The Battered Heiress Blues (24 page)

After signing in, which felt like it took an eternity, and tried the patience of my father who never waited for anything, we were sent to an exam room in labor and delivery. With a complete previa, no exam was performed outside of the ultrasound, which meant that everyone could stay- lucky me. Dr. Brandon’s eyes doubled in size as he entered and saw his audience. Gabe and Tommy were on one side and John and Ms. Martin on the other.

“You weren’t kidding when you said everyone. Gabe, hello. Tommy, nice to see you again.”

“You too, Doc. I have some more questions,” my brother replied.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” he snickered.

“This is my father, John Spencer and Gabe’s mom, Ms. Martin. She’s a registered nurse. She’s been looking after me.”

“Great. Good to see you all. Ms. Martin, you’ve been doing a fine job and I’m sure it hasn’t been easy, what with Julia’s nature.”

“Hey, I get enough abuse at home. Show me my Emma.”

Smiling with reservations, Dr Brandon squirted gel on my belly and began taking pictures as if completing some mental checklist. I could really see her now. Her face was so fleshy and plump. She had Henry’s chin and my nose. Since I had had so many ultrasounds, I’d become wise as to where to look to see measurement stats. Everything seemed to be appropriate for gestational age. The doctor pointed out the vital organs and commented that she had long legs- every girls dream; a Spencer trait. She was also blessed with my full lips. Emma Grace was a beauty. I looked over at my father and he was wiping a tear from his eye. In the dark room, no one was the wiser and I wouldn’t give him up, but I was surprised to see him so touched. He had changed. Maybe he deserved the same chance with me that Tommy was affording him.

After all the oohs and ahhs, the nurse wiped my belly off and turned on the lights. You could have heard a pin drop if Mattie wasn’t saying blue over and over again. Dr. Brandon quietly made notations in the chart before delivering his verdict.

“I’m cautiously optimistic that we’ll make it to our target delivery date.”

“In my world, that’s not a win,” my father replied stoically.

“We’re planning for a difficult delivery, Mr. Spencer. In my world, preparation is winning.”

John grabbed my hand. I gave his a gentle squeeze. He was out of his comfort zone.

“No bleeding, Julia?”

“No. I’m feeling good.”

“I hate to say this with everyone present, but you need to slow down on the eating. Your weight gain is a bit much.”

Gabe’s smart ass comment was expected. “I didn’t know how to tell you, Julia. One more pound, you porker, and I was initiating an intervention.”

He was given the necessary punch in the arm before I turned my sights on the good doctor.

“Well, what else am I supposed to do besides eat? I’m confined to bed.”

“Whoa. Let me rephrase. Eat healthy.”

“It’s Christmas,” I argued.

“After Christmas, eat healthy. Agreed?”

“Agreed. How is the placenta?”

“No bleeding and baby growth is a great sign, but I do have one additional concern. It appears that the placenta has grown into the uterine wall. Of the three types of this disorder, you have the least severe. It hasn’t extended outside of the uterus or into the uterine muscle. We call this placenta accreta. Your previous surgery is probably to blame. The good news is that it doesn’t alter our current course of treatment. You’ll need to continue with bed rest. I see no need to keep you here in the hospital since you’ve been following my strict guidelines.”

“What are the ramifications of it growing into the uterine wall?” I asked.

“This development makes a hysterectomy more likely. We’ll be more concerned with managing your bleeding now. Hemorrhaging during the separation of the placenta from your uterus will be tricky.”

“And if I just agree to a hysterectomy out of the gates?”

“A hysterectomy is the safest option with your history.”

“Then do it.”

“You should take some time to think about it.”

“If trying to hang on to my uterus is going to put my life in jeopardy then there is nothing to think about. I want a long life with my baby girl. I’m blessed. There’s no need for me to be greedy and tempt fate.”

“I agree,” my father chimed in.

“Me too,” said Tommy.

“Your blood pressures have been good. You’re obviously managing your stress well.”

“So far.”

“I’ll see you in two weeks unless you have a problem. Call ahead. We may meet here again. Have a great Christmas.”

“You too. See you in two weeks.”

Gabe used our ride home to build me up about the new development. He also apologized for the crack about my weight. I responded by telling him that he couldn’t take it back and that if he didn’t hush it up, I’d eat him. Laughter elevated my mood.

We’d left the front gates open to allow for the delivery of packages. The porch was covered with brown boxes of various sizes. I went a little overboard with Mattie, but I couldn’t help myself, with nothing to do but eat and shop online.

Two FedEx envelopes were tilted against the front door. One was from my lawyer and the other from Peru. I already knew what papers I had asked my lawyer to draw up so I skipped that envelope and opened the pouch from Chimbote. Asking Gabe to bring the boxes to my room, I carefully climbed upward and found rest in my bed.

Spilling out the contents from the Chimbote envelope made my heart heavy. Cards from all my families were strewn across the covers. As Gabe came and went leaving packages, I slowly read through each one of them, trying to recall my horrible grasp of the Spanish language. I saved Father John’s and Sister Mary’s letters for last. They were in English and contained several pages.

Father John’s correspondence related good tidings for a happy Christmas. I had sent him a letter after I found out I was pregnant, requesting that the church pray for Emma’s safe delivery. He thanked me for the money I sent to buy Christmas presents for the children. That priest was the best person I had ever met. No matter what the hour or type of problem, he was in the thick of it always; much to the detriment of his health. I admired him so much. He’d taught me a lot about myself during my short stay in Chimbote. He was the one man in my life that loved unconditionally. Tommy was a close second, but we were still brother and sister. I remembered the good old days of tattling and hair pulling. Father John quickly acknowledged the things he saw as flaws in his own personality and was just as forgiving of other peoples’ shortcomings. He’d go out in the middle of the night to bring peace to a gang war, thinking nothing of his own safety. He was my hero. I wanted to be just like him when I grew up. I wish my own John was as good a man as my Peruvian Father John.

News of Hector Costelano was included in Father’s letter. Hector was killed by the police in a stand off, when he went to Lima looking for his family. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel happy. Justice had been handed down for Connor’s death, but I had hoped for the opportunity to look him in the eyes and ask him why. I wanted the chance to see if he was remorseful. I wanted to be in a place to grant my forgiveness. None of that mattered now. I wasn’t in that place yet. All I could do was continue to work on my ability to forgive him and hope that would serve to help me move on. My only joy came from knowing that the Costelano family could live without the constant fear of Hector’s retribution. They no longer had to spend their days looking over their shoulders. For that, I was grateful.

Father closed his letter with a blessing for me and Emma. He accepted my invitation to bring the church choir to Savannah when they toured the States on a fundraising trip. I couldn’t wait to accommodate all those fantastic kids in this oversized home. I was anxious to see my friends again.

Sister Mary described the preparations being made for the Christmas holy week. I wished that I could be there to hear the singing and sermons that always touched my soul so deeply. I always felt at home amongst the people at the mission. By home, I mean inside myself. I knew who I was there. The outside world didn’t claim any pieces of me. My focus was on the people and my God. The influence of being back in the States always clouded my purpose. Mattie had become my Chimbote. He had become my spiritual compass. The good Lord must have known that I’d be right back to my old ways of selfishness and ego. Mattie was my angel. He kept me centered.

Sister went on to ask that I thank my father profusely for the large endowment he made in Connor’s name. They were planning to use a portion of the funds to build handicapped accessible homes for the hundred or so men, women, and children that were wheelchair bound. Some money would be given to the hospice program and the educational funds to send the kids of the mission to college and university. I’d been trying to remain on an even keel, but tears gathered and flowed freely from my eyes as Tommy approached.

“What’s the matter?” he inquired.

“Read.”

I gave him the letter. He sat half way through reading. Gabe walked in and wondered what we were talking about. I asked him to close the door. I didn’t want my father to hear us.

“I received two letters from the mission in Peru. Father John said the man that attacked me was killed by the police. The other was from Sister Mary who asked me to thank my father for the gift of money he sent in Connor’s name.”

“You’re obviously on the good list this year. That’s two big presents for Christmas.”

“I didn’t want him dead, Gabe.”

“I know, but someone did. That was unexpected from your father, based on how you’ve described him.”

“I’m starting to realize that I don’t know my father at all.”

“Then you may want to use this time wisely to reacquaint yourself. That’s the last of the boxes.”

Gabe gave me that look like I needed to take his words to heart, before leaving. Tommy folded the letters and handed them back, dumbfounded.

“That’s a lot of information to take in.”

“Did you know about the endowment?” I asked.

“No.” Tommy shook his head trying to make sense of what he’d read.

“I’m speechless,” I responded.

“That’s a first.”

“Sarcasm from a priest?”

“I’m still your pesky brother.”

“Uh huh…What’s on tap for this evening?”

“We are going to take Mattie to feed the birds on the beach.”

“Ah. I miss doing that with him so much.”

“March 22
^nd
will be here before you know it.”

“Hush your mouth. Dr. Brandon said that he’d be happy with thirty six weeks- not forty. I’m shooting for February 22nd.”

He shook his head and then kissed me on the forehead.

“Yes, may God have mercy on us all so that we can make it to February 22nd,” he replied, palms together in prayer mode. “We’ll be back in a half hour. Will you be okay?”

“Yes. Go. Throw some bread for me.”

When Tommy left, I decided to make my way downstairs to enjoy the lights of the tree. I didn’t expect to see my father sitting on the couch. He was casually sifting through the New York Times. There was a contemplative moment of me considering racing back up the stairs to avoid being in his company alone, but my feet inched forward before my mind could shut them down.

“Hi, John. I thought you were going with the gang down to the beach.”

He folded the paper and dropped it on the coffee table in front of him.

“I’m a little tired. Are you feeling okay, Julia. Can I get you something?”

“No. I’m fine. I just wanted to enjoy the lights of the tree. The house seems so quiet when Mattie is gone.”

I sat down with him on the couch, keeping enough distance to feel comfortable, but still close enough that he could see the banner of resentment that I was so vividly waving at him.

“He’s a special little boy,” he commented.

“Really?” I replied sarcastically.

“Is a kind word so surprising from me?”

“Yes… I’m sorry. That was mean spirited.”

“Probably deserved.”

“If you say so.”

We both stared straight ahead, not knowing what to say next. Minutes passed before I broke through the tension, deciding to acknowledge the gift he made to the mission. It was either that or break into a rendition of
Silent Night
.

“John, I want to thank you for your donation to the mission in Connor’s name. That was a really nice thing to do and it means a lot to me. Truly, it does.”

“I didn’t want you to know about that.”

“Sister Mary was so thankful for the gift that she wanted to be sure that you received word of that sentiment.”

“They must be very special for you to leave us for them.”

There was the tone of disdain for my departure that I’d grown accustom to. If you gave him enough time, the real nature of my father always fought its way out. Immediately becoming defensive, I inched away from him toward the arm of the couch.

“It wasn’t like that. I was trying to get away from Jackson. His affair wasn’t his only shortcoming. He didn’t want Connor.”