Authors: Danielle Steel
Chapter 33
When Paris walked into the hospital
, they directed her to the labor and delivery floor. She took the elevator, and two minutes later she was walking into Amy's room. By then she was already in heavy labor, and it was moving quickly. This was her fifth baby, and her other four had been fast deliveries. But she said this one hurt more. Maybe because she knew she was giving it up forever.
“How's it going?” Paris asked sympathetically as she arrived.
“Okay,” Amy said, trying to be a good sport, but she groaned out loud when the next contraction hit her. They had an external monitor on her and the baby's heartbeat was fine, but the part of the monitor that showed the force of the contractions was nearly off the charts. The graphs on the paper tape looked like a major earthquake.
“Wow! Those are big ones,” Paris said as the nurse showed her how to read it. She changed into hospital pajamas then, so she'd be ready for the delivery room, and took Amy's hand in hers. There was no one else with her. Her husband had been at the neighbor's when she left for the hospital in a taxi, and she had dropped off the boys at a friend's. It was a lonely way to have a baby. But at least Paris was there. And she had had the presence of mind to bring the papers she needed to have the baby released to her. And the hospital had been notified by Alice Harper about the adoption. Everything was in order. All they needed now was the baby.
Amy was doing her best to have it. And her body was cooperating nicely. The nurse said she was dilated to ten, an hour after Paris got there. From their point of view, it was going fine, but poor Amy was writhing in agony as she lay there, and she was determined to do it without medication. Paris didn't argue with her, although she herself had had an epidural and much preferred it to natural childbirth. But Amy insisted it was better for the baby. Maybe she felt it was her final gift to her.
They seemed to stay in the same place for a while. The doctor came in to check her, which hurt Amy more, and this time she screamed, and a few minutes later they rolled her down to the delivery room, and she started pushing. Paris was holding both her hands and trying to help her breathe, and after a while a nurse suggested that Paris get behind her and hold her in an upright position. It was uncomfortable for Paris, but it seemed to help Amy as she kept pushing, but the baby was going nowhere. They continued pushing, with no visible results for more than two hours, and Amy was screaming all the time now. Paris wished there were something more useful she could do for her, but she kept talking to her, and encouraging her, and all of a sudden Amy gave a hideous howl, and the doctor said the baby was finally coming.
“Come on, Amy … come on … that's it … push again …” Everyone was shouting at her, and Amy couldn't stop crying. Paris wondered if her own deliveries had been as awful. It didn't seem like it, but she couldn't remember. They had seemed easier than this one. And then finally, finally, they could see the top of the baby's head, as Amy worked harder than she ever had, and with three horrible screams, the baby finally slid out. Amy was sobbing in Paris's arms, and the baby girl's wail filled the room, as Paris saw her and began crying. The doctor cut the cord, and gently handing her over Amy, she handed her to Paris, as Paris leaned down to show her. “Look how beautiful she is,” Paris whispered to Amy. “You did such a good job,” she said, as Amy closed her eyes, and they finally gave her a shot, which made her woozy. The baby weighed eight pounds fourteen ounces. She was a big one, though Jane's had been bigger, but this had seemed harder and longer. It was four o'clock in the morning when they left the delivery room, and went back to the room that had been assigned to Amy. It was at the far end of the hall from the nursery. The hospital staff knew that this was an adoption, and Amy would be relinquishing her baby, and they tried to be sensitive about it.
They took the baby to the nursery to clean her up, give her eyedrops, and check her Apgar scores, as Paris sat in the room with Amy while she slept off the medication. And while she was still asleep, they brought back the baby. She was looking around, alert, with a little cotton cap on, wrapped in a pink blanket, and the nurse silently held her out to her new mother, and Paris took her, and held her close to her, as their eyes met.
“Hello, little one …” The baby had round pink cheeks, and big eyes that were baby color, and had yet to reveal what they would be, and a fuzz of white duck hair on the top of her head. She looked like a little doll in Paris's arms, and as Paris held her, she drifted off to sleep, as though she knew she had come home to her mother at last.
“What's her name?” the nurse whispered.
“Hope,” Paris said, as she looked down at her. The word had just come to her as she saw her. She had been considering several others, but Hope seemed to suit her perfectly.
“I like that.” The nurse smiled, as Paris sat looking down in wonder at the new life that was hers now. And she realized as she did that if Peter hadn't left her, this moment would never have happened. She had found it finally. The gift. The blessing that she hadn't been able to find in the agony for two and a half years. She knew it was there somewhere, but she had never found it, and now she had. The mystery of blessings tucked away in tragedies and disasters. This was the blessing. The hope she had longed for. It had come now in the form of this sleeping baby.
They sat that way for hours, as Amy slept off the drug, and Paris held the baby, and finally they both woke up. They gave Paris a little bottle with glucose in it to feed the baby, and they gave Amy a shot so she wouldn't lactate. They sat together all morning, quietly talking. The pediatrician had checked Hope out and said she could leave at six o'clock that evening, if Paris wanted. Amy was staying till the following morning, and Paris hated to leave her. She called Alice Harper at home to say that the baby had come, and she was delighted for her. Alice said that she should leave whenever the hospital said the baby could be discharged.
“What about Amy?” Paris asked, feeling anxious. She was calling from her cell phone in the hallway, and had left the baby in the nursery to do it.
“It's all right, Paris. They'll take care of her at the hospital. She knows what she's doing. She wants to do this. Don't make it harder for her.” Paris understood then. They each had their role, their separate destinies to follow. It seemed so lonely to her. She called Bix then and told him too, and in spite of all his grumbling, he was happy for her. And then, feeling a little silly because she didn't know him very well, she called Andrew Warren on his cell phone. But he had driven her to the hospital and asked her to call him. She told him Hope had arrived and how much she weighed and how beautiful she was, as she described her to him. She didn't even realize she was crying as she did.
“I love her name,” he said softly.
“So do I,” Paris said. “It suits her.” And it was what she had become to her mother, a symbol of hope for the future. The past was healed now. The gift had been delivered at last.
“I left your car keys at the information desk,” he explained. “When are you going home?”
“They said we could leave at six o'clock tonight.” She still sounded a little awestruck, and hadn't slept yet. She was too excited.
“Would you let me drive you?”
“Are you sure it wouldn't be a nuisance?” Bix hadn't offered, and she hadn't expected him to. Steven was still under the weather, and he wouldn't have anyway. Bix hated hospitals, and wasn't wildly fond of babies. This was her deal. And she did have her car there. She hadn't expected Andrew to renew his offer to drive her home.
“It would be an honor,” he said solemnly. “I'll be there at five-thirty, in case they let you leave early.”
“Thank you.” It was a night that had solidified their friendship, and was an important moment for her, and her new daughter. He congratulated her again, and after that she called Meg and Wim on their cell phones. And they were surprised that the baby had come early. She was laughing and talking to them, and after she hung up, she went back to get the baby in the nursery, and was startled to discover that they had taken her to Amy. She was awake and had asked for her, which worried Paris. What if she changed her mind now? Paris already loved this baby. But Amy was still legally her mother.
And when she walked back into the room, Amy was holding her, looking into the baby's eyes and talking to her, as though she'd been saying something very important to her. And she had been, she'd been saying good-bye.
She looked up when she saw Paris, and without hesitating, she held the baby out to her, as Paris held her breath. “I was watching your baby for you,” she said softly, acknowledging in one sentence all she was giving to her. Paris's eyes filled with tears as she took Hope from her. And a little while later the social worker came in with papers for Amy to sign.
Paris slept most of the afternoon, as the baby did. And at five o'clock they told her Hope could go home. Paris went to the nursery to dress her in the outfit she'd brought. It was just a nightgown and a blanket and an undershirt and a little cap. She hadn't had time to put something pretty together as she had done so long ago for Meg. But all that mattered now was that they were going home together.
When the baby was dressed, Paris walked back into Amy's room with Hope wrapped in the blanket in her arms. She wanted to give her one last look at her, and she was surprised by how calm Amy was, and she was sure that the drugs had worn off.
“Do you want to hold her?” Paris offered, but Amy shook her head. She looked sad, but she was very quiet. She just looked long and hard at the baby and then at Paris.
“Thank you,” she said, which was what Paris wanted to say to her.
“Thank you… God bless you… please take care of yourself.” She had promised to send her address so Paris would know where to send the photographs next year. It was so incredible to be walking away with this woman's child. But now she was hers. That was the most amazing part of it… this incredible baby was hers. “I love you,” Paris said, and briefly touched her hand. Amy nodded, and said not a word, and as the door closed slowly behind her, Paris heard her say, “Good-bye.”
There were tears streaming down Paris's cheeks, as a nurse escorted her downstairs. She felt like a kidnapper, spiriting this tiny bundle away. But everyone was smiling at her, and wishing her well, and Andrew was waiting for her downstairs in the lobby.
“Let me see her,” he whispered, and found himself looking into two big bright eyes as Hope stared intently at him, as though wondering who he was.
“Isn't she gorgeous?” Paris grinned at him, and he nodded. He had the car waiting for them. And as he helped Paris put Hope in the baby seat and strap her in, she realized that he had been touched by the miracle too. They had come there together eighteen hours before, a man and a woman who barely knew each other, and had set out on an adventure together. And now they were friends, and there was a brand-new little person driving back across the bridge with them.
“It's amazing, isn't it?” Paris looked at him in wonder, and he nodded, bereft of words. There was nothing he could say to her to tell her what the moment meant to him. And every few minutes, on the drive home, Paris turned around and stared at Hope, with love and gratitude and disbelief. All she could think of now was how lucky she was. Hope was the long-awaited gift.
Chapter 34
Paris wanted to sit up
all night and hold the baby, but she finally broke down and put her in her bassinet, and went to bed herself. She got up every few hours to check her, and kept waking up with a start, wondering if she had dreamed it, but she hadn't. Andrew had left around eleven, after helping her set things up for the baby. He helped her get the bassinet ready and even put the sheet on it for her while she held Hope.
“You're good at this,” she teased him.
“I had a lot of practice. And I always enjoyed it.” And it was obvious he was enjoying it now. He promised to come by the next day before he left for Los Angeles. The writer had finally finished the script. And Andrew was going back to the hotel to bed.
Bix and Steven came by on Sunday morning and saw her, and Bix brought a camera and took a million pictures. He had never seen Paris look better, and he had to admit, the baby was cute. Steven raved about her chin and her nose, which were perfectly formed. And by then, Paris had her in a tiny pink dress and a receiving blanket to keep her warm.
And at four o'clock Andrew came by again.
“I feel like I've been so fortunate to be part of a very special weekend,” he said, looking very moved.
“Thank you for driving us back and forth,” Paris said gratefully to him. “And for sharing this with us.”
“I feel like the stork.” They both laughed. He only stayed a few minutes, kissed the baby on the top of her downy head, and left. He promised to call Paris soon, and this time she didn't mind. He had become a friend overnight. Not a boyfriend or a lover or a suitor, or even a candidate for any of the above. Just a friend, which she valued far more.
And the next morning he sent her a huge bouquet of flowers, with a card that said, “In celebration of Hope! Love, Andrew.” And Bixby sent one of his giant teddy bears made of pink roses. He had told her to take two days off, but she had to be back at work on Wednesday, and she had the baby nurse she'd be using that month all lined up.
And by Wednesday morning, when she went back to work, Paris was in full control. She knew the baby's schedule, which formula she liked, which position she slept in best. And everything in the guest room had been set up for Miss Hope, whose bassinet sat next to her mother's bed at night. All was well in their little world. And at every party they worked together that week, and there were many, Bix told their clients, “Isn't Paris amazing? She had a baby last Friday night!” And then they looked at her in awe, and she explained. By Friday, she had a mountain of gifts on her desk. The world was welcoming Hope.
She had to work straight through until Sunday, and on Sunday morning Andrew called. He had had a ridiculous week too, he said. And he reminded her that Hope was nine days old.