Читать книгу The Mummy Miracle - Lilian Darcy - Страница 9

She doesn’t know. She doesn’t understand.

The realization kept cycling through Dev’s head, paralyzing him. Hell, he hadn’t wanted it to happen like this! He’d been so scared of the moment, sometimes—scared about what it would mean for his own bond with his baby girl. What if Jodie wanted the baby all to herself? What if he was suddenly shut out? He wasn’t prepared to let that happen, but how tough would he be willing to get about custody and access, when Jodie’s recovery was still so far from complete? What would be best for DJ?

He’d wanted to get the revelation over with, so that at least he would begin to know where he and DJ stood, but the timing had to be right. It had to be done in the right way.

With all the talk, the questions, the arguments back and forth between pretty much every member of the Browne and Palmer families for weeks, the conjectures that maybe at some level she knew, and that some tiny thing might easily jog a memory, no one had considered that Jodie herself might be the one to determine when they broke the news.

Devlin had wanted her told sooner, and his parents had been on his side. The Palmers had wanted to wait, insisting she wasn’t ready for such a massive revelation. The doctors, therapists and counselors wanted to respect the family’s wishes, but had been growing more insistent with each stage in Jodie’s improvement, after the setback of the serious infection she’d had just after DJ was born.

This was part of the problem. It had all happened in stages. It wasn’t as if she’d just opened her eyes one day and said, “I’m back. Catch me up on what I’ve missed!”

All through the coma there had been signs of lightening awareness, giving hope for an eventual return to consciousness, but it had been so gradual. First, she followed movement around the room with her eyes, but couldn’t speak. It seemed so strange that she could have her eyes open without real awareness, but apparently this was quite common, the doctors said.

Then her level of consciousness changed from “coma” to “minimally conscious state.” She began to vocalize vague sounds, but had no words. She started to use words but not sentences. She began to move, but with no strength or control. For several days she cried a lot, asking repeatedly, “Where am I? What happened to me?”

Once she’d understood and accepted the accident and the need for therapy, she’d become utterly determined to make a full recovery and had worked incredibly hard. Every day, over and over, in her hospital room, in the occupational therapy room, or the rehab gym, they all heard, “Don’t bother me with talking now, I’m working!”

Barbara Palmer began to say, about the baby, “Not until she’s home,” and her therapists cautiously agreed that, emotionally, this might be the right way to go. Let her focus on one thing at a time. Don’t risk setting back her physical recovery with such a shock of news.

How did you say it?

How the hell was he going to say it now?

You were five weeks pregnant at the time of the accident, it turns out, although we’re almost certain you didn’t know. You gave birth, a normal delivery, at thirty-three weeks of gestation, when your state was still defined as coma, just a week after you first opened your eyes. This is your beautiful, healthy baby girl.

He said it.

Somehow.

Not anywhere near as fluently as it sounded in his head.

“Sh-she’s yours … Jodie,” he finally said, stumbling over every word. Yours? No! He wasn’t going to sabotage his own involvement. “She’s ours,” he corrected quickly. “I didn’t know what to call her. I thought you’d want to decide. So she’s been DJ till now, because those are our two initials. Is that okay? Are you okay? This was supposed to happen on Tuesday, at your appointment, with your doctors and therapists and people on hand to answer all your questions. To—to help you deal with it.”

The words sounded stupid to his own ears. Deal with it. Doctors and counselors could help someone deal with a cancer diagnosis, but this was in a whole different league.

Her eyes were huge in her face. She couldn’t speak. She was slightly built, which made a stark show of her current shock and vulnerability. He remembered thinking her funny and gawky and oddly impressive when she was sixteen and he was eighteen, and dating her friend. Impressive because she looked as if a breath of wind would blow her away, but, boy, did she get on your case if you treated her that way.

She’d been just the same in the hospital and during rehab, once she could speak and move. She’d insisted on her own strength and her own will, and proved with every step that she was as strong and determined as she claimed. She fought her family on it all the time, because she was seven years younger than her next sister and she’d had a serious brush with meningitis as a child, and the whole clan had babied her ever since.

Well, for once she wasn’t fighting or insisting. She was too shocked. He’d half expected a protest or a denial. You’re messing with my head. It can’t be true. But she didn’t say anything like that. She believed him at once, which made him wonder if there was a tiny, elusive part of her brain, or a lacing of chemicals—hormones—in her body that had known the truth.

Her conscious mind, though, and her sense of self, had been completely in the dark.

“I have a thousand questions,” she blurted out.

“Of course. Ask them. I’ll tell you everything as straight as I can.”

“I can’t.”

“Ask them?”

“Do this.” She tried to stand up, but her legs wouldn’t carry her.

“Sit,” he insisted. “You don’t have to say anything. Or do anything. Let me talk, if you want.”

“Okay.”

So he talked, keeping it a little impersonal because that felt safe, and leaving out a few things, because he couldn’t hit her with all of it at once.

He told her about the signs of labor, the quick delivery they’d all been praying for, to ease the stress on her body. Told her DJ’s length and birth weight and head circumference. Told her proudly that the baby had Jodie’s own strength. Despite her premature birth, DJ had been stepped down from the NICU into the lower-level special-care unit within a couple of days, and had come home from the hospital in less than two weeks.

“Home?” Jodie croaked.

“Here. And your parents’ place. She spends a lot of time there.” More than he was happy with, to be honest, but he hadn’t wanted to fight them on that at a point when Jodie’s full recovery had still been very much in doubt, and when his own future wasn’t fully resolved. Would she ever be able to take care of a child? If she could, did that mean he’d go back to New York?

“Why are you here? In Leighville?”

She was asking the wrong questions, wasn’t she? He took in a breath to suggest this to her, but then changed his mind.

Ah, hell, there was no script for this! She should ask whatever she wanted to, in whatever order it came. And if she didn’t have an instant, overpowering need to hold DJ in her arms, he should be glad of the reprieve. He couldn’t stand the idea of losing his daughter, not even with generous custody and access, when the bond between them had grown so strong.

“I’m still working at Dad’s law practice,” he explained, trying to stay practical and calm. “He’s in no hurry to get back into harness. I expect he’ll decide to retire. I’ll head back to New York … Well, that’s open-ended at the moment. All decisions on hold, I guess. My apartment is rented out. I have a conference coming up in Sweden in early October, followed by a couple of months consulting in London.”

“You were supposed to be back in New York by last Christmas. Was it your dad’s health that changed your plans?”

Shoot, didn’t she understand?

“They found out you were pregnant before I even had the plates put in my leg.”

“How?”

“Blood tests, part of assessing your condition. When they told me …” Again, how to say it?

“You knew you had no other choice,” she supplied for him.

He couldn’t argue. Not the words, anyway. Maybe the edge of—what?—bitterness, or anger, in her tone. He hadn’t had any other choice. Not then. He wasn’t going to abandon his child before it was even born. He wasn’t going to deprive her of a father, when she might never have a mom. But it was different now. “I don’t want another choice,” he said. “This all needs time to work out, and that’s okay.”

“You said you didn’t plan on ever having kids.”

“You remember that?”

“Over dinner. You had steak with pepper sauce. I had strawberry mousse cake for dessert.”

“Shoot, you do remember!”

“Yes. It’s like yesterday, that mousse cake.” The subtext of explain yourself, Dev was very clear. She wasn’t really talking about dessert.

He said slowly, “What was it John Lennon once said? ‘Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.’”

“Or while you’re in a coma,” she drawled.

“Yeah, then, too.”

Tentatively, they both smiled, and something kicked inside him. He had a couple of memories that were like yesterday to him, too. Her passion in bed, almost fierce, as if in lovemaking, too, she had to prove her own strength, had to fight against the wrong preconceptions. Her saucy grin when she undressed. And his ambivalence.

He really, seriously, hadn’t known if it was a good idea to take her to bed that first time, even though she said she wanted it, and said she understood there was no long-term, and no promises, and that was fine. He’d told himself a couple of times their first night that he would stop kissing her soon, that he would reach out and still her hands if she went to pull off her clothes.

But then she’d done it. Crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her top to show a hot-pink bra and neat, tight breasts. Shimmied her way out of her skirt. Grinned at him.

And there’d been no question of stopping after that point. He’d used protection, but—not to get technical, or anything—maybe applied it just a little too late.

“But the dates don’t fit,” she said suddenly. “She’s too old. She’s smiling. Lucy isn’t.”

“Because DJ was premature,” he explained again. “Healthy preemies learn to smile at the same age after birth as full-term babies, even if they’re smaller and a little slower in other areas. DJ and Lucy would have been born within a week or two of each other, if DJ had come at the right time. The doctors say it’s good that she didn’t. It was easier on your body that she was little, and early. Would you like to hold her?”

He asked it before he thought. Blame Lucy for that. Jodie had looked so happy and comfortable holding her tiny niece today.

DJ was different. DJ had baggage.

Jodie stiffened and stammered. “No, she’s—she’s—N-not yet, when she’s asleep. If I disturbed her and she cried …”

“It’s fine. We’ll transfer her in the sling. It’ll be easy, I promise.” Listen to him! Five minutes ago, he’d been scared about the strength of her maternal feelings and what they might do to his own connection with his child. Now he was trying to rush her into them. He didn’t know what he wanted anymore.

Which was weird and unpleasant, because he always knew what he wanted.

Her weakened left hand made a claw shape on her thigh. “No. No, I can’t. I just can’t.”

Jodie heard the note of panic in her own voice, but there was nothing she could do about it. The panic was there. She couldn’t explain it to Dev. Couldn’t even explain it to herself. But there was a huge, massive chasm of a difference between holding and clucking over Maddy’s little Lucy and holding this baby.

My baby. Half an hour ago, I didn’t know she existed. But she’s mine.

It was overwhelming.

It should have been wonderful. A miracle.

Dev loves her. I can see it.

But it didn’t feel wonderful, it felt terrifying.

Thank heaven Dev loves her, because I don’t.

No. No! She had to love her own child! She did. Of course she did.

But why couldn’t she feel it? Why wasn’t it kicking in at once, the way it had with Elin and Lisa and Maddy and all the other normal mothers in the world, the very first moment they looked at their babies? Dev clearly expected it to, with his urging that DJ would be safe in her arms. It wasn’t a question of safety. Why could she feel so tender toward Lucy today, and yet so distant and scared about this baby?

Scared? A surge of strength hit her. She wasn’t in the habit of giving in to scared. She took in a breath to tell him that she would hold the baby after all. And she would have reached out her hands before the words came, except they were a little slow to respond to her brain’s signal and she had to make an extra effort.

But before either the movement or the words could happen, Dev accepted her refusal, gave her an easy excuse. “You’re tired,” he said. He let out a breath that might have been partly relief, as if maybe he’d doubted the strength and coordination in her arms more than he’d let on. “We should wait a little.”

She almost argued.

Almost.

But, oh, he was right, she was tired, and she’d tried so hard to stay on top of everything today. She let it go, and watched him tiptoe to the infant car carrier sitting in the corner of the living room and lay the baby down, easing his forearm out from beneath her little head with a movement so practiced and gentle it almost broke her heart.

“Very tired,” she managed to respond. “I’m sorry.” I’m so sorry, DJ.

“Don’t beat yourself up.” The baby stirred a little, but didn’t waken.

“I—I—” Did he know? Did he understand the extent of her panic?

“Let’s take it slow. It’s okay.”

“Thanks. Yes.”

She heard a car in the driveway, and footsteps and the voices of Elin and Mom. Dev lunged for the door before they could knock. He held it open and stood with the width of his body shielding the room from their view.

Mom said, “Is she still here?”

“Yes, but why are you here, Barb? I asked you very clearly to—”

“I’m sorry, we just couldn’t—I’m sorry.” This was Elin, clearly reading his anger. “We have a right to be involved in this, too, don’t we? DJ is ours, too. We all care so much.”

“You’d better come in.”

“Thank you,” said Mom, in a crisp voice.

“I really think it’s best, Devlin.” This was Elin, in a softer tone.

“We are as involved in all of this as you are.” Mom again.

They dropped at once to sit on either side of Jodie on the couch, their voices running over her along with their hands, all of it a jumble that she heard at two steps removed, like recorded voices or lines from a half-remembered play. Honey, are you okay? Obviously you know. Obviously there’s so much to talk through. That’s why we wanted to wait until you were ready. What has Dev said, so far?

“You barely gave me time to say anything,” he said.

“Listen, it’s not as if any of us have had any experience with a situation like this, Devlin,” Elin said.

“Shh … keep your voice down, can you?”

“Sorry … sorry.” Elin glanced over at the baby and looked surprised. “You have her in the car carrier?”

“She seems to sleep better in there, during the day.”

“Well, then, I guess …” But I never did that with my babies, was the implication.

“She’s fine. She wouldn’t sleep so peacefully if she was uncomfortable there.”

“If you say so.”

Both Devlin and Elin were holding it together with difficulty, and Mom looked trapped and unhappy, her mouth open as if she wanted to speak, although no words came.

Jodie slumped against the back of the couch. She’d started to shake. Could they feel it? She felt more tired than she’d ever felt in her life, and her lips had gone dry. She closed her eyes, willing this chaos of family and tension and questioning to … just … stop.

“Should we take her? Jodie, are you ready to go home?”

She opened her eyes. “Yes, take her.”

I mean, who is she? How can she even exist?

“I—I don’t know what I want to do,” she blurted. “I think I need some space. Another nap.” Her own bed seemed like the safest haven in the world.

There was a small silence, while Elin and Mom and Devlin all looked at each other, shrugged and raised eyebrows and gestured—body language that was beyond Jodie’s ability to interpret right now.

“I guess that’s an option,” Dev said slowly to Elin and Mom. “For you to take her and Jodie to stay here.”

“That’s not—” What I meant. But the rest of it wouldn’t come, and the first bit had come almost on a whisper, and they were too busy making plans to hear her.

“She should transfer to the car without waking,” Dev said. “I have a couple of bottles made up in the fridge.”

“We have bottles. We have diapers, clothes, everything. You know that. She’s due for her bath.”

“I’ll drop Jodie home when she’s ready. She’s right. We need to talk. Have some space.”

They’d worked it all out between the three of them, while Jodie was still struggling to lift an arm to brush a strand of damp hair from her eyes. She was staying here with Dev to talk. The baby was going back with Mom and Elin. Going back before she, the mother, had even touched her.

She wanted to argue the plan, but the words wouldn’t come, so in the end she let it happen, and when the baby carrier was buckled into the car and Mom and Elin had driven away, she felt so relieved, and so ashamed of the relief, and so horribly, horribly tired. “I can’t—” she said to Dev.

“I know you can’t talk yet. Sleep first.”

“Two naps a day. I’m like—” She stopped.

A baby.

My baby.

“Just rest.”

“Why aren’t you in New York? Tell me why. In simple words. Because it seems to me that you didn’t have to still be here. Obviously DJ is being taken care of. Obviously she’s loved. Obviously I have the support. So why?”

He looked at her steadily, with some of the anger he’d clearly felt toward Elin and Mom still simmering below the surface. He seemed to be thinking hard before he chose his words.

“Because she’s my daughter.” The last two words came out with a simmering intensity. “Because we’re a family. You and me and DJ. Three of us. That’s not negotiable. Three of us, not two.”

“A family …” Jodie echoed foolishly, tasting the word and not feeling sure of how it felt in her mouth.

“Not a regular family, for sure.”

“No …”

“But DJ needs a family of some kind….” He paused for a moment, and she filled in the words he didn’t say, in her head. And not necessarily a whole cluster of over-involved grandparents and aunts. “I’m right here in the picture and I’m not going to go away. And we have a heck of a lot to do and talk and think about, to decide how that’s going to work.”