The Best We've Been

by Beth K. Vogt

  “Um, he should be here anytime now.” She glanced at the clock on the wall facing my bed. “How are you feeling? Are you good? In pain? Is it time for your medication?”

  “I’m fine, Mom. I’m tired, but that’s my new normal. And I’ve got the pump—but I don’t want to get attached to that.”

  “Right. Right. I forgot. Do you want me to get you some more water? Remember, they told you to keep up on your fluids so you don’t get—”

  “Yes. I remember. We are not discussing that, even if you are my mother.” I shifted my position just a bit. “What is going on?”

  “Nothing. Everything’s fine.”

  “Mom. You are a terrible liar. What aren’t you telling me?”

  And then the door to my room swung wide and Beckett strode in.

  “Traffic was a bit of a mess coming from the airport—” Dad came in right behind him, smiling as if showing up with Beckett was a wonderful, welcome surprise—“but we’re finally here!”

  “You’re supposed to be in California.” I tightened my grip on Ellison, as if Beckett might take her from me.

  Beckett stopped a foot from where I sat, his gaze ricocheting between my face and the tiny form in my arms. “I’m supposed to be here.”

  I didn’t know how to process his words. The room seemed hazy, reminiscent of when I was in the operating room, losing too much blood. Only then I’d told Dr. Gray that I trusted her. And I didn’t trust Beckett Sager. I didn’t want to trust him.

  Ellison—innocent, hours-old baby that she was—was oblivious to everything. Peaceful. Asleep. Her breathing quiet and steady beneath my hand.

  Beckett had said the right thing. But he was no longer the right person.

  “Who told you?”

  “Payton . . . Payton called me after Ellison was born and told me you were having serious complications.” Beckett swallowed hard. “And no, Johanna, no one asked you if she should call me. But it was the right thing to do.”

  “You had a job interview—”

  Beckett raked his hand through his hair. Muttered something under his breath. I was half-tempted to say, “Watch your language in front of the baby,” but my sense of humor failed me.

  “I told you I was coming back, Johanna. I only went to the interview because I’m trying to get the job here in the Springs.”

  “And you’ve probably lost it now . . .”

  “Not necessarily.” Beckett’s eyes held a wicked gleam even as his face flushed. “I explained that my . . . my daughter was being born earlier than anticipated . . . an emergency C-section. The interview team insisted I get back to my wife right away.”

  “Beckett Sager!” I had to whisper the rebuke to keep from disturbing Ellison. “Did you set them straight?”

  “I didn’t have time—I had to make arrangements to get back here.”

  “I hope your ticket cost you triple what you’d normally pay.”

  “I couldn’t find a regular flight.”

  He wasn’t making any sense, or maybe I was too tired to follow him. “Then how did you get here?”

  “I have a buddy with a private pilot’s license. Let’s just say he owed me for something . . . and I said I’d pay for the gas and putting him up in the Springs for a couple of days if he’d get me back here.”

  “That’s quite a story.”

  “I was worried sick about you and Ellison.” Beckett took a step forward. “I flew into the Springs and your dad picked me up. My car’s in Denver.”

  Beckett hadn’t come to my rescue—Dr. Gray had done that last night. But he had come back like he said he would. And he’d risked losing the job he wanted to get here.

  Even road-weary, Beckett still had the charisma that had always appealed to me. He was being nice. Concerned. But he was still Beckett, the man who had betrayed me.

  Wait.

  I had changed.

  Maybe Beckett could change, too.

  Not that we’d resume our romance, but enough to establish a relationship for Ellison.

  “Do you want to see her . . . our daughter?” Saying the words caused my throat to ache.

  I wanted her to be my daughter. Only mine. But that wasn’t the truth. Ellison was here because of me and Beckett . . . because of something we once had.

  “That’s why I’m here.” Beckett dropped to one knee beside my chair.

  I shifted, stifling a hiss of pain as I moved my arms to angle Ellison so he could see her. “Ellison Thatcher, this is your dad.”

  “She’s so tiny.” Beckett’s voice was the softest whisper. “Can I touch her?”

  “She won’t break.”

  “I don’t want to wake her up.”

  “I’m learning you can’t wake this little girl up when she wants to sleep.”

  “She’s beautiful, Johanna.”

  “I know.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “I hurt all over, to be honest.” That wasn’t the entire truth—the best truth. “But I’ve never been happier. Isn’t that crazy?”

  “You look like a natural. I came into this room and saw you holding her . . .” Beckett stopped. Cleared his throat. “I’m so glad you’re both okay.”

  For the first time in months, I didn’t want to be angry with Beckett. It was as if Ellison was a tiny little buffer . . . a reason to gentle my response, my reaction to him. When he touched the side of her face, I was tempted to rest my hand on top of his. To complete the connection between the three of us.

  But I couldn’t do that.

  Beckett and I were here for our daughter. Not for each other.

  The nurse returning to the room broke the connection. I wasn’t even certain Beckett was aware of the moment.

  “Johanna, are you ready to get back in bed?” She stopped when she saw Beckett kneeling beside the chair. “I didn’t realize you had a visitor.”

  “Yes. . . . I’m not sure where my parents are.”

  “They said something about going to get something to eat.”

  Ah. I hadn’t heard that.

  “This is . . . Ellison’s father.” I appreciated the nurse’s nonreaction. “And yes, I’d like to get back in bed.”

  “Maybe Ellison’s father would like to hold her while you get settled?”

  Beckett rose to his feet. “Would that be okay with you, Jo?”

  “Absolutely.” Even as I agreed, I almost wanted to change my answer. But Beckett had to hold Ellison sometime.

  “Then let me take this little sweetheart—” the nurse lifted the slight weight of my daughter from my arms—“and give her to her daddy.”

  For a moment, I couldn’t see Ellison as the nurse instructed Beckett on how to hold her. Support her head. Hold her close to his chest.

  “She’s moving . . .”

  “Yes. Newborns do that. She’s fine. Why don’t you step over here with her? I’m going to pull the curtain around the bed while I get Johanna settled. You just hold your daughter.”

  “But what if she cries?”

  “If she cries, we’ll all hear her. It’s a curtain, not a brick wall. Here’s a bottle. You can always try to feed her.” And with those words, the nurse pulled the curtain around us, blocking Beckett and Ellison on the other side.

  “You okay over there?” I couldn’t keep the laughter from my voice.

  “We’re fine . . . so long as she stays asleep.” Beckett’s words were spoken in a stage whisper. “Is it okay if I walk with her?”

  “Yes. Just don’t drop her.”

  “Don’t even say that. I’ve never been more afraid in my life.”

  “Take little steps . . .”

  It was quiet for a few seconds . . . until Beckett started counting.

  “Are you counting your steps, Beckett?”

  “Yes.” A soft laugh followed his admission. “I don’t know why. Counting seems to help. I’ve never held a baby before.”

  “And now you’re holding your daughter.”

  “Our daughter.” The sound of
Beckett counting came from the other side of the curtain again. “Ellison is your mom’s maiden name?”

  “Yes. And I assume Payton told you that I chose Pepper as her middle name.”

  “Ellison Pepper Thatcher. It’s a beautiful name. She’s beautiful.”

  The nurse drew the curtain back, exiting the room and leaving the three of us alone.

  “Is it okay if I hold her a bit longer?”

  “You flew all this way . . .” I smiled. “Yes.”

  Beckett eased into the chair I’d just vacated. “Thank you.”

  “I wanted to let you know that I haven’t had a chance to fill out her birth certificate yet. . . . Things have been a bit hectic.”

  “That’s an understatement.”

  “But I’m listing you as Ellison’s father.”

  Beckett didn’t respond at first—seemed to struggle to respond, his chin quivering as his eyes filled with tears. “Thank . . . thank you, Johanna.”

  “It’s the right thing to do, Beckett.”

  Until I said the words out loud, I’d believed I was doing the right thing for Ellison. But now I knew I was doing the right thing for all of us. For me. For Beckett. And for our daughter. I was stepping away from anger.

  I started to reach for Beckett’s hand . . . and stopped.

  This was not the time. It might never be the time for that again. Ever.

  I had to choose what was best for Ellison . . . and that meant being more kind to Beckett. And probably more kind to myself, too.

  36

  I HADN’T EXPECTED the trio of pink balloons decorating my front door. The hand-painted Welcome Home, Ellison sign draped across the garage door, complete with streamers.

  “And who is responsible for all of this?” I cradled Ellison in my arms as Mom and Dad ushered me into the foyer, the air-conditioning a welcome relief from the August heat.

  “Two very excited aunts.” Mom offered to take Ellison, but I declined. “Jillian and Payton wanted their niece to have a proper welcome home.”

  “Make sure Dad texts them the photos you took.”

  “Already done.” Dad held up his phone.

  “At least I know the house is clean, thanks to the service coming in earlier this week.” I inhaled the fresh scent of citrus that still lingered in the air. “I’m sorry I never finished the nursery. But Ellison will be sleeping in my room for a while anyway, just like you suggested, Mom.”

  I hadn’t been here in over a month, but the weeks away seemed longer. I stopped in the living room, almost unable to comprehend that I stood in my house, holding my newborn daughter. “We’re home at last, baby girl.”

  “It must feel good.” Mom came and stood beside me as Dad carried my suitcase to my bedroom.

  “To be honest, I’m a little scared. But don’t tell anyone I admitted that. It feels odd not to be surrounded by nurses and doctors and machines. I’ll get used to all this space and all this quiet—and also to having to think about Ellison all the time.”

  “You’re not by yourself completely. Don’t forget I’m here for a few days.” Mom gave me a gentle half hug. “Why don’t we show Ellison her room?”

  “But it’s not finished.”

  “Still, she needs to see all of her new home.”

  “She’s wide-awake now, anyway. Want to see your room, Ellison?” It was funny how easy it was to talk to my days-old daughter as if she understood me. “I’ll get it fixed up nice for you soon.”

  Mom moved ahead of me down the hallway, opening the door to Ellison’s unfinished room and turning on the light as she stepped inside. I tamped down my disappointment. It couldn’t be helped that the room contained a crib in a box and pictures leaning against the wall—

  “Welcome home!”

  Payton and Jillian stood in the center of the room—the completed nursery that looked exactly as I’d envisioned it, with the addition of the framed puzzle that I’d managed to finish with Beckett’s and my parents’ help. Walls painted a soft gray with a trio of botanical prints hanging above the white dresser. Ellison’s crib centered against the opposite wall, with the rocking chair positioned by the window, the curtains pulled back to allow in the afternoon sunlight. An area rug arranged on the wood floor.

  I stumbled back, startling Ellison so that she began to cry.

  “Oh no, we scared our niece.” Jillian’s voice dropped to a stage whisper. “What were we thinking?”

  Payton covered her mouth. “Sorry, Johanna. We got a little excited.”

  “It’s okay.” I repositioned Ellison to my shoulder, rocking back and forth. “Shhh. Shhh. Look at your beautiful room.”

  “Do you like it?” Mom turned a half circle. “Is it done the way you wanted?”

  “It’s perfect.” I blinked back tears. “How did you all manage this?”

  “Everyone pitched in. We took a couple of days.” Jillian stood by the crib. “Zach and Geoff tackled the crib. I have video of that. Payton and I painted the walls. Mom and Dad hung the pictures and organized her clothes—”

  “We had so much fun!” Payton interrupted, going to the closet and opening the door. “Look at all these adorable outfits on the tiny hangers.”

  “Of course, the bassinet is still in your room.” Mom motioned to the rocking chair. “Do you want to sit for a minute?”

  Ellison’s cries quieted as I eased into the chair and rocked gently back and forth, the sunlight warm on my skin. “This is the perfect location to sit and hold her.”

  “Mom suggested we put the chair there.” Dad put his arm around Mom’s shoulders.

  “We can always move it—”

  “No. Everything is just right. How did you—?” And then I noticed the towering stuffed giraffe positioned by Ellison’s crib. “Wait. Who do I have to thank for that?”

  “I was wondering when you were going to notice the giraffe.” Jillian was most definitely enjoying my surprise. “Elle’s daddy left that for her. We didn’t know what your plans were for the room, but Beckett knew the password for your laptop.”

  “Beckett gave you my password?” Even with the shock of that revelation, and of the stuffed giraffe in my daughter’s nursery, I still savored the nickname given her by her aunts. Elle.

  “How else were we supposed to know what color to paint the walls?” Jillian straightened the big white bow tied around the giraffe’s long neck. “Thanks to Beckett, we got access to your laptop and got all the intel we needed to finish Elle’s room. He wanted to help with the room but was finishing up his job interviews in California.”

  “I don’t recall having a giraffe anywhere on my list.”

  “No, I don’t think you did. That was all Beckett’s idea.” Payton closed the closet door. “Other than that surprise, you like the room?”

  “I love the room—even the giraffe. It’s perfect. Thank you.”

  “That’s what family is for—to take care of their niece . . . and granddaughter.”

  I’d underestimated how much Ellison was going to change things. At first, I’d resisted how she’d change my life—never realizing how she would affect Jillian and Payton and Mom and Dad.

  What we would have missed without her.

  Everything her life opened up for all of us.

  Such a huge responsibility for such a tiny baby. She didn’t know she was a new beginning for so many people.

  “You’re awfully quiet, Joey.” Jillian’s voice drew me back to the present.

  “I was just thinking . . . how Ellison changes so much for our family . . . in a good way. And I almost said no to her.”

  “But you didn’t. Sometimes the best part of life is saying yes to the unexpected.”

  “I’m learning that.”

  “I think we all are.” Jillian knelt beside me. “You know how they say good things come in small packages? Elle is our good thing.”

  Payton stood in the doorway. “Do you need anything?”

  “No. We’re all good.” I smiled at my sisters. “The best w
e’ve been in a long time.”

  37

  THE CHILL OF THE LATE-AUGUST MORNING made Jillian thankful she’d added a Windbreaker to her outfit at the last moment.

  “You warm enough?” Geoff took her hand and pulled her close as they walked toward Memorial Park.

  “Yes. I always forget how cold it can be when we decide to go early and watch the balloon launch.”

  “It’ll warm up by the time it’s over.”

  “True.” She stopped walking, causing Geoff to stumble. “Today’s the thirty-first, isn’t it?”

  “Ye-es.”

  “Yesterday was Johanna’s original due date—and Ellison is already over three weeks old. Isn’t that amazing?”

  Geoff resumed walking toward the park, joining the other people wanting to see the hot-air balloons take to the sky. “Things are finally quieting down . . . just a little.”

  “For us, maybe. Not for Johanna. Not for quite a while.”

  “Ellison Pepper Thatcher—she’s something, isn’t she?” Geoff seemed to get a kick out of the baby’s name.

  “I don’t know what meant more to Mom—that Johanna used her maiden name or that she also used Pepper’s name.”

  “For all her toughness, Johanna gives some of the most thoughtful gifts of anyone I know.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The Christmas you were first diagnosed with cancer? She donated her hair to Locks of Love.”

  “Right.”

  “When Payton and Zach got married, she wrote—and recorded—a song for their ceremony. I remember how surprising that was because I didn’t even know your sister played the piano.”

  “She surprised all of us that day.”

  “And then she names your mom’s first granddaughter after her—and Pepper.”

  Why was it that Geoff was the one who saw Johanna as a gift giver—and recognized how her sister gave a piece of her heart with each of those actions?

  “You, Husband, are very observant. Johanna doesn’t just give things. You can’t put a price tag on any of those things you mentioned.”

  “She’s a lot different than I originally thought.” They stopped at an intersection, waiting for a chance to cross the street.