Marie Sexton - Coda 06 - Fear, Hope, and Bread Pudding (12 page)

If you hold her first.

That one sentence made my heart pound. It made me both thrilled and afraid. She was no longer speaking in generalities. These were specifics, and they were specifics involving us. I glanced over at Cole. I could tell he hadn’t missed the significance of her words. He sat forward, literally on the edge of his seat. His face betrayed nothing, but I noticed how his hands were clenched together in his lap so as not to betray him by shaking. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “I am. I’ve thought about it a lot. It’s not only for me. It’ll be better for her, too, don’t you think? Won’t it be better if the first face she sees is the one she’ll see for the rest of herlife?”

Cole sat motionless. It was as if he was afraid of scaring her away or shattering the moment, yet there was something fragile and frightening about his stillness. Something that betrayed the turmoil he was feeling inside.

Hope and fear.

 

I couldn’t stay still any longer. I reached out and took his hand. He didn’t answer Taylor’s question directly. Instead, he asked, “And what about after that?”

“I don’t know, to be honest. In the event there’s some medical reason you need me, then of course I’m available, but assuming everything’s normal, I’d rather not hear from you.”

Cole nodded. “All right.”
“I think it will be best if I don’t have any contact with you until the three of you are settled, and then it will be more about me seeing that I made the right decision. Obviously I wouldn’t be able to get her back, but I don’t even think I’ll want to at that point, because I’ll be

back to my life too. But I can imagine that at some point, I may want to know how she’s doing. So, I’d like to know that if and when I am ready, I’m allowed to call, and maybe even see her.”

Cole nodded and gripped my hand tighter. “Anything,” he said.

I suspected even Taylor could hear the strain in his voice now. She glanced at me.
I nodded in agreement. “I don’t think we’d have any reason to argue with those terms.”

“My friend Larissa is my birthing coach, so I don’t need help in the delivery room, but I’ll call you when I’m in labor so you can be there when she’s born.”

I heard Cole’s indrawn breath. I could feel his tension. I could almost taste his apprehension and his overwhelming need to have her say the words at last. She’d spelled it out—we’d be there when the baby was born; we’d hold the baby first—and yet, it still didn’t seem final. It still felt as if we’d stumbled into some kind of twisted dress rehearsal that could end at any moment and we’d be back at square one. I said a quick, silent prayer that it wouldn’t happen. I was sure it would kill him to have it torn away from him now.

Cole let go of me and put his palms together as if he was praying too. He touched his lips with his fingertips. “Taylor?” he said, almost a whisper.

“I’ll call Thomas first thing in the morning and tell him so he can have the paperwork ready.”

Cole’s breath hitched in his throat. He closed his eyes. He was hanging onto his self-control with every ounce of his strength. If we were alone, he would have been in my arms. He would most likely have been in tears, shaking and crying with the relief of pent-up fear and hope and helplessness, but with Taylor in the room, he was determined to keep himself together. He was struggling, though. His hands trembled. His breathing was shallow and shaky. He opened his eyes again and looked at me. “Jonny?” he whispered. He was asking me for help. He needed a minute alone—like the time my father had hugged him over stroganoff and Cole had run to the kitchen for butter we didn’t actually need. Just like he’d hidden from his mother at Christmas, and from me a hundred times over in the course of our relationship. He needed space and privacy to let the heat of his emotions boil over and simmer down.

“Maybe Taylor’s thirsty?” I suggested quietly.

His eyes started to fill with tears, and he nodded. “You’re right. I’m so silly—”
“Do you want me to come?”

“No. Stay. I’ll get her a bottle of mineral water—”

He was already up and out of the room. Taylor watched him go, then turned to me in surprise. “Is something wrong?”
“No. Absolutely nothing. He needs a minute, that’s all.” I wanted to go to him, but it made more sense for me to stay with Taylor. Besides, Cole and I would have plenty of time together later. “Thank you,” I said to Taylor. “You have no idea how happy you’ve made him. We’ll give her a wonderful life. I promise.”
“I believe you will.” She rubbed the side of her stomach and smiled at me. “I feel silly about the first time we met. I can’t believe how wrong I was about you.”

I laughed. “I’m glad you gave us a second chance.”

“Me too.” She continued to rub her belly, digging the heel of her hand into her side and pushing as if to urge the baby into a new position.

“Is it uncomfortable?”

 

“Not always, but sometimes she settles in the worst spots.”

We sat in silence for a moment. I wasn’t sure what else to say. It was just beginning to feel awkward when Cole came back. His few minutes in the kitchen had done wonders. His cheeks were red, but his eyes were clear and dry, and he had his Perfect Host mask back in place. He brushed his hand over my hair as he went past, thanking me silently for giving him an out. He’d even remembered the mineral water.

“Here you go, sweetie.” He handed it to her, but instead of coming back to the couch, he sat down on the footstool in front of her. “If there’s anything you need, ever, you let me know. Anything at all.”

“Cole,” I said quietly.

He held his hand up in my direction. “I know, Jonny.” Then, to Taylor he said, “He’s worried I’ll buy you a yacht or something.” He smiled. “Would you like a yacht?”

She laughed. “I wouldn’t have much use for one in Phoenix.”

Cole flipped his hair out of his eyes and threw a disarming smile my way. “See, lovie? You have nothing to worry about.”
“Silly me.”
Still, I was concerned, not about what he might buy her, but about how much it would break his heart if the whole thing fell through. I believed that Taylor had every intent of letting us adopt her daughter, but nothing was certain until the paperwork was signed.
Cole must have seen my worry in my eyes because he said, suddenly serious, “I know, Jonny.” He turned back to her. “I mean it, honey. Is there anything at all you need?”
“Not like you mean, but I would like to spend a bit more time with you both before the delivery, if that’s okay. It would be good for her to hear your voices, unless—”
“Of course! We’re always here. I cook dinner every night.”
“I don’t want to intrude—”
“Don’t be silly. You’re welcome any time.”
She still had her hand on her side. Her smile turned shy. “She’s kicking. Do you want to feel it?” She didn’t wait for an answer. She took his hand and placed it on her belly. “Here. Give her a second.”
It took longer than a second, but even from across the room, I knew when the baby moved. Cole jumped, and in the very next moment, he laughed with delight. It was the happiest, most genuine sound I’d heard in ages. “Oh my goodness, that’s amazing. Jonny, come here.”

I wasn’t sure she wanted my hand on her stomach too, but I went to sit on the floor next to him. I put my hand next to his, and we all sat there, waiting for the baby to move again. I felt ridiculous until it happened. The baby moved. Taylor’s flesh seemed to roll under my palm. It startled me so much that I jerked my hand away. My heart skipped a beat. I laughed, exactly as Cole had done, and put it back again immediately, waiting for the next kick. It wasn’t as if I’d been oblivious of the child growing in her womb, but there was something so pure and so magical about feeling her move. Knowing she was in there, safe and warm, pushing back against the walls that held her, feeling our touch as we felt hers. She moved again, and I looked at Cole. He was watching me, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him so full of hope. His eyes were brimming with tears, but this time, he didn’t try to hide them.

I put my free arm around him and pulled him close. I kissed the side of his head.

 

“Jon,” he whispered. “We’re going to have a daughter.”

H
AVING Taylor at our house in the evenings became the norm. It wasn’t uncommon for me to find her and Cole seated in that same spot, Taylor in the easy chair and Cole on the ottoman with his hands on her belly, talking to her stomach. Half the time he was speaking French, but not always. “And when you’re sixteen,” I heard him say one day, “I’ll buy you a Corvette.”

“Oh, good Lord!” I said. “Absolutely not.”

 

He laughed and continued to talk to Taylor’s belly. “Daddy’s right. That wouldn’t be safe at all, would it?”

Daddy.
The word brought me up short. Was that going to be me? I still worried that he’d get his hopes up only to have them shattered, but his happiness was contagious. I loved seeing him bright and smiling again. The best part of all was the way the door to the empty room at the end of the hallway was suddenly open. The room still held every bit of his hope, but for now, the fear was on a back burner. He spent hours agonizing over which crib and dresser and changing table to buy. Then he began to decorate. First, he did the whole room in red and navy blue, because he’d read somewhere that babies learned to focus on primary colors first. No sooner was it done than he was dismantling it again.

“It was like a political race gone wrong,” he said. “I have no idea what I was thinking.”
Next, he did the entire nursery in light pink. Pink ruffles and pink ribbons and pink blankets. I thought it was cute, but he still wasn’t satisfied. “It’s rather constrictive, isn’t it? I mean, what if she wants to be a tomboy?”
“I don’t think having a pink room before she’s even old enough to crawl will hurt anything.”
He shook his head, unconvinced. “No. It feels wrong, Jonny. I won’t be the one who tells her baseball’s out and dolls are in.” The next day, all the pink went back to the store, and he began again. I stayed out of his way unless directed otherwise.
I came in from a run one evening to find Taylor in the living room. Both Cole and my father were bent over her, feeling her belly. If it had been me, I would have told them to keep their hands to themselves, but Taylor didn’t seem to mind. The three of them were all smiles.
“Come feel this, Jon,” my dad said. “This kiddo’s kicking up a storm.”
“I don’t want to crowd Taylor.”
“Are you kidding?” she laughed. “Look at me! I’m big as a house. There’s room for several more.”
As silly as I felt, it was a wonderful moment, sitting there with my father and the man I loved, contemplating the life that squirmed and rolled in Taylor’s womb.
It wasn’t until later that evening, after Taylor was gone, that my father asked, “What are you going to name her?”

It was something Cole and I had discussed. We’d been waiting for an opportunity to discuss names with my father.
“We haven’t decided for sure,” Cole said, “but I’d like to name her Carol. Or Elizabeth. Or both.”

My father frowned a bit. I’d expected him to be happy, but he shook his head. “I don’t know, boys. Maybe you could name her after
your
mother.”

“Certainly not,” Cole scoffed. “We could name her after Taylor.” “Carol Elizabeth Taylor?” I asked. “I don’t think so.” “Taylor’s middle name is Nicole,” my dad said.
Cole and I both turned to him in surprise. “How do you know

that?”
He shrugged. “She told me, that night I took her home.”

“Nicole,” I said, trying the name on my tongue. “It’s like Cole and Nicholas both. That way, she could be named after Cole and Taylor. Carol Elizabeth Nicole Fenton Davenport?”

“Good Lord, she’ll have more names than I do. Absolutely not.” “So which ones do we get rid of?”

“George,” Cole said, “would you rather us keep Carol or Elizabeth?”

“Neither,” my dad said, suddenly serious. “I appreciate the thought, but I don’t think either is a good idea. I’m pleased that you’d want to honor them that way, but it feels like an awful lot of sad history to thrust onto a newborn baby.”

I hadn’t thought of it that way, but I could see his point. My sister Elizabeth had died under my father’s watch, as had my mother. There was nothing he could have done about my mother’s cancer, but that didn’t make it any easier on him. It did feel like providing rather large shoes for a tiny baby to fill.

“I’ll buy one of those baby name books,” Cole said, waving his hand dismissively in my direction. He turned to my father. “I finished the nursery today—”

“Again,” I added.

 

He rolled his eyes at me and finished as if I hadn’t interrupted. “Would you like to see it, George?”

 

My father and I followed him down the hall. I’d seen it already, but I was curious what my father would say.

There was still pink, although of a brighter shade than before, and it had become secondary. The dominant color was a soft green—Paris green, he’d told me that morning, although it looked like mint to me. There was a mobile over the crib, and a rocking chair by the window. He’d had me put shelves up on the wall opposite the crib, and they were packed edge to edge with stuffed animals. A hundred eyes watched us as my father surveyed the room.

“Wow,” he said, gazing around them all. “Where’s the baby going to go?”

 

“Is it too much?” Cole asked.

“Don’t answer that,” I warned my dad. “He’s had this room redone three times already.”
Cole put his hand on his hip and flipped his hair back so he could stare down at me, even though I was taller than him. It was a talent I’d come to envy. “I want it to be right.”

“Did you get one of those electric wipe-warmers?” my dad asked. Cole’s confidence disappeared in the blink of an eye. “Do you think I should have?”

“I was teasing.”
“Well, I’m not. Do you think we need one?”

I was about ready to tell him no, but my father laughed. Not a sound of mockery, but one of loving amusement. He stepped closer to Cole and faced him with a quiet earnestness I had rarely seen. “It’s not about what you can buy, Cole.”

“But if I can give her everything, then why shouldn’t I?” “There’s no reason you shouldn’t. I’m just saying, this”—he gestured around the room—“isn’t what’s going to matter in the end. What’s going to matter is that you both love her. That you put her first, no matter what. You already adore her, and that’s more than a lot of kids get at all.”