HER BABY'S SECRET FATHER (9 page)

Easy for her to say. Her nursing shift ended after eight hours. Jaynie’s heart had galloped, and a wave of concern had circled her head.

I can do this. I’m a nurse. Heck, I’m a mother!

They’d also given her a crash course on infant CPR. Sure, she’d practiced annually at work, on unnaturally pink plastic infant dummies. She’d covered the stiff doll’s nose and mouth with her own to puff air inside, and had used two fingers between the nipples to quickly beat out the required compressions, but that was pretend.

Before her lay her daughter, the most precious gift she’d ever been given, and Jaynie didn’t want to botch anything up.

Tara had flourished in the past few weeks to a whopping 1700 grams—just a few ounces short of the four-pound goal. But when Jaynie carried her to the car on the day of discharge, Tara felt as fragile as a tiny antique treasure. Jaynie had held her breath when she’d lifted her from the hospital isolette, and when Tara had squirmed and mewed, she’d looked on with both wonder and love.

Kim and her boyfriend, Dr. Tommy Tom, had offered to bring Jaynie and Tara home. She had eagerly accepted. Even Por Por Chang had sent over some food guaranteed to increase her milk and give her added energy.

Though the food looked and smelled weird, it meant the world to Jaynie, since her own mother couldn’t make the trip out west for a few more weeks.

It took three adult minds and twenty minutes to figure out the placement of the car seat in back of Jaynie’s SUV, but they prevailed. And when they arrived home, other than holding Tara, Jaynie left Kim and Tommy to carry everything else inside.

“Put that over there,” Kim said when they entered the house. She had gotten very good at bossing Tommy around.

The tall man sported broad shoulders under a peach-colored J. Crew shirt, and a trendy ultra-short haircut, gelled and spiked to perfection. His tiny dark eyes sparkled when he looked at Kim, and it made Jaynie smile.

The look of love.

He unloaded several bundles of items Jaynie and Kim had deemed necessary for Tara: car seat, diaper bag, apnea monitor, pulmonary treatment machine, nursing supplies, another bag of medicine and supplementary formula. He made two trips to the car to bring everything inside.

Over the next hour, the three of them bustled around, setting everything up according to Jaynie’s need and desire.

Kim finally whisked her waist-length hair behind her shoulders, placed her hands on her narrow hips and gave the nursery the once-over. “Anything you need?”

Jaynie scanned the room and shook her head. She’d slipped Tara into a sling and snuggled her close to her breasts. The baby looked peaceful and content, and Jaynie’s confidence grew. “No. I should be fine…really.”

After wavering for several seconds, Kim hugged Jaynie, took Tommy by the arm and headed for the door. “Don’t hesitate to call for anything, okay?”

When the door closed, Jaynie was surprised by the strong sense of isolation that settled in around her.

The house was dead quiet.

Tara remained asleep, and Jaynie felt exhausted. She decided to take advantage and put her feet up for a few minutes—maybe even take a catnap. She gingerly angled herself onto the couch and rested her head against the cushion. She repositioned Tara in the sling onto her abdomen. Jaynie’s eyes felt heavy and she welcomed the sluggish feeling lulling her toward sleep. Ah…rest.

A sharp, fussy cry came from the vicinity of her chest. With her brain swimming back from its stupor, Jaynie’s head shot up. Tara had a healthy pair of lungs on her, and, judging by the foul smell wafting through the air, was in need of a diaper change.

* * *

By Sunday night, Jaynie hadn’t gotten more than one and a half hours’ consecutive sleep at any given time. What was left of her stored energy had evaporated by Saturday morning, and she’d been dragging through the last two days. Deep blue circles under her eyes made her complexion look pasty. Even her normally curly hair looked droopy and dull, and her brown eyes had turned lifeless.

She’d lied to anyone who’d called to check in and see how she was doing. She’d told every single one of her friends from work, her mother, Kim and even Dr. Shrinivasan, that everything was hunky-dory, she couldn’t be happier, all was well.

Secretly, she felt irritated that Terrance hadn’t called her once while he’d been gone. But what was the point? So they’d kissed a couple times. He wasn’t part of her life anymore than she or Tara were part of his.

Exhausted, she wanted to cry. Of course she loved her baby. Jaynie loved every second of caring for Tara’s multiple needs: listening for her to breathe whenever she lay down to rest; nursing every two hours on the dot; bathing her; changing her diapers; giving her breathing treatments. On and on and on.

But over the last seventy-two hours the feather-light bundle constantly attached to her chest while awake, had begun to feel like a brick. Jaynie could hardly hold her own head up, let alone shoulder the full responsibility of caring for Tara.

She knew she needed to eat, but was too tired to care for herself, too. She’d skipped bathing altogether on Sunday, opting for precious moments of shut-eye whenever Tara napped. Her nerves twinged raw, she felt edgy, lethargic and sad.

Carefully placing the bedside intercom next to Tara’s crib in the nursery, after lying her on her back, she checked for a third time to make sure the apnea monitor leads were properly attached to her chest. Countless false alarms had fired over the weekend, keeping her on edge and running for the crib due to loose leads. Determined to take a shower during this naptime, she checked them once again.

Jaynie set up the other walkie-talkie monitor on the bathroom counter and switched it on. A static swishing sound reported the humming of the humidifier and total silence from Tara’s bed.

Stripping naked, she changed her mind and ran a tub full of hot water for a bath. Jaynie was shocked when she looked at herself in the mirror. She was now gaunt and flagging, and the glow of pregnancy had disappeared, replaced with exhaustion and depression. Not a glamorous combination.

She dipped her toe into the invitingly warm water in the tub and prepared to slip inside for a few moments of paradise. The loud buzzing of the apnea monitor sounded its alarm. Jaynie reached for her bathrobe and threw it on while rushing to Tara’s side. After tying her sash, she found Tara peacefully sleeping, with one monitor lead dangling from beneath her cotton drawstring gown.

She carefully reapplied the lead to her tummy, praying she wouldn’t wake or disturb her baby. Checking one last time, to make sure all the leads were in place, and the tiny oxygen cannula was set properly inside each nostril, Jaynie retreated.

Walking like a zombie, she found herself in the dining room, weak and leaning against the wall for support. Dismay, melancholy, intense fatigue and a total sense of defeat mixed into a dangerous brew of hopelessness.

Finally coming undone, she felt tears fill her eyes. She slid down the wall to the hardwood floor, where she crumpled into a fetal position and let out a total meltdown wail.

W
HERE
was Tara? Standing in the newborn ward, Terrance fought off a burst of alarm and searched for one of the nurses. He’d returned home late Friday night, and to make up for taking extra days off had worked a double shift on Saturday. Now, Sunday afternoon, he’d finally found time to visit Peanut. But where was she?

He hurried toward a nurse changing a diaper. A look of recognition crossed her face when she glanced up.

“Where’s Tara?”

“Went home Friday morning,” the curt older nurse said over her shoulder.

A crushing sense of loss hit him in the chest. He’d made up his mind about Jaynie and Tara. He’d searched his soul—even had a long talk with Dave—and was anxious to follow through on his plans. Now was as good a time as any, but he’d have to wait until he got off work.

* * *

Though still daylight, the shadowy late May afternoon made the house look dark from the porch. Terrance tapped on the door, but Jaynie didn’t answer. He cupped his hands to his eyes and peered through the front window.

“Jaynie?” he called.

Nothing.

He caught a glimpse of someone’s feet on the dining room floor. Fear shot through his chest, and he dashed for the door and jangled the handle, surprised to find the latch not securely locked. With a little finessing, he got it open. It squeaked against the silence.

A cold chill ran the course of his spine.

Oh, God, what could have happened here?

Rushing through the door, he flipped on a light switch and found Jaynie on the floor, curled up and whimpering. Where was Tara? He sprinted to the nursery and found her peacefully asleep. Terrance dashed back to Jaynie’s side and dropped to his knees.

“Jaynie? What’s wrong?”

She stirred. “Go away.”

He brushed the hair back from her face. Resembling a wild street urchin, Jaynie blinked and squinted at him.

“Are you sick?”

“I’m fine,” she croaked. “Leave me alone.”

“Like hell you are.” He scooped his hands beneath her, lifted her up and carried her toward the bedroom. “You look like you haven’t slept all week.” He laid her down on the bed and carefully tightened the sash on her robe, then tucked her beneath the covers. “Sleep,” he said. “I’ll take care of everything else.”

Jaynie attempted to sit up and climb out, but he gently pushed her back toward the pillow. “Stay right where you are. I’m not kidding, lady. You need to sleep.”

“But…the baby…”

“But nothing. I’ll take care of the baby. Go to sleep. That’s an order.” He clicked off the lamp and tiptoed out, shutting the door behind him.

* * *

Jaynie woke up in a pitch-black room. She glanced at the red digital numbers on her clock: 7:00. Nighttime? She shot upright, realizing her nursing schedule was way off. Her breasts felt heavy and tight.

“Oh, my God.
Tara
.”

She lunged for the door and flung it open, certain her baby had died from neglect. The rest of the house was lit up. She raced to the nursery and found it empty. Fear shocked her like a thrown bucket of cold water. She sped to the dining room and whirled toward the living room.

Terrance sat reading the newspaper while Tara dozed contentedly nearby, in the hanging bassinette. He looked up and furrowed his brow. “Go back to bed.”

A warm, calming wave overlapped her terror. She shook her head and fought to take back control.

“I need to feed her.”

He made a big to-do about folding up the paper and putting it down. With hands on his knees, he said, “Go back to bed.” He glanced at Tara and back. “As soon as she wakes up, I’ll bring her to you.” Pointing to the door, he reiterated, “Go.”

Over two hours had passed since she’d slipped into oblivion. Wasn’t Tara starving? Jaynie had to admit her baby looked quite comfy in the unique hammock-style bed. But knowing well Tara’s routine, Jaynie was assured that she would scream her lungs out when she was hungry—just like she’d done all weekend.

Nodding her head, deciding she could wait a little longer before feeding time, Jaynie somberly returned to her room. She slumped down onto her bed and nestled back for more rest. She knew she needed it. Any “new parent” reference book in her library would tell her to get plenty of sleep. A yawn escaped her lips. Following the lure of her pillow, she quickly dozed off.

A gentle tugging on her shoulder drew her back to the world of the living. Terrance towered above her, tall and handsome in the dim light. He extended Tara, all bundled up and fussing, towards her.

The clock read 8:00.

“She’s hungry,” he whispered, in a ragged yet gentle voice.

Jaynie sat up, reached for her baby, and positioned her in the crook of her arm. She glanced toward Terrance; ever the gentleman he’d turned his back. She offered Tara her breast and contented suckling noises soon filled the otherwise quiet room.

He walked to the window and gazed outside, but he didn’t break the silence. He peered through the blinds, cleared his throat, shifted back and forth on his heels and the balls of his feet, even fiddled with the change in his pockets. But he never said a word. After a while, he sat on the lone chair in the room, closed his eyes and leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head. She smiled at his composure.

When she’d finished nursing Tara, Jaynie cleared her throat, alerting him, and he dutifully retrieved her.

“I’ll take over from here,” he said. “Go back to sleep.”

Woozy from the pleasure of nursing, and craving more rest, Jaynie couldn’t bring herself to protest. She rolled onto her side and nestled into her pillow. Eyes heavy with slumber, a contented smile on her face, she forced herself to speak. “Don’t forget to burp Tara and change her dia…”

The door closed.

* * *

Every two to three hours throughout the night Terrance brought Tara to Jaynie. Repeating the routine, she nursed the baby and handed her back, falling immediately to sleep. And finally, by morning light, she woke up feeling human again. She stretched, lazily yawned, and climbed out of bed, heading for the shower.

First she wandered down the hall, peeked around the corner into the living room, and found Terrance sprawled on the couch, slack-jawed and out to the world. She smiled at the sight. Tara was nearby in her portable bed. Both were breathing, and she didn’t smell any evidence of dirty diapers, so Jaynie went contentedly off to bathe.

* * *

Terrance walked into the kitchen, scratching his stomach and yawning. A promise of fresh-brewed coffee beckoned. Jaynie stood at the counter in loose fitting sports pants and a snug white polo shirt, looking slimmer than he’d remembered before his trip. Her hair, fresh from the shower, hung in damp ringlets to her shoulders. Even without a stitch of make-up on, she held his immediate and undivided attention.

“Good morning,” she said, looking shy and squeaky-clean.

“Good morning.” He squeezed her arm on his way to the percolator, unable to decide which smelled better—Jaynie or the coffee. He liked how the natural-as-living greeting felt. He’d have liked it even more if they’d shared the same bed last night.

“Don’t you have to go to work?”

She broke into his thoughts while he poured himself a cup. “I worked the weekend and I’ve got today off.”

He took a long satisfying sip, made the requisite “ahh” sound, and grinned. “Don’t even think about getting rid of me. I’m sticking around. You need me.”

In place of the protest he expected, a smile broke across her face. But she recovered quickly, leaned against the counter, crossed her arms and watched him, attempting to look stern with giveaway eyes.

Terrance fought the urge to fold her into an embrace, bury his nose in her jasmine-scented hair and kiss her neck until she ripped off his clothes. Instead, he made a nervy, lopsided smirk, daring her to resist him.

“Well,” she said. “In that case, the least I can do is make you breakfast.”

* * *

Jaynie had offered her bathroom so Terrance could take a quick shower after they ate. Later, they both found themselves standing before the same sink with Tara’s plastic bathtub, filling it with warm water. She pondered his intense interest in her child’s care. What was that all about?

“Let me do it,” he said, and he moved closer to the vanity. His big hand held over half of Tara’s entire body. The infant squirmed and drew her tiny legs up tight to her pink tummy, and then widened her eyes and pushed the tip of her minuscule tongue to her lips in surprise. One little peep escaped her mouth when he submerged the lower part of her body into the water. After tensing, her scrawny legs relaxed, until she cooed and gurgled.

Tara liked her bath.

Jaynie laughed at the look of clear amazement in Terrance’s eyes. “See—it’s fun.” She giggled. “I told you.”

The smile he gave almost knocked her flip-flops off her feet. And, oh, what a fine profile the man had when he turned back to finish his assigned job of bathing a four-pound infant. Jaynie had never imagined the smell of baby lotion and natural male could be such an aphrodisiac.

She was puzzled. Either he was a natural at bathing a baby, or he’d done it before. Why did he want to help her? And, more importantly, why did she trust him so much? He’d been a godsend last night, and she’d never forget how he’d come to her rescue. But why choose to stick around today?

After the bath, she helped Terrance swathe Tara in a towel and gently dried the beginnings of the fine, red-tinged hair on her head. Tara griped and squirmed.

Jaynie and Terrance looked at each other and gave happy-face smiles over the wonder of it all. And something more, something intense, even urgent, passed between them.

“So, you want to tell me what happened over the weekend?” he asked, while putting a new diaper on Tara like a pro.

Jaynie sighed and leaned against the counter. “I felt completely overwhelmed—all the equipment, and Tara’s treatments, not to mention nursing her every two hours—I never got to sleep.” She closed her eyes and tried to block the horrible feeling of failure from her mind. “It just all caught up with me.”

“Why didn’t you ask for help?”

She rolled her eyes. “Stubborn. Foolish, I guess. Shouldn’t I be able to handle all of this myself?”

“Nope.” Terrance attempted to wrap Tara in a light blanket.

Jaynie stepped in and demonstrated the swaddling technique.

“I can’t thank you enough.” She touched his arm and reacted in her gut. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come.”

He held Tara like a football in the bend of his arm. “You’d have pulled yourself together and called someone. That much I know.”

He had faith in her.

His eyes wandered to her face, and she flushed warm when she saw the same look he’d given her the other day, just after their kiss.

“Whew, it’s steamy in here.” She tore away from his intense gaze and opened the bathroom door, breaking the moment and escaping his sensual spell.

Over the next several hours they diapered, fed, medicated and spent an inordinate amount of time just watching Tara. Any and every little thing she did tickled them. Her belches were hysterical, and the look she gave just before pooping had them in stitches. The zapped look of contentment on her face after nursing made them both coo. And when she gurgled? Well, what could they do but beam with pride?

Terrance made sure Jaynie napped regularly and ate properly throughout the day. He also swept the floors, did her laundry, straightened up the house and ran to the market for groceries. At nine o’clock that night, he escorted Jaynie to bed, made her promise she’d call him if she had any problems, and assured her he’d be back the next day, after work.

She plopped into bed, with Tara nearby in the attached bedside crib, and securely connected her to the apnea monitor. The wonderful day had come to an end. And the icing on the cake had been a tender goodnight kiss from her new hero—Terrance. It might have seemed casual to him—his leaning down and gently pressing his lips to her forehead—but to Jaynie it had felt like the kiss of a prince.

A prince who had tiptoed out of the room and shut the door.

The last thought on Jaynie’s mind before she drifted off to sleep was how wonderful it was to have someone…

* * *

Tuesday morning, Terrance had just finished making work assignments when his beeper went off. He recognized the number as the emergency room. Knowing they’d have whatever equipment he’d need, he rushed to the stairwell, avoiding the notoriously slow hospital elevators, navigating his way to the ER.

He punched in the code numbers to enter the locked ward and swept through the doors toward the nurses’ station. Through the overcrowded bustle and noise, the charge nurse alerted him to the incoming ambulance and its estimated time of arrival.

“SIDS,” she said casually, as if it happened every day of the week.

Terrance’s heart stopped.
What if it was Tara?
All reason about the statistical odds of it actually being his daughter left his head. His normally steady-as-steel hands trembled like leaves on a windy day. He shook his head to help re-focus his vision.

How would he be of any use to the code team, falling apart like this?

“Are you okay?” The charge nurse had picked up on the fact that all the blood had drained from his face.

He couldn’t bring himself to answer and fumbled for a chair to sit down. She approached him, waving something she’d pulled from her pocket.

The potent ammonia ampule she’d popped open under his nose burned his lungs, forced his attention, and started him breathing again. He swatted her hand away.

“Just tell me where the baby is coming from, how old it is and is it anyone we know?”

“The paramedics said it’s a two-month-old boy. And he’s not dead, but he’s gone into cardiac arrest.”

The emotional whirlwind blew out of his mind. Relieved beyond belief, Terrance gathered his composure, quit thinking like a father and started thinking like an unflappable respiratory therapist.

He prepared for a battle of life and death, determined along with the rest of the code team to make sure the baby boy had a fighting chance to see his first birthday.