She Woke Up Married (24 page)

“You’ve had your reasons. But that’s got to end now. We’ve got to come to a clear understanding. Whatever happens between the two of us, you cannot leave your children and run off. They need you. I know you are a strong woman,
but we have to go through this
together,
not separately.” Turner was practically yelling at her. He’d never done that, ever.

“You are a stronger woman than your mother was, Paris, and I am a stronger man than your father was.”

“Turner, we’re going to have to finish this conversation later,” Paris said.

“I’m not going to be put off any more, Paris.”

“I see that, but I think I’m in labor.” She held on to the post for support.

“Really?” Turner came over to her and took her in his arms. He stood next to her and pushed a strand of her hair out of her eyes, then kissed her forehead. He put his hand on her belly. Not that he could tell anything from that. “It could be. I’m going to get your mother. Did she tell you she was a nurse?”

“Yes. She told me.”

Turner ran out of the room. “Lucy, Paris is in labor.”

Lucy came to him in the hallway. “I thought that might happen. She might have had a mild contraction about an hour ago.” Lucy looked at her watch. “We’re about forty-five minutes from your hospital, so we better get started. But don’t panic, this is her first, even if it is twins. First deliveries are notoriously slow. Did her doctor say anything about position or whether he’d planned on a C-section?”

“He said they were in the best possible position. I took the Lamaze class without Paris, since she was stuck in bed. I tried to translate as much of that as possible to her,” Turner said.

“Well, that will help, but in Patty’s case I’d say not for long.”

Turner wasn’t used to anyone calling Paris Patty. He’d tried to gain understanding for Lucy after talking to her, and he’d felt clear that years of misunderstanding had been straightened up. But he was still wary of her. He wanted this delivery to be as calm as possible for Paris, if such a thing was possible.

She seemed to read his mind. “I’ll help you get her to the car. We’ll come tomorrow,” she said quietly.

“Thanks,” Turner said. He went back to Paris and helped her get her coat on.

“We’ve got plenty of time, Paris. I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

“So this is the ‘slight discomfort’ the books talked about? They must have been written by a guy.”

“You’ll do fine. You’re an Amazon woman. Think of Zena, warrior princess.”

“You think of her,” Paris groused. But she let Turner help her down the hall and toward the
front door of the bungalow. Her mother and Bill Worth were standing by the door.

“Mother, I want you to come along,” Paris said. She didn’t know why she said that, but it felt important. There was an unfinished circle that she needed to close up.

Paris could tell she had surprised Lucy. “We’ll follow you.” Lucy looked at Bill, and he hurried off to get whatever they needed.

Turner leaned over to her. “Are you sure?”

“I want her there. I don’t know why, but it will help finish it, Turner.”

“I’m fine with that,” he said.

She wondered if that was true. His face looked disturbed. Outside, the snow was amazing. In her eighteen years in Nevada, she’d only seen a cold spell, never snow. “Oh, man, I would pick today.”

“It will be memorable.” Turner helped her into the minivan.

“What the heck is this?”

“Jenifer Shipley’s van. She loaned it to me.” Turner closed Paris’s door and came around to the driver’s side.

Paris settled into the seat and felt for the adjustment buttons. She moved it to a slight recline. That’s when the first really big contraction hit her. She grabbed the door handle and groaned.

“Wow. That was big,” Turner said.

“I like how you get to comment from the side.”

“The population curve would cease if men had to give birth. They’d ban it. We only need forty-five minutes or so, Paris. We’ll make it fine. You aren’t going to have them in forty-five minutes, right?”

“No, but I can have a whole lot of labor. They should show a movie of labor and birth in high school. It would be the perfect birth control.”

“And we’re only getting warmed up.”

“We?” Paris laughed a pained laugh.

Turner took out his cell phone and called Dr. Shapiro. That gave Paris a good feeling to know that Dr. No-nonsense would be there at the hospital when she arrived.

Paris saw Lucy and Bill’s car pull out of the garage, then Turner moved the car out of the drive so they could follow him. The minivan moved slowly through the snow. Very slowly.

“Turner, are we going to be okay?”

“We are. We’ll make it. Once we get to the freeway, we’ll do better.”

Paris tried not to think panicky thoughts. She tried to rest. She’d never had such a day as this. She was already exhausted from
feeling
so much.

She couldn’t believe her mother had actually thought she hadn’t wanted to see her all these years. It was so hard to understand. But once they’d talked about the horrors of that time, she
could see that her mother was still filled with guilt—years of heavy guilt—for getting sick, for derailing their lives, and for the death of her father. And for her and Bonnie.

That had been a real miracle in her mother’s life, Bonnie finding her. Paris could hardly wait to meet Bonnie. Lucy said she came twice a year to visit. Bonnie had paved the way to her mother’s healing.

Paris had to admit that all Turner’s talk of fate and coincidence and cosmic order was the best explanation for some of what had happened in the last year. To think that her mother had been here, so close, so alive.

Paris felt true shame for what she had put Turner through. After several hours with her mother, she’d had to face what she’d done. To think she’d actually spent the last months convinced she would give birth to these beautiful children and leave town. Why, they’d end up feeling the same pain she’d felt about her own mother. Even finding her after all these years couldn’t erase that pain.

And she would have ended up just like her mother—full of guilt, unable to break free of the past. All the things Turner had said to her night after night, and how she’d tried to make him shut up because she hadn’t wanted to hear them: They all made sense now—how she was letting her fear destroy her chance at happiness. They’d
just been words until she’d seen her mother. Now all his words were giving her the strength to face what a horrid thing she’d almost done.

How could she have been so blind? The past had gripped her like a sickness.

And the
present
…was currently gripping her in pain. She tried to remember that breathing thing Turner had taught her, but for some reason, all she could do was scream. “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhgh.”

“Hey, you’re supposed to be breathing through those.”

“I’ll try and remember that,” she panted. “Turner, the roads. I’m scared.”

“We’re almost to the freeway. Hang tight.”

Paris felt a wave of panic that made her heart beat quickly. She tried to breathe slowly. She had so many fears in her. All her old fears about being a mother—they felt like an old story she’d told herself a hundred times, and believed, but now, she could see a different ending.

But her new fears were even bigger. Maybe Turner had given up on her. It had been a long, painful period of time, with her insisting she was going to dump two children on him and run.

She shifted herself so she could watch him. She wrapped her coat tighter around her legs. How ironic would that be? Here’s this wonderful guy, standing by her through all sorts of hell,
and she waits too long to come to her senses and loses him in the end.

Her chest hurt with that fear. She sucked in her breath and tried not to cry. She was afraid to say anything to him because she was already so upset she’d probably get hysterical for the second time today and not be able to concentrate on the task at hand. Another wave of pain hit her hard.

She had to admit it was pretty damn hard to concentrate on anything else but that contraction when it took over your entire body.

“I’ve decided we should do this another day,” Paris said when she caught her breath.

“How about next week, is that good for you?”

“Sure.” She reached over and put her hand on his cheek. He put his hand on hers, then moved it back to the steering wheel. He must be so angry with her. She just couldn’t lose him now. What could she do to make Turner love her like he had before?

Through the crazy, wind-whipped snow, in his rearview mirror, Turner watched in shock as Lucy and Bill’s car slid off the highway and down an embankment. He’d slid past that slippery patch just a few seconds before them, but their car hadn’t made it.

“Damn,
damn.
Your mom’s car just went off the road.”

“Oh my God, we have to see if they are okay.” Paris twisted around in her seat.

Turner eased the van over to the side of the road. “You stay here. I’ll go.” He set the brake and fought his way out the door against the wind and snow. What else could happen? He looked up to the sky and let snowflakes pelt him in the face. He had to get his wife to the hospital. He could feel a serious urgency here. He prayed that Lucy and Bill weren’t hurt. He’d have to call for help if that was the case.

The embankment was steep. Turner made his way down and opened up the driver side door.

“You folks all right?”

“Sort of. Let’s get Lucy to your car. I’m sorry, Turner, I guess this isn’t the best car for snow.”

“No apologies. How often does this happen? Let’s get you both in the car.”

In five minutes they were back on the road, and Turner was trying to drive as carefully as possible, while picking up speed. Lucille Worth had a bump on her head, but nothing serious.

He was very proud of Paris for hanging in there. He’d been timing her contractions on the car clock, and they’d gone from thirty minutes apart to fifteen.

She was such an odd mixture of strength and weakness. He had a feeling that the little girl part of Paris was going to get a big awakening in
a few hours. She’d been focused on herself for a very long time. Thirty years. But how else would she have survived her early years except by protecting herself like that?

He felt sure that she was going to let the strong part of herself rise up and take charge of these two babies. But whatever happened, he was ready for it.

Paris sat quietly in the car and tried to rest between contractions. How come Marla Meyers had never told her this part? She’d had her second baby in October and had somehow glossed over the part where the giant forces come and twist your uterus into a wringer, then squeeze it again just for fun. Paris was going to have to have a little talk with that Meyers woman. And to think she did it
twice.
Like once didn’t teach you anything.

At least she had the sense to have two at a time. She clutched her huge belly and wailed as another round hit her.

“Fifteen minutes apart,” Lucy said. “We may be delivering them in this van in a snowstorm. She’s moving awfully quickly, Turner. It must be their position.”

“We’re less than thirty minutes from the hospital exit. Paris can do it. She’s going to make it.”

Paris was grateful to hear her husband stick
ing up for her. Her husband. He
was
that. She’d almost forgotten.

Lucy reached over the seat and put her hand on Paris’s shoulder. “Tell us if you feel the urge to push.”

Paris thought about that and groaned. She suddenly figured that the only way through this was not to think about anything but the moment. Maybe that’s what she should do with the rest of her life as well. “I’m glad you’re here, Mom. Turner is going to get me there. I trust him.”

Paris glanced at Turner and saw him look at her with surprise. But she did trust him. She trusted him with her life, her children’s lives, and everyone else’s. He had never failed her. Not even when they were kids. She’d led him into all sorts of wild situations, and he’d always been there to protect her.

So basically, nothing about Turner had changed. Maybe after this she could make things up to him. She didn’t know what she had to offer him as a partner, except for one thing. If she let herself, she could love. She could show him what she felt in her heart. It would take a while, but as far as she could see, Turner was the most patient man in the entire universe.

She proved that point by screaming at the top of her lungs and digging her fingernails into his leg. He flinched but kept the car on the road. What a guy.

“Are you ready, Mrs. Pruitt?” Dr. Shapiro was gowned up and peering at her from between her legs.

“Thanks for not saying
we.
Just give me drugs and I’ll be the best little laborer you’ve ever seen. I’ve had enough of these nasty contractions.”

“I’m sorry to say it, but there’s no time for that. I want you to do exactly what I tell you. Can you do that?”

Paris was going to think about that, but another contraction hit her. “Okay, whatever you say.”

Turner was sitting behind her head, rubbing her temples. Her mother was gowned up and stood to the side. Paris was glad her mother was there. She could show her that not everything in their lives had to be terrible. She could share something good with her.

But most of all she was glad Turner was there.

“I was sort of hoping to lose the entire sixty pounds in one shot,” Paris laughed.

“Well, here’s six and seven ounces, and another six and five ounces.” Turner held two babies, one in each arm. Turner couldn’t believe what they looked like. A tuft of red hair on each head, Paris’s nose, and his mouth. At least that’s what Paris had said.

Lucille Worth held her daughter’s hand. Turner could tell she’d been crying. He’d also seen Paris comfort her. What a twist.

“Give them to me, Turner.”

He brought them over to Paris and tucked one on each side. He looked into his girls’ sweet faces and watched them make little mewing
noises as they slept. They’d been through a big night. Hopefully Paris could get a little rest, too. She’d hardly had a chance last night. The morning light was streaming in the windows now.

“I want you to promise me something,” she said.

“Today I’ll promise you anything. You are queen for the day.”

“This has to be a forever promise. I want you to never ever tell these babies how completely ridiculous their mother was before they were born.”

“Family secrets aren’t good, but I’ll make an exception in this case.” Turner hoped this meant she’d seen the light. “I promise.”

“I know what you’re thinking, Turner, and I didn’t have time to tell you yesterday. I was busy.”

“You were.”

“Mom, could you leave us alone for a few minutes?”

“Sure. Thank you so much, Paris, for letting me be here for the girls’ birth. I can’t even tell you what it’s meant to me.”

“I understand, Mom. I’m glad you were here.”

Lucille exited the room and left Paris and Turner alone. Well, as Turner saw it, this was the most alone they were going to get for many years. “What else did you want to tell me?” He moved over by her side and watched baby one sleep. They sure needed to think up some names.

“Actually, it’s more of an ask than tell. Turner, I fell in love with you. I don’t know when, maybe it was the time you painted my toenails Kiss Me Pink, but I figured that out yesterday as I was driving to see my mother. I know I’m not the same girl I was back in April. I’m fatter but wiser. You’ve seen some really bad days with me. I’ve pushed you away over and over again. A man can only take so much of that. I’ve been a heartless, confused woman.”

Turner sat quietly. He knew in his heart that he was deeply in love with his wife, and not one moment of this time had changed that. He’d had his doubts, and he’d been ready for her to walk out, but somehow he’d known his love would finally make a dent in her. He’d seen it in her laugh, and in her tears too. But it wouldn’t be bad to hear it from her own lips. He smiled and listened.

“So what I’d like to know is, will you marry us for real this time?” Paris gave him a tearful look and pulled the two girls up close to her.

His wife was a wreck. She had no makeup, and no brush had been near those scarlet locks of hers in a good two days. Her face was tearstained, her eyes were rimmed with red, and he saw freckles for the first time ever, spattering across her nose, which was chapped from blowing. The babies didn’t look too much better—their heads were a little lopsided, one had a
blotch on her forehead—from her sister’s foot, most likely.

But really, he had never seen a more beautiful bunch of women, and they were all his.

“Paris, for me, it was for real the first time, and I’d marry you again in a minute.” He came over to her and tipped her chin with his finger, then kissed her with all his heart. This time, for the first time really, she kissed him back with all her heart. He could feel it. Even with her arms full of babies.

“Mmmm.” He brushed her cheek and let his hand rest there. “I know a nice chapel not far from here,” she whispered.

“Very funny.” Turner saw his wife blush for the first time in his life.

“I wanted to ask you yesterday, but things got out of control. Besides, I waited till I had some leverage.” Paris nodded to the sleeping babies.

“You already had leverage, Paris. You just didn’t give yourself enough credit.”

“I know that now.”

Turner kissed her again. He was flooded with happiness knowing that Paris had found her way to him, and to their children.

“I think I’m going to need some therapy, though, and I’m still fairly terrified about what might come up in the next few weeks, but my mother is willing to work things out with me. She said we should go to counseling together.”

“I’m going to be with you through whatever
comes up, Paris. I’m in this for the long haul,” Turner said.

“I owe it to them…and you, to get my head on straight. Which is not to say I won’t still be a raving bitch sometimes.”

“Yes, but you are
my
raving bitch.”

“I love you, Turner. I guess we are going to have the best holidays ever.”

“I love you too, Paris.” He bent to kiss her again. The door to the room opened with a quiet knock. Paris’s mother was there, and behind her was a lovely redheaded girl who looked to be in her twenties.

Paris gasped. Turner figured it out pretty quickly. It must be her sister Bonnie. He gathered the babies up. “I’m going to take the girls for a walk, Paris. We’re going to the nursery for a while, but I’ll bring them back.” He nodded at Bonnie as he passed by.

Bonnie pushed past her mother and flew right into Paris’s arms. He heard a whole lot of crying, and he smiled at Lucille. “Thanks.”

“She caught a hopper flight from Fresno,” Lucille said. “It’s been quite a morning.”

“Is your head okay?”

“Just a bump. But the inside of it is a little overwhelmed.”

“I’m going down the hall. Come and join me after a while,” Turner said.

“I will.”

Turner walked his daughters down to the nursery and had the nurse tuck them into their bassinet. She put them together. She said she had a theory that twins slept better together at first. He sat in the resident rocking chair and watched them sleep.

His whole world had been turned upside down in the blink of an eye. He thought back to April first of this year, when Paris had whooped her way into his life. He thought about the young Paris, howling at the moon with him on a desert night. She was still that girl, and he was glad his daughters would grow up with her free spirit. He thanked God that his prayers had been answered.

“Now you’ve got a handful,” Millie’s voice came from the doorway to the nursery. The nurse checked with Turner, but she asked Millie to wait outside in the hall anyhow. Turner stepped out to join her.

“Redheads up to my eyebrows.” Turner gave Millie a hug. “She asked me to marry her.”

“Did you say yes?” Millie joked.

“I did.”

“I knew she’d crack.”

“I’m sure you helped with that.” He hugged her again. “And Millie, we’re going to need you, so pack up your scrapbooks and come to that big house.”

“I’m already in there. Preacher Pruitt’s house is quite the joint. Are you sure you want an old showgirl like me around?”

“Who else can teach them to high-kick? But no more phone sex, okay?”

“Darn, and I so enjoyed it. Turner, I can’t even begin to thank you. I never thought I’d be a grandmother, since I didn’t have any kids of my own and all, so you’ve given me quite a gift.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll regret it later.”

Millie reached down by the wall to a shopping bag she’d brought with her and pulled out two Raggedy Ann dolls. Turner could see they were handmade, complete with loopy red hair.

“You did these? They are beautiful.”

“Lookit those girls.” She turned and pressed her nose to the glass nursery window. “What are you going to name them?” Millie asked.

“I don’t have a clue. I’m trying to figure out how to tell them apart.”

“You’re going to be a hell of a daddy, Turner. We’ll just call them Thing One and Thing Two for a while.”

“Your children are beautiful, Turner.”

Turner turned to the sound of Sarah’s voice. She was right behind them, wearing her student nurse uniform. “Thank you. They’re doing very well. It was an extraordinarily easy delivery.”

“Easy for you to say,” Millie added.

“I saw her name on the chalkboard. I came over to say congratulations.”

“Thanks, Sarah. It’s been a long haul, and you helped out a great deal.”

“She’s going to stay, isn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“I knew she would.”

Turner saw the sadness in Sarah’s eyes. He reached over and took her hand. “You are always welcome with our family, Sarah, and we’re here if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Turner. As soon as I’m finished with school, I’ve decided to go back to the Islands. They need nurses there, and I actually miss my folks,” Sarah said.

“That sounds wonderful. Until then, you’ve got the apartment, and I guess we’ve moved. I think the only things left in the house are my leftovers.”

“We’re leaving most of the furniture. The princess went shopping,” Millie said.

“Hey, it’s her specialty. She’s good at it,” Sarah smiled.

Turner refocused on his babies and enjoyed watching them sleep. From everything he’d heard, this was a rare moment. Millie danced a Raggedy Ann in the window and made faces.

“Oh, you’re going to be great. You’ll get them all excited, then hand them back to the weary parents,” Turner said.

“Heh-heh. Now you’re getting the picture.”

Turner was glad Sarah had come to make peace. He felt, at this moment, completely blessed.