Go Baby Grow
Chapter 4 – Face the Music
Same day as Chapters 1-3: Friday, April 16th
"Julia Claire Caldwell returns from Missing in Action," Adam growled as he narrowed his eyes and stood at the front door with tightly folded arms.
"Dad, I'm…" Julie began to reply before being interrupted by Adam's military voice and tone.
Holding up his hand, he stared seriously at his daughter. "Not. One. Word," he warned firmly. Holding out his hand, he added, "Keys, phone, ID. Now."
Although Adam was a strict father, Julie had never encountered this level of intensity from him. When she was little, she overheard her Dad and brother exchange tense words now and then. Scared by the sounds of Adam's intimidation and Sam's rebuttals, she would hide and cover her head and ears with a pillow. But that stopped years ago when Sam enrolled in the Naval Academy and later became a SEAL.
Julie silently reached into her pocket and handed him the car keys. Then she rummaged around her purse for her phone and wallet. Rather than waiting for her to remove her license from the wallet with her shaking fingers, Adam snatched the wallet from her hands and informed her, "I'll hold on to that for you, Miss."
In an instant, Julie felt three and a half feet tall and five years old. Her stomach tightened and she felt afraid, although she wasn't sure what she was afraid might happen. To her knowledge, Adam had never struck either of his children; however, his verbal admonishments could be fierce and terrifying. As she slowly gulped, her eyes looked upward through the edges of her upper eyelids and met Adam's frown. Afraid to talk and also unsure what to say, Julie held her gaze and repeated silently to herself, Do not cry. Do not cry. Do not cry.
After holding an angry stare for what seemed like eternity, Adam advised, "Go to your room. Set your laptop in the hallway along with your clock radio and any other electronics. Brush your teeth, wash your face, and hit your rack." Hit your rack, Julie repeated in her head. It was the Navy phrase Adam used when he was upset and sending her to bed. Otherwise, even at Julie's age, Adam used the phrase Claire used to say to nudge the kids to bed, To bed, to bed, Sleepyhead. His recitation of the rhyme was one of the few ways Claire's memory was kept alive.
"Dad…" Julie began, eager to offer an apology and to plead her case.
Raising his voice to near-drill sergeant level, Adam bellowed close to Julie's face, "Did I say you could speak?"
"No, Sir," Julie responded meekly as she felt tears beginning to pool.
Once again, Adam held her stare. Julie knew if she broke eye contact, he would become even angrier. "Do what you were told to do before I lose my temper, Julia," he warned loudly.
Hasn't that already happened? Julie thought to herself. Quickly, she offered, "Yes, Sir," and retreated to her bedroom. Her don't cry mantra continued in her head as she placed her laptop, clock, phone charger, in the hallway. She changed into PJs and headed to the bathroom, knowing Adam would come and knock on the door if she took too long. Within five minutes, her bedroom light was off and she was under the covers. As she was expected to do when on restriction (another Navy term Adam used), she left her bedroom door open. It was 7:30pm.
As Julie lay in her bed, her head replayed the events of her day multiple times. She strained to listen for any footsteps or hints of movement from her father, assuming he would soon come by to check on her. After waiting ten minutes, she surrendered to the tears she'd been holding back. Turning onto her stomach, she buried her face into her pillow and sobbed.
When Adam raged, she felt so alone and small. Everything had changed when Claire died. Since then, Julie had been raised by her emotionally distant, stern, and grieving father. Sam, a senior in high school when he lost his mother, stayed away from home whenever possible. The following summer, Julie and Adam moved to Seattle and Sam left for the Naval Academy Preparatory School in Rhone Island. Sam tried to call his little sister and check on her occasionally, but his studies were intense and his life was busy. If Adam answered the phone, he and his son usually ended up in an argument, and Julie missed an opportunity to say hello to her sibling. Over time, more often than not, Sam reached out to Julie through letters or silly cards.
Following Claire's death, Julie overheard Adam mention to others that he put in for the transfer to Seattle because 'deployment was no longer an option.' Even at eleven, Julie knew she was the reason Adam's options had changed. The Navy was his life. He loved commanding a ship and being on the water. The widower, an only child, was stuck raising a young girl he barely knew. Claire had always handled the home front. She had raised the children, managed each move, and kept the house in order. While strict, she was also doting. Her children knew she adored them and clearly understood her expectations. Hugs and kisses were in constant supply, and laughter filled Claire, Sam, and Julie's days. More often than not, Adam was away. Even when he was in the States, he busied himself at the base and eagerly accepted extra responsibilities. Rather than being a fixture in his own family, Adam was like a holiday decoration that appeared only occasionally.
The one and only time Julie had ever seen her father shed a tear was the day Claire died. That day, the house darkened and life became more heavy and serious. Their neighbor, another officer's wife, had tucked Julie in that night and hugged her tightly. She promised to be at the house in the morning when Julie awoke. After the neighbor left, Julie could hear two voices in the living room. One was Adam's and the other was unfamiliar.
Curious, she tiptoed down the hall, slid onto the floor, and peeked around the corner. She spotted her always controlled, composed, serious father sobbing in the arms of another Navy officer. Later, seeing the man preside at Claire's funeral, Julie realized the man was the base chaplain. Watching Adam bawl uncontrollably was a captivating and intriguing site for the young girl. She'd never seen a boy over ten, much less a man, cry.
Much of what Adam said to the chaplain was indecipherable. One portion she heard clearly and never forgot was when Adam looked at the chaplain and inquired, "What am I supposed to do with her? I don't know how to raise a child, especially a little girl. I can't take her on a deployment with me. My career is over." The chaplain had calmly assured Adam that details could be clarified over time. For the moment, he reminded the widower, the mothers at the base would help however possible.
As Julie's mind replayed the day when her life radically changed, she also felt the weight of the day she'd just lived. Molly's hospitalization, Ryder's angst, and her father's fury toward her left her exhausted. Leaning into both her current and her buried pain, Julie found herself desperately missing her mother. Without being aware of it, Julie was screaming and moaning into her pillow as she cried uncontrollably.
Jolting her out of her sobs and memories, Adam's stern voice commanded from her doorway, "Hit the rack, Julia." In other words, That's enough emotion. Now be quiet and go to sleep.
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Ryder drove throughout Seattle all evening, taking his time before parking in the lot at Piper's apartment at 11:00pm. At first, Ryder reveled in the idea of convenient sex, no parental oversight, and a roommate who could legally buy alcohol. The first couple weeks living with Piper were relaxing – nobody hounded him about bedtime or homework and nobody insisted he eat meals at certain times. Piper's ready-to-play mentality was exciting and adventurous.
Then, Ryder's grades began to slip. Although only sliding from As to A minuses or B pluses, each falling mid-semester grade had the potential to affect his transcript. A lower GPA wasn't simply a matter of ego, it also meant a lower standing at the Academy from the beginning of his enrollment there.
In addition to plummeting grades, Ryder learned that he was far more of a clean freak than he ever thought. When he first moved in, Ryder readily volunteered to clean up because he was thankful to be out of the Lake House and wanted to be a great roommate. As days turned in to weeks, Ryder realized Piper was a complete and utter slob. Shoes were strewn around the house, dishes piled up in the sink, and the shared bathroom sink always had bits of makeup stuck to the porcelain.
When Ryder walked up the stairs and into the apartment after the long and emotional day, he unlocked the door and found Piper passed out on the couch. An empty wine bottle was on the coffee table alongside a wine glass tipped on its side. Her mascara was smudged under her eyes and on her cheeks. The previous night, he'd arrived home to a similar scene and helped Piper to bed.
"Piper," he whispered as he nudged her shoulder. She was obviously asleep and not unconscious, but did not respond to him. "Pippa Pips," he offered a little louder as he used his nickname for her.
"Hey, Ry Ry," she mumbled as she attempted to sit up and smile. Her eyes, swollen from crying, opened the slightest bit.
"You're a mess, Pips," he frowned. "I'll be right back." He propped her up against the arm of the couch and went to the kitchen. He wet a clean towel and grabbed spoons out of the refrigerator. When he first moved in, he was befuddled that forks and knives were in a drawer while spoons were in the fridge. He learned quickly that chilled spoons helped reduce the swelling of Piper's often-puffy, hungover eyes.
Returning to his friend, Ryder knelt down on the floor. He gently cleaned her face with the towel, paying special attention to removing the mascara. She could barely keep herself upright and Ryder used one hand to keep her from falling toward the center of the couch. He sighed sadly as he took in the sight.
"That feels good," she slurred. "I'm a mess."
"Yes, Piper, you are," Ryder responded flatly. "I'm worried about you, Pips."
"Yeah, I'm worried 'bout me too," she moaned.
"Really?" he inquired, not certain how engaged she was in their conversation.
"I'm really…" she began. Having been through the process with her before, Ryder anticipated that she was about to vomit. In the last week, after his clothes suffered the brunt of similar interactions, he'd taken to placing empty mixing bowls strategically around the apartment. Without thinking, he stretched back and grabbed a nearby bowl. It reached Piper just in time. Ryder's free hand quickly gathered Piper's gorgeous long hair and pulled it away from the bowl.
"You're my best friend…" she mumbled when she stopped.
"Let's get you in the bathroom, Pips," Ryder instructed lovingly, doing what he needed to do for his friend. Once he sat her down on the cold tile, she insisted on stretching out on it. Making sure she was on her side, in case she became sick again, Ryder once again wiped her face with a washcloth. He found a hair tie and carefully gathered her hair into a messy ponytail. Then he maneuvered his way between Piper and the bathtub, wrapping an arm around her and stroking her hair.
"How much did you drink, Piper?" he asked a few minutes later.
"Two," she confessed.
"Two? Two what?" he inquired.
"Wine. Two," she attempted to clarify.
Obviously, she'd had far more than two glasses of wine. Had she consumed two bottles? Piper was thin and tiny. Two bottles of wine were far more than her body could handle. "Two bottles?" he attempted to learn.
"Mmm Hmm," she disclosed as she vomited again. After helping her through that round, Ryder reached for his cell and called Amelia.
Although she was not on call, Amelia sat up and quickly answered the phone when it rang. Her first thought was about Molly. "Dr. Shepherd," she began.
"Mom?" Ryder replied. The hesitation in his voice made him sound about eight years old.
"Ryder, what's going on?" she questioned as she leaned back on a pile of pillows and whispered to her son.
"I think I'm in over my head," he admitted.
Amelia paused. Knowing Ryder, the situation could be anything from a car accident to being lost to being in jail over a silly misunderstanding. Without attempting to guess, Amelia simply assured him, "I'm here, Baby Bear."
"Mom…Piper's really drunk. Like fall down, can't walk, barely conscious drunk," he shared. "She's throwing up and slurring her words. She told me she drank two bottles of wine tonight."
"Where are you?" Amelia inquired. Owen turned over and softly touched Amelia's arm as he offered a curious glance. Holding up one finger, Amelia tried to focus on Ryder's voice.
"Home. Well… I mean… umm… Piper's apartment. My apartment. My place," Ryder fumbled as he searched for a way to describe where he'd been living.
"I'm on my way," she promised. "Keep her upright. If she passes out, call 911."
Feeling anxious, Ryder replied, "Thanks, Mom."
Amelia started to slide out of bed, but was slowed by Owen's tender grip. As he sat up, he questioned, "Mia, what's going on?"
"Piper. She's wasted. Ryder's scared," Amelia explained.
"Let me go," Owen offered as his feet hit the floor. "You need your rest."
"I promised him I was coming," she reasoned.
Owen stood and placed his hands on Amelia's shoulders, looking into her eyes with care. One hand slid over the area where her baby bump would soon emerge. Gently and with concern, he insisted, "Our baby needs a well-rested, low-stress Mama. Let me go. I'll help them out."
"You can't get angry at him, Owen. He made a courageous choice by calling for help. Don't admonish him for being a part of this," she emphasized.
Kissing her forehead, Owen assured her, "I'll be in my best, most professional, non-Dad, doctor mode." She sat on the bed reluctantly and Owen eased her onto her back. He whispered, "I'll be back as soon as I can. Rest, ok? I've got this." Amelia nodded and found that her pregnant body had no trouble falling back to sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~'
Within minutes, Owen was at the apartment. He opened the unlocked door and heard Piper groaning. Between bouts of vomiting, she was mumbling about how she would never drink again. Owen grimaced and braced himself. As he headed toward the bathroom, he took in the sight of the disorganized, chaotic apartment and tried to contain his disgust.
When he reached the doorway, Owen knelt down and set his med back on the floor. He caught Ryder's eye and mentioned softly, "I wanted Mom to stay home. You know…" he began before remembering the pregnancy hadn't yet been announced. "Umm… she's tired… been working too much."
"K," Ryder acknowledged, wondering why Owen was so awkward. "Piper? My dad's here to help."
"I donn wanna be sick more," she groaned.
Owen smirked, mostly for his own benefit. As he flipped his stethoscope around his neck and onto his ears, he replied, "I'm sure you don't, Piper." He listened to her heart and lungs before taking her BP. Just before the cuff loosened, he had to pause so she could vomit again. Dutifully, Ryder wiped her face and put a different cool towel on her forehead. Grasping her chin in his hand, Owen ran a light into Piper's eyes, checked her glands, and pulled her lower lids down one at a time with his thumb.
"Piper, I think a trip to the hospital might be wise," he advised.
Ryder looked at his dad with concern and whispered, "Is she going to be ok?"
Unsure what, if anything, Ryder had to do with the mess before him, Owen simply nodded before instructing, "Go grab clean clothes for her – PJs or something comfortable – and a coat. I'll need your help getting her changed."
After maneuvering Piper's body and encouraging her participation, the two were able to remove the vomit-splattered clothes and slip on fresh, clean PJs. Having thought ahead, Owen had driven over in the van. If Piper puked in it, it wouldn't be the first time someone had been sick in the van.
After the brief drive to the ER, Owen helped his medical team settle Piper into a treatment room. Once Piper was entrusted to residents who could handle the situation, Owen stepped out to the waiting room to find Ryder.
"What's up?" Ryder inquired when he saw Owen.
"She'll be fine. Needs to be rehydrated and given an antiemetic," he shared, unaware of his medspeak. Ryder nodded and returned his concentration to the TV on the wall. After a minute of silence, Owen added without making eye contact, "How often has this happened?"
"Tonight's the worst I've seen. Drinking? Most nights. Drinking til she barfs? Three or four times a week," he reported.
"Once she's stable, she should consider treatment," Owen commented in general.
Ryder nodded, "Yeah… probably."
"Who's her next of kin? Should we call her mom?" Owen inquired.
"By this point in the night, her mom is probably passed out from drinking too," Ryder grumbled. "I guess Linnea… she's far away but is probably the only normal person in the family."
Slightly chuckling, Owen stated, "Every family has to have one of those."
"Yeah, good thing we've got Nolan, huh?" Ryder deadpanned.
Owen stepped away and called up to Molly's unit before attempting to reach Linnea. The Tremblay Hunts were asleep and stable. Molly's second CT had come back promising and had shown no signs for concern. Assuming nothing occurred overnight, Derek planned to release her in the morning. Relieved with the news, Owen proceeded to call Linnea and wake her up. Her sleepy voice answered the phone.
As soon as Linnea heard Owen's voice, she knew something was wrong with either her mother or Piper. After explaining the situation, Linnea mentioned that she'd fly home. They discussed treatment options and their hunches about whether or not Piper would consent to treatment. Owen asked Linnea about her own health and was saddened to hear that she wheelchair dependent again. She asked about Nolan and Lissa and was thrilled to hear about their rapidly growing family.
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"Mommy?" Lucas sounded with a wet, breathy, 8-year-old whisper.
"Did your sensor go off?" Amelia kidded, hunching that somehow Lucas knew Owen had left the house.
"My what?" the red head asked as he cocked his head.
Raising the blankets, Amelia invited Lucas to join her in bed, "Crawl in. Daddy's not here."
Beaming, Lucas and his ear-to-ear smile climbed up and snuggled in tight to Amelia. "Careful," Amelia called out with a start, suddenly wide awake and alert. As he'd pushed against her body, Lucas had leaned against her breasts that were tender due to the pregnancy.
"Did I hurt you, Mama?" he turned and faced her with concern. "I'm sorry."
"You surprised me, Monkey. That's all. When Mommy's are pregnant, their bodies are more tender," Amelia spilled out, not realizing she was breaking the big news to her little boy.
"So why are you tender?" Lucas queried with confusion.
Fading off to sleep, Amelia mumbled, "Because of the baby, Monkey."
Lucas lowered his brow and twisted around to stare at Amelia. What baby? he wondered to himself.