Catching Air (17 page)

“I can help,” Dawn said.

• • •

Beep, beep, beep
went the hospital’s machines, relentless and methodical as a dripping faucet.

It was 2:00
A.M.
and Alyssa couldn’t sleep. The woman in the next bed kept moaning and thrashing. Nurses and aides seemed to come in every few minutes to dispense medicine or take readings or write something on charts. Why did people ever go to hospitals to get well?

She tried to quiet her mind because she and the baby both needed rest, but she felt intensely alone and very scared. She wished Rand were there, even though she’d been the one to tell him to go home.

“One of us might as well get some rest,” she’d said, knowing the only other options were the hard chair in the corner of the room or the couch in the waiting area. His discomfort was obvious; while she was checking in and getting settled, he kept jingling the change in his pocket, then he made an excuse to go to the cafeteria to bring her a cup of tea she didn’t want. Being at the hospital seemed to conjure a kind of panic in him that was probably rooted in his mother’s death. Still, it hurt that he’d left so quickly, without even putting up a feeble protest.

She felt guilty for thinking it, but it was the truth: If their places had been reversed, she would’ve slept on the hard chair.

Luckily, her mother had been the perfect combination of laid-back and supportive when Alyssa had phoned right after Rand went home.

“I just don’t know how I’m going to do it,” Alyssa had confessed, keeping her voice low so the woman a thin curtain away didn’t overhear. She thought about Kira, with her lists and schedules and endless energy. Kira had even created a three-ring binder for Jessica’s wedding, with tabs for sections like “photography” and “flowers” and “food.” Meanwhile, Alyssa had failed to notice that she was three months pregnant. How could she possibly take care of a human being she hadn’t even realized was growing inside of her?

But her mother had said the perfect thing: “You will
thrive
doing it.” The absolute certainty in her voice had made Alyssa shudder with relief.

“Is it a bad sign that I didn’t notice?” she’d asked, wrapping and unwrapping one of her long, loose curls around her index finger. “I thought I had a really light period about six weeks ago, but the doctor said it was just spotting. Apparently it’s not uncommon.”

Bee had answered Alyssa’s more important, unspoken question instead: “Your love for the baby will grow right along with the baby itself, you know. They’ll both get stronger every day.”

A nurse swung through the door and checked a readout on a machine next to Alyssa.

“Still awake?” she asked.

“I guess I’m nervous,” Alyssa said. The nurse touched her shoulder briefly. “You’re in the best possible place,” she said before moving past the green curtain to check on the woman in the next bed.

Alyssa adjusted the pillow under her head, trying to find a more comfortable position. They should probably call Donna Marin at the agency to let her know, she realized. Alyssa frowned, imagining Donna’s reaction. “
Another
change?” she could almost hear the adoption liaison saying, her lips pursing in disapproval.

A thought made Alyssa’s mouth grow dry: Her pregnancy wouldn’t delay their trip to get Grace, would it? She didn’t think she’d be able to bear that.

Maybe no one at the agency had to know. Aside from a slight thickening of her waist that she’d attributed to Kira’s good cooking, she wasn’t showing. And the weather was her partner in camouflage—it was the season for bulky sweaters and scarves. It was wintertime in China now, too.

It was better not to tell, she decided. Why risk it?

She couldn’t remember falling asleep, but the next thing she knew, the room was brighter, and soon Rand arrived, holding a bag containing warm blueberry muffins Kira had baked, and then they were wheeled into another room for the surgery.

“First we’re going to check things out,” said the doctor—a woman who barely looked old enough to be babysitting. She held up a probe attached to the ultrasound machine. “You shouldn’t feel anything but a little pressure between your legs.”

“Should I be jealous?” Rand joked, and Alyssa grimaced. Maybe he was nervous, but was this really the time? She and the doctor both ignored him.

The doctor adjusted the ultrasound screen so Alyssa could see it clearly. “There’s the heartbeat,” she said.

Alyssa stared at the small, bean-shaped figure on the screen and watched the steady light throbbing near its center.

“Isn’t that too fast?” she asked.

“No, fetuses have much faster heartbeats than we do,” the doctor said. “This one is about a hundred and thirty beats per minute. Everything looks good.”

Alyssa ran her eyes over her baby’s head, and its gently curving body. The tiny being seemed impossibly fragile. She could cup her child in a single hand.

“Oh my God,” she whispered.

She knew, suddenly, that she could do this. She’d find a sling that let her carry two children at once. She’d buy a bigger bed so they could all pile in, like puppies. From this moment on, she would never feel overwhelmed or complain or worry about having two kids so close together, because she was the most blessed woman alive.

Spark, spark, spark went the baby’s heartbeat, like a firefly igniting the darkness.

Well, hello there
, Alyssa thought, and she reached out to touch the light on the screen.

Chapter Fifteen

“EXCUSE ME!” ALYSSA CALLED
to a passing nurse. “Do you know how much longer it’ll be before I can leave?”

“Just a few more minutes,” said the nurse without looking at them or slowing her pace. Somehow Alyssa wasn’t reassured.

Dr. Natterson had been delivering a baby in the same hospital at the time of her procedure, and apparently he wanted to come by to give her recovery instructions. Which made no sense to Alyssa. The cerclage had been ridiculously simple, and she was going to see Dr. Natterson for a follow-up in a few days. Couldn’t the doctor who’d performed the cerclage tell her to drink fluids and avoid lifting anything heavy for forty-eight hours and send her on her way?

“Maybe I should go get the Jeep and pull it out front,” Rand said. Alyssa was sitting in the hard chair, and he was leaning against the wall next to her, still jingling the change in his pocket.

“But we don’t know how long it’s going to take,” Alyssa protested.

“Right,” he said. Jingle, jingle.

“I wish they’d hurry,” Alyssa said.

“Yeah,” Rand agreed.

They waited for a few more minutes.

“Can you please stop making that noise?” Alyssa finally asked.

“Huh?” Rand followed her gaze to his pocket. “Sorry,” he said, withdrawing his hand.

They were silent until Dr. Natterson finally appeared, still in blue scrubs.

“Hi,” he said, giving Alyssa a smile that instantly made her forgive him for any past, current, and future transgressions.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Pretty good, just a little tired,” she said.

“That’s to be expected,” he said. “I don’t know anyone who sleeps well in the hospital. Make sure you go to sleep early tonight and stay hydrated.”

“Okay,” she said, glancing at Rand out of the corner of her eye. Was that all they’d been waiting for?

“I talked with the doctor who performed the cerclage,” he said. He sat down on the edge of the bed Alyssa had recently vacated and rested his elbows on his knees. “Your cervix is measuring at about three point five centimeters.”

“What’s the normal number?” Alyssa asked.

“Five centimeters,” Dr. Natterson said. “It thinned more than I’d previously thought. So we’re going to have to take some precautions for the rest of your pregnancy. You’ll need to be on bed rest.”

“Bed rest,” Alyssa repeated.

“You can take a shower every other day, and walk to the bathroom, but other than that I want you lying down on a bed or couch,” he said. “No unnecessary movement for the next five or six months.”

It took a second for the realization to sink in—the kind of dazed, fuzzy moment that separates a terrible fall from the resulting crush of pain.

“Grace,” she whispered.

She looked at Rand, who was staring back at her, his eyes wide.

“No!” Alyssa yelled. “I need to get her! She’s waiting for us, in China! My daughter needs me to bring her home!”

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Natterson said. He exhaled and ran his hand over his face. “I don’t . . . I’ve never dealt with this particular situation before . . . I just know two long flights would be the worst possible thing for you and the baby.”

“So I have to choose?” she cried.

She looked at Dr. Natterson, then at Rand. Neither man challenged her statement.

“I can’t choose! I won’t! I will not pick one of my children over the other!”

Why wasn’t Rand stopping this from happening?

She was hyperventilating. The room was spinning. She could see Grace’s little chin trembling as her daughter stood up in her crib, stretching out her arms and wailing. Crying for her mother to come pick her up, to comfort her in the way that only a mother could. But no one was there, and Grace was crying harder, and now Alyssa was sobbing, too . . .

Someone’s hands were on her shoulders. She thought they belonged to Rand, but the voice near her ear was Dr. Natterson’s. “You need to calm down,” he told her. “Please.”

“Why is this happening?” she cried.

And why wasn’t Rand yelling and fighting, too?
Do something!
she wanted to scream at him.

But it was Dr. Natterson who spoke again. “You’re working with an adoption agency, right? Maybe there’s something they can do to help. Delay it, perhaps. Ask their advice.”

They don’t even know I’m pregnant!
Alyssa wanted to cry.

“I am getting on that plane,” she said. Grace was crying in her crib! Alyssa’s head snapped up, and she looked at Dr. Natterson. “You can’t stop me!”

“Listen to me,” the doctor said, his voice low and intense. “If your baby is born months early, he or she may not survive. There can also be severe developmental issues. Vision and hearing loss. Intellectual disabilities. You’re at a serious risk even without getting on a plane.”

Alyssa felt bile rise in her throat, and she gripped the armrests of her chair.

“I don’t mean to scare you,” Dr. Natterson said. “If you’re careful, we have every reason to believe the baby will make it to full term.”

His pager erupted at that moment, and he checked the message.

“I’m sorry,” he said, sighing as he stood up. “Emergency C-section. I’m going to call you tomorrow to check on you, okay? Just take it easy tonight, drink plenty of fluids, and stay off your feet.”

Alyssa nodded. She would do it tonight. Beyond that, she wasn’t making any promises.

After a last squeeze of her shoulder, Dr. Natterson shut the door behind him as he left.

“He could be wrong,” Alyssa told Rand. “I’m just going to be sitting on the plane. I’ll be resting! I’ll call my dad. He’ll buy us first-class tickets. I can lie down the whole flight!”

He put an arm around her and kissed her forehead. “It’s going to be fine.”

But his voice was wooden, and she could tell he didn’t believe it.

“Don’t you dare give up on our daughter,” she told him. She felt as if steel was running through her body, pulling her up straight and strong, infusing her with an electric power. “Don’t you
dare
!”

“Lyss.” He said her name on a long exhale of air. “Grace’s life isn’t on the line here.”

It was as if her ankle was broken, and she’d gone to lean on him for support, and he’d stepped away, letting her crash to the floor.

“So that’s it?” she said. “We just take down Grace’s picture and act like she never existed?” She’d never spoken to Rand this way before, in a voice so chilly it resembled a slap.

“Of course not,” he said. “I’m just trying to be . . . reasonable.”

But there had been too many empty spaces in the preceding minutes that should have been filled with Rand’s protests and fears, and in those silences, she’d become aware of something.

He’d already chosen. He’d chosen the baby.

• • •• • •

Kira and Dawn were elbow deep in wedding tasting preparations when Peter came into the kitchen.

“Hon, can you hand me that colander?” Kira asked, gesturing with her chin.

But Peter sat down on a stool instead, seemingly unaware of her request, even though he was looking straight at her. “Rand called a minute ago,” he said. “They’re about to leave the hospital.”

Kira walked over and scooped up the colander herself. “How’s Alyssa?”

Peter shook his head. “Not good,” he said. “I mean, physically she’s okay, I guess. But she has to be on bed rest until the baby comes or she could deliver prematurely.”

Kira gasped. “But she’s barely three months pregnant . . . So she can’t do anything for the next six months?”
The wedding
, she thought, then instantly felt ashamed.

“It’s more than that,” Peter said. Dawn was slicing a melon into small rectangular chunks and silently watching him. “She can’t go get Grace.”

Kira sank onto the stool next to him, shaken. “They must be so upset,” she said. “My God!”

She thought for a moment, her practical mind clicking into gear. “Can Rand go alone? What are the laws in China about that?”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Peter said. “I’m not sure what the rules are, and I don’t know if they do, either. They’re on their way back now. Rand said Alyssa needs a little time alone. She’s going straight to their room when she gets here. Actually, I guess that’s where she’s going to be for a long time.”

“Trapped,” Dawn blurted, and she blushed when Peter and Kira turned to look at her. “She must feel trapped.”

Peter nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he said. “I bet she does.”

“What can we do to help her?” Kira asked. “I can bring her meals on a tray . . . she’ll need a pitcher of water for her bedside, of course. Maybe a DVD player and a stack of movies? We should sign up for Netflix.”

“That sounds good,” Peter said.

“Okay,” Kira said. “Let me think a little more.” She stood up and paced the kitchen, passing by her wedding binder on the counter, then she spun around to look at Dawn. “Can you stay a little longer?” she asked.

“Oh!” Dawn said, blinking in apparent surprise. “I mean, sure. I guess so. Whatever you need.”

“It won’t be forever, obviously,” Kira said. “But you need a place to stay and we need help. At least through the wedding. And truthfully, we can’t afford to hire someone. You’d be doing us a favor, too.”

“I’ll only stay as long as you need me,” Dawn promised.

“So we need to get your room ready,” Kira said. She reached for a pad of paper and pen in a drawer next to the dishwasher. “You can’t keep using a sleeping bag. How does a futon sound? That way you can have it as a couch during the daytime.”

“Sure,” Dawn said. “A futon’s fine . . . but really, I’m okay with the sleeping bag.”

“Futon,” Kira said, scribbling in her notepad. “We’ve got plenty of sheets and blankets. Maybe another space heater, a lamp . . . oh, and we should get a rug. That’ll help a lot. We can pick up a soft, fluffy remnant that covers the whole floor. And you can use the guest showers when they’re unoccupied . . .”

Peter walked over and put his hands on Kira’s shoulders. “Deep breath,” he said.

Kira nodded. “I always get hyper when I’m stressed,” she told Dawn.

“The only thing we really need to worry about is the baby and Grace,” Peter said. “And keeping Dawn safe.”

Dawn looked down and blushed.

“You’re right,” Kira said, but her mind was clicking as rapidly as ever. “I’m going to check Alyssa’s room to see what she needs so I can set it up before she gets home. Peter, could you find some extra pillows? And Dawn, could you get a pitcher of water for her nightstand? I hope Terry and those jerks are quiet tonight. Maybe we should offer them a free dinner in town or something to get them out of here . . .”

Kira stepped out of the kitchen, then popped back in.

“I just thought of something,” she said. “The background check.”

Dawn’s head shot up at her words.

“It’s nothing personal—we all had to have them,” Kira said. “The adoption agency requires them for anyone staying at the B-and-B longer than a few weeks. It’s no big deal, but if you’re going to live here for a bit, you’ll need one.”

“Of course,” Dawn said.

“I know you’ve been worried about telling us your last name,” Kira said, putting a hand on Dawn’s arm. “But you’re safe now. And we won’t breathe a word to anyone. It’s just for the security check. I’ll get your social security number and birth date later.”

“Sure,” Dawn said.

Kira seemed to be waiting for something. “So what is your last name?” she finally asked.

“It’s . . . Anderson. Dawn Anderson.”