Mother's Day Babies (Holiday Babies Series) (7 page)

David had done the same before
his first heart attack. Almost at the same age.

Barbara feared Lou might be in
physical pain.
Oh God, no, please
. She regretted her callous judgment.
“I’m sorry, Lou. Sit down. I’ll get you a glass of water.”

“A Scotch would be better. I’ll
fix us two drinks.”

Carefully watching him, she
nodded and sat on the bed. “How old is Monica?”

“Twenty-two.” He opened the small
refrigerator and added ice cubes to two glasses.

“And her mother?” Barbara guessed
the woman might have triggered Lou’s mistrust of women for so many years.

“Jennifer was five years older
than me,” he said as he poured the whisky and then handed her a glass. She sniffed
its pungent smell, hoping the strong alcohol wouldn’t cloud her mind. “She
worked in a bar. I met her when I was in college in New York and fell madly in
love, but I soon bored her. She dumped me.” He chugged half of his drink,
clucked his tongue, and dropped in the chair next to the desk.

“So how—”

“Ten years later, we bumped into
each other in Atlanta. You’d think that at thirty, I’d have been wiser.”

“You still held a flame for her?”
In a way, Barbara was pleased to discover he was capable of loving a woman for
that long.

“I was still an idiot. That’s
what I was.” The bang on the desk startled her. Now at fifty-four, Lou resented
his previous naïveté. “Jennifer moved in with me. But not for long. Later, she
called to say she was expecting my child.”

“Ah, did you believe her?”

“Yes, and I was delighted to be a
dad. I thought something positive has finally come out of our troubled
relationship. You see I grew up in a very conservative home. My mother was a
church-going lady, classy and generous. Just like you.”

His gaze roamed over her with
appreciation. Barbara smiled at the compliment. That explained why Lou liked
her.

“I wanted my child to have the
good childhood I had.”

“So you married Jennifer?” Hoping
he’d done the right thing, Barbara arched her eyebrows.

“She laughed in my face when I
proposed and said she wasn’t ready for monogamy. I realized a marriage with her
wouldn’t last long but I wanted to be part of my child’s life. Jennifer had no medical
insurances so I immediately gave her a check and said I’d pay for the delivery
and the baby’s expenses.”

“You were there when the baby was
born?” Riveted by his story, she studied the thinning of his lips, and the sad
little lines carved around his eyes.

“No. Jennifer had a knack for
disappearing. She called when the baby was five-months old. I was furious to be
deprived of my child’s first months and we had a fight. That’s when she
screamed she wasn’t sure Monica was mine. She was sleeping with two other men
at the time.” Disgust and rage churned in his eyes, now as gray as a tempest.
“The girl has her mother’s looks. I wanted her to take a DNA test. Jennifer
refused.”

 “I can understand your
frustration, your anger. But you kept contact with your daughter?”

“Only a few times over the
years.” He shook his head. “Jennifer followed her lovers and only called me when
she needed money.”

“No wonder you longed for a family
life.” Now she understood why he never married.

“When she grew up, Monica was the
one who called to ask for money. I made her promise to go to college and I paid
her tuitions.”

“You’re a generous man, Lou, and
a forgiving one.” Barbara ached for him. Not to be sure that his daughter was
his own flesh and blood must have been a torture.

He snorted. “Guess what? Monica withdrew
the money and never stepped foot in college. A real disappointment. A year ago,
she told me her mother had died of cancer. Now she follows in Jennifer’s
footsteps. Men, drugs, and a pregnancy to top it all off.”

“Oh God.” Barbara blessed her
daughters for siding with the right crowd and not giving her too much trouble.
Lou’s conversation with Monica echoed in her ears. “But she sounded desperate.”

“She was. The jerk left her. I
thought she wanted to have an abortion, but I heard wrong with all her sobbing.
She’s eight months pregnant, having horrible contractions and afraid of a miscarriage.”

“Where is she, Lou?”

“In a small apartment in New
York. She needs immediate help. I can’t do it from here. I told her to call 911.
Three days ago, I sent her five grand.”

“Lou, she’s only twenty-two.
Tiffany’s age.” Barbara’s heart squeezed at the thought of any of her daughters
facing such problems on her own. “She’s all alone, pregnant, sick and
miserable. Even if you’re not sure you’re her real father, you obviously
accepted responsibility for her when you supported her.” He nodded. “Too bad
she lost her mother. Young women need their mothers at a time like that. But you
can’t ignore her now when she’s begging for your presence. You should go to
her.”

“I don’t see how my presence
would help. I’m not her mother.”

“Lou, I can’t stand to leave her
alone. Listen, if you want, I’ll come with you.”

“Are you serious? Why?” His
eyebrows arched.

“As I said, she’s my daughter’s
age, and I’d die before I abandon one of my daughters. Monica is your daughter
and she needs help. Right now. We’ll leave tomorrow.” She jolted from the bed
and clasped her hands, ready to plan.

He emptied his glass and stepped
toward her. “You’re an angel, Barbara. I’m lucky to have met you.” He brought
her close against him for a tender hug.

The electric tension between them
had abated, but the sparkles in his eyes assured her that their passionate
interlude was not ended, only postponed for a more appropriate time.

“It’s not fair to cut your
vacation.” His tone indicated he had trouble swallowing the bitter pill.

In a way, Barbara was happy Lou had
come to her room. Not only because she’d savored a smidgen of his ardor, but
mostly because now she’d have the opportunity to meet his daughter and help him
bond with her. After all, family relationships were Barbara’s expertise.

 “I had a wonderful vacation,
Lou. Let me thank you by taking care of your daughter. Now go to your room and
book the earliest possible flight to New York. Meanwhile I’ll notify Roxanne
that we’re leaving tomorrow. I just hope we arrive before it’s too late for her
baby.”

****

In spite of a sleepless night, Barbara
refused to let the stewardess prepare the bunk bed for her during the long trip
to New York. She was too nervous to sleep and preferred to chat with Lou. He
hadn’t fared any better the night before and swallowed a couple of drinks to
calm his rattled nerves.

Holding her hand during almost
the whole trip, he told her about his life in detail. The happy childhood with
two brothers in a stable home; his dream of becoming a reporter, his ambition
and professional success, and his disappointment and failures at developing
meaningful relationships with women.

Barbara shared her love story
with David, their struggle to build a future for themselves and their children.

“He never cheated on you?”

Her head snapped toward Lou.
“No.” She lowered her eyes and fiddled with her seatbelt.

“Did he, Barbara? Don’t make him
a saint now because he’s dead.”

“He never cheated,” she repeated.
“I caught one of my friends kissing him in my own house, at my party, and threw
her out. And I gave him a warning. I’d never forgive infidelity, never.”

“I bet he learned his lesson and
heeded your warning. I wouldn’t want to lose a woman like you.” Lou kissed her
briefly and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Try to nap.”

She lowered her head in the
hollow of his neck and drifted off.

****

They checked in at a hotel not
too far from the New York Women’s Clinic and dropped their suitcases with the bellboy.
Lou hailed a taxi and gave him the clinic’s address
.
A moment later, Barbara
dashed
inside the lobby while Lou paid the taxi. At the reception desk she
showed her id. “Ma’am, I’m looking for Monica Roland. She was brought to the ER
last night.”  

“One moment.” The volunteer typed
the name in her computer and scanned the screen. “Can you spell the name?”

Barbara complied and waited.

Had Monica delivered already?
Worry hammered her insides.
I hope she hasn’t lost the baby
. Her pulse
raced like an out-of-control train. Barbara quickly reviewed her six
deliveries, five healthy girls and the little boy who died at three hit by a
car. Can a woman still miscarry at the eighth month in this time of medical
progress?

“Sorry, Ma’am. I don’t see that
name on my computer. Are you sure this patient came to our clinic?” the
middle-aged woman said.

“Yes, I’m positive. Please look
again.”

“No Roland on my lists.” The
volunteer frowned. “We have a Monica Jackson. She arrived at the ER at 5:45
this morning. But that’s not who you want.”

“Monica Jackson, yes,” Lou
muttered behind her. “Where is she? Did she have the baby? It’s an emergency.”

“Right away, sir.” An
appreciative smile lingered on the volunteer’s lips.

Lou had that effect on most
women. Young or old, they melted in front of him and went out of their way to
help her handsome companion.

“Okay, she was admitted to ER
early this morning. Two hours ago she was scheduled for a c-section.”

“Can we see her?”

“I don’t know. Go to the third
floor and ask the nurse in charge. Put on these badges. Take the elevator at
the end of the corridor on the right.”

“Thank you.” Lou tugged at
Barbara’s hand and they rushed to the elevator.

“Why Jackson, not Roland?”
Puzzled Barbara squinted.

“It’s Jennifer’s last name. I
told you I wasn’t notified of Monica’s birth for five months. I tried to change
the name to Roland. Her damn mother refused.” An angry grimace etched Lou’s
face. “Apparently, my money was welcome but not my name,” he grunted, his
breathing heavy.

“Don’t let it destroy you, Lou.
Maybe now things will change. Monica asked for you to come and you answered her
call.” Barbara squeezed his hand. “I’m sure she’ll be so relieved to see you.”

“Who knows?” His eyebrows rose in
doubt and his chiseled features hardened. “With Monica you never know what to
expect. I wonder if she’s going to keep the baby or put it up for adoption.”

“Not adoption.” Barbara grasped
his arm. “Lou, you have to help her. We both will.” A lump grew in Barbara’s
throat. “I had six kids, Lou. When my son was killed in an accident, I thought
I would die. It’s too difficult for a mother to give up her child.”

“Barbara, you’re a wonderful
mother. Not many compare to you.”

At the third floor, they went
straight to the nurses’ station. “Nurse, please. My daughter, Monica Jackson,
is here for an emergency. We just flew eight hours from Paris to get here in
time. Please, we need to see her.” For the first time, since Barbara had met
him, the cool-headed, organized, and methodical executive was almost begging,
rather than ordering.

The nurse checked her computer.
“She’s in the Labor Room. I’ll take you to see her. She hasn’t been prepped yet.”

“Prepped her for what?” Lou’s
gaze flicked from the nurse to Barbara as if he was asking her to explain a
situation totally new to him. “Has something gone wrong with the pregnancy?”

“Is she toxemic?” Barbara
specified.

“Yes, she showed symptoms of preeclampsia,
abdominal pain, high blood pressure, and protein in the urine. The doctor
checked her several times during the day. He was waiting for the tests results.
He’s going to deliver her right away.”

They sanitized their hands and followed
the nurse to a large area with several beds occupied by pregnant patients. To
think only last night, Barbara had basked in the elegant atmosphere of the
historical George V Hotel and the lavish aroma of the multitude of roses
decorating its lobby. The hospital hygienic smell convinced Barbara the
nightmare was real.

The nurse approached the bed near
the wall where a young woman lay, an IV line hooked to her arm. Her hair tucked
under a white cap, she looked as pale as the white blanket covering her. Her
huge belly contrasted with her narrow shoulders.

“Monica, your parents are here to
see you.”

The young woman scowled. “What
parents? I never had any decent ones.” She turned her head toward Lou and
glared at him.

“Monica,” he started with a soft
voice.

“So you came.” Her hiss belied
any greeting. “I had to be almost on death bed for you to move your ass and
check on me.” Her chilly look encompassed both Lou and Barbara.

Barbara’s jaw sagged, yet she
abstained from any comments. In her sheltered world she’d rarely met such an
aggressive young person. But Monica was Lou’s daughter, at least for the
moment.

“Try to keep a civil tongue in
your mouth, girl,” Lou snarled. “Mrs. Ramsay came especially to help you.”

“Another one of your bimbos?”

“How dare you?” Lou raised his
hand. Barbara snatched it, afraid he might slap the girl.

“Go to hell, Lou,” Monica said.
“Why would I care about you or your friends? You never cared about me.”

Tears welled in Barbara’s eyes.
In spite of her bravado, that poor girl had suffered—was still suffering.
Barbara pushed Lou behind her and approached the bed. “Monica, I’m a friend of
your father. I have five grownup daughters and a lot of experience in
childbearing. I know I can help you.”

Monica squinted at her. “True,
you’re too old to be his type.”

Lou gasped but Barbara laughed.
“Exactly.” The young woman’s hostility was too tangible for Barbara to try to calm
her. “Lou, please leave us alone.” She turned to him and mouthed, “Or at least
back up out of sight.”

 “Good luck.” He snorted as he
edged to the wall and stood there, where Monica couldn’t see him.