred slightly, his eyes blinking at her once or twice. “Relax.” Jake lowered her elbow to rest on the cushioned arm of the chair. “You’re a natural.” He kissed her forehead. “You want coffee?” He asked.

  “Please.” She smiled, finding a rhythm as she rocked. Little Baby Bruce was less intimidating without the strings of wires. She pulled back his swaddle some, seeing the circles marked on his skin. She reacquainted herself with the situation, her system shut-down having let everything set in. He needed a home and she was in charge. She assumed Anna would be checking in, explaining how long she had and what the rules of adoption were. She hadn’t assumed she’d be the first candidate that came to mind.

  Her biggest fear was lying helpless in her arms. All her careful precautions to not have kids were in the wind. She was willing and able to be this little guy’s guide in life. The question was would Jake want to take this on? Would he be her little brother in his eyes or his first-born son? And then there was Cyrus. A whiff of strong coffee distracted her from her thoughts. Jake placed her coffee down, taking the baby from her arms.

  “First lesson, little guy,” he told him, gently lowering him in the crib. “You gotta share.” Satisfied with his placement and blankets, he turned and pulled Sam in for a hug. “How we doing?” he asked, dropping a quick kiss to her lips.

  “Caught up,” she realized, remembering him saying she would. He knew the minute it left Anna’s mouth they were leaving here as parents. “Who’d you call?”

  He stepped back from her, positioning himself on the other side of the crib. He stretched a hand across, their fingers threading over the small miracle inside.

  “I called Alexis,” he said, showing no regret.

  “Why?” she gasped, confused.

  “Because you need her.” He spoke sure and slow, thumb caressing over her linked hand.

  “For what? No,” she protested, shutting down her brain’s attempt to think it through. “How dare you?” She scratched out in anger and tears. She had one emotion over Alexis and it was too sour for a name. The Kramers weren’t allowed in her life. She’d given up her home to make that clear.

  “We need Cyrus’s consent to adopt him,” Jake said. “Option One is I can find him and beat it out of him. Option Two is Alexis can navigate however they did it before.”

  “You think you can trust Alexis with that?” Her temper spiked, but Jake squeezed her hand, face calm and pre-decided. “She’s not her father; she’s a stupid fame whore.”

  “She knows what Cyrus is capable of.”

  “You told her?”

  “She told me.” Regret flashed quickly, his demeanor quickly returned. “The day after the service. I told you we spoke.” Bile raised in Sam’s throat. “She could only know if she had a copy of what’s sealed or destroyed as part of your adoption. You’re right. Only their money and power could pull those strings.”

  “I can’t believe you did this without talking to me.”

  “Sam, I’m doing what needs to be done. You know it does.”

  “I don’t want to owe the Kramers.”

  “Alexis owes you, Sam. You wouldn’t let her take back what she did with the apartment. This is her chance.”

  “We don’t even know where Cyrus is,” she argued.

  “That’s a problem. He can’t relinquish rights if he doesn’t know he has a child.”

  “He’s got to be facing felony charges for leaving Margaret at the scene.”

  “Leverage.” Jake’s stare leveled her.

  “So, he gets out of prison twice.” She shook her head. She wanted him behind bars. “Jake, you’re dealing with a sociopath.”

  “Exactly.”

  Baby Lee stirred beneath them, a strong tenor voice coming from his healthy lungs. His head lulled side to side and his arms wiggled his blanket loose. The distraction diffused her temper, her attention straight to him. Jake pulled his little fist loose from the blanket, the tiny hand gripping his finger.

  “You need a name little man,” Jake said, his face softening like his voice.

  “The nurses call him Bruce, because of Bruce Lee.”

  “I was thinking J.J. for Jacob Junior.”

  Emotion overwhelmed Sam to the point she thought she might pass out. J.J. was a little miracle, but he carried weight from the past. She had to bury Maggie, fight with Cyrus, and raise this precious child. She stared at Jake through a blur of tears. Despite the gravity of it all, he was plowing out normalcy ahead. Jacob Junior, their first born. He would be the oldest, not the adopted one. If Gram was ever right about something, it was that Jake was right for her.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Jake took a few warm-up swings, studying Mitch’s form on the pitching mound. Two balls and two strikes and bases empty, he needed a hit. The batter dug in his left cleat, choking up the bat. Mitch was all game face and concentration. Maybe being traded after winning the World Series took the fun out of the game for him.

  “Pop!” Aluminum on leather, the pitch too high to be a solid hit. Foul ball. The catcher was up and searching and Jake hoped he’d miss. The ball landed dead center of the catcher’s glove, putting him next to stare down Mitch over home plate. He could feel Sam’s nerves from the stands. She was behind him with JJ, who was snug against her front in the carrier she wore.

  The stands came to their feet and he swore he could hear her over the rest. He loved this game and his new life, even if he slept much less. Sam made the last two months look easy. She managed a schedule of feedings, baths, and doctor’s appointments around her consulting for Nick and never missed a game. Every few days her body gave in to true deep sleep and Jake took on JJ’s every three-hour feedings, which happened to be last night.

  He didn’t feel tired now. He was pumped! The crowd cheered him and he wanted nothing more than to please. Otis was in the stands with Sam, both of them worried about the rift between him and Mitch. He nodded at the brooding pitcher, wearing his new colors and a scowl. Whatever. He was over it and just wanted to play ball. His stance felt good and he gave the bat a squeeze. Training his eyes on the zone, he blew out an excited breath. Bring it.

  The ball registered riding just on the edge and he popped up to his toes and sucked his body into a straight line to avoid the blow. His shoulder took the hit, the ball ricocheting to his helmet and knocking it clean off his head. The bat hit the ground before his helmet and he was three steps toward the mound before his hearing checked back in.

  “Let it go, Jaeger!” Clint called out in warning, freezing his cleats on the turf. Mitch had a knowing smirk on his face and his arms out to the side as if to say my bad.

  “Scared to throw me a strike?” Jake egged him on.

  “Take your base, Jaeger!” The ump shouted as the crowd booed.

  Wild pitches happened, but he knew better. He turned back for the plate, glancing up to the stands. Sam was on her feet, JJ dangling in his harness on her chest. His arms were out to the side, clamped on her fingers as she swayed side to side. Otis was next to her with his arms crossed. Mitch had done exactly what Otis said he would do, but Jake refused to let it throw him off.

  “You alright?” the ump asked, handing him his helmet.

  “Sorry,” Jake offered for his temper. He hated players that flared up and showed their ass. He offered another apology to the catcher who he knew had to dodge the bat.

  “No problem, man.” He put his fist in his glove, squatting back behind home plate. Jake trotted to first base, his arm radiating pain. His old teammate from Seattle was first base for the Brewers.

  “Dick move,” he said under his breath. Jake agreed even though he’d asked for it by threatening Mitch. It was done. He couldn’t get away
with hitting him twice. Jake waited patiently eight turns to get up to bat, luckily only using his arm for two grounders in the infield.

  Jake collected his bat, the crowd building as he positioned over the plate. Who knew what Mitch would throw next, but all he could do was focus on the line and wait. The white orbit flew into view, his delay making his torso strain at the force with nothing to hit.

  “Strike!”

  Shit, this guy could pitch. Of course he could, he won a freaking World Series. Jake smiled at the challenge, repositioning over home plate.

  “They get faster.” The catcher tried to rile him. Jake sank his weight to his rear thigh, careful not to bounce. Eyes on Mitch, then the zone, he let his body do its thing.

  “Strike!”

  Holy shit that was fast. A hundred miles an hour plus. Curves, spinners, he’d knocked the hell out of them all.

  “Game pitch.” The catcher threw the ball back to the mound. Nah. His fans didn’t think so. They were chanting his name as he positioned himself a little further from the plate this time.

  Whoosh. Lightening fast center plate. Contact was late, but he exaggerated his follow thru on the swing. Not his best work, but it had loft and speed. Sprinting toward first base, he searched out the ball. It was losing altitude between second and third, the outfielder climbing the wall as he rounded first base. Tipping the fielder’s glove, the ball bounced into the stands making the fans dive.

  Slowing to a jog, Jake pushed his fist in the air. That was the fastest ball he’d ever pushed out of the park, a new personal best. Sam was clapping her hands over head, Otis yelling through his cupped hands. His chest swelled as he rounded third base. He was in heaven, and at the top of his game. Baseball and life couldn’t get better than this.

  Chase was first in line at the dugout, popping his helmet off and scrubbing his hair. There were high fives and sarcasm, but he hadn’t won the game.

  “How’s that shoulder?” his coach asked. He shrugged in circles, testing the pain level of one to ten. Come to think of it, the sharp pain of the blow hadn’t worn off. The muscular bruising he was used to was more intense, the pain radiating and sharp the more he moved. “You’re out of the game,” his coach decided from the look on his face. “Have the trainers look at it and ice it down.” Jake shook his head, still testing his range of motion as he headed to the training center.