For the People Chapter 40
Rick and Jim's eyes simultaneously jerk up to the face of the approaching nurse Pickles. "Kate has an assigned room now," she announces. "I can take you to see her. Even better, you can walk with her. She's just begun to go into labor and walking will make it go faster. At this point, it's better for her and the baby to deliver as quickly as possible."
Rick trots after Pickles with Jim only a step behind, to discover Kate standing by her bed in a robe and slippers from the go bag that had been in the trunk of his car for at least two weeks. "So, who's going to take the first laps around the halls with me?"
Rick's mouth drops open. "Huh? Oh, you mean walking. I can do that. I can do all of them."
"If you two wouldn't mind," Jim interrupts. "I'd like to take the first lap. I want to talk to Katie."
"OK, I guess," Rick agrees after a look from Kate. "I'll be right here. I'll catch you on the next one."
In a surprisingly cheery hospital corridor, Kate leans against a wall for a few seconds as a contraction comes on. "Ooh! OK, she's starting to get serious. What did you want to talk about, Dad?"
"The future. Look, I know that Rick will make sure that my granddaughter always has everything she needs financially. He and I already put together the paperwork. And I'll never come close to having the kind of resources he has, not with the dive I took after your mother was killed. But I want to do something special for the baby. Is there something that would be more on the Beckett end of the family?"
"Dad, other than you, Aunt Theresa, and Cousin Sofia, I don't really know the Beckett end of the family. Isn't most of it still in England and Ireland? I've never met any of my relatives from there."
Jim nods slowly. "Uh-huh. There was kind of a rift between the branches dating back to some land disputes in the 1800s, and some even older than that. So there are Becketts in and around London, and a seafaring crowd in Devon. And the Irish branch of the family is in County Cork. None except the Londoners talk to me, and we haven't had any extensive exchanges. We've met for dinner a few times when I was there giving seminars, but I believe they saw me as some kind of elitist because I wasn't downing pints with them."
Kate blows out a breath with another contraction. "Um, moving right along. You didn't tell them why you weren't drinking?"
"I did, but I'm not sure they believed it. And you know me, Kate. In public, I'm not the most demonstrative guy."
Kate's lips twitch upward. "Yeah, you never yelled at umpires for bad calls when we were at a Yankees game, only when we were watching one on TV. It's a good thing the baby can get to know you one-on-one. But it would be nice if eventually, she gets to know where she comes from. Except for Martha, Rick's family is either gone or a mystery. She should have more than that. Do you think you could start putting some contacts in place for when she gets older?"
"I don't know how well overtures like that will be greeted, but I can try. Still, that's long-term. Is there anything I can do now?"
"Did you buy her a baseball glove?"
Jim reddens. "I did."
"Then that should be enough for now, unless you want to volunteer for babysitting duty."
"I'm out of practice. Still, I'd love to. But shouldn't I have something more personal to call her than 'the baby?' Have you and Rick picked out a name?"
"He has a list of them all of which sound like characters in fairytales or videogames. I was thinking about naming her after Mom, but I also want to think of her as an entirely new person, not some kind of replacement."
Jim rubs his hand over the late-day stubble forming on his chin. "I suppose I see your point. You want her to be a herald, a promise of new life."
"Dad, I don't think I've ever heard you be that poetic before."
"That's because you never read the letters I wrote to your mother with all the things I was afraid to say out loud. I guess having to spill my guts at meetings all these years loosened me up a little. But there is some symbology that meets that bill, the first flower of Spring."
"I'm not naming my daughter after a crocus. Can you imagine her life on the playground, or worse, middle school?"
"You have a point. Then how about a lily? They symbolize rebirth and renewal at Easter."
"Lily, that's nice. If Rick will go along with it, we may have a name." Looking down, Kate rubs her hands over her abdomen. "What do you think of Lily?" She flinches slightly as another contraction begins. "Is that a yes or a no?"
With Rick's arm around her for support, Kate traverses the hallway more slowly than she had on her first walk with her father. "So you'd be all right with naming her Lily?"
Rick draws Kate more closely against his side. "Actually, more than all right. You know that Mother was always shipping me off somewhere when she had a job outside of the city. When I was about eight, she was doing summer stock, and I was staying with some friends of hers in a cabin in Maine. It was nice, nothing fancy. But we went to the beach every day, and there were woods to play in. There was also a little girl, Lily, who was about my age.
"I was very taken with Robin Hood that year. I'd seen the Errol Flynn version on Channel Nine and wanted to swing a sword, scale walls, and insult evil princes the way he did. I was still a little young to completely appreciate all of Olivia de Haviland's womanly attributes, but I thought Maid Marian was brave. So I turned the woods into Sherwood Forrest, and Lily was willing to play Marian to my Robin – up to a point. We both thought the kissy-face stuff was gross, but we had a good time.
"Then after the summer was over, Lily and I became pen pals. I wrote little stories for her. It was kid stuff, but I guess she liked them. She kept writing – until she stopped. I thought maybe she didn't like me or my stories anymore. Then one day Mother got a call, and she sat me down and told me what happened.
"Lily picked up what her parents thought was a cold. But it wouldn't go away and kept getting worse and worse until she developed pneumonia. Her disease was caused by some rare virus, so antibiotics were no help. Lily hung on as long as she could. She read my letters and wrote back until pretty close to the end. Mother told me that Lily's parents thought one of the reasons Lily clung to life for as long as she did was to get my letters. I don't know if that was true or just something Mother said to try to make me feel better. But whenever I picture smart, beautiful, brave, and happy little girls, I think of a young Alexis – and Lily. Maybe some of Lily's irrepressible joy will come with the name. Let's pass it on."
