A/N: Thanks for all the wonderful reviews and sorry if I forgot to thank some of you personally. Life took over! Your reviews still mean everything 3
Monday, April 28th
"She's fine. They're both fine…"
The subdued talking wakes me up from what seems like a comatose sleep. My eyes still closed, I shiver as a stinging coldness crosses my body.
"No, she's still sleeping..."
I turn to curl myself deeper under the blankets but as I do something hinders my movement. I struggle to open my eyes and that's when I see it. There's an IV drip in my arm.
"I don't know, yet..."
I peep around and in the semi-darkness of what's probably very early morning it takes me a moment to recollect the events from the previous night. The persistent and growing pain, a few words caught of Peter's speech, the bleeding, the race to the hospital. I'm still at the hospital. I spent the night here.
"The nurse should come back any minute now to visit her again…"
Numbed by the lethargy, I slowly start to remember. The scratching ultrasound, the heartache that accompanied me for the first part of the visit, then the overwhelming relief when I heard the baby's heartbeat.
"It's just the procedure before they discharge her, nothing to worry about..."
I look down at my belly, covered by a thick layer of covers that's still far from enough to shield me from the cold of this room, and I smile. I still can't believe it. The baby is healthy. Our baby.
"Probably in a couple of hours..."
All the tears I cried left an indelible, burning mark on my cheeks. I'm probably a mess, but in this moment I don't care about anything but this baby. Rest in bed. The nurse's words come back to me. And I thought things were complicated before… The last thing I remember from last night is the nurse jabbing the IV in my vein to help me perk back up from the bleeding, then sleep and weakness got the best of me.
"I'll tell her you called as soon as she wakes up…"
By instinct I turn my head towards the murmuring of Will's familiar voice. He remained here through the night, likely not getting any sleep. The sofa looked all but comfortable. He's sauntering back and forth but his slow steps don't hide his turmoil. His voice quivers as he speaks, almost imperceptibly but I can hear it. It's been a roller coaster for him too. I'm not sure I could ever forgive myself if anything were to happen to our child, for I know how much this means for Will. And if I already didn't have any more shadow of doubt about the depth of his emotional involvement, the cloud-nine glimmering in his eyes as he saw his child for the first time last night is something I will cherish for the rest of my life. Do we still have issues? Totally. But we are in such a good place like I can't remember being since long ago, or probably ever being at all. When they say that adversities bring people closer, it's the truth.
"Sure… of course."
As he hangs up, the question comes naturally. "Who was on the phone?" I whisper, careful not to cause him a heart attack but at the same time aware that people might have searched for me in the last hours. I don't even know what's been of my phone.
"Hey," Will smiles as he moves to sit next to me on the bed. His gaze is frayed, but I can see the relief behind. "It was Peter."
I cloud over. The press conference. I don't even know how it went, what Peter said, how the audience took the news. As far as I know there might be journalists waiting outside this door.
"He said he's on his way here with Grace." And from the resigned tone in which he speaks these words, he already knows that I won't be pleased with the news.
"What? No. She shouldn't come," I shake my head uselessly, then close my eyes for a brief instant. It's unnecessary and will only end up worrying her more than necessary.
"Peter said she called you a few times this morning and started to worry when she couldn't reach you. Your phone ran out of battery power during the night I guess," he shrugs in apology.
"She shouldn't come here," I repeat, and I can already imagine her grave face as she reproaches me for scaring her.
"She's worried. You could never dissuade her anyway," he points out gently.
I admit he's right. Grace would come anyway, even by foot if no other way was available. But I loathe the idea of her seeing me weak. I spent my life building a strong and independent image of myself for my kids and the forced rest is kind of killing off my efforts.
Will's hand moves to cover my cheek in a delicate gesture and my eyes close in response. I brush against it, holding my breath as I relish the pleasurably soothing contact. The silence makes everything surreal. It's the first real moment of quietness since last night and the moment in which tension eventually floods back, hitting me in an unpredictable way. I feel tears starting to bathe my cheeks and I can't do anything to hold them back. "I'm sorry," I apologize under my breath. For being defenseless, for alarming him and myself, for lacking the power to protect our child. Our son, Will kept repeating last night and it took all the nurse's amused patience to dissuade him from buying a baby-sized uniform of the Cubs.
"What? No," he whispers. "The worst is over. Now we know what's the matter and we will deal with it."
I nod. "I thought it was… I thought the baby…" The scare is still too vivid. I don't want to finish the sentence and I'm grateful when I don't have to.
"I know…"
He opens his mouth as if to add something, but a soft knock draws our attention to the door. I hurry to dry the tears as Will stands up and rushes to open the door.
"Hey," Will greets Peter and Grace, and there is a moment of palpable discomfort as Will finds himself face to face with them. I can see both men tense up in spite of Grace's presence and for a moment I fear the worst. I'm breathless until eventually Will eyes Grace briefly and with a nervous half-smile offers to wait outside. I gape, I want to stop him, to ask him to stay but I understand his need and I rethink my request before I can speak it. He leaves me with an understanding smile that I return with my eyes and the moment I meet Peter's gaze, I know he can see that I've cried.
"You okay?" he asks concerned.
"I am, now," I confirm with a light nod, and my gaze turns to Grace. She's pale, her young face clouded in worry.
"What happened, mom?" she asks, tentatively.
"Only a false alarm, nothing more. The baby's fine, I am fine, we both just need some rest," I explain with faltering confidence.
"I thought you lost it," she whispers, with her eyes wide in what I know very well is utter fear. I remember the discussion we had only a few days ago at dinner and curse myself for ever bringing up the subject. Maybe she wouldn't be worrying so much now.
"Me too," I admit, digging deep to keep up the bit of tranquility I'm still hiding somewhere.
I shift in the bed at the discomfort that the long lying is starting to cause. I prop on one elbow to help myself sitting up and cringe as that sharp pain – as the nurse defined it – halts me before I have the chance to lift myself up. Peter must notice my difficulty and walks close, helping me up and adjusting the pillow behind my back so I can sit. I know he's concerned more than he wants to show but it's not a discussion I'm going to have with Grace in the room.
"Did you have breakfast?" I exploit my mom-ish care to divert the discussion on something, anything else. With Grace around, most topics sound off-limit and I want to explain my situation to Peter first.
"Before leaving this morning," she says with that cagey glare of someone who knows she's about to get excluded from the discussion.
"You should eat something more before you go to school," I invite her with my most tender smile, which crashes miserably against her firm protest.
"I'm not going to school today," she says matter-of-factly.
Not that it comes unexpected. I discreetly cast a glance at Peter, unaware if he promised her she could skip school for today but when he gets all serious I have my answer.
"Yes you are, miss," Peter gets behind me with determination. "We made an agreement. Mom, then school."
I watch her open her mouth to say something but my faint shake of my head advises her to not even try and persist. "Get something from the vending machine while I talk a moment with your father," I say softly as I wave for her to come near and I kiss her on the forehead before gesturing for her to go.
When she finally – though very reluctantly – leaves, I finally feel free to open up.
"How's Zach?" I ask. First things first. For I'm sure he'd rather be here, too.
"Fine. Had to kick him to go back to college," Peter jokes, "but he's fine. He wanted to be at the press conference with me."
Oh. This comes as a surprise. Or not? Zach shows more interest in Peter's political career than I want to admit. More than once he helped out during the campaign and I realize that the more he grows, the more ways he comes to resemble his father. I've always discouraged both Grace and Zach's involvement in Peter's career, more to protect them than for anything else. But as Grace's vulnerability still makes her in need of that kind of protection, for Zach it's different. It feels like restraining him from something for which he shows passion. "How did it go?" As I ask the question, I measure his reaction to catch the truth behind anything he might be about to say. He sighs faintly but there's no trace of tension on his face and it relieves me, for it's at least one less complication.
"I thought worse, but we will talk about it in another moment. Eli is doing a magnificent job in handling the press and keeping the journalists at bay. I'm actually not even sure it came as surprising to a few of them."
We've been living in separate cities for so long that the press was probably only waiting for the confirmation of an open secret. "This is good, I guess…"
"Yes, it is, I don't know, we will see." He hints a smile. Then, the silence. "So…"
His so brings the discussion back to what led me here last night. "Rest in bed," I cut a long story short with a deep sigh.
"For how long?" he asks, as he takes a chair and moves it close to the bed.
I wish I had an answer to this. "I don't know, for the time that's needed, I guess?"
His soft groan makes it obvious that he doesn't like my answer. Neither do I, if I have to be honest. I can't make plans, I can't organize my life. Actually, I'll have to organize the life of all the people around me because like it or not, I'll need help for an inestimable amount of time and it's frustrating. I suddenly feel like I have really lost control over my own life.
"Why are you doing it?" he whispers.
Behind that question, apparently simple, I know there's a lot more. I know he still can't accept the fact that I'm ready to give up everything for someone else. But it's better for both of us if we make this about the baby and nothing else.
"Because it's my baby and I'll do whatever it takes to protect it," I say very quietly.
"Even if it's a danger for your life?"
I ponder his question for a moment. I know that I'm not in danger like he wants to dramatize, but the point is another. The point is that I'm having this child with Will and I need him to refocus on what matters most. "Would you be saying the same if it were Zach or Grace?"
I see him dither over my straight question. It lasts a moment. He's back in control before I can add anything else. "It might be like this for the whole pregnancy," he reminds me.
"So? Be it," I persist, calmly.
I watch as he stands back up and starts to pace back and forth, likely to unload some tension. "You really want to do this again? To give up everything again for the family? Now that you've come so far, that you run your own firm? What are you doing with it?"
"I'm not giving up everything, Peter! My firm remains mine, no matter what happens," I insist, this time not hiding a tad of frustration.
"Are you sure? You know that it takes nothing to lose everything and half of your associates would probably stab you without thinking twice to replace your name on the letterhead."
"Peter… I know that you're worried but I can handle it, we can handle it." I remind him that I'm not alone, for he tends to conveniently forget that I didn't make this baby alone.
"You need someone reliable," he advises me.
I glare, unsure if I got his words right. "I need what?" I'm already showing my teeth as my mind refuses to associate Will with lack of reliability.
"For the firm," Peter adds, and when he eyes me in a weird, confused way, I feel stupid for even thinking it. "You will need someone reliable to take your place in case this goes on for too long," he explains further.
"Oh, yes. I know." Actually I don't. The thought never really crossed my mind. Not until now at least, but in my defense I could never have expected such a wicked turn of events.
I watch as he sits back beside me, the peak of tension seems gone as the discussion moves to my firm. It's always been a neutral, comfort zone. And now more than ever it's one of our few common concerns. I remember how proud of me he was when I started it, months ago and I know he still is in spite of everything. And that's probably why he's so invested in it. He knows my professional motives for leaving Lockhart & Gardner but still today he's oblivious to the personal ones. And it's kind of ironic that Will seems to see the personal ones most and ignore the professional disappointment that led me away from him in the first place. It's as if both men have chosen the truth that most suits them.
"What about Cary?" he asks, pensively. His gaze is lost somewhere down on the floor.
Cary. The last time he confronted me, I left him with an I just need to slow down. Now we went from slowing down to stopping completely in the space of one night. "He doesn't know anything yet and I'm just realizing that he's probably already freaking out because of my absence. I should be in court this morning," I observe with a growing panic as I become aware that I don't even know what time it is. "Oh God. This is bad!" I rant as I cover my face, frustrated.
"Want to call him?" he offers, as he's already handing me his phone.
"Yes, please, before he curses at me." I don't want to deal with his guilt when I tell him the state of things. But before I can dial the number, a knock distracts me. Will walks in, his phone in his hand. "I have Cary on the phone…" Talk about perfect timing for once… "I didn't tell him anything," he whispers, as he covers the microphone with one hand, "no idea how much you want him to know and how much he already knows."
I nod and look back at Peter. "Drive Grace to school, please. We will talk later," I beg him, as he's already standing up.
"And I'll see if I can come up with a couple of names for the firm," he offers.
I know I can fully trust his judgment on this matter, so I agree without arguing. I nod and smile as he leaves, then take the phone from Will's hand. He looks at me inquisitively and a bit unsure, probably wondering if he should leave, but with a delicate touch on his arm and a soft smile, I invite him to sit next to me.
Cary is not happy to hear that he has to cover for me again. He doesn't sound angry but he's clearly disappointed and resigned that once again I'm hiding something from him. And the fact that I answered Will's phone of everyone doesn't make it any easier. He's probably supposing the worst, probably an affair like Diane did too, though I can't really say what could be taken worse between an affair and a baby. It's a situation that I can't bear any more so in the end I tell him the truth. Or at least part of it. I tell him that I'm at the hospital for a visit but not the reason. Just that he doesn't have to worry, to search for me on Will's phone again in case he needs something if he can't reach me on mine. I promise that at the end of the day, when things are quieter for both, I will explain everything to him.
"Bye-bye to keeping it secret?" Will jokes to ease the tension a bit that filled the room since the moment Grace and Peter walked in.
"Yep, guess it's time to come out into the open." A sudden anxiety pervades me but at the same time I'm excited to spread the news.
"Does that mean I can buy the Cubs' uniform?" Will asks innocently, almost nonchalantly.
I raise a brow and burst into laughter at his umpteenth attempt. "Uhm… no?" I don't have the courage to tell him that my subconscious shows him holding a baby girl. There are already enough people claiming their favorite sex for the baby, and it's loads of fun for me to see their excited and crazy guesses.