Dockside (32 page)

Greg wanted to relax and enjoy the wedding. It wasn’t often all the Bellamys gathered in one place, and he wished he could appreciate it more. But he was ticked-off and distracted. At the reception, he watched the dancing and toasting. He stood at the top of the stairs that led down to the dock, trying to psyche himself up to join in. Daisy sat at a table, eating a plate heaped with food and talking earnestly with her mother. At least they were talking, he thought. Then suspicion stabbed at him. Maybe now, in the wake of Daisy’s big announcement, Sophie would try to convince their daughter to move overseas with her. Maybe…Damn, he hated this. Why wouldn’t Daisy simply let him take care of her?

“Hey.” Suddenly Nina was at his side.

For a moment, he felt a spike of pure attraction. He studied her flushed face, her sparkling smile.

“Champagne?” she offered, taking two flutes from the tray of a passing waiter. The motion raised a series of memories in Greg, something he thought he’d forgotten. But standing here, taking a glass of champagne from her, he realized they were in the same place they’d been at another wedding—Greg’s. It had taken place right here at Camp Kioga. He’d gotten drunk and put his fist through a wall. He could still see a slight scar where the Sheetrock had been repaired. It would never be exactly the same. An inauspicious beginning. Yet he’d been so certain it could work. So had Sophie.

This summer, Nina had turned him into a true believer all over again. He’d been inches from opening his heart to her. Then Daisy had delivered a necessary reality check. Now Nina stood there looking completely beautiful and without guile. As she had ever since he’d first met her, she represented the unattainable. The thing he couldn’t have. He’d been stupid to think anything had changed.

He had intended to wait until after the wedding to confront her, but since she’d cornered him, they could have it out now. He held open the door and she stepped outside, heading down the stairs to the lakeshore. It was sunset, the lake on fire with color, mocking his mood.

Nina turned to him, her full lips moist, as though she expected him to kiss her.

“Daisy says she’s moving out,” he told her bluntly. “After the baby.”

Nina blinked, as though surprised. “Really.”

“Yeah, just like you said. I wonder how you knew.”

She recoiled from his anger. He had to force himself to ignore the hurt in her eyes. She said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Right. She’s going away to find her life.”

“And this is a bad thing?”

“Hell, yes, it’s bad. She belongs at the inn. With me.”

“So it’s all about you now.”

He glared at her. “That’s bullshit. It’s about keeping my daughter safe.”

“It’s about keeping her where you can control her.” A bitter laugh burst from Nina. “You know, I had something entirely different in mind that I wanted to talk about. But you just spared me the trouble.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he demanded.

Her face looked stiff, as though she was battling to keep her emotions in check. “Believe me, you don’t want to know.”

“Just…keep your advice to Daisy to yourself from now on, okay?” he said. “She’s not you, Nina. She’s not ready to take on the world.”

“And you think I was?”

“I think—Christ—I just wish you’d back off when it comes to my daughter.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but he could still see the glitter of temper there. “Did you ever think maybe
you
should back off when it came to your daughter?”

“Screw you, Nina.” Operating on fear, he lashed out, shocking even himself with his anger, using just a few words to trash everything they had built together throughout the summer. He watched her face turn pale, her eyes widen as anger turned to hurt. “Look, it’s not working—this, the inn—it would be better if we didn’t see each other.”

She crossed her arms defensively in front of her. “That’s going to be a bit of a challenge, seeing how we work together.”

Go ahead, he told himself. Throw it all away. “Maybe that’s going to need to change.”

“You can’t be serious.” Her hands dropped to her hips, drawing attention to the fact that she looked amazing tonight, dressed to the nines for the wedding. “You
are
serious. How convenient for you, that you’re able to fire someone and break up with her all in one step.”

He felt them falling apart, which was so depressing. They’d barely had a chance. Maybe it was better this way, better to cut their losses. Daisy was the issue here. He needed to keep his focus on that. At the same time, he hated what he’d just done. “Nina,” he said.

She was halfway up the stairs. She paused, but didn’t turn to look at him. Then, bracing her hand on the railing, she kept on going.

Greg eyed the smooth wall, balling his hand into a fist. At the top of the stairs, a door burst open. Sophie stepped out, barely glancing at Nina. For a second, Greg found himself caught between the two of them, one his past, one his future, neither happy with him.

“It’s Daisy,” Sophie said. “We need to go to the hospital.”

T
hey couldn’t have done a worse job planning. They should have assumed she could go into labor at any given moment. No one had allowed that the baby might make his appearance on the wedding day. Sophie had driven to the camp in her rental car—a two-door subcompact of the tiny type she’d grown accustomed to in Europe—and Greg had brought his work truck. They ended up borrowing Philip’s SUV, because it was roomiest in the back. Greg helped himself to a stack of clean table linens and tea towels from the caterer’s van, yelling at someone that he’d replace them. They definitely needed towels; in childbirth class they’d been advised to keep a supply in the car. In fact, the instructor had actually suggested a tarp.

Nothing went according to plan. The exodus was supposed to unfold in orderly fashion. Phone calls would be made calmly and without shouting. A prepacked suitcase would be loaded into the car. They would reach the hospital by driving at cautious speeds.

Instead, Greg roared with frustration at the lack of a cellphone signal and sent his mother to the office to use the landline while he and Sophie helped Daisy to the car. During that process, the pains came fast and hard, and Daisy started to cry, each sob skewering Greg with panic. He started the car, but Sophie appeared at his side. “I’ll drive.”

“But—”

“Dad…” Daisy’s voice strained toward him.

Greg swore and got out. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. But he’d signed on as her birth coach, and he couldn’t do that if he was driving. He got into the backseat, realizing then why the childbirth instructor had suggested the tarp. Sorry about your upholstery, bro, he thought.

Jenny’s husband Rourke McKnight, who was chief of police, offered an escort with emergency lights, but Daisy refused. Between pains, she seemed a bit sheepish about all the attention. “This is Olivia’s day,” she said past gritted teeth. “Let’s go as quietly as possible. Just the three of us.”

Sophie pulled out of the parking lot and headed down the road, the tires spitting gravel and dust. Greg looked back just in time to see Max. He walked over to Nina. She didn’t hesitate, but pulled him into a fierce hug. Then a cloud of dust obscured the small knot of family and wedding guests. Daisy half lay across the seat in her now-ruined bridesmaid’s dress, her hands braced against the seat. “It’ll be all right, baby,” he said to her. “We’ll be at the hospital soon.”

She went rigid with pain and fear. Her face glowed moon-white and her breath came in shallow pants. When a pain hit, he noted the time on his cell phone and guided her through the breathing they’d learned in their classes.

“It’s…bad,” she said. “I…can’t…can’t…” A wild fright gleamed in her eyes.

He realized the classes could only go so far to prepare them for what was to come. They hadn’t addressed the bone-deep fear he saw in her, or his own supreme sense of helplessness. “We’ll be there soon,” he said inanely. “The doc will give you something.”

“It hurts now. I can’t stand it.” A note of hysteria tightened her voice.

He glanced at Sophie. She kept her eyes glued to the road and drove with grim competence, her hands clutching the steering wheel. A streak of sweat trickled down her temple, and he realized she wasn’t grim at all, but terrified, every bit as scared as Daisy was.

“Daddy, help me, make it stop, make it stop.” Daisy breathed the chanted plea through her clenched teeth.

If there was a definition of hell on earth, it was this—being powerless to keep your child from hurting when she was begging you to make it stop.

“Soon, honey,” he said. “Hang in there.”

“I can’t…I…have to—”

He saw it coming a split second before she erupted. Instinctively he scrambled back, plastering himself against the door, but there was nowhere to go. She spewed up everything she’d consumed at the wedding reception. He didn’t freak. He didn’t gross out. He handed her a wad of tea towels he’d grabbed from the caterer and said, “It’s okay, Daze. Take it easy.”

She miserably wiped her face with one of the linen napkins. “I was starving at the reception. I ate everything in sight.”

No kidding, thought Greg, using a towel on his trousers and shoes. He told Sophie, “The road gets bumpy up ahead. It’s another quarter mile to the paved highway.”

“Let me concentrate on driving, Greg. You look after Daisy,” she muttered. The moment her cell phone beeped, indicating it had found a signal as they approached town, she snatched it up. Without taking her eyes off the road, she put in the number of the hospital.

That was Sophie, he observed. Super-competent when it came to things like dialing a phone from touch memory. She said Daisy was all right, except that she’d thrown up, gave an estimate of their arrival time, then rang off.

“They’ve already heard from your Grandma Jane,” she said to Daisy. “We’ll be there soon, I promise.”

It was highly unlikely that Daisy heard this, since she was in the grip of another pain.

“Breathe, honey,” he coached her, exactly the way they’d learned in the class, but the one thing he couldn’t do was take her pain away. She clutched Greg’s hand and squeezed, and it was as though she was squeezing his heart. He ached for his little girl, so frightened and in such agony. He knew then that he would not let her leave, despite what she’d said earlier. He wanted—needed—to keep her safe with him.

Sophie brought the car to a stop under the covered walkway at the hospital entrance. Greg jumped out and ran around to help Daisy. Between contractions, she wore a benumbed look of confusion. The doors
whooshed
open, yet there didn’t seem to be anyone around. Sophie rolled down the window. “Why don’t you wait here, and I’ll go get someone with a gurney or wheelchair?”

Daisy moaned a little. Greg wasn’t waiting another second. “Just park the goddamned car, Sophie,” he barked, and swept Daisy up as though she was five years old again, carrying her through the door.

Someone—an orderly or nurse—showed Greg where to clean up and don a set of scrubs. He changed in a hurry, stuffing his wedding clothes in a bin marked Biohazard. They were, he rationalized. He should have known better than to wear that tux. It was freaking bad luck, that was for sure. Good riddance.

With his feet covered by disposable booties, he skidded along a marked hallway, making his way to labor and delivery. The efficient staff had already helped Daisy change into a hospital gown, and someone assured him the doctor and anaesthesiologist were on the way. Daisy looked small and weak, imprisoned by the barred bed and all the monitoring equipment. She still had wilted flowers in her hair from the wedding, which now seemed as though it had taken place a hundred years ago. Greg wedged himself between a monitor on a cart and the head of the bed. He touched her shoulder. “How you doing, Daze?”

Before long, the doctor arrived. It wasn’t Daisy’s regular doctor but the woman on night duty, yet she seemed calm and efficient as she examined the chart and checked a computer screen. “You the father?” she asked Greg.

“Yeah,” he said, “I mean, no, I’m—uh—Daisy’s father. The patient’s father.”

“He’s my dad,” Daisy said, “and birth coach.”

All the same, Greg stepped outside while the doctor did an assessment. While he was waiting, Sophie arrived, now also clad in scrubs, her face porcelain pale in contrast to the greenish fabric.

“So far so good, I think,” he told her.

“When can we go in?” she asked.

“It won’t be long.”

She nodded, studied the gleaming tiled floor. Watching her, he felt a gentle nudge of regret. “Pretty amazing driving, Soph,” he told her. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you that. And you even knew the way.”

“I memorized the route.”

Of course she had.

He cleared his throat. “And, uh, about what I said before…I didn’t mean to yell at you about parking the car.”

She nodded again, which didn’t exactly signify forgiveness or understanding. It probably signified, “But you still yelled at me.”

“All things considered,” he said with forced heartiness, “we make a pretty good team.”

She stared at him. “No,” she said. “We don’t. But we’re both on Daisy’s side, and I assume that’s what she needs from us.”

The door opened, and they went inside. The doctor gave them a rundown. Things were progressing. The baby was in position, his vital signs normal, and Daisy would be getting an epidural. “Could be a long night,” the doctor said.

Greg positioned himself on one side of the bed, Sophie on the other. They regarded each other across their laboring daughter, bound for the time being by wordless solidarity.

The minutes dragged into hours. Greg offered ice chips and cool cloths. Personnel came in and out, checking on Daisy. An epidural was administered. Sophie stepped out occasionally to phone Max, reassuring him that everything was fine. Daisy slept a little, cried a little, and spent most of her time staring straight ahead at a photograph of Ayers Rock, which hung incongruously on the wall opposite the bed. At some point in the middle of the night, the doctor declared that it was time to push. The bed was repositioned, the lower half rolled away, handles and foot rests raised.

Daisy nodded. She grabbed Greg’s hand, and at last, he saw, the fear and the pain were gone. She wore an expression of steely determination, and for a moment she looked so much like Sophie that he thought he was seeing things.

“Let’s go, Daddy-O,” she said.

“You got it, Daisy-O,” he replied.

She pushed like a champ, coordinating her efforts with the contractions, just like they’d been taught. Greg’s world shrank to the expression on his daughter’s face—red and scrunched, teeth gritted, tears squeezing from her eyes, sweat soaking her hair. It broke his heart to watch her, but he didn’t waver; he murmured encouragement. He heard the doctor narrating the progress, and finally, when it seemed Daisy was about to give out from exertion, a collective gasp went up. “And here he is,” the doctor announced. There was a gurgling suction sound, followed by a thin, vibrato cry. “He looks gorgeous.”

Sophie began to sob, a sound so alien to Greg that at first he didn’t know what it was. Then he saw her pull the mask from her face so she could bend and kiss Daisy’s forehead.

A blood-streaked bundle lay atop Daisy. For the shadow of a second, stark terror shone in her eyes. Then her arms went around the little bundle in a powerful embrace. “Hello, baby,” she whispered. “Hello, my precious little baby.”

Greg’s knees felt weak. He felt weak all over as he stared in wonder. Someone put an instrument in his hands.

“You want to do the honor?”

He looked down at his trembling hand. Oh, yeah. Oh, shit, he had to cut the cord. He gritted his teeth, forced his hand to stop shaking and stepped forward. Someone held the tied-off cord between two gloved hands. Steady as a rock, he severed it with a decisive clip.

Among her friends and family, Daisy temporarily achieved the status of minor celebrity. By the next evening, nearly everyone they knew had stopped by with flowers or a gift, leaving good wishes. At the hospital’s birthing center, patients weren’t treated as though they were sick. Visitors were allowed to come and go at will, instructed to scrub with disinfectant and take their cue from the new mother.

Greg and Sophie took turns sitting with their daughter. Emile Charles Bellamy was declared perfect and healthy, and was allowed to room in with his mother. He’d been examined, inoculated, bathed and swaddled and now he slept in a clear Lucite bassinet on a rolling cart, his tiny head covered by a pale blue cap. A fine fringe of reddish peach-fuzz hair peeked out from beneath the cap. The sight of it came as something of a shock to everyone who saw the baby. It was the first concrete evidence of something the Bellamys hadn’t really thought much about—somewhere, the baby had a father. With red hair.

Sophie went back to her hotel to shower and change, and Max arrived with Greg’s parents. All three of them stood by the bassinet, staring as though frozen in an enchantment. Finally Greg’s mother, Jane, looked up, beaming and crying at the same time. “He’s just glorious.”

Max concurred. “Pretty cute,” he said.

Daisy grinned. “You think?”

“Totally. When’s he going to wake up?”

“I think he’s supposed to sleep for a while. We had a long night.”

To Greg it felt surreal, standing there and watching his kids converse—rather than bicker—like adults. His heart felt enormous, as though it had grown too big for his chest. He was wrung out; he could barely even look at his parents. If he did, he was worried he might break down like everyone else around here.

“Do me a favor,” Daisy said to Max. “Tell Olivia I’m sorry I disrupted her wedding.”

“Are you kidding? She’s totally happy for you. Said she can’t wait to come and see you. She and Connor want to stop in and see the baby before they take off for St. Croix.”

“Oh, I hope they do.”

“So can we wake him up?” Max asked.

“Don’t you dare,” Daisy said. “But…hand him to me, will you? I just feel like holding him.”

Max reached into the bassinet, then stepped back. “I don’t really know how to pick him up.”

Greg patted him on the shoulder. “Same way you do everything for a baby. Really, really gently.” He bent down and curled his hands under the soft bundle. Warmth seeped into his bones as he passed the baby to Max. “Easy now,” he said. “You’ll be amazed at how light he feels.”