Chapter 7 - THE BABY
Lauren was thirty-three weeks pregnant.
Too early.
Daniel’s anger disappeared beneath something more immediate.
Fear.
An ambulance was already coming when he reached the gate.
Lauren sat in the back of her SUV, breathing hard.
Her mother stood beside her.
“I started contracting forty minutes ago.”
Daniel crouched beside the open door.
“Why did you come here?”
Lauren’s face twisted.
“I didn’t know where else to go.”
There were a hundred answers he could have given.
None mattered.
“Ambulance is coming.”
She grabbed his wrist.
“Don’t let them take me alone.”
Daniel froze.
This woman had forged documents to remove Sophie from his home.
She was also carrying his child.
“I’ll follow.”
“No.”
Her eyes filled.
“Please.”
The ambulance arrived.
Daniel rode with her.
Before the doors closed, he called his mother.
“Sophie is at home.”
“I’ll stay with her.”
“Tell her—”
“Tell her yourself.”
His mother was right.
Daniel called Sophie.
She answered immediately.
“Daddy?”
“Lauren’s going to the hospital.”
“Is the baby coming?”
“Maybe.”
Sophie’s breath caught.
“Too early?”
“Yes.”
“Is it okay?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Silence.
Then:
“Are you staying there?”
“For now.”
Another pause.
The old fear entered her voice.
“You’re coming back?”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
She became silent.
Daniel corrected himself.
“I will call you every hour until I know more.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
“Promise promise?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
At the hospital, doctors stopped the contractions.
Then restarted worry for a different reason.
Lauren’s blood pressure was dangerously high.
Monitoring began.
Steroid injections for the baby’s lungs.
Specialists.
Tests.
Possibly days in the hospital.
The divorce temporarily became irrelevant.
Daniel sat beside Lauren until she stabilized.
At midnight she woke and saw him.
“You stayed.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Daniel looked at the monitor.
“Because that’s my child.”
Lauren closed her eyes.
“You hate me.”
“I don’t know what I feel.”
“You should.”
Daniel said nothing.
After a long silence, she whispered:
“I didn’t mean for it to go this far.”
He looked at her.
“Yes, you did.”
Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes.
“I meant the campaign.”
“No.”
“Daniel.”
“You contacted a school.”
She cried harder.
“You prepared legal papers.”
“I was scared.”
“You forged my signature.”
“I thought if Sophie left for a while—”
“She would disappear?”
“No.”
“You wrote ‘Sophie out by then.’”
Lauren covered her face.
Daniel sat back.
“I’m not doing this while you’re sick.”
She lowered her hands.
“You think I’m a monster.”
“I think you hurt my daughter.”
The words stayed in the room.
Lauren turned toward the window.
After a while:
“I was jealous of an eight-year-old.”
Daniel didn’t answer.
“She already had everything.”
“She had lost her mother.”
“I know.”
“No.”
His voice remained quiet.
“You knew the fact. You didn’t understand the cost.”
Lauren cried silently.
“I walked into that house and every room told me I came second.”
Daniel looked at her.
“So you tried to make her come second.”
Lauren’s face crumpled.
It was the first time he saw real shame.
Not fear of consequences.
Not anger.
Shame.
“I’m sorry.”
Daniel remained still.
“That apology belongs to Sophie.”
“I know.”
“She doesn’t have to accept it.”
“I know.”
Daniel’s phone alarm chimed.
One hour.
He called Sophie.
“Baby okay?”
“So far.”
“Lauren?”
“Stable.”
“Are you coming home?”
“In the morning.”
“Okay.”
Then:
“Tell the baby I said stay in.”
Daniel laughed softly.
“I will.”
“What?”
Lauren asked after he hung up.
“Sophie said the baby should stay in.”
Lauren closed her eyes.
More tears.
“She hates me.”
Daniel looked at her.
“She’s eight.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“She’s hurt.”
Lauren nodded.
“Did she say anything about me?”
“No.”
“That’s worse.”
Daniel didn’t disagree.
Lauren remained hospitalized.
Daniel divided his days.
Hospital.
Home.
Work by video.
Sophie started therapy with someone unaffiliated with Lauren.
Every night she asked the same question:
“Baby still inside?”
Every night Daniel answered.
“Yes.”
At thirty-five weeks, things changed.
Lauren’s blood pressure rose again.
The doctors recommended delivery.
Daniel was at the hospital.
Sophie was with Grandma.
The baby girl arrived at 4:18 in the afternoon.
Five pounds, two ounces.
Small.
Angry.
Breathing.
When Daniel heard the cry, he covered his face.
The nurse smiled.
“She has opinions.”
“Family trait.”
Lauren laughed weakly from the bed.
Later, Daniel stood beside the bassinet.
His daughter.
His second daughter.
He touched one tiny hand.
She wrapped her fingers around his.
Lauren watched.
“What do we tell Sophie?”
Daniel looked up.
“The truth.”
“What about her meeting the baby?”
“That’s Sophie’s decision.”
Lauren’s face tightened.
“She should meet her sister.”
“I agree.”
“But you won’t make her?”
“No.”
Lauren looked toward the bassinet.
“What if she rejects her?”
“Then we give her time.”
“I don’t want the baby punished because of me.”
Daniel’s expression softened slightly.
“Neither do I.”
That evening, he video-called Sophie.
She appeared immediately.
“Is she born?”
“Yes.”
“Can I see?”
Daniel turned the camera.
The baby slept beneath a white blanket.
Sophie gasped.
“She’s tiny.”
“Yes.”
“What’s her name?”
Daniel looked at Lauren.
They had discussed names months earlier.
Lauren answered softly.
“Grace.”
Sophie stared at the screen.
“Grace West?”
“Yes.”
“Does she have hair?”
“A little.”
“Can she open her eyes?”
“Sometimes.”
“Does she know me?”
Daniel’s throat tightened.
“Not yet.”
Sophie thought about that.
“Can I come tomorrow?”
Daniel stared.
“You want to?”
“Yes.”
Lauren began crying.
Sophie noticed.
“Why is Lauren crying?”
Daniel looked at her.
Lauren wiped her face.
“Because I’m happy you want to meet Grace.”
Sophie became cautious.
“Oh.”
Then:
“I’m coming for the baby.”
Lauren nodded.
“I understand.”
The next afternoon, Sophie entered the hospital room holding a paper bag.
She stopped three feet from the bassinet.
“That’s her?”
Daniel smiled.
“That’s her.”
Sophie approached carefully.
Grace opened her eyes.
Sophie looked amazed.
“She looks mad.”
“She’s had a difficult week.”
“Can I touch her?”
“Wash your hands first.”
Sophie washed them twice.
Then touched one tiny foot.
Grace kicked.
Sophie laughed.
“She moved!”
Daniel watched his daughters meet.
Lauren watched too.
Her face was wet with tears.
Sophie opened the paper bag.
“I brought something.”
She pulled out a tiny red stocking.
GRACE.
Hand-stitched unevenly.
Daniel stared.
“You made that?”
“Grandma helped.”
Sophie looked at Lauren.
“There was room.”
The words weren’t cruel.
That made them hurt more.
Lauren broke down.
“I’m sorry, Sophie.”
The room became still.
Daniel did not interfere.
Lauren continued.
“I was wrong.”
Sophie stared at the stocking.
“I know.”
“I did things that hurt you.”
“Yes.”
“I was jealous.”
Sophie looked confused.
“Of me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Lauren laughed through tears.
“I don’t have a good answer.”
Sophie considered that.
Then said:
“You could have just asked for your own stocking.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
Of course.
Eight-year-old logic.
Clearer than adult cruelty.
Lauren cried harder.
Sophie looked uncomfortable.
Then she turned back to Grace.
“Can I hold her?”
Daniel helped her sit.
He placed the baby carefully in her arms.
Sophie looked down.
Grace made a tiny sound.
“Hi.”
Sophie’s voice was barely a whisper.
“I’m your big sister.”
Daniel stood beside them.
Then Sophie added:
“Nobody gets to start over with you either.”
May you like
Daniel had to turn away.
Because he couldn’t let either daughter see him cry that hard.
