I Made You My First (32 page)

“Come up here and take a nap with me,” and his face was
now serious. 

I looked toward the door and then at the curtain.  “Well, let me close the curtain and the door.  Scoot over some,” and I walked to the door peeking out before closing it.  I pulled the curtain and lowered the outside bed rail.  I hadn’t been in the bed three seconds and he was molded around me.  I felt his arm fall over my waist and his sweet hot breath on the back of my neck.  I couldn’t have moved if I’d wanted to.
  We hadn’t been resting more than a minute and Irish began to snore.  He was out.  I closed my eyes and smiled, feeling yet again happier then I’d ever felt before.  

Irish’s parents left that evening, Mary needing to get back for Paris and Memphis having work-related matters to tend to.  I spent the night in the hospital with Irish, and the next day he was cleared by his doctor to go home.  When the taxi dropped us off in front of our house, I got a chill when I stepped out into
 the driveway. 

Irish’s dad had taken the Mustang to be repaired and
 I was grateful to have the visual absent from my memory.  When we got in the house, it was clear Mary had been there. A card leaned up against a birthday cake in the refrigerator and several wrapped gifts sat on the kitchen counter.  Irish sat down in his chair while I fetched a sheet and blanket to make him a place on the sofa to rest, doctor’s orders. 

“Do you want to watch a movie?” I asked fanning the sheet over the sofa.  When he didn’t answer, I turned and looked at him.  He was staring out the window, lost
 in thought.  I wondered if he was thinking about that van.

“Irish” and I
 was standing directly in front of him now.

He finally turned and looked at me.
  “They should never have had our address; I messed up big time, Jurnee,” and the look on his face was totally serious.

I knelt and rested my hands on his knees.  “Irish, they could have followed you home from work for all we know.  This was in no way you
r fault.  Tell me you know that,” I pleaded. He just stared at me.

“So you think this was your fault?  Because if that’s the case, then I need to get you back to the hospital so they can take out the
crazy ideas
floating around in your head.”

We both stared at each other.  Before I could even think of a relevant
 example of how ridiculous his guilt feelings were, I felt my stomach flip-flop and nausea begin to move slowly up into my throat.  I turned and ran for the bathroom.  I hadn’t closed the door when I heard steps behind me and wished I had.  I felt Irish take my hair and twirl in into a pony tail.  He sat down beside me and his free hand rubbed my back.

“Jurnee, can I get you anything?”  I shook my head no and raised my hand
, trying to wave him away, but he didn’t move.
This was the fifth time this week
, I thought.

My head still in the toilet bowl, I
finally asked. “Irish, would you get me a washcloth, please?”  He slowly lifted up from me and disappeared into the other room.  I jumped up and bent down under the sink facet to rinse my mouth.  When I turned around, Irish was standing behind me with a curious grin on his face. I swear I saw a little light bulb flicker brightly above his head.

“I don’t know what you
’re grinning about,
daddy
,” and I grabbed the washcloth from his hand and headed for the kitchen.  He was right behind me.  I flipped up the calendar and looked for a dot.  I dropped the page and leaned back against the counter crossing my arms in front of me.

“Well isn’t this a fine
Howdy Doody
,” and I looked at Irish.  He was standing there trying to read my face.  “You said we could do this without me being on the pill, Irish,” and I felt my eyes brim and my bottom lip quiver.  The last couple of days were finally taking their toll on me.

Before I could wipe the tear from my cheek, Irish was pulling me into his body.
  “Jurnee, it’s okay.  We planned on doing this anyway and I’m actually so happy right now I could explode,” and he gently kissed the top of my head.

“That’s because you’re on drugs and it hasn’t hit you yet,” I
spouted sarcastically.

“No, I’m genuinely happy” and he squeezed me tightly.  I felt his body
 jolt a little and I stepped back.  He was hurting.  I took his hand walking him to the sofa and with
wifely authority
demanded he lay down.

I knelt down next to him on the floor.  “I really wanted some time with Jewel first.  I wanted to
know
that I could do a good job with her,” and I rested my forehead in my hand.

“And I wanted to be closer to your mom before we had a second child, Irish.  What if I’m terrible at being a mom?”
My voice now just above a whisper.

He raised an eyebrow and chuckled,
 but also grabbed his stomach.  Now taking a small strand of my hair, he twirled it in his fingers.  “You’re going to be an amazing mom, Jurnee, I have no doubt about that,” and I rolled my eyes at him.

Then with a huge smile on his face he added, “We’re going to have a baby,” and I slapped his arm.

“No, we’re going to have two babies at one time,” and I stared into his excited blue eyes.

“Want some cake?”  

“I’d really rather make love to you and then have cake later.” 

“Um, no,” and I gave him my best
 apologetic
face.  “The doctor said if you don’t let those stitches heal, we’ll be right back in the hospital for another surgery” and I jumped up smiling at him and headed for the kitchen.  We ended up eating cake for dinner and watching the Western
Unforgiven
 before finally heading for bed.

Tomorrow our daughter Jewel was due to enter the world and we were
 excited about receiving the news that she was finally here.  Irish was also excited about telling his mom
our
good news, as I digested it all.  In the back of my mind I couldn’t help but worry about the whole twin thing in Irish’s family.  Maybe when I knew it was only
one baby,
I’d be less nervous and allow myself to become more excited. 

Irish and I had already picked names; he wanted to name the girl, so I chose the boy name.  When Irish decided on his
name, he never wavered; it was absolutely going to be Jypsy Ciara.  I was more fickle and jumped back and forth, depending on my mood. Jayden Bryce and Jaxon Bryce were my two favorites and I’d pretty much decided that when I saw him, I’d be better able to pick the right name. 

We’d picked Jewel’s name from both of our mothers’ names. My mom’s name was Samantha Marie and his mom’s name is
 Mary Ann Jewel.  The easy part was decided.  Now I hoped all the authors of those parenting books knew what the hell they were talking about.  We were getting really close to finding out.

On the nineteenth of November, Irish and I had our phones setting on the coffee table while we ate Lucky Charms and watched cartoons.  “You know when Jewel gets here, we can’t eat this
shit
anymore, right?” and I threw a marshmallow at him.

“Um, you know that you can’t say
shit
 around the kids either,” and he threw five marshmallows back at me.

“
Shit
isn’t a bad word,” and I gave him my most serious face.

He rolled his eyes, shook his head,
 and smiled at me before taking a bite of his cereal.  Just then his phone rang.  We both froze with cereal-filled mouths.  Irish started chewing like crazy while reaching for his phone. “It’s mom,” he finally mumbled.  I sat up and leaned against his shoulder hoping to hear her exciting news.

“Irish, your sister and I are at the hospital but the doctors are saying that she’s not dilated enough to deliver, so we’re heading back home to give it some more time.  Did your dad call you?”
  Irish looked at me and I shook my head no.

“No, Mom, you’re the first to call.  We’ll be home all day so call us when you know something, and tell Paris we love her.”
  I rubbed his arm with my hand and mouthed
tell her thank you for the cake
.  He scrunched his face a little until he finally figured out what I said.

“Thanks so much for the card and the cake, Mom.  I’m saving the presents to open tomorrow.”
 

“You’re welcome, dear.  I wish we could all be together.  You get better and I’ll talk to you soon.”

He closed the phone and we both sat down on the sofa with our cereal.  As the morning turned into afternoon, Irish and I played cards, practiced guitar, and finally ordered a pizza. It was now eight in the evening and Irish bet that Jewel would be born on his birthday.  Staying competitive, I said she’d still slide in before midnight.  Now we had to agree on the stakes.  I always knew what Irish would say he wanted, so I tried to shake it up a little and ask him to do something I found extremely funny. 

He wanted me to
play his flute
if I lost and if he was the loser, I wanted him to answer the door for the pizza guy wearing my underwear on his head the next time we ordered out.  I laughed thinking about the look on the delivery guy’s face.  The game was on.  It was nine o’clock and since we both had a stake in Jewel’s delivery time, we were watching the clock like our lives depended on it. 
We were going to be great parents,
I thought.  Ten o’clock and I helped Irish put saran wrap and tape over his stitches so that we could take an
almost
non-sexual shower.  Eleven-thirty and Irish was getting rather confident and shouting out the time in ten-minute intervals.  I was preparing myself ready to accept defeat.  At 12:01, Irish jumped to his feet and did a really embarrassing victory dance.  It was now his birthday and he had legitimately won our bet. 

“Happy birthday, dork,” I said to him.  Taking pity, he sat down next to me and kissed the top of my head
, but never lost his ear-to-ear grin.  Jewel Marie was born at 4:16 am on that day.  Her mom and dad were there to meet her for the first time at one in the afternoon on a sunny day in San Diego.               

                      Chapter Fifteen

Just looking at her sleeping in her crib, anyone would think Irish was her biological father. Jewel had sapphire-blue eyes that twinkled when she smiled. Her dishwater blonde hair strongly resembled Irish’s during the summer when his hair lightened from the sun. She was a wonderful baby and nothing at all like my baby books described newborns. She was happy and healthy. She woke up once during the night, usually between two and three o’clock but went right back to sleep after a bottle and a diaper change. She slept well past eight o’clock if Irish didn’t insist on waking her before he left for work. December 20th was her one-month birthday and we’d made an appointment at a professional photographer’s to have our first family photos taken. Irish was going to come home at lunch, change clothes, and we’d drive to the studio together.

The sitting had gone well. Jewel had smiled in every shot but the last one. Irish the protective father quickly ended our session when he saw she was fussing. I had to smile at his protective papa-bear nature. It came so easily to him. Jewel was a
lucky little girl. On our way home from the studio, Irish called the office, telling Travis that he wouldn’t be back in today and would see him in the morning. I watched his face as he closed his phone. This was a surprise. He finally turned to me and with a devilish little grin announced, “We have to celebrate.”

I smiled back reluctantly, not understanding what his statement really meant. When we pulled into our driveway, Irish parked the car and came around to help me with Jewel’s things while I removed her from the car seat. Once in the house he changed the baby while I made her a bottle. As I sat holding her in my arms, Irish gave me that devilish grin again and kissed me on the forehead.

“I’ll be gone about an hour and when I get back, our party will begin,” he announced.

I rolled my eyes but smiled curiously at him.

As I watched the door close behind him, I turned my eyes to my daughter. “Your Daddy is plumb crazy,” I giggled as I spoke to her. She just gazed up at me as if she already knew.  My fears of bonding with Jewel ended on our plane ride home. Irish and I had both held her in the hospital nursery before being
released to us, but unlike Irish, I had trouble mastering the whole floppy-head situation of a newborn. Afraid of dropping her outweighed my concern for supporting her less-than-stable, wobbly head. Without a word Irish gently reminded me to watch her head with a little tap on my arm. How he could catch on so quickly to all of this new information astonished and amazed this new mother. No genuine book on being a mother was ever published. Each situation felt new and unique, one of a kind. One had to play it by ear.