Page 25 of Operator
It takes some doing, but the baby gives a weak squall.
“I heard it,” the operator says. “Make sure to keep it warm. An ambulance can meet you in ten minutes.”
“That’s fucking ridiculous. We’re five minutes away from the hospital. I’ll drive them there.” Before they can argue, I hang up the phone.
“Cal.” There’s a calmness to Gwen’s voice as she says my name. I meet her eyes as I wrap the baby in the flannel I had thrown over the back of the passenger seat. The umbilical cord still connects baby to mother and there’s something primal and powerful in that as I hand the baby over to Gwen, who has eyes only for them.
“Is it a boy or girl?” she asks, and now her voice is trembling with emotion. There’s a sheen of tears over her eyes. “I was waiting until they were born to find out.”
“Girl,” I choke out. “It’s a girl.”
Blood streaks over Gwen’s thighs. She’s pale and has shadows under her eyes. But she’s never looked more beautiful than when she stares down at her daughter.
Cars whizz past us, but I barely notice them with the sight in front of me. Mother and daughter meeting for the first time. My hands are stained with her blood, still warm from holding the baby. I’d been the first person to ever hold her. The one who pulled her into this life.
“Keep her wrapped up,” I choke out. “I’ll get you two to the hospital.”
The next thing I know, I’m going as fast as I safely can through the city. I wish I had two sets of eyes so I could keep one pair on the road and the other on my girls in the seat next to me. My hands grip the steering wheel so tight I swear I’m going to break it clear off the steering column.
“We’re okay, sweet baby. We’re going to be just fine. Hello, sweetheart. It’s so wonderful to meet you. I’m your momma, baby girl. Oh my god.” Gwen’s voice is thick with the tears that are streaming down her face. “Hi, sweet girl. We’re almost there. You’re going to be okay. It’ll be alright.”
I know she’s talking to the baby, but her words help calm me, too. In a few more minutes, we’re at the hospital. I pull to a screeching stop next to the Women’s Center. By the time I jump out and get to Gwen’s side, there’re a couple of nurses waiting with a wheelchair and a bunch of blankets. They get Gwen out and wrapped in blankets and in the wheelchair in a flash with the baby bundled in my shirt in her arms.
“Wait, not without Cal,” she says when they start to roll her away.
Goddamn, I don’t think I’ve ever been so wrecked in my life. My chest aches at the desperation in her voice. Clearing my throat, I say, “I’ll be right behind you with your bags after I park the truck.”
“Third floor,” one of the nurses shouts over a shoulder.
The time it takes to park the truck and get up to third floor feels like an eternity. I get some strange looks at my blood-spattered shirt, but all I can think about is Gwen and the baby. I just want to know that everything’s okay.
The nurse’s station points me to her room, and I find them on a hospital bed. One nurse is helping Gwen position the baby to her breast, and another is at her feet talking with a doctor as they direct Gwen to deliver the placenta. I freeze in the doorway until Gwen notices me and holds motions for me to come to her. Both of her hands are busy with the baby, but I stand next to her and notice her relax a little.
It should be too intimate. Too vulnerable. I should have let them tend to her in private, but there was no way in hell I could leave her alone. Them alone. Christ fuck, that’s a baby. Gwen’s baby.Ian’s baby.
The little thing squawks as the nurse takes hold of Gwen’s breast and fairly shoves the nipple into the baby’s wide-open mouth. She protests feebly, then latches on for a few seconds. They repeat this process for nearly an hour as the doctor and other nurse safely deliver the placenta and examine Gwen for any damage. I hover nearby, making sure no one hurts my baby. Or my girl. When I’m too exhausted to stand upright, I collapse on a chair next to the bed, but my eyes stay on them both. After they’ve finished their assessment and the baby has fed for a while, they then take the baby to weigh her, do her measurements and administer shots, which pisses her right off again.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Gwen says with a sigh. “Our baby girl.”
“Prettiest potato I’ve ever seen,” I answer. “What’s her name?”
“Violet. Violet Brynn.”
I finally allow myself relax a little and take Gwen’s hand in mine. Surprisingly, she lets me, giving my hand a squeeze. I let my head fall to the bed over our clasped hands. “Scared the shit out of me, angel. Christ.”
“You and me both. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
I look up at her, my brows creasing. “Through what?”
She averts her eyes from my questioning look. “Seeing me like that. And the whole birth thing. That wasn’t exactly in my birth plan.”
I wave her away. I’m not the squeamish sort and I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else, to be honest. “You don’t have to apologize. I’m just glad you’re both okay. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing.”
“Me either,” she jokes. Of course she’s fucking joking. Gwen. My little badass. While I was freaking the fuck out, she barely panicked. The calm at the center of the storm. Truth be told, if it wasn’t for her level-headedness, I don’t know what I would have done.
“Here you go, Daddy,” says a nurse with the baby—Violet—freshly washed and swaddled in her hands. “She’s six pounds, nine ounces, and twenty inches long. Looks like she may have red hair like her momma.”
Neither Gwen nor I correct the nurse.
