by Ashton Lee
Douglas gave his wife a quick peck on the cheek. “I just remembered how wound up I was until they let me in to see Lindy—and then you, of course. Just like that old country classic, I was walkin’ the floor over you. Both of you.”
“We were a pair, weren’t we?” she said, kissing him back and then tending to her texting duties.
He couldn’t help winking at her. “Definitely keepers. You still are.”
* * *
Elise was hearing voices, but she recognized none of them. Here was a snippet of a high-pitched female voice. There, the basso profundo of a male. But only once. It never returned after booming. There was no steady stream of conversation to be interpreted, however. Just those disjointed snippets. Then a little silence for a while. Then more snippets.
Where was time? She had no sense of it. She didn’t even know where she was. Wherever she was, it was not altogether unpleasant. It was rather dreamy. Was she dreaming? It didn’t feel much like a dream of hers. For one thing, there was no plot. All of her dreams had plots. Big plots. With dialogue and lots of action that she frequently remembered upon waking.
“That could be a movie,” she would often find herself saying when she got out of bed and began her day. “I wish I could remember every detail.”
She also dreamed in color. There was no color surrounding her, however. Nor any black and white, for that matter. There was just confusing sound, suspended in . . . space.
Now there were beeps. Consistent, steady beeps. More female-voiced snippets.
They seemed to be floating high above her. Then they seemed to swirl down near her ears. Then in and out of her ears. Maybe like pesky insects in the backyard on a hot summer night. She felt faintly entertained by whatever was going on. It was like a picnic of the mind.
Finally, a series of words broke through. “She’s coming around,” a female voice said. “I believe she’s back with us now.”
More sentences began to form that she understood. She felt as if she were coming down out of clouds into bright light. The light was somewhere above her. It was intensely brilliant. It made her squint. There was no relief from it. A couple of faces were hovering near her. Gradually, they came into focus. They were sweetly smiling faces. They were . . . nurses in blue scrubs. The faces seemed very much alike—smooth and placid—but the voices were different. The accents weren’t the same. One voice sounded distinctly Southern; the other from the Midwest—maybe Illinois, maybe Ohio—it was hard to tell exactly. Only that the voice was not likely south of the Mason-Dixon Line.
The Southern voice said, “Thay-uh, she izz.” There was a peekaboo quality to the phrase, as if the voice were playing with a baby.
“Miz McShay?” the Midwestern voice said. There was a kindness and patience present in the intonation of those two words that could not be dismissed.
Elise could barely gather the strength to grunt in acknowledgment. She was still so foggy she didn’t even want to try.
“Miz McShay,” the voice continued, sounding almost musical, “your C-section went very well. You are now the mother of a beautiful, seven-pound, nine-ounce little girl. Congratulations.”
Elise’s brain wouldn’t quite let her focus. She needed a few seconds more. And then everything fell into place.
“Am I?” she said. “Am I . . . really? Where is she?”
“They’ll bring her to you in a few minutes,” the Midwestern voice said. “We had to let you wake up first. You’re in the recovery room. You’ll see her when we get you back to your room.”
“How long . . . will that take?”
“Not too long,” said the Midwestern voice. “You’ll be up there in no time resting with your baby right next to you. But we need to observe you a bit longer. Then we’ll wheel you on up.”
“And everything is okay with my baby?”
“Perfect. We counted the fingers and toes for you.”
“No extras?” Elise said, finding some humor.
“None. We double-checked.”
Elise’s onslaught of wit kept on coming. “You never know when an extra might come in handy. We’re not lizards, you know.”
“Dr. Lively said you were . . . well, a lively one,” the Midwestern voice continued. “Would you like a sip of water, sweetie? ”
Elise told her she did and was soon sipping through a straw.
“Is my baby beautiful?” Elise said after she had slaked her thirst.
“All babies are beautiful in my book,” the Midwestern voice said. “But I think yours is gorgeous.”
The Southern voice agreed. “Puhfickly gaw-jus. She’s a Miss America in the makin’.”
Elise looked like she was getting ready to float up to the ceiling. “I can’t wait to meet her. I have such big plans.”
“I’m sure you’ll be a terrific mother,” the Midwestern voice said. It almost sounded like she was singing her comment.
* * *
Although Jeremy was finding the Push-a-Thon more than stressful, he was determined not to show it. After all, it was his Maurie who was trying to squeeze the equivalent of a bowling ball out of her body into the real, live world. Then, too, he was beginning to wonder if she was growing tired of the sound of his voice. It seemed he was only capable of two utterances: Push! and then Keep pushing!
Well, wasn’t that what he was supposed to say? Wasn’t that why he was in the room in the first place in scrubs and a mask with sweat dripping down his back into the crack of his rear end? No Lamaze practice in the world could possibly have prepared him for this stress test. Nor the screams coming from his beloved wife and sweetheart. What had he done to her? And when her screams weren’t filling the room and drowning out the telemetry, there were great gasps of air and visceral grunts the likes of which tennis pros seldom emitted in the midst of a furious rally at Wimbledon. Male or female.
He chastised himself mentally for being such a wimp. She was the one doing all the work, leaning forward with all her might, straining and bearing down with her face on fire, so his only choice was to man up and pretend to be as strong as she was. Because he couldn’t imagine what it must be like for his Maurie to be giving birth. He hadn’t even passed a kidney stone in his twenty-something life, and those men who had passed them insisted that it was probably the closest a man could come to feeling the pain of childbirth. Perhaps after this was all over and his son was born and they had all settled into their cottage on Painter Street as a family, he could forsake drinking enough water and making enough pit stops during his high school routine to instigate a kidney stone himself, just for the empathy of it. Wouldn’t that be the ultimate gesture and balancing act?
“The baby’s crowning right now,” Dr. Drake announced calmly, as Maura Beth let out a scream for the ages.
Jeremy steeled himself and drifted away for a brief moment or two. If I tell her to push one more time, she is going to stick a knife into my back when we get home. I just know it. And I wouldn’t blame her.
But he didn’t have to say it again. Suddenly, Maura Beth released her precious cargo, and everything proceeded at a breathtaking pace. Jeremy was mesmerized by it all—the length of the umbilical cord, the delicate covering of blood on flesh, the severing, the cleaning up, the first cry. He watched it all unfold with the word miracle on his mind. There was no other way to put it.
Liam was here with them. In the world. Surrounded by air instead of amniotic fluid. His Maurie fell back, exhausted and covered in sweat, and he leaned down and kissed her forehead gently.
“He’s here,” Jeremy told her. “Our son is here.”
“I know,” she said, catching a breath. “I know.”
“You are an unbelievable woman,” he said. “I know how you did that, but I just don’t know how you did that.”
“Stop being an English teacher and playing with words.”
He laughed; then he stopped abruptly when the nurse presented their son to them. Peeking out of his blanket, his little head was incredibly pink, wrinkled, and bald. H
is features seemed abstract, a lot of lines that some deranged artist had sketched together. But his parents saw nothing but delicate, indescribable beauty in the composition. They were indeed the only beholders that counted, and their expressions were nothing but joy to the highest order.
“Hello, Liam,” Maura Beth said, kissing his forehead so gently that the kiss seemed made of something lighter than air.
“Hello, little son,” Jeremy said, admiring his child as if he were a sparkling diamond. “This is where it all begins.”
* * *
When Alex entered Elise’s room later that afternoon, she did not try to hide a hint of a pleasant gasp. There he was again, living up to his word, living up to his fascination with her and her baby and everything that came with it. He had come all the way up from Cherico after his classes, and that indicated determination and true concern, if nothing else. The pertinent thing was, she was really glad to see him. Something worthwhile and unexpected had kicked in regarding their unconventional, semi-professional relationship—or whatever it was. And she would soon be springing her grand surprise.
“Connie texted me that everything went well,” he told her, standing at the foot of her bed. “It was tough concentrating on my classes all day. One of my students pointed out that I actually got the date of the firing on Fort Sumter wrong. Even wrote it on the blackboard wrong. And here I’m supposed to be such an expert on Southern history. Go figure.”
Elise’s smile was genuine. “I’m sure it wasn’t a big deal. I wasn’t even able to make a mistake today, since I was under the spell of la-la land, of course.”
“That’s cute.”
“Hey, I manage to get off a good one once in a while.”
Alex was surveying the room anxiously. “Is the . . . uh . . . where’s your baby?”
“In the nursery right now. You can go and see her when you leave here. She’s beautiful, of course. No daughter of mine would be anything else.” There was an awkward pause. “I . . . appreciate you coming up to see me.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it. It’s such a big event in your life. Same for Maura Beth and Jeremy. I just came from visiting with them. They’re beyond the delirious stage. It’ll take a while for them to come down to earth.”
“I know,” Elise said, tilting her head back and forth in amused fashion. “Aunt Connie has been in and out keeping me posted. The first cousins are doing just fine. I really like the feeling of family that’s come out of all this.”
Alex seemed at a total loss for words for a brief period, managing only an awkward smile.
“Did you want to say something?” Elise said, trying to rescue him. “You looked like you wanted to.”
“It was just that . . . I was wondering how much longer you’ll be staying down in Cherico with your aunt and uncle. How soon will you be going back to Evansville to start teaching again?”
Elise sat up in bed a bit straighter and cleared her throat as if she were about to launch into a lecture. “Well, I’ve still got three months on my sabbatical. I really think I’d like to spend it with Aunt Connie and Uncle Doug at the lodge. They’ve really made me feel so comfortable and welcome there. And I’d like to talk to Maura Beth about getting Celice and Liam together from time to time. I think we both really want them to have a true relationship growing up. It’s never too soon to get that under way, so we’ll put our heads together.”
Alex stuffed his hands into his pockets like a nervous little boy and shifted his lips to one side. “That’s a lot of territory to cover in two months.”
“Probably. But it needs to be done.” Then Elise caught his gaze intently. “Alex, I’ve been giving things a lot of thought. Before you came in today, I had a long conversation with Aunt Connie and Uncle Doug about you.”
“About me?”
“Yes.”
“Seems like an odd trio, if you don’t mind me saying so.”
Elise took a moment to rehearse in her head. “It’ll all make sense if you just hear me out. We discussed something very important, and it’s probably something you’ve never even thought about regarding Celice. I’m not sure I’d been giving it much thought either until Aunt Connie brought it up. It’s not the sort of thing that was ever a priority of mine before, but Aunt Connie has a way about her. What can you say about someone who’s fixed your meals and looked after you during most of your pregnancy? When she says something, you sit up and listen.”
Alex looked intrigued and took his hands out of his pockets. “Please, go ahead. I can’t wait to hear this.”
“We came to the conclusion that you deserved this,” she said. “I’ve already okayed it with Uncle Doug. I promise you he doesn’t mind one bit, just so you know. He’s a pretty cool guy.”
“Enough with the suspense and dragging this all out forever. Exactly what do I deserve?”
Elise gave him her best smile as she looked him straight in the eye. “We would like for you to be Celice’s godfather. Aunt Connie will be her godmother. As I said, Uncle Doug doesn’t mind at all, and I never put much into the whole concept before. But it just seems like the right thing to do. What do you say?”
Alex moved to her side and took her hand. The warmth that flowed between them emboldened him to get at the truth. “I’m flattered that you’d think of me, of course. It’s quite unexpected but still an honor. But am I reading between the lines when I say that this is my consolation prize? Is my being Celice’s godfather all that’s going to be possible between the two of us?”
She withdrew her hand and gently wagged a finger at him. “O ye of little faith. It’s exactly the opposite, as a matter of fact. This is my way of keeping you in the loop. You can come up to Evansville to visit us anytime you want, and sometimes I can come down to Cherico to visit you, Maura Beth and Jeremy, and the rest of the family. You don’t even need a reason. Just call me up and tell me you’d like to do something with us, and we’ll all take it from there. For the first time in my adult life, I won’t have everything programmed like a syllabus. That’ll be a healthy change of pace for me, I think. I’ll learn to be a bit more spontaneous. I have a feeling that motherhood is going to be the ultimate spontaneous experience.”
The look of relief on Alex’s face was unmistakable. “So you’re saying the door is still open?”
“Yes, it most certainly is. That’s the best I can do for now. I hope that’s good enough for you.”
Alex’s relief blossomed into outright celebration, and he pumped his fist. “It sure is. Besides, I hear the best relationships take time.”
“And we don’t need to explain anything to anybody. They’ll figure it out as soon as we figure it out.”
Alex lifted his chin with a distant look in his eye. “It sounds like a great adventure to me.”
Elise adopted the same pose. “I’m sure it will be. This whole thing I’ve chosen for myself has been nothing but an adventure from the beginning. Why should it stop now? I think what I’ve realized by going down to Cherico and living with my aunt and uncle is that you truly don’t have to do things alone if you don’t want to. Including people who love you is always a good idea.”
“You’re a much more romantic person than you realize,” Alex told her, taking her hand again.
“Am I really? I don’t see it. I always thought I was practical and realistic more than anything else.”
“You are, though,” he said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “There’s something else beneath the surface. I saw it bubbling up when we started working together on the book.”
She laughed brightly for the first time since he’d entered the room. “Bubbling up? You make me sound like a cauldron out of Macbeth.”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” he said, returning her laughter. “Maybe it’s the passion you have for your studies and theories. You believe them because you want the world to be a better place, not just for women but for everyone. You want it to be a better place for Celice and Liam and Denia and all the other babies who are being b
orn as we speak. You can’t keep that kind of goal hidden, and it’s contagious in the best sense of the word. I’ll say it again—it’s a romantic view of the world.”
Elise leaned back against her pillow and sighed. “That was a wonderful speech, Alex. I don’t think I could have said it any better myself. I’m halfway tempted to have you address one of my classes when I return. I’ll introduce you to them by saying, ‘Here is a man who totally gets it.’ And I’d be telling the absolute truth.”
“I’d gladly take you up on that offer if I can work it into my schedule,” he told her. “It’s hard for me to get time off.”
“Well, we can both work on it.”
“I’ll make it a priority of mine.”
Then, Elise felt the moment approaching. It was bubbling up in the manner that Alex had described so impressively a few moments ago. For the first time since she had known him, she wanted to kiss him. Not on the cheek. Not in some casual, professional way she might have done when they were working on the book and playing around. But on the lips with an emotional kick to it. She wanted that to happen, and without saying one word to Alex, it did.
He leaned in smoothly, and she sat up a bit so she could accommodate him. Their lips met warmly and stayed connected long enough to convey a sense of continuity. There was no question that they would explore all of this further and see where it led them. When they pulled apart gently, they were content to gaze at each other fondly, saying nothing, with their smiles still firmly in place.
15
Strolling Down Memory Lane
Maura Beth considered her latest Cherry Cola Book Club brainstorm to be her greatest yet, and she was certain it would never be equaled no matter how long the club existed. Okay, perhaps it was too cute for words, even corny, some had been rumored to say. But it was now April in Northeast Mississippi, and spring was eager to get under way with its first display of yellows and light greens on the branches of trees. It was time for the renewal of life and the rising of sap and the thriving of little babies recently born into the world.
