Two Weeks (The Baxter Family #5)(12)

He reached for her coffee and handed it to her. Then he walked her to the door. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not that I’ve given up.” She looked at him over her shoulder. “Not completely.”

“I know.” He smiled. “Just for now.”

“Yes.” She ran her fingers beneath her eyes. “For now.” As she walked away, her heart and steps felt light for the first time in longer than she could remember. This was the break she needed.

They couldn’t live life obsessed with the single goal of having a baby. She wanted real love. Love, the way it used to be. That’s what this season would be. As if they’d never wanted a baby at all. She stepped onto the empty elevator and pressed the button for the sixth floor. Labor and delivery. And suddenly it was her twenty-ninth birthday and she was at the hospital in Atlanta again.

Aaron was with her and she was on a stretcher. Blood and water coming from between her legs. After every possible approach and tens of thousands of dollars the in vitro process had finally worked.

As soon as they found out the baby was a girl, they named her Sophie Grace. Every prayer had been answered, every effort had been worthwhile. Each week through her pregnancy, Aaron would read out loud about what stage the baby was at. How she was the size of a grape and then a plum and then a pear.

How her little heart and arms and legs were fully formed and how her eyelashes were growing. “Long and full like her mommy’s,” Aaron would say.

And Lucy was standing in the kitchen singing “Jesus Loves Me,” because baby Sophie could hear. That’s what the websites said. At twenty weeks she could hear everything around her, but especially Lucy’s voice. So she was singing songs about Jesus whenever she could and changing the words to say, “Jesus loves you, this I know.” Because the song was for Sophie. For her alone. And Lucy was drying the last pan when water suddenly gushed between her legs and splashed on the floor.

“Aaron!” She could still hear her scream, feel it deep inside her. “Aaron, come here! Hurry.”

The cramps had started even as she yelled for him, and suddenly they were in the car and she was sitting on a towel and it wasn’t just water. It was blood and water. And the tears wouldn’t stop streaming down her face.

And they were in the elevator headed to labor and delivery, and in a blur baby Sophie was there. She was there and she was in their arms, her tiny body nowhere near ready for the world. They were holding her in a blanket and whispering to her and singing, “Jesus loves you, this I know. For the Bible tells me so.”

Ten minutes. They had ten minutes with their little girl. Ten minutes to love her and sing to her and tell her how much they wanted her to live. And it was the eleventh minute and Sophie stopped breathing and the doctors weren’t doing anything to help her.

“Someone! Do something!” Lucy didn’t want to scream because the sound might startle her baby, her Sophie. Only the nurses and doctor in the room just bowed their heads and closed their eyes.

Before the twelfth minute, Sophie turned her tiny face toward them and her little body went still. Even now Lucy could swear she smiled. Her baby girl smiled. As if to tell them it was okay. Where she was going she’d be whole and happy and one day she’d see them again.

And like a million times before—every exhilarating moment of her pregnancy and every terrible minute after her water broke played out in the time it took Lucy to reach the sixth floor. As the doors opened she stepped out and breathed deep.

She could do this.

She could walk through the doors of the maternity ward and tend to the babies, the job she had studied for and dreamed about since she was in high school. And she could get through another shift knowing that these were her babies. The ones she was paid to care for and love. And later today Brooke would make her rounds and the two of them would talk. Brooke always had so much wisdom. So much concern for Lucy.

And she could do this because she and Aaron were finished trying for now. Maybe forever. From here on the memory of Sophie was all they would have. All they would need. And it would be just like it used to be at the beginning. Aaron and her. Taking walks, talking about the hospital, biking to downtown for a day of window-shopping.

Just the two of them.

Truly. Madly. Deeply.





4




This was the drive Theo Brown looked forward to every weekday. The one to Clear Creek High School, with his daughter, Vienna, at his side. By now each morning, his wife, Alma, would be headed to work where she was assistant principal of Bloomington Elementary School. Theo worked from home in pharmaceutical sales.

So since she started kindergarten, Theo got the pleasure of taking Vienna to school. Every single day.

His daughter slid into the front passenger seat, breathless. “I’m late.” She dropped her backpack on the floor between her feet and fastened her seat belt. “Sorry, Daddy.”

He chuckled. “You’re fine, baby. You can miss a few minutes of school.”

Vienna leaned her head back against the seat and exhaled. “I love when you say that. Takes away all the stress of ninth grade.”

“Ninth grade can definitely be stressful.” Theo flashed her a quick grin. She was such a pretty girl, just like her mother. Vienna wore her hair wavy, same as Alma. Her brown eyes shone with goodness and light, faith and possibilities. Theo stared at the road ahead of them. He couldn’t be more proud of his baby girl.