"Simon!" Ralph screamed, back arching, jaw falling open as spittle gurgled in the back of his throat. "Simon!" He was shaking now, trembling liver-spotted hands scrabbling at the twisted sheets that curled about him in some horrible parody of lovemaking, his frail body rolling off the mattress to land with a thump on the bare floorboards.
"Dad?" A mop of dark curls poked through the open doorway into the bedroom. "Dad, are you all right? What's wrong?" The old man was moaning now, snowy head tossing from side to side.
"We didn't know," he whispered, curling into a ball, gnarled hands clasped at his chest. "We knew not what we did! Simon," he shrieked, "forgive us! Forgive us!"
"Dad!" Jordan rushed over to kneel at Ralph's side, strong, long-fingered hands grasping his shoulders to roll him onto his back. Ralph blinked up at his child's face, gaze clouded with confusion and fear.
"Jordan?" he asked, voice cracking slightly.
"I'm here, Dad. Don't worry." Jordan looked down at Ralph's drawn face, his cheeks marred by scarlet trails where he had clutched at his flesh with his fingernails. Jordan sighed. "Come on, Dad. Let's get you cleaned up."
Susan looked up as Jordan entered the room, hand gently caressing her swollen belly.
"How is he?" she asked quietly. Her spouse sighed, running fingers through tousled chocolate hair.
"Not good." Jordan dropped onto the couch, and Susan reached out a hand to touch Jordan's shoulder. "He's…not all there, y'know?" Susan was startled to see the subtle glimmer of a tear clinging to Jordan's dark lashes. Well, no wonder. Susan had only known her father-in-law for a few years, and she already cared about him deeply. She could only imagine how Jordan must be feeling.
"It'll be all right," she murmured. "Don't worry." She drew her hand down Jordan's arm, running her thumb over the curve of her lover's hand, the soft crescent of skin between thumb and forefinger, and lifted Jordan's hand to place it on her stomach. Her gesture was greeted with a soft smile, Jordan's slender fingers sweeping across the fabric of her cardigan, face lit up in joy.
"Our miracle baby," Jordan whispered.
"I know," Susan returned, feeling a slow grin creep across her own face. "I never thought…."
"Me neither," Jordan breathed, hand stroking Susan's stomach in long, graceful arcs, eyes full of love for the unborn child sheltered within. The baby was not Jordan's child, but Susan knew the love Jordan felt for him (or her, she reminded herself) was no less for that. "Me neither."
Jordan's hands tapped on the steering wheel, moving to the frenzied beat of the fear that even Susan was not brave enough to voice. Susan hummed a tiny little song, the same few bars over and over, the click-clack of her knitting needles loud in the small space, beating double-time to the rhythm of the tires on the road, aquamarine baby booties creating themselves in her lap. Jordan wished she did not insist on knitting in the car – yes, it was ridiculously overprotective, but Jordan could no more stop worrying than breathing, mind going wild, imagining a needle speared through Susan's skull. Jordan shuddered. As if sensing the mood, Susan reached over, laying down the booties and clasping Jordan's palm in her own, her touch the smallest whisper of comfort. Jordan squeezed her small hand, the pale gold of their wedding bands glinting in the sunlight. She smiled.
"I'm sure he's fine, Jordan," she said assuredly.
"Mm hmm," replied Jordan, only half listening. Susan pulled her hand away, understanding Jordan's worries, as their car turned off the highway and into the hospital's parking lot. The rosy granite edifice, flanked by waving palm trees, stood like an island in an asphalt sea.
"It'll be all right, love," Susan murmured softly. "It'll be all right."
Susan stared through the door of the hospital room. Jordan was silhouetted against the harsh lighting, staring down at the old man. Ralph's eyes were closed, his face ashen, and Susan might have thought him dead if not for the slight rise and fall of his chest. He stirred as she stepped into the room.
"Jordan?"
"I'm here, Dad." Jordan held the old man's hand, supple palm supporting his withered, bony fingers. "What is it?"
"Simon," Ralph murmured. "We knew not…we knew…" His voice trailed off into nothingness, eyes looking past Jordan's shoulder, and Susan saw her lover's shoulders slump in despair. Ralph could not recognize his own child half of the time, and even when he could, he was barely coherent. It won't be long now, she thought. Ralph's head fell back against the pillows, clearly exhausted, and Jordan turned to leave.
"Wait," came a hoarse voice from the bed. Jordan whirled, staring at Ralph. His face was contorted with effort as he spoke, but his eyes were clear.
"Dad?"
"The baby," he continued, looking at Susan where she stood beside the door. "Come here." Susan stepped forward to stand beside the bed, and Jordan put an arm around her shoulders.
"Name…name the baby Simon."
Ralph died two days later in his sleep. There was a memorial, of course, where the entire neighborhood offered hollow condolences and roses. Ralph had hated roses. They had cremated him, and Jordan had taken a boat out into the bay to scatter his ashes. Susan had not come, citing her rapidly expanding midsection, and Jordan had sat alone, feet dangling, and watched the silver-gray band float out across the waves.
"Push!" Susan screwed up her face in concentration as the doctor shouted out orders. Jordan winced as Susan's hand clamped down on Jordan's own, but mustered a grin.
"Keep going, sweetheart," Jordan encouraged. "Almost there."
Minutes later, the doctor held up the bloody bundle, snipping the umbilical cord with great ceremony.
"It's a boy!" The baby's fiery squall split the air, silver droplets spattering down on Jordan's upturned face. The child's eyes were huge and dark among folds ruddy skin, pale pinprick reflections appearing as luminescent islands in an onyx sea. Jordan smiled.
"Simon."