Go Baby Grow

Chapter 1 – Glimpses of Normal, Hints of Concern

Early April

The kids were sleeping, or at least quietly awake in their bedrooms, when Owen dragged himself through the door between the garage and the kitchen at 11:00 pm. He had planned to be home in time for dinner the previous evening. Instead, as Chief, he had to fill the gaps when two residents called in sick and nobody would step up to fill the shifts.

Amelia had tried to be understanding when he called at 5:55pm to let her know he wouldn't make it to dinner. She knew all too well that being a surgeon involved erratic schedules. Being the Chief only compounded that reality. On the other end of the line, Owen hesitated. Wincing at the thought of calling her for the third consecutive day to cancel plans, Owen almost asked Patricia to call for him. While that seemed like the perfect answer at the time, he quickly reminded himself that he'd have hell to pay with both his wife and his work wife if he proceeded down that path.

Fumbling through the refrigerator as quietly as possible, Owen gathered together a makeshift meal. He hadn't eaten since lunch. The late hour and his empty stomach caused his head to pound. Sleeping would be an all-night fight if he didn't force himself to eat something before heading upstairs. Grabbing a small container with green beans, another with olives, and a handful of lunch meat, Owen began to nibble while he searched for something more substantial. Reminds me of med school, he thought, eating whatever is quick, within reach, and on sale. After chuckling to himself about his younger days, his mind wandered to his own children. Nolan, now married and gainfully employed would probably scoff at the meal Owen had assembled. But Ryder would love it. He'd have quick comebacks, words of harassment, and then a quick hand to steal away whatever was in his reach, Owen pondered.

Owen truly detested that he and Ryder were once again on shaky ground. No matter what either of them said or did, the two seemed to consistently find ways to be at odds with the other. Parenting Ryder, who all in all and in the end was a phenomenal kid, had been one of Owen's most significant challenges in the last ten years. Owen wished Ryder could learn from fatherly advice and direction. Instead, Ryder usually blew off the fatherly insights and wisdom shared with him. Ryder needed to find his own way.

Although Owen loved the boy with all his heart, he couldn't resist being disappointed in him. Ryder succeeded in sports, grades, and socially, but Owen often felt as if Ry was simply skating through life without much effort. Constantly reminding himself not to compare Ryder to Nolan, Owen would sometimes stop himself from asking Ryder why he couldn't be more like his brother: responsible, intentional, self-motivated. But Ryder was his own person, one who glided through life using his natural talents and abilities without working to hone them even further. As someone who worked hard to make it through med school and life, Owen simply didn't understand Ryder's style. Ryder seemed to be the epitome of gifted but lazy.

As he sat at the kitchen island eating handfuls of whatever he could find, Owen sighed as his tired mind wandered. Now is not the time to figure out Ryder, he thought. That's impossible to do at the best of times, let alone when I'm exhausted and starving. He leaned his forearms on the countertop and slowly drank an entire glass of water. As he set the glass down, he heard weeping coming from upstairs. Crap… which girl thinks the end of her life has come? I pray to God there's a valid reason for the tears – I'm not sure I can handle girl drama right now.

With a slow exhale through his jutted out lips, Owen cleaned up his mess and headed upstairs. He walked down the hall to check on the girls. Anna and Ria were completely asleep. When he peeked into Olivia's room, she was reading and offered a pleasant, soft smile, whispering, "Hi, Daddy."

"It's late, Livs," Owen responded gently.

Her tired eyes were beginning to redden. She responded, "I know. Just a few more pages until the end of the chapter."

"It can't wait until morning?" he prodded as he entered the room, dropped his chin, and sat at the end of her bed.

"Well…" she began coyly. "Of course it could, but then my dreams would be all messed up."

"Really?" Owen chuckled, savoring the opportunity to converse with Olivia about something other than school or chores.

She leaned forward and held the book out like a display. "I'm reading about this farm girl who goes to New York to become a dancer," she explained. Her voice picked up with energy as she shared, "She just completed her first audition. I can't sleep until I know how that turns out."

Raising his eyebrows slightly, Owen kept himself from smiling. "Livs…" he warned far too kindly.

"C'mon, Daddy," she smiled as she leaned further forward and hugged him. She knew exactly how to keep him hypnotized by her charm. "Three more pages."

"What if the chapter ends in a cliffhanger, Olivia?" he teased somewhat seriously.

With a grin, she responded, "Let's negotiate these three pages first."

Owen grasped the book and softly tapped Olivia on the head. "Three pages," he relented. "Three. Not three chapters, not the first three pages of the next chapter. Finish this chapter and then lights out."

Falling onto her pillows with relief, Olivia held the book above her face and stated, "I love you, Daddy."

"Mmm hmm," Owen replied with a doubting tone to tease her. "Sleep well, beautiful girl," he offered as he closed her door.

Having forgotten about the crying that had prompted his movement up the stairs, Owen headed to his bedroom with half-opened eyes. Strangely, the door was completely closed. Usually, he and Amelia did not close the door until both of them were in bed. Shrugging, he blew off his discovery and opened the door.

Inside, he found Amelia sitting in the middle of the bed with Kleenex and several papers surrounding her. Her tiny nose was red and puffy, the areas on either side of her nostrils irritated by continuous swipes of tissues. Competing with her nose, her eyes were swollen and bloodshot. The purple bags under her eyes mixed with the reddened tear ducts, causing the area to appear to be burgundy. When the door opened, she frantically began gathering the Kleenex and attempting to stop crying.

"Hey…" he began slowly and with concern, "What's wrong, Mia?" As he spoke, he began to unbutton his dress shirt.

"This!" she sobbed as she held up a handful of disorganized papers. "This is horrible!"

"What is?" he gently encouraged, willing himself to be caring and engaged despite his exhaustion. He gathered some stray papers into a stack and sat on the bed facing her. With his hand placed on her leg, he leaned in and studied her pained eyes.

Grabbing the stack from his hand, Amelia threw the papers toward the floor. They scattered around the room as they caught the breeze coming through the open window. "This is inhumane. This… these… I feel like I've been reading about medieval torture techniques!"

He wanted to scream, What the hell have you been reading and why? Instead, Owen rolled onto his back and grasped her hand. Without energy to remain upright, he tried to at least be conversant. "Mia…" he stated a bit too firmly and with excess exasperation for a man who had missed dinner with his family three nights in a row, "What have you been reading?"

"You don't even care, do you?" she sobbed.

If he'd had more energy, he might have yelled in response and a fight would have ensued. Instead, he rubbed the bridge of his nose with one hand as he closed his eyes. Remember she's pregnant. Hormonal. Emotional. Dramatic, he repeated in his head. With a slow breath, he offered, "Mia… Amelia… really, I want to help. You are so upset and I hate seeing you this way. What can I do?" Secretly, he hoped she'd respond that there was nothing he could do. Then he would have the perfect excuse to fall asleep.

Instead, she hyperventilated and unleashed an entirely new set of tears. "We received an envelope today. You and me. The Academy sent us a bunch of paperwork. Whatever… I knew we could deal with that tomorrow. Then I saw another large envelope." Her report trailed off as she bawled.

He sat up and put his arm around her. The envelope from the USNA appeared to still be sealed. Whatever had her upset didn't appear to have anything to do with the Academy. Holding her tight and rubbing her upper arm, Owen tried to spy the topic of the strewn papers.

After sniffling and blowing her nose, she calmed down enough to continue, "This Parent's Guide." She held up a few stray papers still left on the bed and flapped them in the air. "It's written by a group of parents who were insane enough to allow their children to enroll at the Academy and go through Plebe Summer. What a rotten title: Plebe Summer. The upperclassmen train the younger recruits. Actually, they are horrible to them. They yell at them, control their every move, restrict all freedoms…"

With a chuckle he couldn't stifle, Owen turned his head so he was almost face to face with his wife. "Amelia…" he interrupted. "It's kind of like Boot Camp. He'll be fine. In fact, he might even grow up a little bit from a few swift kicks in the ass and ego."

"My Baby Bear does not need to be kicked… or harassed… or humiliated," Amelia protested with fear. "He's only 18, Owen. He doesn't know what life's about. And we're going to let him throw himself to the lions?"

"Mia…" he attempted to comfort and hold back a smile.

"Don't Mia me," she argued as the tears continued. "It's horrible, Owen. He won't have a life at all for four years. The summer is ghastly enough, but it doesn't stop there. It's like the Navy thinks they own him."

Without thought, Owen quipped logically, "Well, they will. He's enlisting. It's what happens."

With renewed sobs, she emotionally flailed, "See… you don't even care."

His resolve and patience depleted, Owen squeezed his wife before commenting dryly, "I'm taking a shower."

By the time he made it to bed, Amelia was asleep with tissues still strewn around her and papers in various states of disarray throughout the room. He gathered the papers from the floor and bed into a crisp stack and set them on his nightstand. Tomorrow, he promised himself as he quickly faded to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`'

In a meeting discussing the impact of continuous gate delays and the effect on budget projections, Nolan casually peeked at his phone when it vibrated. Assuming Lissa needed to tell him something urgently, he read Hey, can I move in with you guys until mid-June? Had he known it was Ryder, he wouldn't have checked the message. He placed the phone in his blazer pocket. Returning his focus to the meeting and ongoing discussion, Nolan contributed his insights and completely forgot about the text.

Five minutes later, another text came through, Dude… really. I need a place to crash pronto. After glancing at it, Nolan redirected his focus back to the meeting. Not even three minutes after the second text, Ryder sent yet another message, Nolan? I neeeeeeeeeeeedd you NOW bro. Blinking slowly to hide his rolling eyes, Nolan turned off his phone and placed it in his pocket.

Back in his office ninety minutes later, Nolan studied the gate delays and began to gather data about other airlines' delays at the same airport. While working to keep multiple pieces of data clear in his head, he requested to not be disturbed. After he'd been alone for thirty minutes and was deeply concentrating on the information before him, his assistant reluctantly buzzed through the speaker on his desk phone, "Mr. Tremblay Hunt, I have an urgent call from a gentleman. He said his name is Mr. Ryder. Shall I transfer it or take a message?"

Crap, Nolan sighed as his concentration was broken. "Mary, would you please ask him if it can wait an hour? I'll be happy to call him back then. Please, no more interruptions for the next hour unless the building is on fire or someone is bleeding."

Nolan turned his chair and gazed out the window. He tossed a ball from hand to hand as he processed various scenarios. After considering the possibilities for over thirty minutes, he turned back to his desk and began to sketch out the outline of his top three proposals. Five minutes later, Mary interrupted him again. About to lose his temper, Nolan responded to the buzz of the speaker on his phone curtly, "Yes?"

"Mr. Tremblay Hunt, I apologize. It's your wife. She's been trying to call your cell phone," Mary explained with slight apprehension. She was still becoming acquainted with her new boss. Although he appeared to be even-tempered, he had asked her twice not to disturb him. She truly hoped he preferred to be interrupted if his spouse was calling, regardless of his instructions.

"I'll take it. Thank you, Mary," Nolan stated flatly. He rested his pencil across his molar and mumbled impatiently to Lissa, "What's up?" He heard a baby wailing in the background the second he came on the line.

"Would you please call Ryder? He's all wound up about trying to reach you. In the last hour, he's called me four times to ask if I've heard from you. I'm here alone with the girls, Nolan, and I don't have time to keep taking his calls," she offered as she hushed and swayed with Emmy in her arms. "Molly! Careful," she called out as her attention was pulled in another direction.

"I'm under an intense deadline, Liss. Every minute we don't have this issue fixed means more lost revenue," he stated plainly. Hoping to sound clear and factual, Nolan assumed she'd completely understand his plight.

"Every minute the girls' schedule is tampered with means our day is further thrown off and I come closer to the end of my rope," she retorted, knowing her argument was overstated and not as crucial as his.

"Call him back. Tell him to chill. He can wait. I need to get back to this analysis, Shorty. Please, please don't call me unless someone's bleeding or something's on fire," Nolan snapped more abruptly than intended as he ended the call.

"Nolan…" Lissa began to protest. Quickly, she realized he'd already left the conversation. Trying to run after Molly, who was attempting to scale a dining room chair, Lissa thought to herself, Love you too, Nolan. Geesh.

The chair Molly was climbing onto began to tip and Lissa ran to catch it. Although she prevented the chair from falling over, the quick stop caused Molly to tumble head first toward the table top. Hearing Lissa exclaim and feeling the impact on her head, Molly howled. Blood poured down her tiny forehead as Molly called out repeatedly, "Owie!"

Setting Emmy down on the floor, Lissa scooped Molly into her arms without thinking twice about the blood now flowing onto her own shirt. "Let's clean you up, sweetheart," Lissa soothed calmly as Emmy continued to cry and Lizzy awoke. Mumbling, Lissa spoke to the non-responsive air with the hint of a giggle, "I could use some help here!" She knew it wouldn't help, but stating the obvious kept her centered. Laughing kept her from crying.

As she applied pressure to Molly's forehead and tried to pat away the blood, she grabbed her phone and called over to the Lake House. The telephone rang repeatedly until Owen tiredly answered it.

"Dads, I'm so sorry to bug you but I really need some help. Molly hit her head and is bleeding like crazy, all three girls are crying, and I'm here all alone," she pleaded. He immediately promised to be right over, throwing on a t-shirt and shorts as he spoke. He ran over to the house in record time and burst into the door.

"Let me see," he instructed with serious concern. Molly quickly grabbed Lissa's shirt and called out for her mama.

When Molly refused to let go of Lissa, Lissa suggested he pick up each twin, "Take Emmy into the twins' room. I need to feed her but she might calm down with a paci. Lizzy needs to be picked up and probably changed. Then, umm…" she paused as she considered how he could help further. Changing her plan, she finished, "Actually, take Molly anyway. I'll handle the babies." She kissed Molly's hand and assured her, "Molly Jo, Papa's going to help you, honey."

As Owen kissed Molly and tried to calm her, he swayed and sang Miss Molly. Within a few lines, Molly was sounding along off key using nonsense words, singing Mah-yee when her name was sung. While Owen continued to slow the bleeding with pressure, Molly's crying slowed to a whimper. Softly, he whispered, "That's my girl. You're ok, Molly. Papa's right here." Her head was resting on Owen's chest. He closed his eyes with contentment, soaking in the wonder of his first granddaughter. Interrupted from his moment of bliss, Owen sighed as he opened his eyes and Molly vomited all over his torso. Without delay, the fluid ran down his legs.

"Lissa?" Owen called out.

"Feeding the babies," she responded from the twins' bedroom. "C'mon in."

"Larissa, I want to take Molly to the hospital to be checked out," Owen shared without panic.

Drawing her brows toward the bridge of her nose, Lissa caught Owen's eye. He explained, "Her pupils are uneven and she's vomiting. Let's just get her checked out."

"Dads…" Lissa whispered with weakness. She was terrified.

"Let's just be sure. No need to worry until we know more," he grinned weakly.