Like Father Like Son

by Lennon, Leigh

  “Where are you taking her?” I demand. The son of a bitch doesn’t answer and keeps on walking.

  I’m going out of my ever-loving mind when an hour later, headlights shine into my front windows. It’s Ned. I guess I know where Holland is.

  Grabbing two beers, I meet him at the front door, letting him in from the cold. He rubs the scruff of his beard. “I have two very upset ladies at my house, both fucking mad as hell at you. Holland is talking about all these crazy plans, moving home, moving in with Christine. Her exact words were, ‘If I’m going to be controlled, it won’t be by some fucking alpha wannabe male.’ So, tell me what in the world happened?”

  I go into everything—all the details from finding Jase to me issuing her an ultimatum. He puts down his beer. “Wow, you really dug your own grave haven’t you, old friend?” I shrug, but we both know the truth to the question. “Gotta ask you—both Elise and I see how you look at her. Do you love her?”

  Can I admit out loud what I already know in my heart? I shrug again.

  “You know nothing can ever happen. I mean, I guess if there weren’t a little one on the way, it would be different. But, M, come on.”

  “Of course my brain knows but tell it to my heart when I see the way that Elton fucker looks at her.”

  “Jase Elton is a good kid. And yeah, he’s smitten with her—anyone with eyes can see that. Just as we all know there’s something there between Holland and you. But, M, if there’s anyone I could choose to help raise my grandbaby, you could do a lot worse than him.”

  Why does this send irrational shivers down my spine? Ned continues, “Well, I better get back to my gal. She’s surely not heading the Maguire Parrish fan club today.” He stands up from where we’d been sitting, patting me on the shoulder. “Give Holland a couple of days. Let her cool down. I’ll give her tomorrow off, call it a mental health day. See you in the morning.”

  He’s gone and I retreat into my kitchen, grabbing a bottle of Jim, my only comfort for the night.

  I wake to something wet and cold on my face. My eyes open to the sight of my golden retriever. “Hey, boy. Glad to know someone’s not mad at me.” He’s over at the door, scratching to go out. Attempting to sit, my gaze falls on the empty bottle of Beam. “Just a sec, boy,” I utter, when Ranger continues to scratch and whine about being let out.

  At the door, I have the sun blocked with a hand over my face. Opening the slider, he runs across the gravel. “Hey, boy, miss me?” It’s the voice of Holland. She looks up at me, and I wave, like a fucking wave will get me out of the doghouse with her.

  She flips me off, turning on her heels, heading inside. She has a couple of boxes and my heart drops. And what’s worse, she’s in Elise’s Mercedes. First things first, I make my way to the sink and take four Advil. The banging in my head won’t stop throbbing. But I can’t let Holland leave without fighting for her.

  On my way up the steps, the door is half open, but all I can hear are sobs coming from the apartment. She’s on the floor in the hall and my first thought is she’s fallen.

  “Darlin’, you hurt?”

  Her eyes shoot up at me. “Stay the fuck away from me, Maguire Parrish. I’m crying because I thought this was my place. Everyone has tried to control me, well, besides Scott. And now you issue me the law according to the almighty Maguire Parrish.”

  The slap she heaped on me yesterday did less damage than her words have now. “Let’s get you off the floor first.”

  “No, go screw yourself.” She leans forward trying to hoist herself on her knees, but it’s not working. Her head is lowered to her chest and her chin tremors. With a look of defeat, she holds out her hands.

  Pulling her up gently, she’s in my face, when she pushes off of me. “Now, leave. Oh, wait, that’s right. We have rules now, so don’t worry. I’ll leave.” She walks to her kitchen and grabs a set of keys off the island, pitching them straight at my head. “Here are your keys. Elise is taking me today and I’ll get my own car. I’m looking at an apartment in town.”

  “Holland, I was wrong. Please stop. I don’t want you to leave.”

  She’s down the hallway with one of the boxes, taking the contents of her dresser drawers and tossing them straight into the cardboard box. I’m in the doorway, watching it all. “Holland, what can I say to fix this?”

  “Nothing, not one thing. I’m an adult and sure I’m young, but I’m not stupid. Do you think I would hop into bed with the first man that paid me attention? Jase has made no qualms about liking me, but he’s become a good friend. You disrespected him and me acting like King Kong claiming me as your own.”

  “I’m jealous, Holland, you must know that. It’s the same way when you see me with Kat.”

  With my speech rushed and stammering, she stops tossing shit into her boxes and steps in front of me. “Yeah, and when was the last time I verbally assaulted Kat, telling you who you can have at your house?” She gets as close as she can, screaming, and her spit hits me in the face. Her anger doesn’t subside when she continues, “You used the one thing I need, my own independence against me. You used something to control me. Do you know how demeaning you were?”

  “Yeah, darlin’, I fucked up. Please, don’t let this one mistake dictate the future you have. Don’t leave. I’ll agree to anything, just don’t leave. I need to know you’re across the driveway from me.”

  She looks at all the shit she’s thrown into her boxes. “Well, it’s not like I can carry this box down the stairs anyway.”

  “You’ll stay?” I ask.

  “I’ll stay, but I make the rules. And you have to promise you’ll respect them.” Her hands are on her hips and she’s so fucking darling—the whole reason for her pet name.

  “I promise, darlin’, just don’t leave me.”

  Chapter 27

  Josh and I are minding our own business in the corner of the breakroom when Maguire comes storming in. “Holland, I need to speak to you.” His eyes aren’t on mine when he orders me to his office. They’re on Josh’s. “And, you, isn’t it time to get back to work? John told me you’ve been gone for ten minutes. Yep, I think your break is over.”

  “He was just getting up, Sarge.” Josh’s eyes plead with me. He might be scared of the jackalope in front of me, but I’m not.

  Josh walks past him, taking a quick look at his watch, “Actually, Mr. P, I still have two minutes on my break.” With Maguire’s hands on his waist, Josh hurries past him with a simple, “Catch you later, Holls.”

  I’m laid back in my chair, my hand on my protruding belly. Thankfully, I have four weeks to go, but my hormones have taken over and I’m about to light into Maguire. I sure as hell don’t plan to meet him in his office. “Was all that display of dominance necessary, Sarge?” I begin like I have not a care in the world. “I thought we went over this?”

  He points to the seats in the breakroom and I lean back, not moving. He sits across the table, his fingers on his chin. Hell, why does one chin dimple have to be such a freakin’ turn on?

  “Look, I know one day you’ll find another man who will fall madly in love with you. It very well might be Josh’s brother.” He pauses, taking in a deep breath. “You’re special. Someone is sure to snatch you up.” I want to object and it’s on the tip of my tongue. “Just let me say my piece.” I nod, giving him the floor. “It’s hard to think about anyone but my son owning your heart one day. On top of it all, he’ll become a father to my grandchild, too.”

  I understand his concern and I’ll always be respectful of the promise he’s made to Scott, but this has gotten deep, very fast. To bring a little humor back to the room, I put up my hand, now stopping him. “Dramatic much? First off, it’ll be a while before I can imagine starting over again.” Except in my declaration, I’m lying. There’s one person I can imagine starting over with. He’s right across from me. I put these thoughts so far out of my mind. “Josh is a funny guy. More so, he knew Scott. He was telling me about the tim
e Scott worked here for the summer. And they snuck out and your son got so wasted.”

  “Wait, I don’t remember this.” Maguire cocks his head to the side, as Scott had done when he was confused.

  “Yeah, I’m sure you don’t. Anyway, the point I’m trying to make is I’m a big girl, I can make my own friends. And Josh is just that—a friend.”

  He stands, pushing the chair back. “But I won’t ever stop looking out for you, darlin’, you better believe it.” He exits without another word. But what if I can only see him as the future he talks about? Again, I shake it from my mind before it has time to sink in.

  I’m enjoying a beautiful early spring evening, with a beer and my dog on my front porch. For mid-March, it’s surprisingly warm. My mind is rooted in The Hunt for Red October when Ranger darts from his comfortable place in the shade. Looking up through my aviators is Holland. She has hit thirty-six weeks and I can’t imagine her belly stretching anymore.

  As she closes the space between us, I’m met with her flushed face. Immediately putting down the book, I’m next to her.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, taking her by the arm and leading her to my deck.

  “I’m not feeling well. I wasn’t in the mood to cook. I think I may be hungry.”

  “Stay put, darlin’,” I say, when she laughs deeper than she typically does.

  “I’m nine months pregnant. You placed me in this low ass chair. It’s safe to say I’m not going anywhere.”

  I’m away long enough to spoon up a fresh vegetable pasta salad and a glass of milk. On the deck, I have a great view of Holland’s profile. Her cheeks aren’t as flushed. She looks perfect. She glows. I’ve seen many pregnant women in my life, and none are as beautiful as Holland. She turns her head, catching me in the midst of watching her. “What?” Holland asks, pushing her brown hair from her face.

  “Motherhood suits you, darlin’. Can’t say that about many women but for you, it comes naturally.”

  Pushing her head back, as she does when she disagrees with something, she purses her lips for a brief second. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Not at all.”

  Tilting her head back, she laughs out loud. “I’m a mess.” I give her the bowl of pasta and she begins to shovel it into her mouth. Between bites, she continues, “You’re only saying this because I’m carrying your grandchild.”

  I kneel down next to her, placing my hand on her belly. “Believe me, this falls so far outside of the realm of simply being this baby’s grandfather.”

  Did this come out of my mouth? I stand, raking my hand through my hair. “Shit, Holland.”

  Setting down her pasta, she attempts to push herself up, which proves to be impossible. I pull her toward me, and her belly is the only thing that stops us from crashing together. “I didn’t mean to say it the way it came out,” I begin to explain.

  “But you meant it, right?” she asks as I look away.

  I run my hands through my hair again, heaving out a large breath of air. “I’ve never denied it, you know this, darlin’.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” She hurries off and I don’t stop her.

  Chapter 28

  The pain—it’s like someone is burning me from the inside. Why does it hurt so much? I roll out of bed, it’s the only way I know to get off of the mattress. Landing on my knees, I’m able to reach for the lamp switch, but I’m still on all fours. My gaze lands on the bed, where a large red spot catches my attention. Reaching between my legs, wetness assaults me. When I have my fingers in front of my eyes, I find I’m looking at my own blood.

  Grabbing for my phone, I call Maguire. On the first ring, it’s delivered straight to voice mail. His phone is always dead. I have no choice, I can’t move. I can barely breathe. Pushing 911, I’m hardly able to state my address. The dispatcher stays on the line with me, talking me through breathing strategies—for calming purposes. It’s ten minutes later when the sirens of the ambulance are barreling up the incline.

  The dispatcher is still giving me techniques when a forceful push of pressure soaks my pajamas. No wonder I wasn’t feeling well earlier the previous evening. I’m only at thirty-six weeks, but this baby is coming. The pain is so intense I begin to scream and I drop my phone, accidentally disconnecting the call with 911.

  I’m still on all fours as the pressure builds. I wish I had told the dispatcher where my keys were or how to get to me. Shit, I only told them the address, not where they could find me. When the sirens disengage, it’s less than three minutes before the door opens and Maguire is yelling out for me. I’m facing the opposite direction, but when his cries get closer, it’s a split second before he’s at my head.

  “Darlin’?” he questions.

  “The baby is coming!” I scream when one medic appears at my head.

  “Ms. Parrish, hey, I’m Felicia. We’re here to help. How far along are you?”

  A contraction assaults me. With Maguire’s hand on the floor, near my own, I take it, squeezing it as a comfort. “I’m thirty-six weeks,” I almost scream in the first of what I imagine will be many contractions.

  “Okay, we’re moving you to your back and my partner, Leona, will be checking you.” With Maguire’s help, they assist me and I’m able to lie on my back, though it hurts like hell.

  I’m quiet, my knees open to give the medic a great vantage point of everything under my hood.

  “Um, Felicia,” the second medic says to the first. “Can you come here.”

  I look at Maguire for the first time since he found me on the floor in my room. “Breathe, darlin’, just breathe.” He smiles, and I know he’s as worried as I am, but he’s my calm in the storm, the one to ground me in this moment of pure torture.

  “Holland,” the medic I know as Felicia calls to me. My attention is now on her and not my father-in-law. “Um, this baby is coming right now, hon.”

  My eyes dart to Maguire. “No, this is not the plan, Sarge. It’s not what I’ve envisioned. Fix it, you’ve gotta fix it.”

  His fingers stroke my hair. “Listen, darlin’, women have been giving birth to babies in their homes for years.”

  Felicia leans over my large stomach to make eye contact with me. “He’s right, hon. I’ve delivered over a dozen babies. I have everything we need. If you can get me some clean sheets and blankets, we’ll be good,” she asks of Maguire.

  Maguire stands to grab them. I pull him back to me. “Please don’t leave,” I beg. The other EMT stands and he directs her to the linen closet.

  “Okay, the good thing is he or she’s coming out the correct way. I see the head, it’s crowning.”

  How’s this possible, I wonder? I barely push, but it doesn’t mean the pain isn’t as intense as I’ve imagined. I take in one deep breath when the other medic rushes to my side with the supplies and a radio.

  “Okay, Holland, I need you with everything you have—to push as hard as you can right now.”

  I bear down and push hard through the immense pain when I scream. No, it’s not the word to describe what I do. It’s noise, a loud as hell noise. My eyes stay locked on Maguire when a foreign cry fills the room. This time, it’s not me.

  “It’s a girl!” Felicia yells over the commotion of my screaming baby. With the second medic on the radio and the first wrapping my baby in a white sheet, Felicia turns toward me, still on her knees, and only smiles. “The other ambulance is ten minutes out. Let me cut the umbilical cord.” I’m sure it’s a couple minutes but it seems like it’s forever before the medic says anything else. “Okay, all done. Now, it’s time to introduce you to your baby girl.”

  Maguire stands, grabbing several pillows to prop my head up off the floor. He then takes the bundled baby out of the medic’s hands. “We will transport you to the hospital once the second ambulance gets here.”

  Her words don’t even register when Maguire leans over, handing me the most prized possession my husband left me. One look in her eyes, I
know she has the same ones of both her daddy and grandpa. Kissing her little forehead, I speak my first words to my girl. “Welcome to the world, Scotland May Parrish.”

  Has there ever been a more beautiful sight? I’ve never seen one. Holland, with my granddaughter, doesn’t compare to the majestic mountains I stare at from my deck or a sunset at the lake. This is beauty at its fullest. With the paramedics’ assistance, I move Holland and my little Scottie to her bed. I sit next to them. Hell, I want to crawl into bed with both of these girls and hold them. But they’re not mine to keep.

  Scott would be brimming with pride. A mother holding her baby—his baby—I can imagine it now. You know Dad when I told you Holland was it and I loved her more than my truck. It could never compare to her holding our little girl. Scott hadn’t been overly emotional, but he could be poignant and to the point. It’s all the sentiment I would get from him, but it would be enough.

  Since Holland announced the little one’s name—I’d been teetering on the edge of an emotional breakdown as every sensation of the past eight months comes flooding back to me. “You did good, darlin’,” I start, staring at her. Her own face is turned down, looking at her baby.

  She tips her head up for the briefest of moments to smile. I’ve seen Holland in casual clothes, dressed up, hell, I’ve seen her in a bikini and she’s never looked as knocked down fucking gorgeous as she does in this instant.

  “I’m so tired.”

  I chuckle at her when she glances back at her baby. “Of course you are, darlin’, it’s hard work to give birth.”

  A smirk crawls over her face. I’ve seen this before and I brace myself for her sassy little mouth. “Are you speaking from experience, Sarge?”

  Placing my hand on her knee, I continue to beam with pride at this mouthy little thing in front of me. “Glad to know that even in childbirth, you’re still a little smart ass.”