So here it is, the last chapter. I'm feeling relieved and sad as well. Although truth to tell, I have an idea for an epilogue that I may add later if it comes out well. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read this story. Thanks to Mrs. Eyre for sharing her story and her characters with me. Thanks to Goran whose subtle acting is the reason I have any insight into the character of Luka (if indeed I actually do). It was really interesting to try to write from the POV of a guy, I don't know how well I did, but it was fun to try. Although, I must admit that being in Luka's head is not always the easiest place to be and there again, I must take my hat off to Goran. It's rather a long chapter, I hope you enjoy it. By the way if anyone doesn't know, the term 'shooting the moon', comes from the card game Hearts where the goal is to score as few points as possible. However, if you have a very bad hand you can try to get all the points and then everyone else has to take that as their score and you win; not only the hand, but often the game by 'shooting the moon'. Also the line Luka ascribes to a Croatian midwife actually belongs to an American one, Ina May Gaskin. My sincere thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed, it means a great deal.

Finally, I dedicate this chapter to Katalyn and Kate, both made this story much better than (not then) it would have been, and I thank them both for their time and their friendship.

"Shooting the Moon"

I have to stop the car a couple of times on the way in to the hospital while she has a contraction; the car moving bothers her. When we're almost there I ask, "Who were you on the phone with anyway?"

"When?"

"I tried to call while I was driving home."

"Oh, Maggie."

"You called Maggie?"

"Yeah."

"I'm glad."

"Who did you think I called?"

"Honestly?" She nods. "My first thought was 911."

"Sorry, second thought?"

"Didn't have any, all the blood rushed from my brain into my right foot."

"Broke the sound barrier?"

"If I could have."

"You're nervous."

"No."

"You're tapping."

"What?"

"Your fingers, you tap your fingers when you're nervous." She nods her head towards my hand where my fingers tap a steady beat on the steering wheel.

"Well, maybe just a little nervous." I don't want to dwell on that, and I'm curious, so I ask, "What did you mean before when you said you never made it to Disneyland?"

"Oh that. Short version okay?' I nod. "When I was young, my mother told Eric and me she was going to take us to Disneyland. So we packed our things, got on the plane. And in the middle of the flight, Maggie flipped out, she lost it, she had to be restrained next to me, she screamed the whole way. I had to take care of Eric, and try to deal with her. What was supposed to be a great adventure . . . . . was a nightmare."

"I'm sorry." I really am.

"No don't, I've spent enough time feeling sorry, I don't want to feel sorry anymore. Another contraction." She holds out her hand, I pull off to the side and take it. The contractions are longer, stronger now. I'm glad we're almost there.

"The front doors should be open now. You want to go that way or through the ER?"

"Not the ER, I don't want to see anyone."

"You look great, you're doing great."

"Luka, you are a horrible liar."

We park and I grab her bag, then put out a hand and haul her out of the car. She stops as soon as she stands. I know what the look means already, another contraction. She leans her head into my chest, breathes, rocks her head and her hips back and forth a bit. Then looks up at me.

"You want a wheelchair?"

"Not on your life, you know how many women I've kicked out of wheelchairs and sent walking?"

We make it up to OB, and the nurse that checks us in is a little too perky for Abby. She rolls her eyes at me when the nurse can't see. Luckily she's off in an hour. She does the whole check-in routine, vitals, vaginal exam. I can't believe Abby's already 4 cm. She' s doing so well, if only she can stop herself from strangling this nurse, we'll be fine. The contractions have slowed down a bit since she's been in bed.

The next nurse, Veronica, knows Abby from before. Abby visibly relaxes and I'm grateful. Veronica's competent and takes charge; she tells me I should eat before things pick up, I put her off, and we go over the birth plan. No drugs, no epidural, no whale songs either. Abby reassures Veronica that she'll tell her the "surrender word" if I have to leave. I wince. Dammit Abby. I can't believe she said that, I can't fucking believe it.

Veronica's surprised. "You're on?" My forgotten lab coat gave me away as an ER doc.

"No I'll be here." I almost think Abby's going to say something more, but she has another contraction. Veronica tells me to go eat, this might be my last chance. Frankly, I think it's good if I go lick my wounds in private anyway. So I head to the cafeteria to see if I actually can eat. The coffee I can drink, but the eggs taste like cardboard. I do what I can. I can't believe she still thinks I'd have to walk out on her. I can't believe it. Then I remember what she told me. "I never did get to Disneyland." It's not about me; it's not even about what I can make her believe. It's about her protecting herself from the disappointment. She can't believe 100%, because then where is she if it doesn't happen. And at the end of the day, she needs to be okay for this baby, not hating her husband for not coming through. It's not about me. It's about her and the baby. I'm not Maggie, I'm not checking out again, but she won't know that till she sees it. Maybe I'll spend the rest of my life proving myself to Abby, I suppose there are worse ways to spend a life. Or maybe one day, she'll get it. But today there are bigger fish to cook. Her baggage may be packed up neatly, but that doesn't mean it doesn't get carried around sometimes. Same is true for me I suppose. So I get another cup of coffee and I head upstairs, Abby's making it to Disneyland today whether she believes it or not.

She's in good spirits when I get back, good enough to nag me about not eating enough and drinking coffee on an empty stomach. The contractions have slowed down a bit. She tells me she doesn't want Pitocin unless it's absolutely necessary. Okay, I say, I've got your back. She's fine, the baby's fine, we're in Chicago, we're having a baby. Okay.

So we walk the halls on and off, pausing for the contractions. She gets in and out of the shower a couple of times to relax. The contractions are a little easier for her in there. She reaches for my hand with every contraction, every one. So far her breathing is working that and swaying. It's almost like a hula, but I don't tell her that. I'm not sure she even knows she's doing it and the last thing she needs is to feel self-conscious.

Veronica brings in this big ball for Abby to try sitting on. She gets positioned and I can rub her shoulders and back, and she kind of bounces with the contractions.

"It reminds me of a toy I had when I was a kid."

"A big ball?"

"It was called a hippety hop and it had a handle so you could bounce along on it."

"Maybe we should see if any of the other moms want to race you down the hall. What do you think?"

"Sure we'll get the nurses to take bets, easy cash, I was pretty fast in my day."

"On the hippety hop?"

"What else?"

It's noon and Coburn comes over from her office on her lunch break. Abby's 6 cm now which means 2 cm in the last 5 hours, and no change since Veronica examined her an hour ago. Coburn frowns, "Things are going kind of slow Abby. We could start a little Pitocin, speed things up a bit for you."

Another contraction comes on and Abby gives me a look that says get to work. So I say, "Abby really wants to avoid that if she can. She's afebrile, fetal heart tones are reactive in the 140's, no decels, she 's only been ruptured 8 hours and she's strep negative. Why don't you check in another two hours, if there's no progress we'll talk."

Coburn looks at me and raises on eyebrow. I look right back, steady as a rock.

"Abby?" she questions, looking for a chink in our armor.

"What he said."

Coburn clucks her tongue.

"We like living on the edge." I deadpan.

"We're rebels." Abby says with equal seriousness.

"Rebels . . .with a Volvo." I add, and Abby starts to laugh, which makes me laugh.

Coburn looks at us like a couple of recalcitrant teenagers.

"Okay, rebels without a clue, two hours, see you then." And she walks out muttering "That's the last doctor's wife I'm taking as a patient."

"Thanks." Abby looks at me.

I shrug, "No problem, it was easier than I thought. I wasn't looking forward to decking her."

"I wouldn't try it." Veronica chimes in. "She's a black belt, I'm more likely to be picking you up off the floor than her."

When Veronica leaves Abby says she's worried that things won't pick-up. "If they don't, we could always try messing around." I offer.

She looks skeptical.

"What? I'm offering you endless foreplay, women love that don't they?"

"When they're not in pain, maybe."

"A midwife back home once told me the same energy that gets the baby in, gets the baby out."

"A likely story."

"It's true, test the theory if you doubt me." I lean in real close, nuzzle her neck, run my hand over her belly and breasts and up finally framing her face. She blushes and looks a little flustered. And has a contraction. "See, it works"

"What if Veronica walks in? Let's walk instead."

"Some rebel you turned out to be." I put out my hands and haul her out of bed.

When we get back into the room, she asks me to call Maggie out in the hall. I don't think she wants to hear my end of this conversation, and she really doesn't want to have a conversation with Maggie herself at this moment.

"Maggie? It's Luka."

"Luka, thank God how is she, has she had the baby?"

"No, not yet, she's doing great. She's 6 cm, everything's fine. She's holding up like a champ"

"And you, you're okay?"

"I'm fine. I'll call you when the baby's here." I want to get back to Abby."

"Maybe I should just hop on the bus, I could be there to help when you go home from the hospital."

Uh-oh. "Maggie I know how much you want to be here, to help . . .but I think Abby and I need some time alone . . .to get used to things. I'm taking 2 weeks off. I'll tell Abby you want to come, and you two can work out when. I'm sure she'll need the help more once I have to work."

"Oh, you're right. I should wait, I just get so . .. excited. I want to help Luka, I really do. I want to be there for my little girl"

"I know, Maggie. She knows you're here, and we'll call when the baby comes. I should get back to her okay?"

"Yes, yes, you should be with Abby. Give her my love." I feel two inches tall.

"I'll call again."

"Bye Luka"

I grab some more juice for Abby and some crap out of the vending machine to tide me over and head back into the room.

When I walk in, I find Carter sitting on the bed holding Abby's hand. She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly in traditional end of the contraction fashion. He looks at me and places her hand carefully back on the bed. "Did I miss anything?" I ask. For just a second, when I first see them, a wave of hurt crashes over me reminiscent of the first time I saw them, almost three years ago now, at work together and understood that they were . . .. together. He gets up, and we make small talk then I open the door and usher him out. I don't want him here, really I don't. But you know as soon as he leaves, he's gone. There's no part of him hanging around, not for her, and not for me. And in that moment with that understanding, I take him on. I mean I understood when I married Abby that I was getting Maggie in the deal. And I knew in that particular life drama I would never be more than a supporting player - it's Abby's show, which is okay with me. I accept that. But Carter - I've resisted taking him on. Clearly he's not going away. He doesn't want to, and she doesn't want him to. He's her friend, there's a bond, maybe it's the addict/sponsor thing. I don't know. It doesn't matter in the end. He'll keep showing up in our life for better or worse. Really I'm the one to make it better or make it worse. It's okay if he drops in because he's the one that leaves, and I'm the one that stays. In this drama I'm the leading man. She's mine to keep or lose .. . .maybe she always was.

If she can take on Ivica and my past, then I can take on Maggie . . . . and Carter.

Things are picking up and the breathing isn't enough at the peaks any more. She starts to moan a little. I stroke her hair with my free hand and tell her she's beautiful and how great she's doing, but I slip and it comes out in Croatian.

When the next contraction comes she says, "Talk to me"

I start, but she says "Not in English. . . .in Croatian. . ."

So I do. I don't know what to say. So I go through poems I remember, prayers, even a little Hamlet. A strange hodge podge, but it works for her. Abby's fine, the baby's fine, we're in Chicago, having our baby.

Veronica comes in to check on us. She gives me a funny look.

I shrug. "Better than whale songs"

"I like it, I'm thinking of taping you and selling copies, it seems to be working for Abby.

Abby chimes in "Just give us a share in the profits, we've got a college fund to start."

"College fund? We have a piano fund to start."

Co-workers straggle in off and on throughout the day, Susan at the end of her shift, Chen at the start of hers. When Frank and Jerry wander up, I know it's time to put my foot down. So I post a 'thanks for caring, but leave us the hell alone' sign on the door. No, it doesn't really say that, but that's what it means.

Coburn's delayed getting back to see Abby. It's three. This time when she checks her she smiles 8 cm. Good enough. '

"Keep up the good work rebels." She smiles, and she's gone. But Abby's losing her good humor. During a contraction she drops my hand to cover my mouth, I guess the Croatian isn't cutting it anymore. Her feet are cold. I rub them between my hands in between the contractions coming one after the other like never ending waves. She moans and when she's out of bed she sways and clutches my shirt till I think she'll tear it in two. Her eyes . . . she looks at me and they're so round, so wide, so earnest and searching. I just look back, helpless, helpless. God, Abby, if I could do this for you I would. I would. If pleasure can be vicarious, so can pain, so can pain. Abby's fine. The baby's fine. We're in Chicago. We're having our baby.

She tells me I should go get something to eat. I don't need to eat. I need to be with my wife. I stay.

Finally she has one that goes on and on she begins to cry she wants to go home. I want to make it all go away. But that's not what she wants. She wants help. "Look at me Abby. Open your eyes look at me." She's with me then, and I count her down taking her through the contraction that finally releases her. She's sweating with exertion. I push her hair back, kiss her forehead. I'm okay. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. Abby is fine .. .. .. the baby is fine . . . . . I'm in Chicago. . . . . . we're having our baby. I can . . . do this . . . I can do . . .this.

-----------------

It's almost four in the afternoon. The snow starts to fall, the sky dark as if it were much later. She's been at this 12 hours. She's tired, so tired. She has another contraction. This time her moan changes, it becomes guttural and deep. I know what it means. I remember.

"I'll get Veronica"

"Don't go." I never planned on it. I had planned on sticking my head out the door and yelling, but a call button is probably the better way to go. So I reach out push it as she grabs me in a vise grips so tight I can't breathe. I feel like she's drowning and taking me under and I can't catch my breath. It scares me. "Abby .. . .Abby I can't breathe you have to let go." But she doesn't till Veronica comes up behind us and takes her hands counting her down, bringing her back. I take a deep breath. Abby's okay, the baby's okay, we're in Chicago. The baby is coming. Veronica checks her time to start pushing. "I'll let Dr. Coburn know."

In the break between contractions, which in nature's wisdom, have spaced out to every 4 or 5 minutes now, she looks at me with eyes so loving and trusting, and a little, just a little afraid. I'm afraid too, but it's not the cold dread, it's not the panic of loss and the pain of despair. It's the understanding that our lives will be forever altered. It's familiar, even welcome. I know she's not afraid of the pain or the effort. Her fear is the same as mine. We're both scared that in becoming parents we'll lose "us", and we've worked so damn hard for there to even be an "us". Her fear, my fear it's the same as it would be even if I'd never been a father before, as if I'd never lost it all. I see in her eyes that she knows this too. This makes me smile. The fear goes, and I just feel happy, lucky. We're going to be okay. We can do this. With the next contraction Abby lets out a roar of power and the baby starts the journey out into the world. Abby's fine, the baby's fine, we're in Chicago, we're having a baby.

Veronica holds one leg and I hold the other. She pushes with a power that leaves me in awe. We fall into a rhythm over the next hour. She pushes then I wipe her forehead, give her a mouth full of ice chips in an endless cycle. After every push she finds my face, my eyes and my hand till the next wave pulls her away from me.

Finally the baby's crowning, a circle of black, black hair; Abby throws her head back and let's out a bellow of pain.

"Look at me" Dr. Coburn commands. "Just one more push Abby, just a little so you won't tear." And with the next contraction the forehead and then the eyes, plump cheeks and a rosebud mouth emerges. Abby's panting quivering with the effort. I feel like I'm frozen, unable to move, unable to do anything, but stare fixedly at the scene in front of me, quivering too.

"Okay Abby give me a push for the shoulders"

She does and nothing happens. Shit.

"Abby come on again give me what you have and Dr. Coburn nods to Veronica who pulls back on Abby's leg while dropping the head of the bed, she tells me to do the same, and I do, numb . . . nothing but numb.

Abby gives a mighty push and the baby slides forward and in an instant Dr. Coburn is holding a very red, very angry, very beautiful baby girl. "It's a girl. Congratulations Abby, Luka. She looks good, and big . . very big."

A daughter. I have a daughter. Suddenly the room is swimming which confuses me briefly till I realize that I'm crying and I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand so that I can see Abby and Rosa. Rosa's resting on Abby's tummy, she's stopped crying now that she's warm and can look up at her mother. Big, dark eyes gazing peacefully at her mother. Abby's staring at her a look of sheer amazement on her face.

"I did it . . .I did it. . . I can't believe . . .we did it." She's triumphant. She looks at me, and I kiss her on the mouth. I'm rewarded with a smile of such radiance that I think it's the last thing I'll think of on this earth. My eyes fill all over again.

Veronica dries the baby, puts a stethoscope on Rosa's chest and announces, "Apgars 8/9 she looks great. Congratulations Mom and Dad."

Mom and Dad . . . . . .. . . . . ..

Veronica pulls a stool over for me and I get in close, both Abby and I just staring and staring at Rosa, as if under a spell. Finally, I begin to sing, her song, her lullaby. Her eyes shift from Abby's face to find mine, in search of the familiar voice. And the room swims for the third time.

We have our few moments of peace, and then things get busy. Abby nurses Rosa who seemed to know what she's doing. Abby's cleaned up and checked out. Finally she eats, and so do I Veronica sneaking me some food so I don't have to leave. Veronica takes the opportunity to check out the baby. Rosa gets weighed and comes in at a whopping 9lbs 6oz. Abby's jaw nearly drops. "How is that possible?"

I go with Rosa to the nursery for her first bath and Abby gets moved to a postpartum room. When I wheel Rosa back down to Abby's room, she puts out her arms for Rosa and reminds me I have some calls to make. "Hall?" I ask. Looking at them, I'm reluctant to leave. Abby looks, can it be? Happy. I can't believe either of us almost settled for less.

"Please?"

"No problem." So I make my obligatory calls to the ER where I hear whoops in the background and to Maggie who cries, and I promise Abby will call her tomorrow after she gets some rest. Then to Damir and Tatijana, she cries and I can almost hear Damir's smile over the phone.

Then I make my last call.

"Tata?"

"Luka?" And the moment I hear his voice it happens, something releases inside me, I start crying, not just a little, but a lot.

"Luka . . Luka what's wrong Abby? The baby?" His voice is panicked. Fuck, I scared him.

"No, no everything's . . .great. . .they're wonderful . . .Tata, I have a little girl."

Now he's crying. We sit there sobbing like two old women for a few minutes.

"Her name?"

"Rosa Margaret"

"Rosa? Perfect. A rose in the middle of winter. Perfect. You . . .you did okay?"

"I did it. I was fine. I am fine."

"I knew you could, I knew it. And Abby?"

"She's great, she was so amazing through it all. You would have been so proud of her."

"Of course I'm proud of her. What's the baby look like?"

"Like a Kovac, lots of thick black hair."

"Poor thing. Maybe she'll look more like her mother when she grows, if she's lucky"

"She's beautiful."

"I know she is. I'm going to paint her tonight."

"You've never seen her."

"She's my winter rose, I know what she looks like. Can Abby talk?"

"Tomorrow"

"Of course, tell her I love her."

"I will"

"Tell her you love her."

"I will"

"Okay call me tomorrow."

"Okay Tata."

"And Luka take care of yourself get something to eat, get some sleep . . promise me?"

"Yes Tata, I will, and I'll talk to you tomorrow"

"A rose, a little winter rose." He's muttering it to himself as he hangs up the phone. You see where I get my sentimentality.

When I get back, to my disappointment Abby's asleep, Rosa's out too. I whisper Ivica's message and my own to Abby. Then I sit down watching my daughter's face.

Veronica comes in and whispers to me when she sees them sleeping, " I'm off now, tell Abby I'll stick my head in tomorrow."

"Sure"

"I'm really glad I was there. More and more I'm just a technician, the mom's are numb and the dad's are watching football or whatever. It was nice to watch you two, and to feel . . . .needed."

"You were. Thanks for all your help."

"Sure." She turns to go. "Oh, wait I almost forgot there's someone waiting outside to see you."

"Okay, thanks."

I come out to find Carter standing at the nurse's station.

"You still on? " I ask surprised.

"Just finished my own shift."

"Thanks again for covering for me. Look Abby's asleep but I'm sure tomorrow she'll want to see you."

"I didn't come to see Abby, I came to celebrate with the new father."' He holds up a bottle of champagne. " I was wondering if you brought those cigars along?"

"I did." Abby packed them eyeing me and telling me I had to smoke one for her.

"You want to give them a try, get some air, take a break?" Well they are both sleeping, and if I'm going to take Carter on than I may as well start now. There's no time like the present.

Carter and I go up to the roof. The snow has stopped and it's still but cold, I'm glad I went down to the ER to get my coat even if it meant getting questioned by the curious and hugged by the delighted. I've got my bottle of Champagne and box of cigars. We both light up and I take the occasional swig from the bottle.

"So how's it feel?" he asks.

"What? To be a father?"

He nods.

"It's wonderful, wonderful . . . "

"So I've been doing some thinking"

"Yeah?" Please, no.

"About Deb"

"Oh?" Yes.

"How did you know, I mean really know you wanted to marry Abby?"

I consider this for a minute, take another drag and a long swig, and then I scratch my head, and turn to look him in the eye. He takes a drag from his cigar and starts to cough.

"I saw her with you."

He looks at me for a second. Then we both start laughing, louder and longer then we should, but hell we've both been up over 24 hours, and the cigars are heady.

"Well, then, you kind of owe me," he says.

I shake my head "You slept with my wife, I owe you squat"

He looks rather sheepish at this, and I regret saying it.

"Don't worry Carter, I've made my peace." After another long drink, I decide to do him a favor.

"Did Jing-Mei ever tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"Well, I guess it doesn't matter now, water under the bridge and all."

"What?" he's perplexed.

"Well, when you were with Abby, we . . . saw each other for about a month." He's frowning, and I'm trying so hard not to smile.

"Don't worry it was just, you know, physical, not worth mentioning"

And then don't I wish I had a camera, his face is priceless. I can't hold my resolve, I throw my head back and laugh which makes his face twist up even more, and it's a vicious cycle because I can't stop laughing long enough to get out the words.

"I'm kidding Carter, just kidding. You'd better marry her." And I howl with laughter again. This time he joins in.

"You're such an ass." I shrug, when he's right, he's right.

"Now," I say, "we're even"

He grins broadly. "Just keep your hands off my woman."

I shake my head. "Don't worry, I'm ruined for anyone else."

Carter mutters under his breath, and it sounds like, " That makes two of you then."

Although that's the last place I want to go, I can't say it's the worst news I've ever heard either.

I better go."

"Heading home for some sleep?"

"Naw, I've got a cot in Abby's room, she might need the moral support, the first couple of nights can be tough."

"Don't want to rest up?"

"I don't sleep so well without Abby anyway."

He gets a strange look on his face now. " I'm not sure many people have what you two do."

Ah I see, he's sentimental . . . and mistaken. "No Carter, people have it. They just don't appreciate it as much as we do."

He considers this and then I add, "Go home to Jing- Mei and make love to her like it's the last time you'll ever get to touch her."

He nods and I go downstairs to my wife and my baby.

Abby's asleep, Rosa's little body on her chest, the dark head tucked under Abby's chin just beginning to squirm. I lift her gently and cradle my baby girl. She's so beautiful, so perfect. Sometimes life deals you a shitty hand of cards. There's nothing you can do about that. What matters in the end is how you play them. Abby and I, we put our crap hands together, and we shot the moon. And the one thing I'm sure of in life is if we have to, we'll do it again.