Page 68 of Devil in Disguise
“Dyma. What?”
She was already climbing out of bed. “Hang on.”
* * *
When she gotout to the waiting room, Harlan was sitting with his arm around Annabelle and talking to Owen. Still in his uniform. Still getting his picture taken, and still ignoring it.
He looked up at sight of her and said, “Hey. How’s she doing?”
“You need to come with me,” she told him.
He stood up faster than a person should have been able to and said, “What? What’s wrong? Did you push the call button?” Already moving toward the door.
She said, “Nothing’s wrong. Just—come on.”
Another dramatic entry into the room, where Jennifer had cranked the head of her bed up and was sitting there with her hands twisting together, her eyes too big in her pale face. Harlan said, “Baby. What’s wrong?”
“What?” Jennifer asked. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine. Just … Dyma said …”
She was tearing up again, and Harlan was sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand on her face, saying, “Hey. Hey, now. What’s the matter?” in a voice so tender, it almost hurt Dyma to hear. The look on her mom’s face, and the look on Harlan’s—it was like everything else had been stripped away, and only their love shone, so bright that you could see it. Bright strands of silver wrapping around their bodies, connecting their hearts.
She had to get it together. She had a job to do here. She said, “So tell me if I’ve got this wrong. Mom’s worried because she thinks Harlan’s disappointed, because Nick’s left leg will probably never be quite as muscular as his right one even if he walks OK after his treatment, which means he might not be an athlete. And Harlan’s worried because he thinkMom’sworried about … something. Or that she’s crushed that Nick’s not perfect.”
“Heisperfect,” Harlan said. “Of course he is. So they have to fix his leg. They’re doing it. He’s going to be fine. You should’ve seen how he looked all around as soon as he was born, like he wanted to see everything that was going on. You can tell he’s smart, like his mom.”
“And his sister,” Dyma said. “Let’s not forget the sister.”
He smiled, but he wasn’t really looking at her. He was still looking at Jennifer. She said, “He might not play in the NFL, though.”
Harlan laughed, kissed her forehead, kissed hermouth,and said, “Baby. Is that what’s worrying you? He was probably never going to play in the NFL anyway. Trust me, it’s not genetic. Also, we might not want him getting concussed. If he wants to play a sport, maybe he should do something else.”
“Soccer,” Dyma suggested.
“No,” Harlan said. “Heading the ball. Brain injury. How about lacrosse? That always looks safe. You run and catch the ball in a net. He can do that.”
“Maybe he won’t like team sports,” Dyma said. “Oooh. Trouble brewing.”
“Track,” Harlan said. “Rock climbing. It’s all good.”
“He might not be an athlete at all, though,” Jennifer said. “That’s what I’m trying totellyou, Harlan. It could make him a little off-balance.”
“Oh,” Harlan said. “Guess we’d better give him away, then.” At her shocked exclamation, he went on, “Jennifer. Sweetheart. Listen to me. He might not have been an athlete anyway. He’ll be somebody else, maybe. A rebel. A poet. An outdoorsman. A kid who lies on his back and watches clouds. He’ll be who he is, and we’ll both love him for exactly that, because he’s our son.”
“You really think that?” she asked, and, yes, she was crying again. But then, Dyma was choking up, too. “That you can feel that way? That you can be … satisfied?”
“I know I can,” Harlan said. “Because I already am. That’s my son. That’s my boy, and he’s perfect.”
* * *
Owen had beento worse parties than this. All of them—Annabelle, Dyma, Harlan, and him—sitting around a hospital bed, eating burgers that he and Dyma had gone to pick up, being the support team once again. In his case,severalburgers. Hey, a game took a lot out of an offensive lineman, and that game had ended hours ago. He was hungry.
As for Jennifer, the word from Dyma was that Harlan had offered to get her “soup, maybe? Pad Thai? What sounds good?” And her reaction had been something like, “Are you toying with me, Harlan Kristiansen? I just had ababy.I want a cheeseburger! Preferably with about half a pound of ground beef in it. Also French fries. Size large. Withsalt.”At least, that was the way Dyma had told it. With plenty of emphasis.
Now, Owen was finishing burger number two and eyeing number three while everybody else was still politely working on number one, and over in the bassinet, the baby he’d barely seen yet was starting to fuss in that “mm-gah, mm-gah” newborn way that was almost words. Harlan just about knocked his plate off the bed jumping up, but Owen said, “Let me get this one. I’ve eaten more than anybody else.”
Dyma asked, “Do you know how? Seriously? I would, but I’m afraid I’d hurt him. He’s so tiny.” She was standing over the bassinet, rocking it a little, like just about every woman on earth did with a fussy baby, as if it were in the DNA.
“Me, too,” Annabelle said. “I’m going to learn,” she told Jennifer, “so I can help, but I realize I should’ve been practicing on a doll or something.”
