Chapter Six
For the next few days, they kept their distance. Neither of them was ready to explore the emotional landslide that had happened at Damien’s father’s house. Lindsey busied herself sorting and organizing, and tried to ignore the uncomfortable stomachache that had plagued her off and on all morning. She chalked it up to stress and the eggs Damien had made for breakfast. Damien had held true to his end of the deal so far and scrapped, hammered, and measured. A few times she’d looked out the window and seen his bare chest and arms rippling in the hot sun as he worked. She’d closed the blinds after that. At some point, Daisy had hopped up on the couch beside her and nestled against her leg. The dog’s soft snores mingled with the Top 40, as she opened envelope after envelope, decided if it was important, and either set it aside for Damien or fed it through the shredder.
Lindsey gasped and froze at the sudden pop inside her. Liquid rushed between her legs. “Oh, my God,” she whispered. Damien had just walked into the kitchen and she called out to him.
“What’s wrong?” He quickly strode toward her. When he saw the pool of water spreading over the floor, his brows shot up. “It’s not time yet. Is it?” he questioned.
“I think the baby is ready to make an early appearance.” She put a hand on her side when a dull pain squeezed around her belly. Damien dropped to the floor beside her and held her hand. “If that’s how the first contraction feels, I’m not looking forward to the rest of them.” She grimaced.
When the ache subsided, she released his hand.
“Do you have a bag for the hospital?” Damien eyes darted around the room.
“I didn’t think I’d have a need of one yet.” She sat helplessly as more water rushed onto the floor. “The stomachaches I’ve been feeling—it must have been the start of labor. I thought it was your cooking.” She smiled a little.
“Gee, thanks.” He squeezed her knee, then got up, and jumped into action. She watched as he gathered towels from the hall closet and spread them over the floor. Damien disappeared into his room and reappeared with an empty duffel bag.
“I’m going to pack some of your things, okay?” he asked.
She nodded and concentrated on the second wave of pain. Was it supposed to start this quickly? Feel this intense? She did her best to remain calm. Panicking wouldn’t help her or the baby get through this. Damien came back and handed her a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt.
“Do you need help changing?” He kneeled down and switched the sopping towel on the floor with a dry one. Heat rose on her cheeks.
“No, I can handle it.” She went into the bathroom and slowly pulled on the pants and T-shirt. Her toothbrush was gone from the holder by the sink, as was the toothpaste, and her hairbrush. Even though she was slightly bashful that he was witnessing her most vulnerable moments, Lindsey was thankful she wasn’t alone. When she emerged, Damien was filling Daisy’s bowl with dry food and getting her fresh water.
“I’m guessing we might be a while.” He slung the overstuffed duffel over his shoulder. What could he have possibly packed that had it stretching at the seams? He took her car keys off the counter, put his hand on the small of her back, and led her gently to the car. Damien spread a towel on the passenger seat, and moved aside so she could sit.
“Do you want me to readjust the seat? Would you be more comfortable leaning back?”
She shook her head and rubbed her belly as another wave hit—stronger this time. If the stomach pains she’d experienced earlier had been contractions, too, maybe she was farther along than she thought. She gripped the side of the seat, knuckles going white, as she considered the timing. She was only thirty-seven weeks. Lindsey knew from What to Expect When You’re Expecting that the dangers of an early birth decreased each week. What if her baby needed more time, though? Would the baby be strong enough? Was it too soon?
Every so often, she could feel Damien’s eyes on her. Each time they hit a red light, impatience simmered off him like the steam rising from a boiling pot.
By the time they pulled up to the hospital, sweat beaded over Lindsey’s brow. When a contraction hit, a vise gripped her insides and twisted. The pain radiated around her belly and across her back. Damien passed the keys off to the valet attendant, took the duffel from the backseat, and rushed to the passenger door. He helped her stand, and together they walked into the hospital. Lindsey checked in as Damien stood closely behind her. They were directed straight to triage. Lindsey lay on the metal rollaway bed covered by a paper protector, and shortly after a nurse pulled open the blue-and-white curtain.
“Nice to meet you both.” She smiled at Damien, then at Lindsey. “My name’s Tina and I’m the RN here in triage.” When she looked down at Lindsey’s file, her cropped chestnut hair skimmed just above her jawline. Tina began asking Lindsey questions.
How far apart are the contractions? How many weeks are you?
“Okay, then,” Tina said eventually. “Let’s get this baby on the radar and see what it’s up to.”
She put a band around Lindsey’s stomach and tucked in round monitors. Damien sat in a chair nearby and rubbed her shoulder steadily each time a contraction hit.
“The contractions are coming close. Let’s see how far you’re dilated,” Tina said, and draped a sheet over Lindsey’s legs. Lindsey was momentarily embarrassed having Damien there, but when the next contraction broke over her, strong and painful, she gripped his arm.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered in her ear. “I’m right here, and I’m not leaving.”
“All right.” Tina looked up with a delighted grin. She was so cheerful, Lindsey wanted to snap. “It’s almost showtime. You’re eight centimeters dilated—fast for a first-timer.” She rolled the wheeled chair to the computer and punched in some data. “How are you handling the pain?” Tina asked.
“It’s okay.” Lindsey gritted her teeth. It hurt like hell.
“I’m not sure what you had planned for pain management, but at this point the baby will probably be out before we can get an epidural.”
“I hadn’t planned on one,” Lindsey said through short pants. “But I sure wish I had.”
She was wheeled down the white sterile hall to a birthing room. Damien was a constant source of comfort through the pain. He gave her an anchor when distress threatened to overcome her. The contractions became stronger and stronger, until she thought she couldn’t bear another moment. Her body was exhausted from fielding the intensity of labor, and she hadn’t even started pushing yet.
“You’re doing amazing, Lindsey.” Damien encouraged her and ran a hand over her hair. “Keep fighting.”
When it was time, she bore down with all her might. The pain was an enormous force that overtook her body and mind. She was so tired, and the man that should have been by her side was uninterested in the birth of their baby. She was so confused by all the feelings she had for the man who stood beside her now. She was just divorced, yet she found herself slipping into love with Damien. He was so many things and the combination lured her. Hard yet kind. The type of kindness that moved him to not only rescue her from the side of the road, but stay with her at the shop. The type of kindness that packed a hospital bag and offered encouragements and endearments throughout the trials of labor. A warrior with deep scars and eyes that held painful secrets—the same eyes lit when her baby kicked against his hand.
Lindsey looked over at Damien, and was so thankful for him. He held on to her like a steady anchor in a swirling storm. In his eyes, she found the strength she needed to make the final push. The pain was so great, she cried out. Suddenly, it subsided and she heard a cry, then another. Lindsey sobbed in relief as the baby was placed on her chest.
“Congratulations,” the doctor said. “It’s a healthy baby girl.”
So precious and small, this tiny life was the most miraculous thing that had ever happened to her. Lindsey imprinted the moment in her brain, the sound of her little girl’s first cries, the way her tiny hands fisted tightly, the downy fuzz that wisped over her head, but most of all the magical emotions that wrapped around her heart. She sighed and nuzzled closer to the baby. Overcome and overwhelmed with the moment, she had forgotten Damien was still in the room. She glanced up at him, and the strangest look swam in his eyes. Was it pride she saw there? Relief?
“What will you call her?” He stepped closer to the bed, and ran his thumb over the baby’s cheek. Her daughter’s hand reached out and grasped his finger, like a seahorse curling around ocean grass. Her heart faltered at the sight of the baby’s tiny pink finger wrapped around Damien’s.
“Maris.” She smiled. “It means of the sea.”
“Maris.” He spoke it slowly, and it sounded like harp chords flowing off his tongue. “It’s just right. She’s just right.”
He smiled down at her, and in that time in space, everything truly was just right.