Trouble Me (28 page)

I S
EE
B
RIGHT
, W
ARM
L
IGHT
and feel a strong, deep urge to push. Nothing’s in focus.

“There she is! She’s conscious! Kelly, Kelly Jo Jo, come back to us!”

Tucker. Tucker hollers at me.

“I need to push.” That’s all I can say.

“Okay, gents, let’s help her. Tyler, if you’ll lift her head and shoulders up. Mind the left side; that’s where the wounds are.”

“Where’s Andrew?” My voice sounds tiny and scratchy.

“He’s right here. Are you ready to push?”

I close my eyes tight and push, hard.

Someone else’s voice. “Tell her one more good push. He’s crowning already. You all got here just in time.”

“Kelly, push again—hardest you ever have—and we’ll be done. This guy wants to be born.”

The other voice again. “Get ready with support for the baby. We don’t know what we’ve got here. Could need to be vented.”

More voices. “Do we have a pediatric vent? Did we find it?”

“Yeah, I got it. I got the peds line ready too.”

“Think about where you start fluids on a baby. And if we need a line, it may need to be a mainline. Just be ready. Think on your feet, friends.”

“Ready to push, Kelly? Now, hon, push hard, push hard. Push!”

I push again. I feel a stabbing sharp pain behind my breast. “Andrew! It hurts. Andrew!”

And finally, I hear him. I feel his hand in mine, squeezing it, reassuring me. “I’m here, Kelly. I’m here. Push through it. It’s okay.”

Tucker’s voice. “She’s got to be done on this one. That rib could be perforating her lung on the other side. I couldn’t tell how shattered it was by the bullet.”

I push and push, and it feels like forever, but suddenly everyone’s voices speak all at once. “Hey, here we go, yes! Kelly, you did it! He’s here! Okay, quickly guys. Umbilical and vitals, stat.”

An unfamiliar voice speaks up. “Please tell me we can transport. Any word on that?”

“Hey! Andrew! Kelly! Kelly Jo Jo, you have a healthy baby girl!”

I hear this.
A girl!
“A girl?”

“She’s talking. That’s good. She must be stabilizing a little. We can push fluids hard on the trip to Seaside.”

“A girl. She’s looking good. She’s pinking up.” I can tell these things are spoken in my direction.

“Andrew?” I call.

“I’m right here.”

“Go hold her. I don’t want her to be alone.”

As he goes to do this, deep relief floods me, washing over the stabbing pain I still feel in my abdomen and all up my side.

“I’ll stay with her, Kelly,” he says. “You stay with me.”

“She’s losing consciousness. Her blood pressure is low. Let’s try…”

Everything washes away in a sigh, turning to gray water and tears on my cheeks. The pain ebbs.

T
HE
N
URSE
W
ANTED
H
ER
O
N
T
HE
W
ARMING
T
ABLE
, all swaddled up, but I just want to hold her. The tears stream down my cheeks as I look at her. That’s me. Andy Pettigrew, master of the universe, king of the box office, reduced to a trembling mess.

I got to bottle feed her already. I have no idea what to call her. Kelly hasn’t regained consciousness. Her name’s got to be a team decision. The doctors said Kelly’ll wake up soon, since mostly it was the blood pressure and lost blood, and they’ve put four units into her since we got here. It doesn’t look like we’ll have to airlift anyone to Portland, after all, which is good. The weather’s still shitty.

Kelly broke a rib. The bullet broke her rib, actually. But she didn’t perforate her lung, like we thought she might have, so we were very lucky.

I look at my little girl without a name. She’s fine. She hums, and I love it, but the nurses don’t. They say it’s a breathing problem. But the humming that no one except me likes, it’s starting to subside. Kelly’s going to miss it. I tried to record it on my phone. When she wakes up I’ll play it for her.

The baby was delivered at thirty-seven weeks and a few days, pretty much full-term, so that was not the biggest concern of the event. No one mentioned it to me until we were back here in the NICU, but baby girl had the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck. Maybe arriving on the scene a little early was good. That situation could have gone all to hell even without any of this crazy drama.

Mari’s in jail, but on the psych ward. They had to hold her in the little lock up in Cannon Beach for a night, and the deputy had to clear five boxes of paper towels out of the holding cell to do it. Shows you how often they have trouble.

I need to close my eyes. If the nurse comes in, I’ll ask her to stay with the baby. I can just sleep for a couple minutes, then when Kelly comes around I can function.

I don’t pray, not usually. But right now I lay myself down on the vinyl of the lounger, and I call out to whoever it is that let me keep my Kelly and my baby, and I say thank you, God. Thank you for the second and third and millionth chances you’ve given me to figure out my ridiculous, self-absorbed life. Thank you for letting me find these amazing creatures and for not scaring them off, and for being able to keep them safe even when someone wanted to hurt us. Thank you, universe. I owe you. I owe you big.

I O
PEN
M
Y
E
YES
, and everything makes sense, suddenly. It’s been a fog for I don’t know how long. The pain nudges me in the familiar spot under my arm, but it’s just a nudge and not an ice pick between the ribs.

The room is cute. There are three quilts hung up, all green and blue and purples. Lots of teddy bears and flowers.

“Andrew?” I call, though not really, because I have no voice. It’s all scratch. I look around the room again.

He’s asleep in the lounger. Out. He has dark, dark circles under his closed eyes. He’s here. I’m safe.

“The baby? Where’s the baby?” Again, it’s a scratchy nothing. I do a quick survey and find the call button on the side of the bed. I press it once, gently.

A big lady with big hair and very red lipstick strolls in. She wears red and black scrubs. Her smile gets wider when she sees I’m awake. “There you are, lady! Welcome back!”

She glides over and puts her hand to my wrist. She checks my pupils with a little light. I motion to my throat.

“Water. Got it.” She gets the pitcher and pours me a glass. “You pushed the call button?”

I nod. “My baby?” It’s a peep, a scratchy peep, but I can talk now.

“Would you like to meet her?”

“How long has it been?”

“You haven’t missed much. It’s been about six hours since you got here. You lost a lot of blood; your blood pressure was low. The doctor sedated you for a bit too.”

“Has she eaten?”

“Andrew bottle fed her, but you can try nursing her. You all didn’t get to choose how that went down, did you?”

She’s on a first name basis with Andrew. I smile. It’s good that they like each other. Nurses rule the maternity wing.

“I’ll go get her out of the nursery.”

She glides out. I love how calm she is.

Andrew hasn’t woken up yet. I wiggle my toes. Maybe I can get up and wake him.

But I don’t know if I’m in one piece. I take stock head to toe. No C-section scar. That’s good. I remember the pushing. Good.

My arm hurts. There’s a big bandage. The gun. The searing pain in my arm. I was shot. And there’s a big bandage on my side, under my arm. That one I don’t even touch. It still throbs and reminds me it’s there.

Mari
. I don’t know what happened to her. But it’s quiet here. I feel safe, even though the wounds throb. Other than these injuries, there’s just general soreness. And sensations I remember from the early days of being a mother. I take another drink through the straw.

“Andrew?” It sounds better, more like a word. Maybe I should just let him sleep.

The nurse comes in. “Here she is, Baby Girl Pettigrew.”

She hands me my baby. She wears a little knit blue, pink, and white cap. She has hair, dark and thick. Her eyes are open, blinking and confused. She and I just got here. We’re both trying to catch up to all these other people who know what’s been going on for longer.

I touch her tiny fingers. Her nails. Someone clipped them already. That’s good.

“You want to try?” The nurse looks at me.

“Sure. I’m Kelly, by the way.”

“I’m Regina. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Pettigrew.”

“Mrs. Almost-Pettigrew,” Andrew chimes in. He’s awake. God, I love his voice. I want to squeeze him.

“Please, just Kelly,” I say to her, but she’s already walking out the door.

“Give the nursing a try. The doctor gave it the okay. I’m going to give you all a minute.” She waves over her shoulder.

“I changed her already.” He comes to my side. I grab his arm and pull him to me.

“Oh, Andrew.” I kiss him, hold him around the neck. “I love you so much.”

“Hi, love. I’m so glad to see those bright eyes of yours again.” He kisses me deeply.

“Where’s Tessa? Is she okay? Where are the boys?” I can’t stand to think that someone was so close to us and could have hurt anyone else.

“Tessa’s fine. She’s here. So are the boys. Tucker has some serious connections. He flew your folks and the boys in as soon as the weather began to even hint at clearing.”

He presses his forehead to mine, then leans down and plants a little kiss on the baby’s forehead. “Welcome to the family, baby without a name. This is your mama, Mrs. Almost-Pettigrew.” He sits next to me. “So, you’re doing this? Are you feeling well enough?”

“I feel tons better. I feel awake. So, yeah, we’re doing this. Time for baby to eat.”

It takes a minute for the little one to figure out it’s dinner time, but we get the hang of it. Andrew sits, very quiet, rubs my elbow once in a while.

“See? We’ve got it all figured out.”

“You need to take it as it comes, Kelly. If you need a rest, I’ve already bottle fed her, so she’s not being picky. No confusion. She’s brilliant already.”

“She needs a name.”

“Yes, yes, she does. I know what I want her middle name to be, if that’s okay.”

“What?”

“Emily. For my friend.” He looks straight at me. Emily was the friend Andrew lost right after he left home for Hollywood. Losing her was very hard on him.

“I like that a lot. First name ideas?”

“I got nothin’. I’ve been busy saving the world. Though I understand you took someone out with a fireplace poker.”

“Yes, I did.” I close my eyes. I don’t know how to feel about Mari. Her brother, her tragedy—she was clearly sick. But that rage and fear, the threat she posed to my family, I don’t know when I’ll be able to hear her name without a rush of emotions.

“We’re safe from her,” Andrew soothes. “She’s on the psych wing of the county jail. She’ll get help. You didn’t completely wreck her; we just slowed her way down.”

“I didn’t know I was capable of that.”

“I’ll remember not to make you mad.” He strokes my hair, tucks a strand behind my ear, kisses me softly on the lips.

The baby fusses. “Time to change sides. This one could be a little tricky.”

“Your bad wing. I’ll help hold her.” He scoots closer, puts a hand under her tiny, swaddled bundle of a body. She’s a lot smaller than the boys were. Both of them were overdue. She’s my early bird.

“She’s light. How much does she weigh?”

“She’s holding her own. Five pounds, fifteen ounces.” Proud daddy sticking up for her.

“What day is it?”

“January twenty-fifth.”

“Three fives. Maybe there’s a name in there somewhere,” I muse.

“No Cinco Pettigrew.”

Hunter and Beau come charging in. “Mom!”

They both climb up on the bed, give me hugs on my good side. I can’t shower them with enough kisses. “No one can go anywhere,” I tell them. “I have all of you here, safe, in one spot. We’re good.”

“Did you name her yet?” Beau strokes the baby’s hair with one pinky. He seems to love her already.

“We were getting around to it,” Andrew says. “Your mom was working on five names.”

“She doesn’t need five different names. That’s too confusing.” Beau shakes his head.

Hunter intervenes. “No, names that have something with the number five.”

“She was born on the twenty-fifth, she was five pounds five ounces, you know.”

“Well, then it should be Quincy.” Beau makes little curls with the hair on the top of her head.

“What?”

“Quincy. It means the fifth son, but it’s close enough. And it’s not Cinco, which is not a good name.” Beau tells us this as a matter of fact.

“I like it. I don’t know where that came from, Beau, but I like it.” Andrew gives him a hug.

Beau hugs me one more time. “Excellent. It’s done. I’ll go tell everybody, and we can go to the cafeteria.”

The boys coo over Quincy for a few more moments, then leave to go get something to eat.

Andrew sits on the edge of the bed, holding Quincy as she drifts back to sleep, full and sated. “I have something to give you, Mrs. Almost-Pettigrew.”

“What?” I sit up a little straighter.

He turns and sets Quincy down in her bassinet, gently tucking her blanket in around her feet. Then he comes back to my and kneels by my bed. “Marry me, Kelly.”

“My ring? Where’d you get that?” I hadn’t noticed it was gone.

“It was on the floor near you. It must have come off in the struggle.”

I look at my fingers. They’re covered in scratches. I shiver a bit.

“Um, hello?” Andrew’s still on one knee by the bed.

“Oh! Yes, I’ll marry you. Just like I said the…I’ve lost track. How many times?”

Andrew smiles, and my skin warms with pleasure. Nothing can replace that bright grin. “I think this is lucky number seven.”

“Yes, again.”

He stands up and slides the ring on my finger.

I pull him down to the bed, and we kiss.

“Well, enough of that, then. Maybe now we can get to making plans for the wedding. I still have the number for that elephant.” He smiles again.

Everything feels settled, after so many months of fear and uncertainty.

“Sleep,” he tells me. “I’ll run down to the cafeteria and see what looks good.”

I watch him walk away and feel at peace.