User - NRoberts - G1 Blue Dahlia
He stepped up to the bedside. "You okay?"
"A little tired. It's a lot of work, but not as bad as I thought." Abruptly, her hand clamped down on his. "Oh-oh. Stella."
* * *
Roz stood at the foot of the bed. She looked at her son's hand holding Hayley's, looked at his face. She felt something inside her tighten, release painfully. Then she sighed and began to rub Hayley's feet as Stella murmured instructions and encouragement.
The pain increased. Stella watched the arc of contractions on the monitor and felt her own belly tighten
in sympathy. The girl was made of iron, she thought. She was pale now, and her skin sheathed in sweat. There were times when Hayley gripped Stella's hand so hard she was surprised her fingers didn't snap. But Hayley stayed focused and rode the contractions out.
An hour passed into another, with the contractions coming fast, coming hard, with Hayley chugging through the breathing like a train. Stella offered ice chips and cool cloths while Roz gave the laboring mother a shoulder massage.
"Harper!" General Rothchild snapped out orders. "Rub her belly."
He goggled at her as if she'd asked him to personally deliver the baby. "Do what?"
"Gently, in circles. It helps. David, the music—"
"No, I like the music." Hayley reached for Stella's hand as she felt the next coming on. "Turn it up, David, in case I start screaming. Oh, oh, fuck! I want to push. I want to push it the hell out, now!"
"Not yet. Not yet. Focus, Hayley, you're doing great. Roz, maybe we need the doctor."
"Already on it," she said on her way out the door.
When it was time to push, and the doctor sat between Hayley's legs, Stella noted that both men went a little green. She gave Hayley one end of a towel, and took the other, to help her bear down while she counted to ten.
"Harper! You get behind her, support her back."
"I..." He was already edging for the door, but his mother blocked him.
"You don't want to be somewhere else when a miracle happens." She gave him a nudge forward.
"You're doing great," Stella told her. "You're amazing." She nodded when the doctor called for Hayley
to push again. "Ready now. Deep breath. Hold it, and push!"
"God almighty." Even with the babble of voices, David's swallow was audible. "I've never seen the like. I've gotta call my mama. Hell, I gotta send her a truckload of flowers."
"Jesus!" Harper sucked in a breath along with Hayley. "There's a head."
Hayley began to laugh, with tears streaming down her face. "Look at all that hair! Oh, God, oh, Lord, can't we get him the rest of the way out?"
"Shoulders next, honey, then that's it. Another good push, okay? Listen! He's already crying. Hayley, that's your baby crying." And Stella was crying herself as with a last desperate push, life rushed into
the room.
"It's a girl," Roz said softly as she wiped the dampness from her own cheeks. "You've got a daughter, Hayley. And she's beautiful."
"A girl. A little girl." Hayley's arms were already reaching. When they laid her on her belly so Roz could cut the cord, she kept laughing even as she stroked the baby from head to foot. "Oh, just look at you. Look at you. No, don't take her."
"They're just going to clean her up. Two seconds." Stella bent down to kiss the top of Hayley's head. "Congratulations, Mom."
"Listen to her." Hayley reached back, gripped Stella's hand, then Harper's. "She even sounds beautiful."
"Six pounds, eight ounces," the nurse announced and carried the wrapped bundle to the bed. "Eighteen inches. And a full ten on the Apgar."
"Hear that?" Hayley cradled the baby in her arms, kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her tiny mouth.
"You aced your first test. She's looking at me! Hi. Hi, I'm your mama. I'm so glad to see you."
"Smile!" David snapped another picture. "What name did you decide on?"
"I picked a new one when I was pushing. She's Lily, because I could see the lilies, and I could smell
them when she was being born. So she's Lily Rose Star. Rose for Rosalind, Star for Stella."
NINETEEN
Exhausted and exhilarated, Stella stepped into the house. Though it was past their bedtime, she expected her boys to come running, but had to make do with an ecstatic Parker. She picked him up, kissed his
nose as he tried to bathe her face.
"Guess what, my furry little pal? We had a baby today. Our first girl."
She shoved at her hair, and immediately got the guilts. Roz had left the hospital before she had, and was probably upstairs dealing with the kids.
She started toward the steps when Logan strolled into the foyer. "Big day."
"The biggest," she agreed. She hadn't considered he'd be there, and was suddenly and acutely aware
that her duties as labor coach had sweated off all of her makeup. In addition, she couldn't imagine she was smelling, her freshest.
"I can't thank you enough for taking on the boys."
"No problem. I got a couple of good holes out of them. You may need to burn their clothes."
"They've got more. Is Roz up with them?"
"No. She's in the kitchen. David's back there whipping something together, and I heard a rumor about champagne."
"More champagne? We practically swam in it at the hospital. I'd better go up and settle down the troops."
"They're out for the count. Have been since just before nine. Digging holes wears a man out."
"Oh. I know you said you'd bring them back when I called to tell you about the baby, but I didn't expect you to put them to bed."
"They were tuckered. We had ourselves a manly shower, then they crawled into bed and were out in under five seconds."
"Well. I owe you big."
"Pay up."
He crossed to her, slid his arms around her and kissed her until her already spinning head lifted off her shoulders.
"Tired?" he asked.
"Yeah. But in the best possible way."
He danced his fingers over her hair, and kept his other arm around her. "How's the new kid on the
block and her mama?"
"They're great. Hayley's a wonder. Steady as a rock through seven hours of labor. And the baby might
be a couple weeks early, but she came through like a champ. Only a few ounces shy of Gavin's birth weight, though it took me twice as long to convince him to come out."
"Make you want to have another?"
She went a few shades more pale. "Oh. Well."
"Now I've scared you." Amused, he slung an arm around her shoulder. "Let's go see what's on the
menu with that champagne."
* * *
He hadn't scared her, exactly. But he had made her vaguely uneasy. She was just getting used to having
a relationship, and the man was making subtle hints about babies.
Of course, it could have been just a natural, offhand remark under the circumstances. Or a kind of joke.
Whatever the intent, it got her thinking. Did she want more children? She'd crossed that possibility off
her list when Kevin died and had ruthlessly shut down her biological clock. Certainly she was capable, physically, of having another child. But it took more than physical capability, or should, to bring a child into the world.
She had two healthy, active children. And was solely and wholly responsible for them—emotionally, financially, morally. To consider having another meant considering a permanent relationship with a man. Marriage, a future, sharing not only what she had but building more, and in a different direction.
She'd come to Tennessee to visit her own roots, and to plant her family in the soil of her own origins.
To be near her father, and to allow her children the pleasure of being close to grandparents who wanted to know them.
Her mother had never been particularly interested, hadn't enjoyed seeing herself as a grandmother. It spoiled the youthful image, Stella thought.
If a man like Logan had blipped onto her mother's radar, he'd have been snapped right up.
And if that's why Stella was hesitating, it was a sad state of affairs. Undoubtedly part of it, though, she decided. Otherwise she wouldn't be thinking it.
She hadn't disliked any of her stepfathers. But she hadn't bonded with them either, or they with her.
How old had she been the first time her mother had remarried? Gavin's age, she remembered. Yes,
right around eight.
She'd been plucked out of her school and plunked down in a new one, a new house, new neighborhood, and dazed by it all while her mother had been in the adrenaline rush of having a new husband.
That one had lasted, what? Three years, four? Somewhere between, she decided, with another year
or so of upheaval while her mother dealt with the battle and debris of divorce, another new place, a
new job, a new start.
And another new school for Stella.
After that, her mother had stuck with boyfriends for a long stretch. But that itself had been another kind of upheaval, having to survive her mother's mad dashes into love, her eventual bitter exit from it.
And they were always bitter, Stella remembered.
At least she'd been in college, living on her own, when her mother had married yet again. And maybe
that was part of the reason that marriage had lasted nearly a decade. There hadn't been a child to crowd things. Yet eventually there'd been another acrimonious divorce, with the split nearly coinciding with her own widowhood.
It had been a horrible year, in every possible way, which her mother had ended with yet one more brief, tumultuous marriage.
Strange that even as an adult, Stella found she couldn't quite forgive being so consistently put into second or even third place behind her mother's needs.
She wasn't doing that with her own children, she assured herself. She wasn't being selfish and careless in her relationship with Logan, or shuffling her kids to the back of her heart because she was falling in love with him.
Still, the fact was it was all moving awfully fast. It would make more sense to slow things down a bit
until she had a better picture.
Besides, she was going to be too busy to think about marriage. And she shouldn't forget he hadn't asked her to marry him and have his children, for God's sake. She was blowing an offhand comment way out
of proportion.
Time to get back on track. She rose from her desk and started for the door. It opened before she
reached it.
"I was just going to find you," she said to Roz. "I'm on my way to pick up the new family and take them home."
"I wish I could go with you. I nearly postponed this meeting so I could." She glanced at her watch as if considering it again.
"By the time you get back from your meeting with Dr. Carnegie, they'll be all settled in and ready for some quality time with Aunt Roz."
"I have to admit I want my hands on that baby. So, now, what've you been fretting about?"
"Fretting?" Stella opened a desk drawer to retrieve her purse. "Why do you think I've been fretting
about anything?"
"Your watch is turned around, which means you've been twisting at it. Which means you've been
fretting. Something going on around here I don't know about?"
"No." Annoyed with herself, Stella turned her watch around. "No, it's nothing to do with work. I was thinking about Logan, and I was thinking about my mother."
"What does Logan have to do with your mother?" As she asked, Roz picked up Stella's thermos. After opening it and taking a sniff, she poured a few swallows of iced coffee in the lid.
"Nothing. I don't know. Do you want a mug for that?"
"No, this is fine. Just want a taste."
"I think—I sense—I'm wondering ... and I already sound like an ass." Stella took a lipstick from the cosmetic bag in her purse, and walking to the mirror she'd hung on the wall, she began to freshen her makeup. "Roz, things are getting serious between me and Logan."
"As I've got eyes, I've seen that for myself. Do you want me to say and, or do you want me to mind
my own business?"
"And. I don't know if I'm ready for serious. I don't know that he is, either. It's surprising enough it turned out we like each other, much less ..." She turned back. "I've never felt like this about anyone. Not this churned up and edgy, and, well, fretful."
She replaced the lipstick and zipped the bag shut. "With Kevin, everything was so clear. We were young and in love, and there wasn't a single barrier to get over, not really. It wasn't that we never fought or had problems, but it was all relatively simple for us."
"And the longer you live, the more complicated life gets."
"Yes. I'm afraid of being in love again, and of crossing that line from this is mine to this is ours. That sounds incredibly selfish when I say it out loud."
"Maybe, but I'd say it's pretty normal."
"Maybe. Roz, my mother was—is—a mess. I know, in my head, that a lot of the decisions I've made have been because I knew they were the exact opposite of what she'd have done. That's pathetic."
