Chris
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Hearing Amelia tell me she loves me is a surreal moment. I know she does, I never doubted it for a second yet hearing her actually say it... My world shifts, everything is right, perfect. Until I realize there is something very wrong in her voice. Everything after that, until she tells me I have a daughter, that Amelia is in love with her and we’re keeping her, is lost in the buzzing around me. Of course, I’m keeping my daughter. It’s the Twilight Zone. Did time skip forward? I want a baby girl, with Amelia. How the hell do I have a daughter with someone else? Then I remember, that fucking bitch. I try to do the math and fail...five months, six months old maybe, and at the mercy of a poor, avaricious excuse for a human being.
It hits me, six months. I go through my phone. The first call from the number in Maryland was six months ago, November tenth. It was her, she was calling me. I don’t understand. Why was she calling me without leaving messages? Why did she keep the baby for so long if she didn’t want it? Fuck, I’m not going to find the answers here.
I throw stuff in my suitcase, not caring if it’s folded. I call my manager, I tell him family trouble, he yells somebody better be dying. He has no idea.
Four hours after I hang up with Amelia I’m walking through the front door. She’s waiting, wearing one of my shirts and a silky robe. I hold her tight. It feels like weeks since I held her. “Did you mean it?”
“Every word. I love you. Come meet your daughter.”
I follow her up the stairs, and she pushes open the door next to our room. All the bedrooms were empty, with different paint colors for each room. This room is a creamy butter yellow. There’s a crib against the wall with a mobile of zebra, lions, tigers, and giraffes above it. A night-light glows in the corner. Amelia opens the door wide to let light in the room. The baby is on her back, and she turns her head to find me. She’s in a white onesie with a baseball on it. Her hair is thick, black in a baby mohawk. Aside from her skin tone, only a shade darker than my own, she could be a snapshot of me when I was about her age, down to the baseball onesie.
Her small head tilts as she looks at me. I scoop her up out of the crib, holding her close, her head against my chest so I can look down at her. She’s tense for a moment before with a small sigh she goes limp against me. I capture a tiny hand. She’s so small. Is it normal for her to be this small?
I didn’t realize I said it out loud until Amelia speaks. “I don’t think so. She also doesn’t eat very well. Even though she seems constantly hungry, she only gets a few ounces down before she seems to get tired. We have a doctor’s appointment first thing in the morning tomorrow.”
Turning, I look down at her. It’s clear on her beautiful face. “You weren’t going to tell me.”
She shakes her head. “I didn’t think you coming home would help when you need to be on the field tomorrow doing your job. You here worrying won’t help anything. I called an investigator, he’ll get us everything we need to know to fix this so she stays ours. All you can do here is worry.”
“My job, my fucking purpose in this life is taking care of my family. You need me here because you’re worrying too, and you don’t need to feel alone on top of your worry. My daughter needs me here because she needs to know I’ll always be here to take care of her. This is all new to her. I want to be here from the beginning of it all.”
Carefully, I tug her close. With a whimper she slides her arms around me. I have my daughter in one arm and my woman in the other, and nothing has ever felt so right. I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure they never leave my arms again.
***
Chris
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The sun is coming up. I turn my attention back to the video monitor I’ve been staring at for the last few hours, since Amelia fell asleep. We talked all night long. She told me what she found out about Triana or Theresa or whoever the hell she was going to be this week. I told her about figuring out the unknown calls had to be from the woman. Amelia made a follow-up call to the investigator to give him the phone number.
Then Amelia shared her fears about Simone’s health, how she was convinced Simone had been hurt in the past. With every new revelation my heart ached. It was bad enough thinking of all the things I missed out on, but to know Simone hadn’t been loved, taken care of...I understood Amelia’s vehemence about keeping Simone no matter what it took. It was a given for me to keep my daughter but it didn’t have to be for Amelia. She’d been presented with a baby by another woman from a random hookup. Most women would have run for the door, not her. Thank fucking god.
After only a few hours Simone is awake. She wiggles a little but doesn’t cry out. She hasn’t cried at all. I know most people would be relieved, I can’t shake the concern it isn’t right. She isn’t crying because nothing’s wrong; she isn’t crying because she’s learned it doesn’t help her. She’s been trained no one will come if she cries. Fuck.
Chest tight, I set down the monitor. I kiss Amelia’s forehead as I slowly roll her off me onto a pillow. Out of bed, I go into Simone’s room. When she sees me she wiggles a little in surprise, and almost hesitantly she puts out her arms. I lift her up and she cuddles right into me. Her warm little body against me has me fighting not to tighten my hold on her. Whatever might have happened in the past isn’t going to happen again to her, ever.
Amelia comes downstairs as I’m thinking it’s time to wake her up for her to get ready for the doctor appointment. Her concern is clear, her hand on her chest until she sees us. I’m drinking coffee while Simone is resting on my chest. I’m not quite ready to put her down yet.
“Good morning, you need to get dressed to make our appointment. I got some egg muffins for you, coffee is hot.”
Her head tilts. “You changed her and took care of her.”
I laugh. “She is my daughter, I’m supposed to. She is pretty low-maintenance. You’re right about the feeding thing, she’s only had about four ounces. Guys love bringing their babies to the clubhouse then handing them off. I’ve only changed a few diapers before, but it wasn’t so hard, at least she’s not trying to get away like the other ones did. Go get ready, sugar.”
“Damn, you are so sexy.” She pulls me down for a kiss. “Good morning, sweetie, I’ll be right back.” Simone had gotten excited at the sight of Amelia, and she lets out a happy sigh at the kiss on her forehead. Then a sad frown that tugs hard in my chest when Amelia walks away.
I hug her close, kissing her little neck the way she seems to like. “It’s okay, baby girl, Mama will be right back.”
As we wait for the Uber to pick us up from the doctor’s office we’re both quiet. There was a testing center for DNA in the same big building, we’ll have the tests back by tomorrow afternoon. It was a pain in the ass not to know anything about my daughter. I hated saying I didn’t know if she had her vaccines or what her fucking date of birth was. November tenth was a guess only. A week, a fucking week of not knowing. The Uber pulls up, and it takes a few minutes to put the car seat in.
“Hey, do you mind not taking us home? Is there a dealership around here for Mercedes? Can you take us there?”
The driver nods as he pulls out his phone. “I’ll take you wherever you want to go. There’s one over in Wicker Park or in River West, which one?”
“The closest one is fine.” Amelia is quiet. “Talk to me, sugar.”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. He seemed quick to say she has asthma. My nanny had asthma, I don’t remember it being like what Simone is going through.”
I consider it. I had been surprised how quickly he had diagnosed it as asthma too. I was even more surprised by how unconcerned he seemed over how small Simone is. He’d shrugged off Amelia’s worry, telling her not all babies followed the growth chart. “We’ll try the breathing treatments, if they don’t work we’ll go back. We need to at least try, sometimes it’s the simplest things that seem big.”
With a smile she nods. “You’re right. We’re going to go buy a car now?”
“The Ferrari won’t hold a baby seat. We can’t keep cabbing it and using Uber.”
A few hours later we’re home with the prescriptions we had dropped off. Amelia wants to give Simone her treatment as soon as possible before we go see Holly.
We both wait with apprehension to see some sign of improvement. Simone seems a little more alert. I’m not convinced, especially when I remember the nurse telling us to further dilute the solution for the breathing treatment since Simone was small. There was adrenalin in the solution that could be too much for her if we didn’t.
While Holly and Amelia are in awe over Simone, Ethan and I go into his office. “How bad is it?”
He shrugs. “Not bad at all. The woman wants money, she doesn’t want Simone. It will cost you, but I don’t think it will be as expensive as you’re worried about. Valdez has her tracked by the cell phone number you gave, which is good, and he’s got two men on her. He sent over a preliminary report this morning, but it’s by no means the whole story. Theresa only decided to come out now because of Amelia. I don’t think you guys saw the writeup on Amelia the Tribune did after she and I went to opening day to see you play.
“People knew who I was, but I never talked about my parents. I talked about my uncle paying for my education, which was why I set up scholarships for kids. When they went nosing around the firm for info on Amelia, everyone knew Amelia was a trust fund baby. In the writeup they paint Amelia as what she is, a golden good girl from a one percent family, how Amelia doesn’t have to work a day in her life if she didn’t want to.
“Purely supposition, Theresa thinks she’ll get more with Amelia involved, willing to hand over some of her one percent money. Remember, no one knows how much you are worth. With your real estate investments held in corporation away from the baseball money and stock investments we know you’re worth a hundred and thirty-three million. As far as the press is concerned, you’re only worth about thirty-seven million. While that’s impressive and enough to get knocked up for a payout, Theresa saw big dollar signs combining Amelia’s money and the mother instinct. We’re sure it’s why she left Simone for the week, to get you both attached, willing to pay any amount she wants.”
I nod. “I’d give her every dime I ever made to keep Simone.”
“I’m not going to let the bitch get away with a penny more than necessary. She’s trying to grift the wrong fucking family. No. Valdez thinks he’ll have everything we need by tomorrow. His team is almost done retrieving everything electronic, he’ll send over everything on that end tonight. You are listed on the birth certificate as the father.”
It kills me to ask, “What’s her birth date?”
“November tenth, at seven thirty-three. She weighed six pounds two ounces.”
***
Amelia
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Simone is starving again. I feel like a bad mom for letting her get to the point where she’s starving. I am feeding her every three hours, but every time after only about ten minutes she gives up. I don’t care if it’s only been a day. The doctor doesn’t know what he’s talking about, this isn’t asthma, something else is wrong. It’s almost four thirty, and the office closes soon. Grabbing my phone, I call the office.
The nurse is bored, telling me to give the breathing treatments longer to work. I demand to speak to the doctor, and I get a promise he’ll call back. Fuck this.
“Chris,” I call out to Simone’s room, where he was putting together a shelving unit he bought today to fit all the books he bought her when we went out for lunch. “I’m done. We’re going to the emergency room.”
He comes down the stairs, his worry clear. “Why?” Looking down at Simone, his eyes glow as he touches her face. “What’s the matter?”
“She isn’t eating, she is starving. Those breathing treatments aren’t helping. The doctor’s office isn’t listening. No, not another dang day of this. We’re going to Northwestern emergency room, now.”
“Okay, okay. Get her bundled up and let’s go.”
When we get to the emergency room, it isn’t very busy, which is a relief. I give my name and tell the attendant what’s wrong. She looks at me for a minute before asking if I’m the Amelia Bishop who gifted the hospital with an MRI machine last year. I blush as I nod.
It’s the reason why I wanted to come here, not because I paid three million for a new MRI machine. The reason I bought the new machine was an article about a young mother who went to four different doctors who said there was nothing wrong with her son when she knew there was. Out of frustration, the next time he was ill she brought him here, to Northwestern emergency, and a doctor made the call to do an MRI even though she was low income and other doctors hadn’t bothered, saying it was too expensive. The MRI found the problem and her son was healthier and happier.
We’re whisked into the back in mere minutes. The nurse is friendly but it’s obvious she’s thinks I’m being overprotective. Then she listens to Simone’s chest. At first she is just going through the motions, her actions almost exactly that of the doctor from yesterday. But she goes still, pressing the stethoscope more firmly against Simone’s tiny chest. She writes down something, then listens again with her eyes on her watch. Her eyes don’t quite meet mine as she tells me a doctor will be right with us.
I scoop up Simone, holding her tight, not even bothering to get her dressed again. She’s swimming in the cute long-sleeved pink shirt and matching pants anyway. Under the pants and shirt, she has on a plain white onesie Barbara encouraged me to always have her wear because it was common for babies to get their top clothes dirty, and at least the short-sleeve little onesie would still be clean. They were also easy for days around the house when it was warm.
“I knew it. You saw how quiet she got.”
Chris pulls me into his lap, wrapping his arms around us. “It’s going to be okay. This is the best hospital in all of Illinois. They’ll figure it out.”
Maybe ten minutes later a smiling Asian doctor comes into the room. “Hi, I’m Louise Jin. I’m a pediatric cardiologist here. I hear you’re concerned about baby Simone. She’s a stunner. May I take her, so I can give her a look over?”
I freeze when she tells me she’s a cardiologist. She’s not a regular doctor. Although I nod, I find it hard to give her Simone. Chris gives me a squeeze. “It’s going to be okay, sugar. Let her look at Simone.”
The doctor smiles reassuringly as she takes Simone. My eyes go to Chris, ocean blue churning violently as his eyes meet mine. He nods, understanding my fear. We watch as she runs her hands over Simone. Her method is a replay of Barbara’s the very first day, holding Simone’s tiny hand then running her hands over the small body, then holding on to small feet as her thumb runs over tiny toes. She takes off the stethoscope around her neck, tucks it into her ears and presses it against Simone’s chest. I’m afraid to breathe as I watch. Yet the whole time she’s smiling down at Simone, teasing Simone’s tiny nose, holding her hand. Until she looks up. “It’s a good thing you brought her in. Something is wrong, we need to do more tests.”
“What, what are you thinking?”
“I’m not thinking anything more than we need to run more tests. There are so many things it could be it’s hard to pick just one. I’m not going to waste time, I’m going to start with an echocardiogram.”
The next hour feels endless. When my phone rings, I see it’s Valdez. Welcoming the break from the waiting. I put it on speaker for Chris to hear. “I have you on speaker, Chris is here. Please tell us you have good news.”
“You have enough ammunition to sink her battleship. She’s engaged to a momma’s boy in Virginia with political aspirations, thinks he’s going to be the next Obama. The guy has no idea who she really is, she told him she’s a nanny and Simone is the kid she takes care of. She also told him her time in Chicago was spent working with inner-city kids. And the kicker, he thinks she’s got money. She told him she comes into her trust fund in less than six months when she turns twenty-five in August.
“The thing is, from the life she had before she came to Chicago, it could have all been true. She was only a fraction of a decimal away from being class valedictorian. She was in her second year at William and Mary when she fell for the wrong guy. Her family isn’t rich though.
Her father was a hometown hero of San Juan, Puerto Rico, a star basketball player who won a few medals during a stint in the Gulf War. He’s retired Army, and her mother is a blue-eyed, blonde German he met while stationed there. You should see the house she grew up in, it has a white picket fence. She did move up her schedule because of Amelia.
“I’ve got a signed affidavit and the receipt for the termination from the hockey player she shook down the first time, and another from the basketball player who called her bluff. The hockey player would prefer the affidavit never sees the light of day, the basketball player doesn’t care. Your friend Angie and two other strippers are willing to go on the record. One of them says Theresa told her she was going to cash out big on Chris. Everything has been sent by email to both you and Ethan. I’ll send paper to follow today.”
“Thank you. We aren’t home, so if you would give both copies to Ethan, I’ll get it later. Thank you so much.”
I cling to Chris in relief. Chris shakes his head. “She told me she never knew her father and her mother was a drug addict. The games people play.”
“We aren’t playing any more games with her. This won’t be a negotiation. I’m going to make sure she regrets the day she ever met you.”
“That’s my cougar.”
When Dr. Jin comes back, she’s carrying Simone out so Simone can see everything as she rocks her. Chris reaches for Simone, and my heart clenches tight to see Simone’s face light up as her daddy reaches for her. Then I look to Dr. Jin and I work to take in a deep breath. “The technical term is ventricular septal defect. In regular English, the wall separating her left and right ventricles didn’t form completely. She is going to need surgery to correct it. The good news is it’s an easy repair, and there are no other defects to be concerned about.”
“How soon?”
“I already scheduled her for first thing tomorrow. Since it’s such a quick, easy repair, I can squeeze the surgery in before the day starts. I need you guys to be here at four, we’ll scrub and start at five. She’ll be out by six, six thirty at the latest. We’ll keep her in for observation for a few days, then you can take her home.”
I throw myself at the doctor, and she’s kind enough to return my hug. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.” She pats Simone on the back. “Bye, gorgeous. I’ll see you soon.”