The Paris Secrets trilogy: includes: Window, Screen, and Skin (65 page)

Dashing to the stone balustrade that overlooked the gardens below, I searched the rows of verdant vines and spied a flash of pink skirts. 

Hugues called out before I could spy the old man's salt and pepper hair, "Ollie is broken!"

"Broken?"  Frozen there, my heartbeats thundering, my system tried to determine if this was a fight or flight situation.  Had she fallen?  Broken what?  Where was she?  My brain suddenly switched from business to life.  "Broken.  Hollie?"

I ran toward the edge of the courtyard where my wife wobbled up with the help of Hugues gripping her at the elbow.  The front of her long pink skirt was wet and she gave me a wobbly smile.  "It's time."

"Time for..."  And even as my heart burst and I didn't think my smile could get any larger, the reactive part of me switched over to all systems go.  "Time for the baby! 
Oui
!  What to do?  Ah!" 

I hugged Hollie quickly but carefully and then led her to the center of the fieldstone courtyard before the house.  "Stay right there.  Breathe!"

She quirked a smile at me.

I dashed into the chateau and grabbed the suitcase that had been sitting by the door for a month.  Hollie had packed it with nightclothes, makeup, and baby clothes for her stay in the hospital.  Grabbing the car keys from the hook by the wall, I swung outside and flung open the car door.  Tossing in the suitcase, and sliding behind the wheel, I fired up the engine.

That idiot cat was sitting on the hood.  "
Allez vous en
, Joe!" 

I shooed at it vigorously.  The cat gave me the standard superior smug cat face.  I beat on the windshield and hissed at the insolent.  It dove off the hood.  And I shifted into drive.  Rolling down the gravel drive, I adjusted the radio, and checked my hip to ensure my mobile was with me. 

Checking the rearview mirror, I—

"
Merde
!"

Slamming on the brakes, I shifted into reverse and returned to park before the chateau.  I flew out of the vehicle and over to my waiting wife.

"Really?" she said, as I led her to the car.

"It was your responsibility to get in the car.  We practiced this."

"Uh-huh.  I would laugh to see the nurses at the hospital if you had showed up without me."

I helped my wife bend to get into the passenger side, but she paused.  Her fingers clutching the door window turned white.

"Hollie?  Is it painful?  Will you make it to hospital?"

She nodded vigorously.  "They meant it when they said this was going to hurt.  Yeah, I think I'm good to go now.  Just...take the bumps carefully, will you?"

Closing the door behind her, I dashed around and this time before I put the car into drive I turned to check that my passenger was with me.  There she sat, abundant, her cheeks rosy and eyes bright.

"I love you," I said to my pretty wife who sported a grape leaf tucked in the strands of her brown hair.  "You're going to have my baby."

"I am," she said.  Her sun-toasted skin beamed.  This country life was good to both of us.  "My water broke, and I'm sitting on your new Audi seat."

"I'll buy a new seat."

"I don't think you can do that."

"I'll buy a new car."

"I love you.  And remember, anything I say during labor should not be used against me at a later date."

"I'll remember."  I leaned over to kiss her.  She tasted sweet like grapes and summer.  "Half hour drive to the hospital.  Buckle up,
mon abeille
.  We're going to become a family."

***

When we arrived at the hospital Hollie was moaning and in intense pain.  A nurse arrived carside to help her into a wheelchair.  Hollie gripped my hand and managed a weak smile.  Sweat coated her brow.  She'd stopped joking with me ten minutes into the drive.

I could not bear to see her in pain.  And the drive to find a parking space had been the longest five minutes of my life.  The sun had set, and there were no parking lot lights.  I fumbled with my keys when I got out of the car, then dashed toward the hospital.  Stopped.  Turned, and raced back to the car to grab Hollie's bag.

Whew!  This having a baby thing was hard work.

Now, two hours later, Hollie had been given permission to push the baby out.  She clutched my hand like a prizefighter and put all her effort into the task.  Labor.  Yes, that was the perfectly excruciating word for it. 

I felt helpless standing there beside her, offering mere words of encouragement.  If I could take the pain and do the work for her I would have.  Humbled by her strength, I pressed my forehead against hers.  I inhaled the sweet scent of sweat and vanilla and could feel the effort her body expended with her work.

"The head is out!" the doctor announced.

"Go look," Hollie gasped. 

Not wanting to let go of her hand, but being of a curious nature, I moved down and behind the doctor where the nurses had said I was allowed to stand.  There it was!  A tiny head. 

Actually, that was a large head to be coming out of my wife's vagina.  How the hell did a woman's body—?  I shouldn't think about it too much.  That was Hollie's forte, thinking too much.

With another grunt and focused effort from my wife, suddenly the baby's entire body slipped into this world.  The doctor held the child firmly and then...

And then the strange thing happened.

"Fluid in the lungs," the doctor reported to the nurse standing beside her.  "Prepare the incubator."

"What is it?" I asked, wanting to reach in and hold my child.  "Is there something wrong?"

"Monsieur l'Etoile, you have a daughter," the doctor said, still holding the baby away from me.  Was the child oddly colored?  Did her skin look violet?

"
Mon fille
?  I have a daughter?"

"
Felicitations
."

An alarm buzzer suddenly sounded.  Everyone in the room moved swiftly and without regard for me.  Two nurses dove for Hollie, and I realized she was lying still.  Her eyes were not open.

"What is wrong?"

The doctor moved around me, carrying my daughter.  The cord had been cut.  I hadn't been allowed to cut the cord.  What was happening?  My heart thudded.  I couldn't find words.  Why was my baby so oddly colored?

"Something is wrong?"  My feet stumbled backward.  The wall caught my shoulders and spine.

"Everything will be fine, Monsieur l'Etoile.  The baby has swallowed fluids into her lungs."  The doctor placed the ti
ny being inside a brightly lit plastic-enclosed bed, and a nurse began to massage her tiny body.  "Just need to give her a brisk massage.  You should sit down, Monsieur."

I wasn't processing well.  Massaging my baby?  That sounded acceptable.  But why hadn't they put her in my arms?  And Hollie.  Why wasn't my wife awake and alert?  What had happened to her? 

I stepped toward the bed, but a nurse caught me in a surprisingly firm grasp.  "You need to stand aside right now.  She's going to be fine.  Let us take care of her.  She's had blood loss."

"Blood loss," slipped from my mouth.  My heart dropped.  My knees wobbled.

I gripped for something solid.  It was the nurse's arm.  "I must hold her," I said.  "She needs me."

"Then sit here in this chair.  You can hold her hand while we work."

"Yes."  Blindly, I was directly toward the chair.  I don't remember sitting. 

But I'll never forget clutching my wife's hand as if to pull her up from the depths.

***

The scent of peppermint brought me to life.  Well, not as if I was dead.  I'd been resting because...whew!  I'd just given birth.  To a baby.  Who was...well, I hadn't met him or her yet.  I didn't know if it was a boy or girl.  How much time had passed?  Why had I passed out?

Is this thing on?  What does a girl have to do to get a little applause after pushing a baby out from between her legs?

Shifting on the hospital bed, I felt the comforting warmth of a hand in mine, and so I squeezed.  Jean-Louis, whose head had been lying on the bed beside my shoulder, looked up at me and smiled.  How much did I adore those sky-gray eyes? 

"You are awake.  How do you feel?"

I shrugged, then did an inner assessment on my body.  I felt lighter, and achy, and...relieved.  "I feel like I pushed a watermelon through my vagina.  What happened?  Why was I sleeping?"

"You passed out.  There was some blood loss, but not so much it worried the doctor.  She said to let you rest, and I was inclined to do so.  You worked hard,
maman
.  We have a daughter."

"Really?  A girl?"

He nodded, and leaned in to kiss me.  I couldn't worry about morning breath because his kiss was the perfect reward for my hard work.  My husband's mouth against mine.  And he felt warm and so right.  He anchored me to this realm.

We'd made a baby.  (I suspect, on the ottoman.)  A little baby girl.

"Where is she?"

"The nurse took her out to weigh and do all the measurements.  She was...purple when she was born."

"What?"  What kind of crazy had invaded my husband while I had been out?  "How long have I been snoozing?"

"About an hour.  The doctor said our daughter swallowed fluid into her lungs, so I watched the nurses massage her for a while.  About five minutes and the color slowly blossomed on her skin.  She is fine, Hollie.  Ah, here she is."

The door opened and in walked a nurse carrying a baby swaddled in a pastel yellow blanket.  Jean-Louis stood and kissed the infant's head, then looked to me with the proudest new father smile.  "I got to hold her earlier, but not for long.  I ran down to the gift shop for some gum while I was waiting.  And I bought her something."

I shifted on the bed to sit up against the pillows and didn't mind whatever it was that roiled inside my gut.  Hell, my body had been through the wringer.  There was bound to be shrapnel, of which, I'd ask the nurses questions later. 

Right now, I wanted to hold that precious bundle.  Jean-Louis took our daughter from the nurse.  He bounced lightly, as if by rote.  He cooed at our baby.  A teardrop splat onto my nose, followed by so many others.

"What is wrong, Hollie?"

"Nothing," I said, though the tears streamed quickly.  "I'm so happy.  You're a daddy.  And you look so good at it."

"Eh."  The Frenchman's concession to agreement without agreeing too much.  God, I loved him.  "Here is our daughter,
mon abeille
."

He sat on the bedside and handed me the baby.  And I laughed at sight of the bright yellow and black striped hat on her head.  It had two black antennas bobbling up from the top.  "A little bee!"  He must have bought the hat in the gift shop. 

Did I mention how much I loved the man?

Beneath the hat a perfect round face with closed eyes and a teeny nose and pursed lips slept.  She was perfect.  Had I made this?  Jean-Louis had helped, too.  Wow.  We'd made a baby.

My husband kissed the baby's nose and she wrinkled in response, her entire body wiggling and then settling.  She knew he was her daddy.  Oh, but I couldn't wait to watch him spoil her and love her and stand protectively beside her as she learned to ride a bike, soar high on the swing, and even go on her first date.

"What's her name?" I whispered, feeling exhaustion waver through my body. 

"I'm not sure.  She is a bee, that is for sure."

"Bea," I said.  "Short for Beatrice.  Didn't you say that was your mother's name?"

"My
grand-mere's
name.  It's pretty.  You are
mon abeille
, and she is
mon petit
Bea.  I like it.  Do you?"

I nodded and hugged our daughter against my breast.  "I love you.  Both of you."

"We are a family.  Thank you, Hollie.  For loving me."

"Take us home," I said on a sigh, and then drifted into sleep.

The End (for real)

Yep, that's it.  That's the end, or probably a new beginning for Jean-Louis and Holly.  And Bea!  I hope you enjoyed reading about them.  And I thank you for reading the Paris Secrets trilogy.

Please visit my website:
MicheleRenae.com

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pinterest.com/MicheleRenaeX

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Did you know that Michele Renae is a pseudonym used by Michele Hauf to write erotic romance?  If you're interested in darkly sexy paranormal romance, check out Michele Hauf's world of Beautiful Creatures at:

MicheleHauf.com