Lucky. Jennifer Greene

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ In between contractions, she rubbed her tummy, talking softly to her baby. This was about the two of them. No one else. “You’re going to love your room. I bought you a teddy bear the size of a Santa, and the toy box is already filled. The wallpaper is balloons in jewel colors, and over your crib, I set up real jewels dangling from a mobile—amethyst, citrine, jade, pink quartz. When the sun comes, you won’t believe what brilliant crystal patterns it makes on the wall. And there’s a wonderful, big old rocker. You and I are going to rock and sing songs, and I’m never going to let you cry, never….”

      An hour passed, then another. Suddenly a pain seared through her that was different from all the others.

      Finally, she thought, the transition stage. All the books claimed this stage was the hardest—but it also meant that they were nearing the end. Soon enough she’d hold the real baby in her arms after all these months.

      Another pain. Just like that one, only worse. More of the fire, more of the scalding feeling of being ripped apart. She hit the button for the nurse, then hit it again.

      No one came.

      Now she realized what a sissy she’d been before, because these contractions were completely different. And possibly that’s why no one was coming now, because they thought she’d been crying wolf? Only Graham…where was he? Surely they wouldn’t leave her much longer without someone checking on her?

      This wasn’t pain where she could scream or yell like before. This was pain so intense that it took all her concentration to just endure. This wasn’t about whining how she could die; this was about believing for real that she may not survive this. Agony lanced through her, again and again, not ceasing, not letting up, not giving her a chance to catch her breath. Her body washed in sweat. Fear filled her mind like clouds in a stormy sky, pushing together, growling and thundering. She wanted her mom. She wanted Graham. She wanted someone, anyone. She pushed and pushed and pushed the call button, but she had no possible way to get up out of bed and seek help on her own, not by then.

      Finally the door opened a crack. Then a nurse’s voice. “Good God.” Then…lights and bodies and motion and more pain. “There, Kasey, you’re doing good—it’s going to be all over very soon.” By then she didn’t care anymore—or, if she cared, she couldn’t find the energy to respond.

      They wheeled her into an unfamiliar room. Stuck her with needles. “Where’s Graham?” she asked, but no one answered. Everyone was running, running. The baby seemed to be rushing, rushing. And the pain was there, but with that last hypodermic, the knife edges of pain blunted, and her mind started blurring.

      Somewhere, though, she heard a woman’s voice. One of the nurses’. Low, urgent. “Doctor, there’s something—”

      She tried to stir through the thick mental fuzz, recognizing that something was happening. Something alarming. She heard the doctor’s sharp, “Be quiet.” And then, “Get out of the way. Let me see.”

      “Is something wrong?” she whispered.

      No one answered.

      “Doctor, is something wrong with my baby?”

      Still no one answered. But she felt another needle jab in her arm. And immediately came darkness.

      Her dreams were all sweet, dark, peaceful. She remembered nothing until she heard the sound of a nurse’s cheerful voice, and opened her eyes to a room full of sunshine. “Are we awake, Mrs. Crandall? I’m bringing your beautiful daughter. There you go, honey… I have on your chart that you want to nurse, so I’m going to help you get set up. Can we sit up?”

      She pushed herself to a sitting position, listening to the nurse, taking in the pale-blue walls of the private room, the fresh sun pouring in the window, the washed-clean sky of a new day. All those sensory perceptions, though, came from a distance.

      Once the bundle was placed in her arms, there was only her and her daughter.

      OhGodOhGodOhGod. The pain and fear had all been real, but mattered no more now than spit in a wind.

      The feel of her daughter was magic. Reverently she touched the pink cheek, the kiss-me-shaped little mouth, then slowly—so carefully!—unwrapped the blanket. She counted ten fingers, ten toes, one nose, no teeth. Without question, her daughter was the first truly perfect thing in the entire world. Love rolled over Kasey in waves, fierce, hot, compelling, bigger than any avalanche and tidal wave put together.

      “She’s all right? Really all right? I remember the doctor sounding worried in the delivery room. I was scared something was going wrong—”

      The nurse glanced at the chart at the bottom of the bed, then quickly turned away. “She sure looks like a healthy little princess to me.” Efficiently the nurse adjusted Kasey’s nightgown, and finally coaxed Kasey to quit examining the baby long enough to see mom and daughter hooked up. “I’m going to give you two a few private minutes, but I’ll check on you in a bit, okay?”

      Kasey nodded vaguely. The nurse was nice—but not part of her world. Not then. She stroked and cuddled her miracle as the little one learned to nurse.

      She and Graham had bickered about baby names for months. Boys’ names had been tough enough, but girls had seemed impossible. Cut and dried, Graham wanted Therese Elizabeth Judith if the child was a girl. Kasey thought that sounded like a garbled mouthful…now, though, she found a solution to the problem in an instant. Graham could have whatever name he wanted on the birth certificate.

      But her name was Tess.

      Kasey knew. From the first touch, the first smell and texture and look…the name simply fit her. And it was hard to stop cherishing and marveling. The little one had blue eyes—unseeing but beautiful. Her skin had the translucence of pearl. The head was pretty darn bald, but there was a hint of rusty-blond fuzz. Little. Oh, she was so little.

      Kasey thought, I’d do anything for you. And was amazed at the compelling swamp of instincts. How come no one had told her how fierce the emotion was? That mom-love was this powerful, this extraordinarily huge?

      “Oh, Graham,” she murmured as she caressed the little one’s head. “Wait until you see how precious, how priceless your daughter is. She’s worth anything. Everything. All…”

      Kasey stopped talking on a sudden swallow. She looked up.

      Darn it—where was Graham?

      Jake pulled his eight-year-old Honda Civic into the driveway on Holiday, touched the horn to announce his arrival, and then walked around and climbed into the passenger seat.

      He saw the living room curtain stir, so Danny heard the car—but that was no guarantee his son would emerge from the house in the next millennium. Rolling down the window—it was hot enough to fry sweat—he reached in the back seat for his battered briefcase. Sweet, summery flowers scented the late afternoon, but the humidity was so thick it was near choking.

      He glanced at the windows of his ex-wife’s house again, then determinedly opened his work. The top three folders were labeled with the names of suburban Detroit hospitals— Beauregard, St. Francis and Randolph. All three hospitals had a history of superior care until recently, when they’d had a sudden rash of lawsuits, all related to rare medical problems affecting newborns.

      Traditionally even the word newborn invoked a panic flight response in Jake—yeah, he’d had one. He still remembered СКАЧАТЬ