XIV.
"May I come in yet?" Victor asked for what felt like the hundredth time. Once again he was standing outside Victoria's closed bedroom door. He'd been there for a good half hour already, waiting until Mrs. Reed would allow him inside. Dr. Van Ekel was down in the parlor with William, probably still bemoaning the fact that there was no male child to lead the new generation of Van Dorts. On his way upstairs, Victor had heard the doctor beginning to rave about not being paid, and his father trying to calm the doctor down. Maybe it was too bad that they didn't keep drink stronger than tea in the house.
"Yes, yes," Mrs. Reed said from the other side of the door. In moments the door opened, and Mrs. Reed was there, gesturing him inside. She was smiling widely.
"Sorry for the wait, sir," she said. Then, lowering her voice, she added, "Do call me back in when you're through." Before Victor had time to thank her, she was out the door and softly closing it behind her.
The room was very warm--there was a roaring fire. It was still rather dim, even with the curtains open, since the rain hadn't fully let up. But there, in the bed, propped into a half-sitting position on a pile of pillows, was Victoria. She was cradling a little blanketed bundle in her arms, and was beaming at him. There were tired lines around her eyes, her hair fell limply around her shoulders, and she looked as though she'd had a real time of it. It showed in her eyes--there was an entirely different sort of air about her.
Even so, Victoria had never looked prettier. Victor had never seen someone looking so absolutely and incredibly...well, happy.
Almost in awe, Victor just stood there near the door for a moment or two, gazing at Victoria and their daughter. Their daughter. What a lovely picture, Victor thought, regarding them.
"Victor," Victoria finally said, sounding as though she were ready to laugh and cry at the same time, "come and meet Lydia."
He had to blink a couple of times to hold himself together. After taking a deep breath, he walked over to the bed and took a seat on the edge. Victoria winced a little as the mattress jostled, but quickly recovered.
"Oh, Victoria," he said, reaching out to stroke her hair. "Are you all right?"
"We both are," she replied, smiling down at the baby.
For a long while neither of them said a word. It didn't really seem necessary to say anything. All Victor could think about was how, after all this time, there they were--a family. He and Victoria actually had a family. From now on, it wasn't just Victor and Victoria, but Victor, Victoria, and Lydia. He couldn't help wanting to try the name out, now that there was a little person to connect it to.
"Good morning, Lydia," he said softly, reaching out a tentative hand. As gently and carefully as he could, he ran his hand over the baby's head. At his touch, she woke up a little, fidgeting about with her eyes screwed up tight.
"Isn't she lovely?" Victoria asked. Turning toward him, she said, "Victor, I am so happy." Smiling, he leaned over and kissed her forehead gently.
"Me too," he replied. Then, for some reason, they both started to laugh. Very quietly, so quietly that it was almost silent laughter, but for a good minute Victor and Victoria sat on the bed, holding the baby between them, and giggling as though they'd lost their minds. It had been a very long night. Taking deep breaths, they got themselves under control. After sharing another kiss, they went back to gazing at their newborn.
"She's not...tiny," Victor remarked at length. When he noticed Victoria's questioning look, he clarified, "Well, Hildegarde's great-granddaughter--she was tiny. Lydia...er...isn't." Victoria laughed quietly.
"Mrs. Reed said that Lydia is the longest, skinniest baby she's ever seen," she said, stroking the baby's face gently.
"And she...well, doesn't look like you," Victor said. "I thought a girl would look like you."
Victoria adjusted her hold on Lydia, pulling her a bit closer. "So did I, actually," she admitted. "But she's your daughter, that's for certain. Just look at her."
It was true. Victor had only ever seen one photograph of himself as a baby. The last time he'd looked at it had been years ago, but he could still call up the image in his mind. The picture showed him balanced pricariously on his grandfather Van Dort's knee, both of them looking half-asleep. And really, if Victor's memory served, it could just as well have been a photograph of Lydia. Actually, the resemblance was a little eerie, now that Victor took a moment to think about it.
"She's a Van Dort, all right," he finally replied. Eh, perhaps she'll grow out of it in a year or so, he thought.
"Lydia Emily Van Dort," Victoria added, giving each word a gentle emphasis.
It was a lovely little moment, a memory that Victor would keep with him for the rest of his life. And probably after, he added to himself.
Soon, though, Victoria admitted that she was getting rather tired, and should probably rest for a while. Glancing at the clock, Victor saw that it was almost six o'clock in the morning. It had been almost twelve hours, remarkable as that seemed.
Before getting up to call Mrs. Reed back in, Victor remarked, "You know, I really think Lydia is the best thing we've done together so far." Victoria nodded.
"Yes," she said, with a little laugh in her voice, "Lydia turned out much better than that flowerbook we tried to put together." Victor leaned down and gave his brand-new daughter a kiss, and then pressed his lips to Victoria's damp hair.
"I love you," he said.
"I love you, too," she replied.
"I'll see you in a little while."
"Yes."
Victor was halfway to the door when he turned to take one more look at Victoria and Lydia. To think, how easily a moment like this might never have happened...Perhaps William had been right--perhaps this really was what people were here for. These moments, these feelings. Love.
We'll be fine, he said to himself. It was the first time he'd thought it that he'd been absolutely positive that it was true.
Still smiling, Victor opened the door for Mrs. Reed, and then headed back downstairs. His smile faded slightly as he neared the parlor, and recalled what he'd said to Dr. Van Ekel earlier.
Even for all the sweet and lovely moments in life, there was always the issue of the bill.
