To the ignorant eye, the flicker of candles, the soft jazz emitting from the stereo, and the handsome, half-naked man sitting beside a bathtub would have been indicative of any honeymoon night.
The sounds emitting from her lips, however, seemed more reminiscent of a barnyard.
Noises she would have heard in her grandparents' stables.
Noises she did hear in her grandparents' stables, when spring rolled around and brought with it the entrance of foals.
She had rolled her body that way, too; the way she had seen her family's horses roll during the foalings.
She had wondered then if they knew what they were experiencing; if they somehow knew that their lives, like hers, were about to be forever changed.
If they had prepared for their foals, the way she had prepared for her baby girl.
Months of waiting, of scans, of blood draws, of choosing designs and furniture for the nursery had led her here.
Had she prepared enough? she debated, using her question as somewhat of a distraction despite being fully cognizant of the well-stocked nursery.
Between Andrea and Kelly, they may have been set on books and clothes until well into mid-childhood.
Brenda hung her head and arms over the tub, breathing through what she convinced herself was her millionth contraction.
"You're doing great, Bren." Dylan caressed her arms. "You're doing great."
How great could she be doing, she mused, when her body had been stretched out over a spinning wheel and spun on an endless loop into a soldier's drawn, spiked sword?
"I can't do this, Dylan," she said.
"Yes you can, Bren. You can." Although his soothing tone did not waver, there was an edge of conviction that enforced his belief in her. "You can do anything. You've always been able to do anything, and you can absolutely do this."
"No, I mean I'm starving," she said. "I have to eat something if I'm going to get through these contractions. Can I eat?"
"The midwife said you can. Strict nutritious diet." Without removing his hands from her arms, Dylan called out, "Oh, Mr. Walsh!" in a sing-song.
Brandon cracked open the door.
"Did everyone disperse?" Dylan asked him.
"We've got company," said Brandon. "A whole bunch of dozing company, Jake included. I've been ordered to wake all of them when you give me the okay."
"Did Leena go home?" asked Brenda. "I expect her shift's probably ended by now."
"We offered her Val's room," said Brandon. "I'm supposed to wake Leena up, too. Contractions closer together?" he asked.
"Still twenty minutes apart," said Dylan, showing Brandon the stopwatch.
"I think she's changed her mind about coming," said Brenda. "Maybe she decided to give us the rest of our honeymoon night to be together."
"We could try sleeping again," said Dylan.
The last time Brenda had left the tub to attempt sleeping in her husband's arms, she had been throttled awake by an unbearable contraction a half-hour after the one before.
"You could try sleeping," said Brenda.
"No can do, babe," said Dylan. "I won't be able to sleep a wink without you, you know that." He looked back at Brandon. "My wife is hungry."
"Can she eat?" asked Brandon.
"Soup and fruit," said Dylan.
"On it," said Brandon.
"Tea too, please." Brenda drew a sharp breath.
Dylan stopped the timer. "Fifteen," he said. "Our first fifteen." He counted through Brenda's contraction. "Ninety seconds."
"Still want me to get that food?" asked Brandon.
"Yes," said Brenda. "Leena said I can have it, which means I can have it. No fucking ice chips for me."
"Innocent ears are making their way down," said Dylan.
Brandon asked Brenda's soup of choice.
Pho, she said, and then noticed how Dylan grew pensive.
"My love?" she asked.
"Pho," he said. "You ate that, the - the night we might've conceived her. Pho, and a lamb kebab."
"I was wanting a lamb kebab now," said Brenda, "but I figured I'd tell Brandon what's in the fridge, instead of make him search for a Middle Ea - Middle Ea -"
She broke off as a contraction overtook her.
"Middle Eastern restaurant," said Dylan.
"Open at - what time is it?" Brenda groaned.
"A little after four," said Brandon.
"When did we get here?" Brenda asked Dylan.
"You left the rest of us about twenty after five," said Brandon. "I was following instructions with Kelly when I saw you leave."
"Following instructions?" asked Brenda.
"Dancing," said Dylan. "They were dancing. Let's see; we got into the pool about half-five," he noted, "Shower was, what, about quarter past six? Then your water broke around half-six. So by the time we made it here, would've been about seven forty-five."
"Oh God," said Brenda, as she did the maths and realized how long it had been since she had entered active labor. "You should read to her," she said. "She likes it when you read to her. It might coax her out."
"Jones," said Dylan.
"Off of your bookshelf?" asked Brandon.
"It's on my desk," said Dylan. "And get my guitar, while you're at it. My girls love listening to me play; don't you, Mrs. McKay?"
"I'll love it even more if your playing gets me fully dilated the next time Leena checks on me," said Brenda.
Brandon left to do their bidding.
"I don't know if we should be ordering him around like this," said Brenda. "It seems kind of cruel, acting like my brother's our manservant."
"His fault for offering anything he could do," said Dylan. "Practically made himself the errand boy."
"Did Val also go to sleep?" asked Brenda.
"That girl's had so much coffee, there's no way she's gonna sleep," said Dylan. "She and Silver decided to take in the view from the roof."
"I'm sorry I ruined our first time as husband and wife with my water breaking," said Brenda. "We couldn't even finish, and now we can't do it at all when we could have had multiple rounds in the time it's taken for me to dilate."
"Don't ever be sorry for that," said Dylan. "Our girl's just taking her time, like her mother. Taking a stroll. Seeing the sights."
"If she wanted to do that," said Brenda, "she could have waited another two weeks."
"Can you blame her for wanting to join in on all the fun we were having?" asked Dylan.
"I could use a little fun right now," said Brenda.
Dylan drew her face to his, kissing her as he had done numerous times since they had entered the tub.
They had developed a system, where one of them would latch their lips to the other until Brenda had to break away to curse her way through a contraction.
"I didn't know you could curse in Finnish," said Dylan, his head pressed against Brenda's as her arms gripped his neck and his hand massaged her stabbing stomach. "Did Kai teach you those?"
"Alina, if you can believe it," said Brenda. "Though her teaching me was unintentional. I heard it on the telly before one of our sessions."
"Think she'll say telly?" asked Dylan.
"Not sure. Do you want her to?"
"London means so much to us, I'd like her to know a little of what we heard there."
"You've picked up some of it, you know."
"How do you reckon?"
"How many Americans do you know who say half-five?"
"I would've said thirty, but thanks to my wife, my thirty sounds strange now. Brandon claims it sounds more like thirteen."
"He thinks I'm saying fifteen when I say fifty -"
"And seventeen when I say seventy," said Dylan. "You really have affected my speech, babe. Too many years in London."
"You'll start sounding like a Finn soon enough," said Brenda, before a contraction interrupted her train of thought.
"So," Dylan's lips crossed over Brenda's chest, "want to tell me when these contractions actually started?"
"In the shower?" said Brenda innocently.
"Why do I get the feeling they started before that?" asked Dylan.
"When I texted you," said Brenda. "I felt something then, after you'd stopped texting, but I was tired. Nothing terrible, just a little pressure on my belly. I decided if it grew more intense, it'd wake me and when it didn't -"
"You had another in the morning," said Dylan. "When you told me your butt hurt."
"Just a little one," said Brenda. "You told me to tell you if it got worse. It didn't, so I didn't tell you. They weren't consistent enough. I braced myself on the way over, but then I didn't feel anything else until -"
"Until we were dancing?"
"Until the shower," said Brenda, "right before my water broke. When we were already connected. Dancing and our swim was fine."
She didn't tell Dylan that she had been so consumed by her insatiable, desirous love for him when they were standing in front of the officiator that had a contraction indeed slithered through her body, she believed she would have been unlikely to notice.
"I had felt a bit off since the scan," she said, "like I somehow knew we'd end the week with her in our arms, but there wasn't any serious pai - pai - dammit all to Hell!"
Her hand had become a companion of her stomach, clutching her searing belly during every contraction.
In-between contractions, she still felt the movement of her daughter, as if the baby were running in place to gear up for a marathon and had decided to take the long way around to the finish line.
"Fourteen," said Dylan. He kissed the entirety of Brenda's back as he scraped his hands across it. "She'll have dual citizenship," he said. "I almost had dual citizenship."
"You did?"
"An hour earlier, and I would've been born in Mexico."
"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me. Mom said Bran and I were nearly born in Canada."
"That one does surprise me." Dylan set his cheek on Brenda's stomach. "Oh daughter of mine, conceived in England, carried around in Australia, grown in and about to be born in Finland, how do you feel about us moving to Italy? Getting you triple citizenship?"
A kick more powerful than any Brenda had experienced in her entire pregnancy signaled the start of another contraction.
"That's twelve," said Dylan. "We're down to twelve. And she's clearly up for the move."
"When are you thinking?" Brenda took comfort in Dylan's skin.
"A year." Dylan brought Brenda's face into his bare chest. "Maybe two. We'll get your heart back in shape, give Arnold's experiment a go, and see how long it takes for you to finish the movie."
"I almost forgot about the mo - mo - mov - fuck!" Brenda squeezed her eyes shut. "What, does she have a fucking knife in there she's decided to wave around like a fucking baton?"
"Eleven," said Dylan.
"Italy," said Brenda when she could speak again. "You were - were talking about Italy."
"You could have more acting jobs by then," said Dylan.
"What will we do with the shops?"
"We'll keep the bookshop. It's got too much meaning to give to someone else."
"The place you found me."
"Right. The place I found you."
"The music shop?"
"Might offer it to Silver, but I'll have to see what his plans are, first."
The distraction was working.
"You'll write in Italy," said Brenda. "And I'll - I'll act."
"And we'll open up another bookshop there, maybe one we can run together," said Dylan before adding, "Ten."
Had briefly worked, anyway.
Brandon returned with a tray, Dylan's guitar case slung across his back.
"Your libations, Madame McKay," said Brandon, holding the tray out with a flourish.
With their gratitude said to Brandon, Dylan fed Brenda her soup and reached for the stack of printed paper Brandon had retrieved.
"I got to thinking," said Dylan, "when I gave the finished product to my publisher for baby girl's book that maybe I could write something else; something longer, more mature."
He showed Brenda the title.
"Minnie and Baja?" she asked.
"Working title," said Dylan.
"It's about us," Brenda realized.
"I told you all the bad stuff," said Dylan, "but there's plenty of good stuff I haven't shared with you yet. I figured I could put it all down in a book, for you to look at any time you feel like it. I wanted to push you a bit with the play - a bit, not too hard, enough that you would reexamine what you thought you knew about my feelings or lack thereof for you, so I took us and made Tiberius, Tatiana. Set it in a fantasy, a fictional account. This one is entirely us, our reality. Maybe it will spark something, maybe it won't, but at least this way, you can know the things I know. See us through the lense I've seen us."
"I love it," said Brenda.
"You haven't heard it yet."
"I still love it."
Brenda ate her fruit and sipped from her tea, dealing with her ten-minute-apart contractions as she listened to Dylan play his guitar whilst reading from their novel.
"As a child of the ocean," Dylan read, "he had grown up near the boardwalk. He had seen the crowds clamber onto the glittering Ferris wheels, a glow of neon in the otherwise tenebrous nights. He himself had avoided Ferris wheels, until he had been pulled onto one by her.
He had never believed in religion, taken stock in saints or the prayers they stood for, until a medal for Genesius stared up at him in the shop. 'That's the one,' he told the woman behind the counter.' 'Genesius was an actor,' she said. 'So is my girl,' he replied."
"Have I told you lately how much I love you?" asked Brenda.
"Doesn't hurt to hear it again," said Dylan.
Brenda's fruit was left partially finished when Dylan intercepted the cup and announced, "Four minutes."
Brenda sipped from her tea.
"Three," said Dylan, catching the tea cup before it could shatter.
All Brenda could do was what she had been advised in class.
Dog earing a page, Dylan again opened the door and shouted, "Bran, get the others! Hurry!"
Dylan made to sit behind Brenda, who held out her hand to signal for him to halt and shook her head.
"No?" he asked. A slight bit of hurt seeped through.
It had become difficult for Brenda to speak in full sentences.
"Plan was," she said, "plan was -"
"For me to comfort you as Leena and Val deliver her," said Dylan.
"Plan's changed," said Brenda. "Paper. Pen."
Dylan grabbed paper and pen. Brenda wrote out her wish. The pen quaked in her hand, slipping across the page as she attempted to write through piercing contractions so close together.
"You want me to deliver her," said Dylan.
"If - if you want," said Brenda.
"Because I had trouble trusting my parents," Dylan read, "and your diary said you had difficulty knowing if you could trust Jim. So you - you want her to know she can trust us from the beginning. You want the first person who holds her to be one of us."
"You catch her," said Brenda.
The speed and rhythm of her breaths increased.
Dylan had already gotten in place by the time the small group returned.
"Change of plans," he told Val. "You comfort Bren. I've got this."
Brenda hunched over on her hands and knees, ensuring her lower half remained submerged in the water as it faced Dylan and Leena the midwife.
Valerie and Brandon held Brenda's hands. Valerie sat closeby in the tub, Brandon directly outside of it.
"David asked if we were going to document this," said Cindy.
"I told him I did not believe my son and daughter wanted the birth to be filmed," said Iris.
"You thought right," said Dylan. "That's fine for other families, but not for ours. Cindy can take a few pictures. The first footage Bren and I have of our kid isn't gonna be straight out of the womb, with the nitty-gritty details. And I don't want my wife's pain captured on film."
Mind-numbing pressure the likes of which she had never known engulfed Brenda's bottom as if she had sat down in an exposed pile of burning coals. It made it difficult to keep her legs still.
Brenda cried out, relying on Brandon and Valerie to help try to relax her.
"Can I push?" asked Brenda. "I need to - I need to push."
"Not as of yet," said Leena.
"I - I have to!" said Brenda. "I can feel her head!"
"And I see it," said Dylan. "I see our baby's beautiful, beautiful head," he repeated, choked-up. "Now, Brenda. You can push now."
Brenda pushed, clutching the arms of Brandon and Valerie who both encouraged her in their own words.
Valerie sounded the epitome of an NFL cheerleader, a bizarre sound coming from one who had made pessimism her duty.
If the contractions had been terrible, the pushing was worse. Brenda pushed only when she was told, which wasn't quick enough to her liking.
She thought of opening her eyes, to see when her daughter would emerge from the birth canal. The unfathomable pain that had taken control of her body forced them to stay closed.
"Again," said Leena.
"I can't." Brenda battled the urge to give in to her desired sleep. "I can't."
"Again," Leena repeated, in the little English she possessed.
"Baby." Dylan pressed upon Brenda's back. "Baby, her head's out. Her shoulders are out. Just give me one more giant push and she'll - she'll -" his voice faded as Brenda concentrated on bearing down as hard as her waning strength allowed, likely crushing the knuckle bones of Brandon and Valerie in the process, "she's out! Brenda, she's here! "
Hearing the cry of her child for the first time, Brenda fell back against Dylan and wept tears of her own.
The salt that mixed with hers told her that Dylan had also shed a fair amount.
"She's here," said Brenda. "She's finally here."
Born at half-past six, Leena announced. Healthy. Squalling, with a strong set of lungs reminiscent of both of her parents.
In the drained recesses of her mind, Brenda calculated.
It had been precisely twelve hours since her waters had broken. Over twenty-four hours since her first true contraction, the one she had been wary to inform Dylan of in the event it had been just another bout of Braxton Hicks.
How Brenda had managed to dance or swim at all when her body had attempted to tell her of her labor was a mystery to her.
"I'm about to introduce you to someone you're gonna think is mighty special," Dylan told their daughter, "and that's because she is. Without her, you wouldn't be here. You know her body better than I do, and that's saying something because I know Bren's body well. Better than anyone, 'til you came along. Still better than anyone. You're the one exception because for you to get here, she had to make sure she protected your heart and lungs. Her heart and lungs."
Dylan placed their wailing newborn on Brenda's chest, just under her bikini top.
Brenda had thought she had known love, until the child she and Dylan had crafted from a zygote connected with her skin.
Too knackered to remember words, Brenda carefully cuddled her baby in the crook of her arm and let her ample emotion communicate for her.
Brenda took in every part of her daughter. She counted every wrinkle. Every movement. The ten kick counts had become ten fingers. Ten toes. Two eyes. Ears. And those lips; she would recognize those lips anywhere.
The lips of her husband.
Brenda placed the tip of her finger to her daughter's chest.
She felt the pulse of her daughter. The pulse of her husband struck up a chord behind her head.
It was the sweetest rhythm she had ever known.
"I heard this heart," she said. "Val, your auntie, and Brandon, your uncle, they heard it, too. Then your Daddy did."
"You've had us wound around these fingers since the echo of that heartbeat," said Dylan, in a voice almost like a lullaby. "I'm sorry I missed the first one."
"It wasn't that earlier before you did," said Brenda to try to ease Dylan's mind, though there was little ease to be found in the abundant guilt Brenda knew Dylan still carried over how many months of the pregnancy he had missed.
His arms wrapped around her.
"That's some McKay hair," he said, noting their baby's dark curls.
"Because she's a McKay," said Brenda, "and so am I."
If it was possible, Dylan further enveloped Brenda.
"I'll bet she's got the eyes of a Walsh," he said.
The former image on a screen became hidden by a towel, just long enough for Leena to clean her up so that Brandon could cut the baby's umbilical cord.
"God, she's gorgeous," said Valerie. "And that's with her eyes closed, so who knows how more gorgeous she is with them open."
As if in response, the baby yawned.
Brenda was enraptured.
A slew of compliments were directed Brenda's way, mainly how proud of her every individual was who had witnessed the birth.
It was her mother's beaming smile, her hand against Brenda's cheek as she commented on Brenda's immeasurable strength, that got to Brenda most of all.
"Thank you, Mom," she said as Cindy bent forward to kiss Brenda's forehead.
"Congratulations, Grandma," Iris told Cindy.
"Congratulations, Nana," said Cindy. "Feel like indulging in a congratulatory wine?"
"I could certainly partake in some," said Iris.
"I gotta go tell Steve our brother delivered his own baby," said Brandon.
"Typical," said Val. "The woman does all the work and the man gets the credit."
"I was going to tell him all about my amazing sister, too," said Brandon. "Cool your jets, Val."
"Come to think of it," said Val, "I did promise David and Clare that I would tell them as soon as she arrived."
"I ought to tell Kelly," said Brandon.
The reason for their excuses was glaringly obvious, but Brenda didn't mind.
They departed, leaving Leena and the emotional grandmothers to assist Brenda in delivering the significantly less painful afterbirth before they also departed.
The family of three were temporarily left alone, to revel in the joy of being together.
"Thank you," Dylan kissed Brenda, and repeated his gratitude several more times.
"I couldn't have done it without you," she told him, finding her scratchy voice.
"You could have," said Dylan. "But I can't tell you how grateful I am that you didn't." He touched their daughter's miniature fist, as Brenda was doing. "If perfection doesn't exist, then why is it resting in my arms, bearing my name?"
"We made her," said Brenda. She turned her head into Dylan's cheek. "We, the two of us, made her."
"Our melody," said Dylan. "Still debating on whether her name fits her?"
"It fits her," said Brenda. "Absolutely."
"Did you see that?" asked Dylan. "She just scrunched her nose."
"Like you do," said Brenda.
"You do it plenty, too," said Dylan. "Thanks for not threatening to dismember my babymaker."
"Your babymaker?"
"We made a baby. We made her, so I get to call him my babymaker."
"Why would I dismember him?" asked Brenda. "I still need a second round. A complete second round."
"Soon as we get the okay, I'll give my wife all the rounds she wants," said Dylan. "We've got about fifty, sixty, seventy years' worth of rounds ahead of us. Eighty, if we're really lucky."
They made their way into the bedroom, Dylan taking the baby as Brenda changed into a dry slip.
She lacked the energy and arm movement to change into anything else; yet, her energy briefly returned when she looked at Dylan.
Holding their daughter, skin-to-skin as he had held Brenda many a time.
"You were made to love her," said Brenda.
"I was made to love both of you," said Dylan. "My McKay girls."
He opened one arm to Brenda, who returned to the embrace of her family.
"How about you and her get some sleep, then we can introduce her to the others," said Dylan.
"You should also try to sleep," said Brenda. "She won't always be this quiet."
"I'm gonna be up for a while," said Dylan.
Brenda gingerly climbed into bed as Leena returned with a scale to weigh the infant.
Eight pounds, twelve ounces, the scale declared for the weight of Brenda's universe.
Half of her universe, she inwardly corrected, as the other half removed the baby from the scale.
Dylan swaddled their healthy daughter and returned her to her mother's chest.
Mother. The tiny angel with the flushed, pudgy cheeks sleeping in Brenda's arms would grow up, calling Brenda her mother.
The thought was overwhelming, in a good way.
"You're her father," she told Dylan, sleepily.
"You made me a father," said Dylan, as he lightly kissed Brenda's temple. "Becoming a father with my best friend, the great love of my life, that's something I never thought would happen. I'll never stop thanking you for it."
"I'll be thanking you just as much," said Brenda.
Her eyelids drooped with fatigue.
"Sleep now, my love," said Dylan. "I'll wake you when she gets hungry."
"I bet you're looking forward to that," Brenda managed to say in her half-awake state.
"I always look forward to seeing my wife's breasts hanging out, in all their majestic glory."
"You just want to taste my milk again."
"Your milk will give our daughter life, so I'm not joking when I say it's some damn important milk." Dylan cuddled Brenda to him. "How's your head?" he asked.
"It isn't throbbing, so that's good."
"Your heart?"
"Bursting," she said. "How's yours?"
"Clutched in two different fists."
"Think you'll get it untangled?"
"Maybe I could if I really tried, but why would I want to?"
The last noise Brenda heard as she succumbed to her fatigue was Dylan, softly conversing with their daughter.
Their largely one-sided conversation served as a relaxing melody of its own, a balm to Brenda's utterly knackered soul.
Knackered, yet euphoric, soul.
A soul clutched in the fists of two others, who she had no intention of trying to retrieve it from.
Even if she wanted to.
xx
He had made it his sole mission, to not permit his wife to see his petrification.
He had been assured that she had up to twenty-four hours to deliver their baby before it would be wiser to induce, but the more pain Brenda went through, the more terrified Dylan had become.
Her mind was weak. Her heart was weak.
He had to bear the strength enough for both of them, to help Brenda through childbirth, and so he had slapped on a brave face and soothed Brenda where he could.
Until he knelt there, beside Leena, directly by Brenda, and saw his daughter's head peeking through his wife's vagina.
It was then that Dylan was able to truly calm his fears, to help Brenda calm hers and pour encouragement upon her.
To help Leena guide his daughter out of what had been her home of over nine months.
He hoped she would like her new home, that she would like him.
He didn't have to hope that she would like Brenda, because he didn't question that she would.
"I'm your Daddy," he told her, his glazed vision taking in the tiny life in his disposable glove-adorned hands.
He told her about Brenda, trying to relay how important Brenda was to both of them.
He had heard the others. He didn't have the words to say back, merely a slight acknowledgement when he saw them leave out of his peripheral vision.
He was physically unable to remove his starstruck gaze from either of his girls.
It darted back and forth between Brenda and their daughter, both of whom were asleep in his arms.
He would need to grow a third arm, he thought, if their family of three would eventually become four.
For now, he held Brenda with one arm, their child in the other.
"We need to let your Mommy sleep for just a bit," he told her. "Can you do that? Can you let Mummy sleep, so she can wake up and feed you?"
He had thought that only Brenda could have a firm grasp on his heart and soul, until his daughter had scrunched up her nose at him.
He was instantly besotted with her, the same way he was besotted with her mother.
"I did ask you to wait a bit longer, to stay in there until Mommy and I were back together, didn't I?" asked Dylan. "And to be fair, you did. Guess I should have also requested that you give it until Daddy was able to finish, uh…painting Mommy's skin. Yeah. Painting Mommy's skin with our favorite…paint. It'd been a long time since we painted each other's skin like we did last night."
He caught the baby's waving, clenched fist and pressed a tiny kiss to it.
"I know I missed a lot," he said. "I missed too much, way too much, but I want you to know that I'm always gonna be there. For you and your Mummy. See this?" Dylan flicked out his ring finger, showing his daughter his new band. "That's my promise to your mom, and that's my promise to you. I'm planning to give Brenda another seventy to eighty years in my presence, so you can expect the same. I'll probably embarrass you a time or two, but I wouldn't be much of a dad if I didn't; would I?"
Dylan kissed her forehead.
"And no, your mom and I aren't gonna stop making out just because it might repel you," he added. "It's one of my favorite things to do, make out with your mum. We have lots of favorite things in common and we'll tell you oh, about eighty-seven percent of them."
Brenda stirred beside him.
"Hey," he said, grinning down at her.
"I thought it was all a dream," Brenda said as she woke up.
"The labor?" asked Dylan.
"The labor, our vows. Everything. I thought it was all a dream."
"It's not," said Dylan. "Nothing our minds have the capacity to dream up could have ever dreamt up her." He flashed his band. "And us getting married was definitely not a dream." He lifted Brenda's finger to show her her own band.
He was temporarily distracted by Brenda's lips aligning with his.
Brenda pulled away upon the sound of their baby's cry, reaching out her arms.
Dylan placed their baby back in her mother's hold.
As if on cue, Leena entered in and showed Brenda how to get the child to latch onto her breast.
Dylan watched his girls, mesmerized by the way his daughter fed off of Brenda's nipple.
If he had loved Brenda's breasts before, he loved them seventyfold now.
"How does it feel?" he asked, wanting to know everything Brenda would experience that he couldn't.
"Strange," said Brenda. "But a good strange." She glanced at the dresser. "Can you get my brush? I must look a total mess."
"You look gorgeous," said Dylan. "You always look gorgeous."
"Bedhead is not gorgeous," said Brenda.
Dylan walked over to the dresser and brought Brenda her brush.
"I think we should get the gang in here and introduce her to them," he said. "I swear I heard Sanders go by about five thousand times while you were sleeping."
"I've been thinking," she said, "and I think you should invite one more person here before we do."
Listening to Brenda's request, Dylan pressed her over whether she was certain.
"I'm sure," said Brenda. "Now, go make the call before I change my mind."
Dylan did as he was told, withdrawing to the other side of the room as his eyes never strayed from the scene on his bed.
The caller on the other line pressed Dylan over whether his request had been a mistake.
"No mistake," said Dylan. "I'm calling on behalf of Bren. We're sure. Come on over."
"I'll be there shortly," said the caller.
"Does Leena think we need to go to hospital?" asked Brenda when Dylan returned to the bed.
"She said I'm to keep an eye on the both of you," said Dylan. "If everything stays good, no need for hospital."
Brenda's relief was palpable.
Dylan didn't want to leave their side for a moment, not even to get the others.
Valerie bounced in just in time.
"Can't you knock?" asked Dylan.
"My sister just had a baby," said Val. "I've seen more of her than I ever saw, except maybe when our parents put us in the tub together when we were really young, and it's not like you'd be in here, having sex when Bren's hooha is healing."
"She has a point," said Brenda.
"If I didn't plow through this door, Steve would've, and I assume you don't want Steve to get a glimpse of your wife's boobs," Val continued.
He had called Brenda his wife multiple times in the past day, but it somehow sounded even more wonderful coming from the lips of another.
"Bren could have been sleeping," said Dylan.
"I heard her up," Val shrugged.
"We gotta get thicker walls," said Dylan. "And thicker doors."
"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that," said Val, uncharacteristically wringing her hands. "I'm not sure now is a good time to bring it up."
"It's as good a time as any," said Brenda, helping the baby relatch to her breast. "You know you can tell us anything. Can't she, Dylan?"
"Anything," Dylan agreed, and then backtracked. "Details of your coitus with Silver excluded."
"My what?" asked Val.
"He means sex," said Brenda. "He doesn't want the details, but I'll take them."
Dylan playfully glared at her.
"You don't need to know anything about how Silver is in bed," said Dylan.
"Then why did I dream about him last night?" asked Brenda.
She answered Dylan's annoyance and Valerie's open jaw with an "I'm just kidding."
"I'm banning all coitus talk around our child," said Dylan grumpily.
"Dylan being shy about sex; that's a new one," said Val.
"Oh, he's not shy at all," said Brenda, and blushed furiously.
"You two!" Val pointed at both of them with her first and last finger. "When?"
"She can tell you later," said Dylan. "What did you want to talk to us about?"
"I wanted to see if Bren's okay with me moving out," said Val.
Dylan braced himself for Brenda's response.
"To live with David," said Brenda in a reaction Dylan hadn't expected. "Just the two of you."
"How'd you -" Val started.
"Because," said Brenda, "I've built a home with my man. Now it's your turn to do the same." She rested her head on Dylan's neck. "And because even though he isn't willing to tell me yet, I know Brandon's planning to leave, too. You were both waiting for me to have her."
"We weren't -" Val began.
"You were," said Brenda. "And that's okay. You wanted to make sure I could take care of myself and her before you left, because I didn't think I could take care of either of us. I thought it might be better for her if she could be adopted by a family who could take care of her. But even though I'll still have bad days, still have terrible days where it'll feel like I can't do anything right, I know Dylan will be there to get us through them. He'll protect me from trains. He'll take care of us when I can't. And the rest of the time, I'll be able to take care of her. I knew it when I held her. I don't have any more doubts that I'll be a good mother, because she'll help me to be a good mother."
Dylan wrapped his arm around Brenda's shoulder and pulled her closer to him to kiss her hair.
"So you can leave," said Brenda, "and Brandon can, too. Just so long as both of you promise to always come back."
"You're half of my first home," said Val. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "I'll always come back."
Dylan felt around the nightstand and held out a box of tissues for Valerie.
She blew her nose.
"Where will you and David live?" asked Brenda.
"We're not sure," said Val. "We might renew the lease on David's place, but we're considering moving to Belfast."
"Northern Ireland?" asked Dylan.
"Maine," said Val. "Curtis was moved to the state prison there, in Walden, and I want to be closer to him. We figured Maine would be easier to get flights out this way than moving back to Cali."
"Cal," said Dylan. "Curtis isn't in New York?"
"Rick specially requested to have him moved," said Val. "I didn't want Curtis to have to stay in Buffalo, or anywhere near that bi - witch who calls herself our mother."
Brenda shifted, indicating to Dylan that she was about to hand their child back over.
Dylan grabbed a burping cloth and worked on burping the baby.
She was so small, his hand so large, that he worried her fragile body would be crushed in his tapping.
"That'll be good," said Brenda. "You can work on finding out Abby's secret from Maine. Maybe you can cross over into Canada. Brandon might have a contact who has a contact who has a contact who can get you into the newspaper archives in Bowmanville. You can go directly to the source, and we'll keep working on it out here."
"You don't have to," said Val. "You're new parents. You'll be busy."
"We won't be too busy to help you, Val," said Dylan.
"Especially if we can get Curtis out of prison," said Brenda.
"David thinks we can get hold of some papers, too," said Val.
"What kind of papers?" asked Dylan.
"The kind of papers that mean to Abby, I was only ever a shot at thousands," said Val.
"Abby's wrong," said Brenda. "You're worth millions."
The baby scrunched up her nose, as if in agreement.
"She knows so, too," said Brenda.
"We should probably give her her name now," said Dylan.
"Or we could just keep calling her The Baby," said Brenda.
"The Baby McKay," said Val.
"Baby McKay," said Brenda.
"We are not naming our daughter after Dirty Dancing," said Dylan.
"I wouldn't take you for a Patrick Swayze kind of guy, Dylan," said Val.
"You have to be when your wife is Brenda McKay," said Dylan. "Bren and I have a name picked out, and it isn't Baby."
Baby was his Brenda, and always would be.
"We just aren't using it until we tell all of you," said Brenda. "Which we'll do when -"
The commotion outside signaled the arrival of the one they had been waiting for.
"Hold on. That sounds like…" Valerie ran to the window. "Want me to make him leave?"
"We asked him here," said Brenda.
"Then I'll go stop Steve," said Val, peering out. "He's getting a bit protective."
"Tell them they can come up here," said Dylan. "All of them."
Valerie took her leave.
"My family is small," Brenda cooed to their daughter.
"Mine is smaller," said Dylan.
"But we're in a gang," they said together.
"Not an actual gang," said Dylan. "We just call ourselves that."
"So your family isn't small at all," said Brenda, "because ours is actually quite large."
"And when you have a gang of your own -"
"Your family will get even larger."
"Just try to not have a Steve in yours."
"You love Steve."
"Don't let him know that."
"Kinda like Val doesn't want you to know that she cares about you?"
"Kinda like that."
A swarm of people tried to come through. Brandon made it to the front and told them to form an orderly queue.
"Queue?" asked Steve.
"Line," said Dylan.
"I guess I've affected Bran a bit, too," said Brenda.
Kelly stood with her hand entangled in Brandon's. Clare stood cuddled in Steve's arms, Donna leaning against the dresser next to them. Situated on David's back with her hands folded across his chest, Valerie was almost taller than Steve. Erica sat on the edge of the McKays' bed, Iris and Cindy beside her. Nat stood next to Jake, who was in conversation with Andrea.
"Where's Hannah?" asked Dylan.
"Jesse's in town," said Andrea. "I'll give it a few days before I bring Hannah around - what's her name?"
"That's what we'd all like to know," said Steve, his chin tucked into Clare. "I vote for Stephanie."
"It's obviously Eugenie," said Val.
"I suggested Branlerie," said Brandon.
"Anyone else want to get in a vote before we tell you?" asked Dylan.
"Not a vote," said the man standing awkwardly in the corner, "but a thank you. Thank you that you wanted me here."
"You're her grandfather," said Brenda. "If we're introducing her to her family, you should be here. But one word against my husband and our truce is broken."
"I wanted to protect you, from the man I thought Dylan was," said Jim. "I made a mistake, a grave mistake, because he isn't that man."
Dylan's eyes connected with Brenda's.
"I've made mistakes, too," said Dylan. "You forgave me."
"Your mistakes didn't get me locked up on a burning bus, thinking I was going to give birth then and there with no one around," said Brenda. "I'll let him around our daughter, but don't ask me to forgive him."
Dylan knew she would, eventually.
Possibly had already, though she would be reluctant to admit it.
Forgiveness was in Brenda's nature.
He knew that better than anyone.
"Her name," said Steve.
"We've known since we first knew about her that she's our melody," said Dylan. "The melody of our hearts, the melody neither of us thought we would have."
"I've always liked the name Melody," said David.
"It is a beautiful name," said Clare.
"Melody?" asked Steve. "Her name's Melody?"
"A variation," said Dylan. "Melody McKay didn't sit right with us."
"But a variation did," said Brenda. "Everyone, meet Aria." Brenda held up the baby for the room to get a good look. "Aria, meet your new gang."
"Aria McKay," said Dylan. "We've considered middle names for her, too, but we'd like Mom to be the one who chooses it."
Iris stared at her son.
"Would you do us the honor, Mom?" asked Dylan.
Her voice thick with emotion, Iris explained the Hawaiian traditions.
One of several ancient naming traditions in the Hawaiian culture was to be given a name told by a family member in a dream.
"It is how I myself received my name," said Iris, "when my mother dreamt of my Tutu speaking to her about an iris."
"Did Grandma happen to suggest a name to you in one of your dreams?" asked Dylan.
"She did," said Iris. "She showed me the sea, and the sky. She said if you take the words for both, you get Kailani."
"Dylan mentioned Kailani," said Brenda.
"I figured it could work for both sides of the family," said Dylan. "Bren used to tell me all about the Minnesota sky, which I intend to see with her and Aria. But I didn't want to give Aria a variation of a Hawaiian name if we didn't follow the Hawaiian traditions."
"Daughter of the sky," said Iris. "Son of the sea."
"Kailani," said Dylan.
"Aria Kailani McKay," said Brenda.
"It isn't Eugenie, but I'll take it," said Valerie.
"You don't even like Eugenia," said Brenda.
"Eugenia doesn't fit me, but Eugenie could've fit her," said Val. "Aria's much better, though. We can call her Ari, for short."
"Her name's already short," said Dylan.
"Most of our names are short, but Brenda's still Bren, Brandon's still Bran, Kelly's still Kel, Donna is Don, I'm Val, Steven's Steve, and Dylan's Dyl," said Val.
"David's Davey," said Brandon. "Sometimes."
"The occasional Dave," said Steve.
"He's my David," said Val.
"This nickname business must be a new generation thing," Cindy told Iris.
"Your husband's called Jim," said Iris.
"And we've got nicknames, too," said Jake of himself and Nat.
"Aria, Brenda, and Dylan," said Brandon. "You just need a C to finish it out."
"For now, our C is Clare," said Brenda. "And right now, she's all the C we need."
Dylan wasn't about to bring up a second child, their little Baby C, when Brenda had just spent longer than a full work day laboring with their first.
He would bring it up again later.
Much later.
"Can I hold her?" asked Valerie, Kelly, and Donna.
"You can't all hold her at once," said Brenda.
"You'll have to duke it out," said Steve. "Braless. In white T-shirts."
Kelly whacked his shoulder.
"Kel!" he said, rubbing his shoulder.
"Oops. My hand slipped," she said.
Valerie was the one who held Aria, with everyone else crowding around Valerie to introduce themselves.
"Did she just yawn?" asked Donna, gently drawing her fingers across Aria.
"That might be the cutest yawn I have ever seen," said Clare. "She's gonna break hearts just with that yawn."
"Like mother, like daughter," said Dylan, as he caught Brenda in her own adorable yawn that he kissed straight out of her.
"I'm your Uncle Steve," said Steve, "and between your Dad, your Uncle Brandon, and your Uncle David, we'll make sure you'll never be the one to suffer from a broken heart."
"Or if you do, I'll teach you tactics to make your ex suffer in return," said Jake.
"And I'll teach you why it's okay to not date," said Andrea. "Something that would have been nice to learn myself."
"I'll teach you how to stick to your convictions, even when everyone's telling you why they're stupid," said Donna.
"I'll teach you all about stranger danger, and why you should never go with someone you met on the street," said Erica.
"Erica!" said Dylan.
"I won't give her the details!" said Erica.
They went around, each telling Aria what they would teach her in life. Brandon said he would teach her every sport imaginable, and a love of words he said she had likely inherited from her parents. Nat said he would teach her how to bake pies that would be better than his own. David said he would teach her rhythm, if Aria didn't already have it from her mother. Iris said she would teach Aria about nature, Cindy chiming in about gardening. Clare said she would help Aria with her science projects. Kelly said she would take Aria to Manhattan and teach her a love of fashion.
"And I'll take you clubbing," said Valerie.
"Val!" said the room.
"When she's twenty-one!" said Val.
"Clare and I will join you," said Steve.
"You're planning for us to be there at her twenty-first?" asked Clare.
"I'm planning to spend the rest of my life with you, Arnold," said Steve. "If you will have me."
"I'll have you," said Clare, and kissed him.
"That settles it, then," said Dylan. "Everyone who is in this room is invited to her twenty-first. Plus Alina, with everything she's done to help my Brenda."
"And Kai," Brenda told him. "If he and Clare hadn't driven me to hers that night in the rain -"
"I don't want to think about it," said Dylan. "And," he exhaled, "I suppose we can invite Luca. Since he did help save your life and all."
"Who's Luca?" asked Erica, with interest.
"Bren's ex," said Dylan.
"No thanks," said Erica. "I don't do leftovers."
"Ryan doesn't, either," said Steve. "See? Another thing you have in common."
"Does Ryan know you're trying to set him up with someone he's never met?" asked Dylan.
"I'm just trying to get him out of the funk he's been in since Kelly's sister dumped him," said Steve.
"Are you implying that Erin and Ryan -" Andrea began.
"God no," said Kelly, quickly cutting her off. "I have another sister. Joy. Bill's daughter. And should I remind you how gung-ho you were on her dating your brother?" she asked Steve.
"He was determined to set Carl up with someone, too," said Clare.
"That was more for me than for him," said Steve.
"Then should I rescind your RSVP for Carl's wedding?" asked Clare.
"You think I'd miss going to a royal wedding?" asked Steve. "I'm gonna meet princesses, get their numbers, and introduce them to Austin. I've got my princess - I mean, queen - so he can meet his."
"Ryan," said Dylan.
"Say his name again and I'll ask Steve for his number," said Erica.
Dylan clamped his mouth shut.
"That's it, Steve. That's what you should do," said Brandon. "Matchmaker."
"To the stars," said Kelly.
"You can be on TV," said Clare. "You'd love that."
"Steve Sanders, Matchmaker to the Stars," said Steve, rolling it out on his tongue. "It has a nice ring to it."
Jim stepped forward and looked at the couple folded around each other in the bed.
"May I hold her?" he asked, shakily.
"May he?" Dylan asked Brenda, as any decision he made in life would first be discussed with her.
Brenda nodded, slowly.
Jim took his granddaughter from Valerie.
"They're all going to teach you great things," said Jim, "things that will get you far in life, but I need to teach you the most important lesson of all. Why you should never judge a book by its cover," he looked at Dylan, "or by its father."
Brenda dried Dylan's face with the edge of her sleeve.
"And why sometimes, your children need to figure things out for themselves," said Jim, looking at Brenda. "I'm sorry, Brenda. I'm sorry for causing you so much stress when you should have had none. I'm sorry you and Aria almost died on that bus, because of me."
"Because of you?" asked Cindy, aghast.
"You and I need to talk, Cin," said Jim. "There's a whole lot I've been keeping from you that you should know. And then maybe we can work through it, together; protect our family, together. If you'll - if you'll call off the separation. If you'll give me another chance to be the man you fell in love with."
Cindy was at a loss for words.
Steve tore a tissue out of the box and wiped it across his face.
"Do it, Aunt Cindy," said Val. "I forgave David."
David squeezed her waist.
"I forgave Clare," said Steve.
Clare brushed her nose against Steve's.
"I forgave Dylan," said Brenda.
Dylan slid his hand across Brenda's back.
"We forgave each other," said Brandon and Kelly, who moved closer together until they were practically gorillaglued to each other.
"I never forgave Jack," said Iris, "because he never asked for forgiveness. He said he was wrong. That was all he could muster. He didn't apologize, because he knew it wouldn't be genuine. He wasn't sorry. He was never sorry, for anything. It wasn't in his nature. And now, if I do manage to ever forgive him, it'll be all for naught, just a little less negative energy in my life so that I can remember the good parts about Jack to tell our granddaughter. He had some good in him, rare though it was, and Aria deserves to know about it."
She would, thought Dylan. He would take Aria to baseball games, to the beach, teach her a love of baseball and surfing the way his father had taught him.
He would tell her about when her grandfather Jack would belt out for peanuts and cracker jacks, when Jack would calculate the perfect wave and tell Dylan the stories of the skies.
Jack hadn't believed in the stories, the way Iris did, but they had fascinated him all the same.
Until Iris had left.
Until Jack had become a corporate hound, hellbent on slowly drinking himself to death.
Until the father Dylan had loved became the one he had despised.
Iris must have known what Dylan was thinking, for she exchanged a look with him before returning her focus to Cindy.
"You still have an opportunity, Cindy," she said. "Do you truly want to get a divorce?"
"No," said Cindy. "I don't." She turned towards Jim. "But I also don't want to be married to a man who's acted the way you've acted, since Dylan came into our lives. He's my son-in-law. He's my son. Our daughter loves Dylan. Our son loves Dylan, and so do I. If you can't accept him, then I can't forgive you."
"I accept him," said Jim, and from the look on his face, Dylan knew Jim's acceptance was final.
There were no more conditions with Jim Walsh, no more struggle to prove to Jim that Dylan was worthy of loving Jim's daughter.
Because Jim, like Dylan, had learnt that Dylan was.
-x
We know little to nothing of Iris' family, so I figured her Tutu (grandmother) on her maternal side could be Hawaiian, resulting in Iris returning to Hawaii when things fell apart with Jack.
Sources: Google and the websites for Diary of a First Child, National Partnership for Advocate Health, BabyCentre, Dadvengers, Independent, Ka Leo, Kalumaika, March of Dimes, Midwife, Mother & Baby, NCT, NHS, Parents, Pittsburgh Birth Services, Reddit forums, Sutter Health, VeryWell Family, YouTube videos. Special thanks to my little sister for humouring my curiosity and permitting me to ask questions about her own birth experience with my darling niece.
(Shout-out to Crystal to express my continued gratitude and appreciation, as well as those of you whose review I could respond to directly.)
Thanks a million! x