Simple Faith (The Pagano Brothers Book 1)

by Susan Fanetti

  They were both quiet, because they were both anxious. Lara was working hard to keep everything in order in her head, to recall all the things she’d read and studied during this pregnancy. They expected a preterm birth. The goal was thirty-seven weeks, but she wasn’t so far off that. Last week, they’d had another ultrasound, and Frank was strong. Small, but strong. He was still moving, kicking and fussing inside her. He was fine.

  And this was probably nothing. Like Dr. Edison said, just a growing baby in her small body. She’d gained not quite ten pounds, and most of that was Frank.

  All pregnancy, she’d tried to do everything right. When she was told to rest, she rested. When she was told to eat, she ate. She controlled every factor for success that she could, but her body didn’t always obey.

  She wasn’t supposed to be able to have a baby in the first place. Trey considered it God’s work. If this baby was meant to be, then he was meant to be.

  That kind of thinking still felt bloated and misshapen in her rigid mind, so she went back to what she’d learned, what she knew. Frank was fine.

  He was fine. He was fine. He was fine.

  “He’s fine, Lara. And you’re fine.”

  Lara smiled at her husband, sharing her worries as he tried to assuage them. “Yes,” she said, and tried to know it as true. Trey helped her back onto the table and covered her with a paper sheet.

  The doctor came back in, washed his hands, and pulled surgical gloves on. “Okay, Lara. Let’s make sure everything is as it should be.”

  He lifted her leg to set it in a stirrup—and Lara felt a thin wet stream leave her. It was warm and soaked the paper beneath her. Not much, just—she lifted her head. “I’m sorry—I think I just peed a little.” She still was, she thought. Well, that was mortifying.

  Dr. Edison frowned and looked between her legs. Then he set a gloved hand on her raised knee and gave Lara a terrifying look, the kind that came when someone had bad news and wanted to break it gently. “All right. Let’s stay calm, but that’s not urine. That’s amniotic fluid. Your water’s just broken.”

  Lara’s breath died in her chest.

  Trey stood up. “Please? It’s too early.”

  The doctor focused his attention on Lara and spoke directly to her. She was able to focus back and listen hard, and panic idled at the rear, but didn’t surge forward. “We have been watching for signs of preterm labor. We’re almost at thirty-five weeks, and we talked about this. If your blood pressure had gone up any higher, we’d deliver at thirty-five weeks. You’re only two days off that.”

  “But thirty-seven was the goal. Because his lungs still need to develop.”

  He lifted her other leg into a stirrup. “And what did we say if we didn’t make it that far?”

  “He’d probably need some oxygen and to stay in the NICU for a while.”

  “And how long a while, most likely?”

  “About a week or so.”

  “And then?”

  “And then we could take him home.” Lara let go of the breath that had stopped inside her. Trey had her hand crushed in both of his; he let go a little, too.

  “Right, good.” Dr. Edison smiled. “This is a small problem, not a big one. It’s not ideal, but it’s not a crisis. We just heard a big, strong heartbeat not ten minutes ago, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m going to check you, to see where things are. It’s going to be a little more uncomfortable now, I think, but I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

  He sat on his stool, and Lara felt his fingers enter her. It did hurt more than the other times she’d been checked. Always, it seemed like his whole hand had gone halfway up her body, but this time, it was that and also like he was digging into a wound. She squeezed her eyes shut and made a fist and tried to stay loose where he was. Trey bent down and kissed her head, staying there until it was over.

  The doctor pulled back. “You’re fully effaced, Lara, and about two centimeters dilated. You’re in labor.”

  “But it doesn’t hurt!”

  “This is early labor. Sometimes, mamas don’t hurt almost until it’s time to push. Consider yourself lucky in that regard. But now we’ve got to get you across the campus, because you’re having a baby today.”

  He slid a part of the table out and took her legs down from the stirrups. “I’m going to call transport—you’re going over on a gurney. You’re not sitting up again until you’ve got a baby to hold.”

  “He’s okay? The baby? He’s okay?”

  Dr. Edison patted her paper-covered leg. “Remember that strong heartbeat. Keep that in your head.” He threw the gloves in the medical waste. “I’ll call for transport. You sit tight. I’ll have Wendy bring in a real blanket to keep you warm.” As he went to the door, he stopped and turned his attention to Trey. “Mama’s okay, too, Dad. Take a breath. Keep her calm and quiet, and we’ll all have a happy ending soon.”

  Trey nodded. When the doctor left the little room and they were alone, he turned to her—and that was when Lara’s hold on sense began to slip.

  “I’m so sorry. I tried to do everything right, but I can’t do it. I can’t even keep him safe inside me! I should have gained more weight! I should have done better! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

  He grabbed her face in both his hands. “Lara! Stop! Right now! You have to stay calm, or your blood pressure is going to spike. For Frank, you have to get ahold of yourself.”

  She caught onto that—for Frank, stay calm for the baby—and focused on Trey. His green eyes, full of love and fear. “I’m sorry.”

  “Shut up, babe. You did everything right. Watching you fall in love with our baby has been beautiful. You are already a good mom. He’s fine. He’s strong, like his mom.”

  “I’m not strong. Everything is hard for me.”

  “It’s not strength if it’s easy, Lara.”

  There was a knock on the door. Before they answered, Trey kissed her. “God gave us this baby. He won’t take him away.”

  Lara couldn’t believe in God, but she could believe in Trey.

  ~oOo~

  Once they got to the hospital and started prepping her for surgery, Lara’s mind started to lose its purchase again, and panic got hold. There was too much activity, too much tumult around her—machines and people coming and going and talking all around her—and when they pushed Trey away, she had nothing to focus on. Her blood pressure went up within seconds of losing his hand.

  So they sedated her, and things got weird after that. She went into surgery with her lower half gone and her mind full of fog. There was a blue wall before her, right where her body stopped, and a big, bright light over her head, and a circle of people who all looked alike, with blue hair and blank faces. At her side, his hair blue and his face blank, except for his green eyes—oh, it was a kind of a hat, and a mask—Trey sat with her, holding her hand.

  “Where’s Frank?”

  “He’s coming, babe. Everything’s set.”

  Oh, right. She was having him now. “I’m sorry I didn’t do better. I want to be a good mom.”

  “You did perfect. You’re already a great mom.”

  He turned from her then, and Lara tried to see over the blue wall, to see what he was seeing. Then he stood up, still holding her hand. Was the baby here? Shouldn’t he be crying?

  And then he was. A wail filled the room, and Lara’s heart.

  “Holy shit, babe. He’s beautiful!” Trey laughed.

  “I want to see!”

  “They’re cleaning him up. Hold on.” He turned back to her, and behind his mask, his broad smile swelled his cheeks. “Hey—do you know what today is?”

  “Frank’s birthday.” The thought made her smile.

  “Exactly one year ago today, we took a walk in West Virginia and you showed me how you see the world.”

  The mulberry leaf. Lara tried to reach for him, but he already had hold of her hand.

  A nurse came around the blue wall, holding a tiny, red infant, his head covered in
goopy, dark hair.

  Lara reached out her hands, but the nurse shook her head. “I need a few minutes to make sure he doesn’t need any help, but he’s breathing on his own, and that cry sounded great.”

  The nurse took her son away, and Lara turned to Trey. “Go with him.”

  “You need me.”

  But she didn’t. The fog of the sedation had lifted at the sight of her son, but it would keep her calm, and she wanted Frank to have his family with him. “Go with him. I’m okay.”

  He pulled the mask from his face and bent down to kiss her—a full, real kiss, without heed of the people around them or whatever they were doing to her on the other side of that wall. “I love you so fucking much, Lara. You are amazing.”

  ~oOo~

  They kept Frank in the NICU for only a few hours. By the time Lara was fully clear of the sedation, was settled in a private room, and had had a vanilla protein shake—which had only a passing acquaintance with anything in the ‘vanilla’ family—Trey came into the room leading a nurse, who rolled in a clear bassinet, inside which was Lara’s own child. Her flesh and blood.

  Carlo Francesco Pagano IV. With dark hair. Four pounds, one ounce. Breathing on his own, doing everything he was supposed to do. They would keep him in the hospital until he was five pounds, give him breathing treatments and other care to make sure he was as healthy as he could be. They meant to keep her in the hospital for several days, to monitor her surgery recovery and make sure her blood pressure stabilized, so there was a chance they’d go home together. And in the meantime, as long as everything looked good, he could be with her for several hours of each day.

  Her father was in the room, and he stood as the nurse pushed the bassinet to the bed and lifted the tiny swaddled boy from it.

  “Oh, Lara,” her father gasped. “Look at him. I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.” He looked up at Trey. “I’m proud of you both.”

  The nurse smiled. “Let’s see if he can nurse. With the little guys, they don’t always know how to do that.”

  Lara’s arms were still full of cuffs and tubes and wires, so Trey helped her get the gown off her shoulders. She didn’t care that her dad was seeing her breasts. She took her son—her own child—from the nurse and held him.

  “Skin to skin is best, honey. So he can feel the warmth he just lost.” The nurse helped her open the little striped cotton blanket he was swaddled in, and Lara pressed her son’s bare chest to her own. His scent rose from his skin and circled her head, and it was glorious. It was heavenly.

  Right then, something monumental happened inside Lara, and tears spilled from her eyes.

  “Babe?” Trey stroked her hair.

  “I’m okay. I …” How could she explain this? It was hormones, chemicals, the same chemicals that compelled a mother wolf to care for her pups. Rationally, that was the explanation for what she felt. But since she’d loved Trey, Lara had been learning the limits of facts and the strength of belief, and the way truth settled in the space between them. What she felt wasn’t hormones. It wasn’t science, or sense.

  It was love, the most powerful, limitless, consuming love she had ever felt in her life, and as it exploded through her, making tears rush, her chest ache, and her fingertips tingle, she knew that should anyone ever try to hurt this child, she would tear them to pieces with her teeth and bare hands.

  “I love him,” she finally finished. “I love him so much.”

  Trey barked out a laugh of unadulterated joy and set his strong hand on their son’s head. He bent and kissed her forehead. “I love you both.”

  She moved her child to her barely-there breast, choosing the one that bore a permanent memento of a terrible night, and tried to brush her nipple over his tiny, perfect lips. He wasn’t the slightest bit interested. He didn’t ‘root,’ as she’d read in the books. He simply lay in her arms, his little hand on her chest, and opened one eye at her when she kept trying. He seemed irritated at the bother, and Lara chuckled quietly, privately.

  The nurse stood at Trey’s side, watching Lara and Frank, with her hands on her hips. “Since he needs to get some weight on him, how would you feel about trying a bottle? You can still nurse—when your milk comes in, we can pump until he’s ready to root. But we can’t wait too long to get some food in him.”

  “A bottle is fine. Whatever he needs.” If her body wasn’t enough for him, she would find another way to feed him. She would do whatever had to be done to make sure he was nourished in heart and body and soul.

  He was her son.

  ~oOo~

  On the day Lara and Frank came home, he was ten days old, and had topped the magic five-pound mark by two ounces. Lara’s milk hadn’t yet come in, and now likely wouldn’t. Her body wasn’t very good at bearing or nurturing life. But Frank took a bottle like a champ, so he’d be a formula baby. His pediatrician assured her that it was fine, and Trey had chased off a breastfeeding advocate who’d had trouble taking no for an answer.

  Their little beach house was bursting with family, so much that they spilled out onto the sand, and the kids had the volleyball net up. Ben and Teresa were out in the chilly April surf. Nick and Bev’s oldest girls tended the little ones.

  Inside, the house clamored with talk and laughter. Everyone wanted to hold the baby, but Lara drew the line there. She let her father hold him. And Trey’s father. And Trey’s mother. And Trey, obviously. But no one else. Not yet.

  He was little, and she was little, and the Paganos were everywhere. Instead of passing him around the house like a hot potato, she carried him around and let them hold his little hands and his little feet, marvel at his perfect fingers and toes, coo at his serious, perfect face. Because they were her family and Frank’s, and she loved them all.

  They seemed to understand why she wouldn’t pass her new baby, her one and probably only child, around to all those grasping hands. She let them hug her and kiss her instead. Because she and Frank were their family, and they all loved them both.

  ~oOo~

  “He’s asleep again? But I’ve got a nice warm bottle here.” Trey set the bottle, and one of the cloth diapers they used for burping rags, on the nightstand and slid back into bed with them.

  After a few hours, Trey had shoveled all the Paganos out of their house and taken his family to bed. They’d napped for awhile, snuggled together, and then Frank had woken and begun to cry. It looked like a false alarm, though, and now he was quiet and peaceful again.

  Feeling quiet and peaceful herself, nose to nose with her sleeping son, Lara didn’t answer, but she reached out and found Trey’s hand.

  “How’re you feeling?” he whispered.

  “A little sore, but not bad. I’m happy, Trey. I feel … right. Everything makes sense.”

  He smiled and kissed the back of Frank’s head. “That’s because you are right. We make sense. We were meant to be, babe.”

  ~ Epilogue ~

  Trey walked out of the surf, undid his leash, and carried his board up the beach. While he’d been out, Lara had brought Frank out, spreading their big blanket over a dune. She sat cross-legged on the blanket, with their boy on her lap, so they could both see the ocean and watch him surf. Rufus, the year-old collie mix they’d rescued from a shelter adoption fair at Quiet Cove Park, lay in the sand, watching the birds, making sure they didn’t get too close to his boy.

  It was early, not yet seven in the morning, but since Frank had joined their lives, Lara didn’t sleep in so much, even when she had the chance.

  He grinned and walked to his family.

  “Hi, Papa,” Lara said, in the sweet voice young mothers made for their babies, and lifted Frank’s hand for a wave. At four months, he was still on the small side, but he’d puffed up nicely, with cute rolls on his thighs and a round little tummy.

  Frank saw his papa coming and grinned in that joyful way he had that made Trey’s heart burst—his whole face squinched up and his whole body squirming.

  “Morning, fam.” Trey sank his board into t
he sand and dropped to his knees before them. “Morning, Frankenstein!” He got down low and rubbed his face on his son’s tummy, making munching noises until baby giggles filled the morning air.

  “What about me?” Lara asked, a laugh in her voice.

  “Saving the best for last.” He kissed her, sliding his hand into her hair, feeling her wholehearted trust and love even in this simple kiss. Pulling back, he looked into her angelic face. Motherhood had brought her a settled calm that deepened her beauty inside and out. God, she was perfect.

  He took Frank from her and sat at her side. The baby grabbed at the loose edge of his zipper and squirmed until he could suck on it. Lara had turned to stare out at the ocean.

  It was a beautiful late-summer day. A cloudless sky, waves going off like crazy. Already warm, but with a crisp sea breeze. Later today, most of the beach would be crowded with summer people, cramming in some final days before school and work snagged them in their nets again. But right now, on this private little stretch of heaven, there was nothing but peace.

  “How are you feeling about today? You still okay?”

  “I am. I’ll call every day, obviously, but I’m glad we’re doing this.”

  She’d call two or three times a day, he knew. She’d never before been away from Frank for more than a few hours, and they’d be at the cabin in West Virginia for four days—plus travel days. Their birthday present to each other, their honeymoon, their first time to themselves since Frank’s birth: a getaway to the place they’d fallen in love.

  “You know Dad and Misby and your dad are going to love on him the whole time. He’ll never be out of their arms. My father took the week off work just for this.”

  She smiled, but said nothing, just stared out at the water.

  He brushed a hand over her hair. “Babe?”

  “I was just thinking,” she said without turning. “What a marvel the ocean is. Every wave is entirely different from every other. Every one changes the ocean floor, the beach, the life in the water. Every day, the ocean is completely new. It never, ever stops changing. And yet, at every shore across the globe, we know to the exact minute when the tide will come in, and we know how high. We know when it will recede. Because all that water, more gallons than there’s a word to count, is ruled by a rock in the sky, hundreds of thousands of miles away.”