That Baby (48 page)

That was the plan.
 

I remember my grandma telling me something about God’s plans versus our plans.
 

I look over my shoulder and see a group of people behind a sheer curtain. And I know my grandma is there. Waiting for me. I can feel her presence.
 

 
Then I hear Grandpa’s voice in my head.
If you can’t dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them with bullshit.

Is he telling me I can bullshit my way through this?
 

Is that why I’m in heaven?

Is there some way I can affect the baby not dying?

I see a flash of white.
 

No, I
feel
a flash of white.
 

Like lightning.

Then I’m overcome with extreme panic.
 

Our baby. Our baby.

Our baby.

Our baby.

Save our baby.

Please, save our baby.

Words are clawing inside my throat, but unable to be released.
 

I feel hysteria.
 

Pain.
 

Clear.
 

Chaos.

Peace.
 

Then more white, brighter now than ever before.
 

I know intuitively that they are trying to revive me.
 

But I also know it’s not meant to be, because the picture comes back on the wall.
 

I see Phillip in our backyard, building a swing set.
 

This makes me mad.
 

“It’s not fair, Mom! I don’t understand. First Phillip loses you and Dad and then me and the baby. How is he going to handle that?”
 

Mom nods toward the screen, causing me to look more closely at Phillip.
 

He looks different. There are little crinkles around his eyes, his hair looks darker, and he’s heavier.
 

“Wait, what is this?
When
is this? Why would Phillip be building a swing set?”
 

“Watch,” she says.
 

A few moments later, Danny, Lori, and a bunch of children join him in the backyard. Two adorable dark-haired boys yell at him. “Daddy, Daddy! Is it done? Can we swing now?”

He picks up the younger of the two, twirls him around, and then sets him on the top of the slide. The child happily screams his way down. He tickles the other boy, throws him up over his shoulder, and then puts him on one of the swings and starts pushing him.
 

“Higher, Daddy! Higher!”

It’s a sweet moment. The love Phillip has for his children is apparent and my heart fills with joy seeing him happy.

Until a dark-haired woman walks into the picture, kisses Phillip, and hands him a beer.
 

My heart drops.
 

Falls.
 

Shatters.
 

Breaks in two.
 

No.
 

Please.
 

No.
 

But then I realize that’s selfish of me.
 

Of course, I want Phillip to go on with life.
 

Without me.
 

I want him to be happy. And he looks happy with her. I also notice there is no blonde child.
 

Our baby didn’t survive.
 

Phillip runs his hand across a spot on the wood. Through his eyes, I see what he touched. Carved in the wood, just like he carved it into the tree in his backyard when we were young, are three sets of initials.
 

J.R.

+

P.M.

+

D.D.
 

=
 

BFFs 4Ever

Danny stands next to him. “I miss her.”

“I’ll miss her forever,” Phillip says.
 

From behind me, I hear the sound of someone yelling
Clear
again.

“Is this the future?” I ask Mom.

Mom shrugs. “Time doesn’t exist here. Not in the way you’re used to. Time folds on top of itself.”

“So past, present, and future as one? Predetermined?”

Mom hesitates then nods.

“So what I saw, there with Phillip, it’s already happened or it is happening?”

She shrugs.

“I thought when you got to heaven that all would be revealed?”
 

She shrugs again, which is very frustrating.
 

“What the hell, Mom?”

“Jadyn James! Watch your language!”

Then she disappears.
 

Apparently that’s a word you don’t say when you are in heaven.
 

Maybe unless you want to end up there.
 

And I don’t.
 

I close my eyes and see Phillip with someone else.
 

My eyes burst open and I grab the remote.

Maybe this thing goes backwards, so I can see Phillip when we were together. So while I’m here, I can relive all our happy moments.
 

Isn’t that what heaven is supposed to be about?

I click the rewind button, stopping on a time when Phillip and I are about four years old.

Then I close my eyes. I don’t need a TV to remember all the precious moments with him.
 

 
His lips are ringed with purple as he smiles at me, breaks the popsicle, and hands me half.

His sword slices through the air as he pretends to protect me from a dragon.

His eyes holding mine as my dad pulls me out of the tree and tells me I can’t play with him anymore.
 

His lips touching mine when we’re on the swings behind school.

He runs up the hill, turns around, and yells back, ‘Will you marry me someday?’

One beautiful brown eye winking at me as he throws a soccer ball to me during recess. ‘I’ll play with you.’

The shy grin he gives me when I tell him he acted like a prince today.

The dreamy sound of his voice as he says, ‘Hey, Princess.’

His warm arms wrapping around me.

Finding me in the stands after he catches a game-winning pass.

His hand in mine, squeezing it, and keeping me going when I need it most.

Standing in front of me, dressed for a date, tire iron in hand. ‘Phillip to the rescue.’

A worried look when he discovers I have a fever and his shocked voice. ‘Princess, you’re burning up!’

Kicked back on the couch, a beer in hand, looking scrumptious. ‘I’ll play spin the bottle with you.’

Heartbreak written across his face when I place my engagement ring on his desk and walk out.

Sweetness and love in his voice when he drops to his knee in the snow and asks me to marry him again.

Happiness and lust as he rushes up the stairs to see me in my wedding dress.

Panic in his eyes when he thinks I’m upset he turned my parents’ wedding rings into a beautiful necklace.

Love and devotion as we’re standing under an altar made of branches and his promise to always rescue me.

A sexy smirk when we’re on our honeymoon before he pounces on me.

His happy, surprised look when I tell him I’m pregnant.

The joy written all over his face and vibrating from his body when he hears the baby’s heartbeat for the first time.
 

 
Sincereness in his voice when he tells me he understands about the nursery. ‘Love is all that matters.’

I could do this forever, reliving every perfect moment with him.
 

I open my eyes and look around at the all white room.
 

I can see the people behind the curtain now, like they’re just outside a window.
 

I can’t see their faces clearly and I’m not sure who they all are, but I know that I know them.
 

And I know they are waiting for me.
 

Waiting for me to join them.
 

And, maybe, waiting for me to understand.

What they don’t know is that I do understand. I know exactly what
my
heaven is.
 

It’s Phillip.

I’m not going to join them. I can’t. I’m staying here and watching Phillip TV until he joins me in eternity.

But then I think about our baby.
 

About my dad holding it.
 

And I know I have to go.
 

I need to be with our baby.

A scene flicks on the screen even though I didn’t touch the remote.

Danny is rushing down the hall.
 

He spots Phillip, who is still sitting on the folding chair, sobbing.
 

Danny slides on his knees in front of Phillip.
 

Phillip looks up for a moment and barely shakes his head, letting Danny know that I didn’t make it.
 

Danny puts his head down. He’s sobbing too.
 

I watch as he reaches up and puts his hand on top of Phillip’s.
 

I’m drawn back to the screen.
 

I love them in entirely different ways, but I love them both with all my heart.

I put my hand on top of Danny’s, hoping I can console them.
 

I look at the TV and see myself. I look faded and faint, but I’m standing there next to them with my hand at the top of the pile.

It’s fitting, really.
 

That it looks like this. Our hands stacked on top of each other, looking like we’re getting ready to break as we go out onto a sports field before a game.
 

On what I know will be the last time I ever touch either one of them.

Danny

After a while, the nurse who helped me find Phillip gently relocates us to a waiting room.

Phillip’s parents are here.
 

“How is she?” Mrs. Mac asks, but Phillip’s body language says everything as he plops down into a chair taking up the same position he had in the other one.
 

“She had a placental abruption. Lost too much blood,” I say quietly, repeating one of the few shreds of information Phillip was muttering, but knowing the look on our faces say more than my words could convey.

Mrs. Mac’s hand immediately goes to her face, sadness washing over the concern that was there before. Mr. Mac, who was standing, sits down very slowly, grief written all over his face.

“Oh my god,” Mrs. Mac slowly says, dropping to a chair next to him as the reality of Jadyn’s death sinks in.

The sounds of the busy hospital blur around me as I sit next to Phillip not knowing what to do.

My phone buzzes with a text from Lori asking where I am and if I’ll stop and pick up milk on the way home. I realize that she has no idea what’s happened.
 

I start to send her a text to let her know Jadyn was in an accident.
 

But I can’t bring myself to do it.
 

Part of me keeps thinking this can’t really be happening.
 

Can’t possibly be real.
 

“Phillip Mackenzie?” a nurse announces to the waiting room.
 

Phillip doesn’t even look up.
 

I stand and point to him. “Uh, he’s right here.”

“Sir, could you come with me?” she says to him. “The doctor would like to speak with you.”

Phillip shuts his eyes tightly and shakes his head. “I can’t,” he mutters. “I can’t.”

I squeeze his shoulder. “Come on, Mac. We’ll do it together.”

His eyes fill with tears again. “That’s what I said to her at her parents’ funeral. When she didn’t want to drop the roses in their graves.”

He stands up and together we numbly follow the nurse to a small room.
 

We sit in the little white cubicle for at least fifteen minutes.
 

Waiting.