Here to Stay (45 page)

We sat on the veranda and he had Erik asleep in his lap while he talked. He loves that boy. But Erik is easy to love.

Dad told me something I didn’t know: his army unit liberated Mauthausen in the spring of ’45. I was astounded not to have known this, and almost a little put-out he never told me. But when I stop to think about the scale of the atrocity, I realize it’s not something you can touch on a little. You either have to tell all, or tell nothing. And what went on in those camps… Cripes, even if you wanted to tell, it seems the words just don’t exist.

Dad said what he saw at Mauthausen made him realize the pursuit of perfection is a dangerous thing. He said Mom saw it to a lesser extent when she was growing up in Brazil. Those crazy Finns trying to build a perfect paradise on land all but barren. At least they turned it around and turned a socialist commune into a profit. They didn’t turn it to smoke up a thousand chimneys. They made it good for something.

Erik is under the table while I’m writing. He plays beneath things—the piano, my workbench. Chris says he’s happiest when he’s underfoot. Always tinkering with something. I wonder where it will take him in life.

I worry for Erik sometimes. He wants to know how things work and then always wants them to work that way. He gets it from me. It’s such a miserable day in a man’s life when he realizes he can’t always control what life plates up for him. But I guess we sit and survive at the table with whatever tools we have. Pretty china and silverware, candles and good manners. Salt and pepper.

Life isn’t perfect, Mike. I guess the best you get is a collection of perfect moments.

You have to somehow turn a profit when the land is barren.

You have to be good for something.

Take care and come see us soon.

Be good,

Byron

Erik folded the letters back into thirds and set them down on the rough, sawhorse table. Thoughtless, his elbows on his knees, he stared out at the lake’s smooth, multi-colored surface.

“Erik?” Daisy’s voice floated from one of the upstairs window.

“Yeah,” he said, fingering the charms on his necklace.

“Erik?”

He turned and called over his shoulder. “I’m right here. What’s up?”

“My water just broke.”

“THE NEXT PERSON WHO tells me to push is getting kicked,” Daisy said, falling back onto the inclined mattress, breathing hard.

Quiet, appreciative laughter from the nurses as Erik wiped her face with a cold cloth. Her cheekbones had a yellowish cast from tiny blood vessels breaking in her face. Likewise her irises were pink and bloodshot.

“I mean it,” Daisy said, holding up her hand. “Too many people yelling push. I know to push. I can’t stand that fucking word anymore so say something else.”

Erik sponged the back of her neck, knowing the less he said the better. Daisy was already unnerved from giving birth in front of an audience. She didn’t need him giving more stage directions.

“It’s close, Daisy,” Dr. Alibrandi said. “Another good set and the baby will crown.”

Daisy’s hand curled around the front of Erik’s T-shirt and squeezed.

“Entre nous, this sucks,” she said.

“I know,” he said, giving her some ice. “You’re amazing.”

“God, here comes another one,” she said, her face going tight as she sat up.

Erik took up her leg. Across the bed, Lee Malone winked as she took the other leg. He smiled back, thanking whatever divine, karmic forces had been at work to make Lee on duty when they came in today. It was like an omen. Or a gift.

“Let Lee talk,” Erik said. “Everyone else just back off. Let’s try it this way.”

“Deep breath in, Daisy,” Lee said. “Hold it tight and
pull…”

Even Erik felt a difference with this set. More power was in the foot against his shoulder. Something in Daisy’s body seemed more controlled and efficient and her face was narrowed into a pinpoint of focus instead of being scrunched in desperation. When the contraction ended and she lay back, she was panting but she didn’t seem as defeated.

“That was tremendous,” Dr. Alibrandi said. “She’s crowned, Daisy. Right at the door. One more set like that and you’ll have her out.”

“Pull works,” Daisy said. “I pull better than I push.”

“Story of my life,” Erik said.

She barely got her breath back before it was on her again. The intensity of the room rose up. Voices and sound meshed into a dull roar behind the heartbeat thudding in Erik’s ears.

“This is the one,” Lee said. “Ring of fire. Just pull as hard as you can to the other side. Don’t back down, don’t be afraid. You have to be bigger than the pain.”

Daisy’s face went pink. Then red. The sweat beaded up on her forehead and dripped down her temple. Erik couldn’t take his eyes from her. Never in his life had he seen her so concentrated.

“That’s it,” Alibrandi said. “That’s it, keep up the intensity. Again.”

“Don’t lose the breath,” Lee said. “Pull your breath in. Pull hard.”

“That’s it that’s it that’s it that’s
it.
You’re done.”

“Is she out?” Daisy cried.

“Her head is out. Rest. Rest, Daisy. Don’t push
or
pull.”

She collapsed back, gasping. Her hand seized Erik’s shirt again and pulled his brow to hers. “Is that it,” she whispered. “Am I done?”

“You did it,” he said, holding her face, kissing it all over. “You did it. It’s done.”

“Oh thank God.”

“I love you so much.” He smoothed her hair back, couldn’t stop kissing her. “Jesus Christ, that was incredible.”

“Holy crap, I think I’m inside-out. Permanently.”

“No, no,” Lee said, laughing. “Everything will go back the way it was. I promise.”

Daisy’s clamp on Erik’s shirt relaxed. “Do you see her,” she said. “Are you going to look?”

“I can’t look,” he said. “Not yet.”

“Stay relaxed,” Alibrandi said. “We’re just suctioning out her little nose here.”

Cry,
Erik thought. Not looking. Only listening.
Cry. Please cry. Come on. Cry for me. Please.

Silence through the din. Too much like Kees’s deadly silence.

Cry, honey. Take a breath. Cry. Please. Don’t do this to me.

“Let’s try a push without contraction, Daisy,” Alibrandi said. “We’re going to get her shoulder out. Strong and easy push.”

As Daisy bore down, Erik kept his brow on hers, their eyes and hands clenched tight.

Cry. You can do it. Please cr—

“Stop,” Alibrandi said.

A cooing hiccup. And another. Stuttering like a cold engine trying to turn over.

“Oh,” Daisy cried.

The stammering sound gained strength and grew into a shrieking wail.

“Yes,” Erik whispered, the breath collapsing out of his chest, a load of prickling adrenaline coming to replace it. He picked up his head and looked around.

“Daisy,” Alibrandi said. “Sit up and reach down here. You too, Dad. Take her.”

“Come on.” His brain flying, Erik scooped up Daisy’s shoulder blades. His other hand slid along her forearm as she reached, gasping and crying, down between her trembling thighs to that screaming form still partly inside her.

“She’s all yours,” Alibrandi said.

Daisy took the baby under the arms. Erik’s hand slid under that tiny little butt and together they drew her out and up, the cord trailing behind. Up and onto Daisy’s chest they pulled, Erik shouting, Daisy laughing. Lee followed, wrapping baby and arms in a warmed blanket. “Well done,” she said. “Congratulations.”

Erik put his spinning head down, at eye level with his daughter, who continued to cry. A tunnel from mouth to lungs filled with the most beautiful sound.

“Oh,” Daisy said softly. “Oh it’s
you
.”

Kirsten Francine Fiskare cried louder.

I can hear you,
Erik thought, laying a hand on top of the baby’s head. Slick and gooey and red-faced, she stared back at him and shrieked. Her midnight blue eyes were wide open. Her voice stretching and unfolding. Straight at him she stared, as if testing how much he could take.

Eyes locked, Erik set his wrist and its tattooed K gently on his daughter’s forehead. A forehead, he noticed, shaped just like his.

“Hey, little fish,” he said softly.

Lee ran a cold cloth over Daisy’s face and neck. “Relax as much as you can,” she said quietly. “Relax and breathe. You did great.”

“You’re so beautiful,” Erik said, leaning to press his mouth against Daisy’s cool, damp cheek. She smiled beneath his kiss, her eyes closed and her chest rising and falling in deep, measured breaths.

After a few minutes, Dr. Alibrandi called to him. “Got a job for you, Dad.”

The scissors seemed to move easily in his fingers this time. A strong, decisive snip through the cord, not severing hope but freeing his daughter to come home.

“Take a seat, Erik,” Lee said. “Have a breather.”

A wheeled stool was rolled over. He sat, his head nestled by Daisy’s shoulder, his finger in Kirsten’s loose fist. Her crying had diminished to small coos. Her little mouth opened and closed against Daisy’s skin.

“Your mom smells good, doesn’t she,” Erik said. A single chuckle in Daisy’s chest. Erik’s smile widened until it hurt. The triangle of his little family pulled tight, a bubble within the medical ballet still buzzing around them.

This,
he thought.
This and only this.

Thank you for this.

He let go of time and floated on the moment. Not quite leaning into it. Not yet.

“Oh God,” Daisy said. Her face was twisting and she bit down on her bottom lip. “Erik.”

He picked up his head, a stab of adrenaline in his chest. “What’s happening?” he said.

“So much for a breather,” she said, gasping.

A second nurse reached gloved hands in to take Kirsten. Lee spooned some ice water into Daisy’s mouth and then helped her sit up. “Let’s go, Mama.”

“All right, Daisy,” Alibrandi said. “I know you’re tired. You have to dig deep now.”

“You got this,” Erik said, standing up and getting a hand under Daisy’s bent knee. His other hand reached to touch her face. “Look at me.”

Her eyes met his. “You told me I was done.”

“I lied.”

Her chin gave a short nod. “I’ll get you for this, motherfucker.”

“It’s now officially what I do,” Erik said.

She let out a sharp cry and her eyes doubled in size. “Oh my
God,
he’s right there.”

“Let’s do this,” Alibrandi said. “Put him in my hands.”

“Show me a beautiful boy,” Lee said.

From somewhere across the crowded delivery room, Kirsten was crying again.

“It’s all right, honey,” Erik said under his breath, braced against Daisy’s strength. “He’s coming, I promise. Give your mother a minute…”

THE SCREENED-IN PORCH was finished. Down to the cushions on the wicker seating, the lights around the large window openings and the three ceiling fans. They made a low purr and the occasional squeak as they kept the breeze moving through.

Erik and Daisy lay together on the double-wide chaise lounge, a bit of extravagance they felt was vital to their existence. In good weather, it was always in use.

Today was good. The sun moved in and out of the clouds, glinting off Astrid’s diamond on Daisy’s hand and flinging tiny rainbows around the white woodwork. The May air was warm enough for short sleeves and bare feet. Cool enough for a throw blanket across their legs.

At the end of the dock, Will and Lucky sat in the Adirondack chairs, holding hands, their faces turned up to the sun. Sara’s sing-song chatter ebbed and flowed as she swung on the tire suspended from the oak tree. At the play kitchen at the base of the trunk, Jacy banged pots and pans, stirring mud and leaves and flower buds.

“Uncle Erik,” Jack said, appearing on the other side of the screen. “Let’s go fishing.”

“I can’t,” Erik said, his eyes closed.