He didn't know when it happened but he'd come to think of the baby inside of his wife as an enemy, someone to be warded off. Their unborn child was the cause of Rebecca's weakness and dizziness and pain. It was hurting her even as she struggled through the pregnancy.
"I'm fine, Kevin. Stop worrying," Rebecca said.
In the seven months following the surgery to move the fetus lodged in her tube, it had become her refrain. Only he never fully believed her. He remembered what she was like after the surgery: pale, weak, sluggish. He'd nearly lost her. Not since his accident had he been so terrified. He didn't think he could handle losing her.
As her pregnancy progressed, he found himself watching her. If she showed the slightest hint of fatigue, he'd insist she take a nap. If she mentioned food at all, he got her some. He was so attentive she began to invent reasons for him to leave the house just so she could get some peace. Kevin knew he was getting on her nerves; he just didn't know how else to protect her. How did he protect her from the danger growing inside her?
But she loved their baby. Kevin wished he could, too.
"Why don't you talk to the baby?" she'd asked one night as they'd lain in bed. "Or rub my stomach?"
"I don't want to hurt it," he'd lied.
"You didn't worry about hurting Leila when I was pregnant with her."
He turned to look at her. She was lying on her side, staring back at him with solemn eyes. Her beauty never ceased to amaze him. Neither did the fact that she chose him.
"Well?" she prompted.
"Well what?"
"Well why?"
"Leila was an easy pregnancy," he finally said, wishing she'd dropped the subject. "You were safe."
Rebecca laid her head on his shoulder then. "I'm fine, Kevin."
"Okay."
"I am," she'd insisted.
"All right. G'night, Beck."
Her sigh breezed across his collarbone. "Good night, Kevin."
She'd gone to sleep, but he'd lain awake for hours trying to forgive the baby (who he knew was innocent) and maybe even love it. He'd fallen asleep before he succeeded.
Rebecca's labor was an exercise in futile anxiety. He'd stayed by her side throughout the delivery even though she'd urged him to go to the waiting room with his family. Taking her hand, he'd locked his gaze on hers and said in no uncertain terms, "I'm staying with you."
Seven hours later, Trevor was born but Rebecca was hemorrhaging. Kevin moved out of the way, giving them room to work while he held his breath and the newly born child they'd plopped in his arms. He stared at his son, praying that he wouldn't have to raise the boy and his sister alone. Stay with me, Beck, he begged silently. Stay with me. I can't do this alone.
The doctors managed to stop the bleeding, but Kevin knew she still wasn't clear of danger. He was surrounded by a flurry of medical activity but he only had eyes for his wife. She was so still, so pale. Don't leave me.
Eventually, the doctors put Kevin out of her room. He found his family, told them it was a boy, and led them to the nursery to see him. He'd held Leila close to his heart while she slept. She looked so much like her mother. Trevor, he could tell, would take after him.
Finally, he was unable to stay away any longer and had gone back to Rebecca's side, Leila still sleeping in his lap. At first, Kevin thought Rebecca was sleeping too, but she opened her eyes and held out her hand. He came closer and squeezed it tight.
"It's not his fault," she whispered.
He didn't pretend not to know what she meant. "I know."
"Then start acting like it," she demanded with a wan smile.
"I can't lose you."
"You won't lose me."
"Can you guarantee that?"
She sighed. "Kevin."
"You can't."
"Maybe not," she conceded, "but whatever happens to me is not Trevor's fault. We could have terminated the pregnancy but I didn't want to. I chose this. Don't blame him."
"Okay."
"Don't say that just to placate me," she warned in a thin, raspy voice.
"I'm not. I just . . . I need to blame someone and I can't blame you," he admitted.
"I'm going to make it through this, Kevin," she assured him, her voice strengthened by her resolve. "I'm not through with you yet. And I don't want our children raised on microwaved food alone."
"Hey, I can cook."
"But you never do."
Kevin chuckled, stopping when Leila squirmed in his lap.
"Mommy?"
"Hey, baby."
"You don't look so good."
"I know," Rebecca said.
Leila played with her bottom lip. "Are you okay?"
"I will be. Now go back to sleep, sweetheart."
The little girl nodded and rested her head on Kevin's chest.
"It's time you got some sleep, too," Kevin said.
Gingerly, Rebecca shifted into a more comfortable position. "Stay with me?"
He parked his wheelchair closer to the bed and laid his head on the mattress. "I'm not going anywhere."