152. Brendan
Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Two
brENDAN
M y body is a blanket of warmth for those I love.
I hum Silent Night, rocking us very, very gently. “He’s perfect,” I whisper into her hair, looking at our son.
“He is a very special baby,” she whispers back. “That’s why you needed a very special entrance, isn’t it, my little Jacob?” She’s got her finger under his tiny hand, caressing the soft, pink skin. Jacob’s eyes are closed, but he’s wriggling around, very awake. “Brendan?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“I’m so glad it didn’t snow.”
Chuckling, I nod. “Me, too. I think it’s about time we get you to a hospital.”
Annie sighs and leans her head back, tucking her nose up into my neck. “I’m beginning to like it here.”
“Liar,” I chuckle.
She laughs into my skin. “I’m afraid of going down that hill, if you must know the truth. I’m sore and tired.”
Tightening my arms around her, I stop rocking. “I will carry you. Mark will take Jacob.” At the look in her eyes as she unburies her face, I repeat, “I really want to make sure you’re okay. We need to go somewhere where people know what they’re doing.”
She sucks her lips into her mouth and nods, looking down at him again. “He’s finally in my arms. I don’t want to let him go.”
“I know the feeling.”
She looks up at me and closes her eyes for a kiss. I press my lips to hers and feel the sweet waves of being with her again spread throughout my body.
“Merry Christmas, Brendan.”
I kiss her nose and murmur, “Merry Christmas, my love.” Jacob tries very hard to open his eyes and one squeaks open the tiniest bit to look at us. “Hey buddy!” I whisper. “Want to see the great big world that’s waiting for you?” He closes it again, and I laugh. “Fair enough. I have to say, this is very primitive man/woman of us. Having our baby in a cave. A fistfight. No drugs.”
“Grrrr.”
Reaching over for the pillow we brought, I wedge it behind her and slip out. “I’ll be right back.” Walking out to get Mark, I’m just in time to see Rebecca and Tommy climbing into a cracked-out Dodge Colt, circa 1980-something. Waving Mark up, I watch the car drive away. Mark runs up the hill, his pace slower than it was when we first got here.
“What the hell was that?”
He laughs. “Worst decision of her life.”
Shaking my head, I marvel at it. “Wow. Okay then. Ever hold a baby?”
His eyebrows nearly fly off his forehead. Dryly, he asks, “Say what?”
“I have to carry Annie down.”
“No no no… I’ll carry Annie, you take the baby. If I drop that baby–”
“If you drop my wife!”
“I’ll jump off that bridge right there. I know nothing about holding a baby.” He walks in with me following, my objections ignored as he heads for her. “I’m carrying you down, Annie. Sorry, but I need Brendan to carry Jacob.”
She nods, not happy about having to be moved. “Okay, Jacob, Mommy does not want to do this. Just so you know.” She hands him to me and Nicole appears in the entrance, out of breath.
“You guys need help?” Mark cocks an eyebrow at her. “What, like I was going to stay down there?”
Together we gather up all evidence of our having been here. I’ve got Tommy’s duffel bag over my shoulder with the wet things in it; we’ll chuck this in a dumpster, forever forgotten. Jacob, still swaddled in the towel, is firmly in my arms as I make my way down the hill. “I’m glad I’ve done this climb a million times before now.”
“Don’t I know it,” Mark agrees, Annie cradled in his arms. He’s 6’4” and strong as an ox, so I only look back two or three times to make sure she’s okay. Nicole’s behind the four of us, carting down the last articles we’d brought.
When we’re all tucked into the car, Nicole remembers something. “Hey. Weird. We didn’t need a cab after all. Rebecca’s not here.”
Mark and I share an incredulous look at that unexpected turn of events and I start the car, backing up at a nice, safe speed. The sun has finally gone down and while we can’t see it, its presence is still felt in the light gray sky. The fog is rolling in off the water, creeping up the base of the bridge, and Annie looks out the window at it as we begin the journey back.
We ride in silence, everybody tired. About halfway across the Golden Gate, Annie’s voice is happy. “New memory, honey.”
In the rearview mirror, I meet her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“For the fog. It was foggy the night Jacob first opened his eyes. Reframing the memory of fog . ” She smiles.
I twist in the seat. “Did he just open both his eyes?!”
Mark hits me in the arm, his voice happy. “Watch the road, Papa.”
Laughing, I do as he says, but not without muttering out of the corner of my mouth. “Shut it.” And to myself, “I can’t believe I missed that.”