There wasn’t time to debate. Claire’s body continued to contract. Although she was unconscious, her muscles worked to expel their child. Tony heard the awful pop, sounding much like the puncturing of a piece of plastic. Burying his face in Claire’s shoulder he spoke—about what—he didn’t know. He talked about walks, lakes, and beaches. In the background, he heard a suctioning sound and the call for a scalpel. It wasn’t until he heard the cry of a baby, while still feeling the drum of Claire’s pulse under his fingertips, that he had the strength to lift his head.
In Dr. Gilbert’s hands, with Madeline gently wiping it clean, was the pinkest, most beautiful baby Tony had ever seen. He’d told himself that, if he needed to decide, it would have been Claire. He knew that was the way he would have gone. Once again, his life was a contradiction. He still would have chosen Claire; however, seeing the round face, tightly shut eyes, and open mouth—his body shuddered with relief, thankful he hadn’t been forced to make that decision.
Above the loud and proud wails of his child, Madeline proclaimed, “Monsieur, welcome your daughter.”
Before he could move, he squeezed Claire’s hand. “Doctor, is Claire..?” His voice trailed away, as he was unable to finish his question.
“She’s lost a lot of blood, as you said; but I believe once we deliver the placenta, place some stitches, and get her some fluids; your wife will be okay.”
With that reassurance, Tony stepped toward Madeline who now held his perfect baby girl wrapped in a blanket. Her eyes were shut, and she appeared content with the new warmth. The top of her small head had a thin layer of dark brown hair. Leaning near, Tony cooed, “Hello, my princess. I’m your daddy.”
The angst of the last few hours dissipated as Tony moved the rocking chair from the nursery and placed it near Claire’s head. After he washed his hands, he sat and Madeline placed their bundle of joy in his arms. Never had Tony imagined another woman taking residence in his heart. It belonged to Claire and had for a very long time. Once again, he’d been wrong. It wasn’t that the little girl he held replaced her mother—that wasn’t possible. No, this little girl expanded his heart, making her own space. It seemed unbelievable that his heart could grow—it wasn’t that long ago that Tony didn’t even know it existed. Gently, Tony kissed his daughter’s forehead and watched her nose crinkle.
“Monsieur, what is her name?” Madeline asked with anticipation.
“We’ll wait until Claire awakes. We never pinpointed one girl’s name.”
Tony saw the exchange of looks between Madeline and Dr. Gilbert. Dr. Gilbert explained their concern, “Mr. Rawlings, it’s almost midnight. The people of these islands are strong in their traditions and beliefs. No child should enter the next day without their proper name. It’ll bring uncertainty and unhappiness to the rest of its life.”
Tony looked at his watch; it was 11:53 PM. His mind went back over all of their naming discussions. They had gone through list after list of names. She’d said Blaine could be for a girl too, but that didn’t feel right. The conversation that came to Tony’s tired mind was one from when he first arrived on the island. This baby, he’d said, won’t be a Rawls or a Nichols but a Rawlings. She was a Rawlings; nevertheless, Rawls was part of Rawlings no matter how much Tony tried to run or hide from the fact, and his daughter was also a Nichols, something he wanted her to know with pride. Clearing his throat, Tony looked up at Madeline and Dr. Gilbert’s expectant eyes, and said, “May I introduce our daughter, Nichol Courtney Rawlings.”
Madeline’s smile beamed, reaffirming the joy that now filled the suite.
When Claire awoke, she was lying on a bed in her room. Somehow, she knew it wasn’t their bed, but nonetheless, next to her propped against the headboard was her husband. When she turned toward him, her eyes opened wide and her lungs forgot to inhale. In his arms, wrapped in a blanket was a sleeping baby. With tears streaming down her cheeks, Claire lifted her head. Her body ached, yet she could move without effort. “I did it?” she asked as his tired eyes met hers. The soft chocolate color drew her nearer.
“Yes, Mrs. Rawlings, you did.” He leaned down and their lips met. Looking lovingly into her eyes, he added, “You did a superb job.”
Claire righted herself to sit beside her family. In the bend of her right arm was the too familiar pinch of an IV. Choosing to ignore the painful sensation, Claire concentrated on her family. Despite Tony’s obvious exhaustion, she saw the pride behind his expression. Once again, Tony brushed his lips against hers before he placed their baby in her arms. “May I introduce our daughter?”
Claire’s heart melted. “A girl—M—Madeline was right.”
Shaking his head, Tony replied, “I don’t think she should ever be doubted again.”
“We didn’t decide on a girl’s name.” Claire’s words came as she gently unwrapped the blanket, exposing the present she’d been carrying for nine months.
“She has a name.”
Claire looked up. “Oh?”
“There’s some island wives’ tale that forbids the changing to the next day without a name. I hope you don’t mind. I didn’t want to risk our daughter having any unnecessary ill fortune.”
Claire tried to grasp the reality of not only having a daughter, but that she was already named. “Is it Raquel?” It had been his go-to name in all their debates.
“No, I wanted a name that would unite our family; one that said the Rawls vendetta is over.”
Claire didn’t know what to say. Tony’s words were more emotion filled than she could remember hearing. “What is it? What name did you choose?”
“Nichol.” Tony’s eyes begged for understanding.
Claire’s lips parted and her eyes sparkled. The game was done—no more strategizing or manipulating; instead of declaring a winner, they’d called it even. Their daughter’s name was Claire’s ultimate prize. Claire’s heart filled with pride. Immediately, she knew it was Tony’s way of telling their daughter she was both a Nichols and a Rawlings. “Oh, Tony, I love it! We never even talked about that.”
Tony’s chest moved as he exhaled with relief. “Nichol Courtney Rawlings.”
It was the most beautiful name she’d ever heard. As Nichol’s eyes opened and Claire saw the chocolate brown she loved, she whispered, “I wanted your eyes. You wanted a girl. We’ve been blessed with both of our wishes.” Nichol’s mouth rooted toward Claire’s breast.
Tony’s eyes drifted closed as his head fell back to the wall. It had been a long forty-eight hours. Before he fell asleep, Claire heard him say, “A wish, a dream, a miracle—Whatever it is, it’s real.”
It has been said, ‘time heals all wounds.’ I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.
—Rose Kennedy
Sophia eased her car onto the circular brick drive in front of Marie’s massive house. On her cell phone, she heard Derek’s voice, “Have a nice lunch, babe. Is the house as nice as you anticipated?”
Her mouth gaped open as she looked up at the Romanesque-style mansion with facades of river stone, limestone, and brick. It was like something out of a 1940’s movie. “It’s amazing. I can’t believe she really lives here. Do people actually live like this?”
Derek laughed. “Well, she worked for Rawlings. That’s his house—or it was. No one knows if he’s alive or dead, but it’s probably not great table-talk for your lunch.”