If The Shoe Fits. Marilynn GriffithЧитать онлайн книгу.
on so we can move on? It’s like she holds you captive or something.” She reached for Jordan, but he pulled away, taking a sip of my once-perfect tea.
He shook his head at Terri, then took my hand. “I don’t blame you. I haven’t given you any reason to believe in me. But I just thought—I thought that maybe you could.”
Why was I always the villain? “I have forgiven you, Jordan. Some things are just hard to forget.” I looked around the waiting room. Were those ducks the same ones from when my family had waited in this room? Surely not. Maybe they’d bought the stuff in bulk.
Jordan smiled weakly at Tad. “I guess some things don’t change no matter how much you pray.” His wide palm smacked Tad’s shoulder, before Jordan took a few steps and plopped down in front of the television. The NBA finals, of course.
Tad passed Jordan’s weak smile on to me with his own mouth. He scanned my face as if looking for something. Whatever it was, he didn’t find it. I pitied him. I knew the feeling. I wish I could say that Jordan’s pain or Tad’s frustration moved me, but I’d be lying. And Terri? Well, she was doing good to still be standing.
Lord, what does he expect me to say? What do You expect?
Tad walked over to Jordan, ignoring Terri as he sat down. “Give Rochelle more time. And yourself, too. None of this is easy.”
Wow. Tad sounded like some counselor assigned by family court. All he was missing was a comb-over hairdo and a bad suit. It was nice of him to be here, but right now, I needed my friends from my Sassy Sistahood—Jordan’s sister Dana, who was off at a trade show with her new husband and my other dear friend, newly married, quite pregnant and two hours away. How dare my friends have lives of their own? Right now, I’d even take Austin, one of our newest members and someone I hadn’t quite clicked with yet.
I wanted anybody who’d understand how bad I wanted to see my granddaughter, but how scared I was to see her, too. I’d failed at being a parent, made a mess of my own life and now had a pink-clad monster, the local weatherman and a washed-out NBA player to deal with, none of whom had a clue how I really felt. And vice versa. No, for times like these, a girl needs God…and her girlfriends.
“Let’s go back and see about the baby. They said twenty minutes.” It was all I could think of to say. This was supposed to be about the kids, wasn’t it? And the baby? How it turned into some grown folks’ version of baby’s mama drama, I had no clue.
Jordan and Terri walked ahead of us to Shemika’s room, with the former giving Tad the look of an apprentice hoping for his master to fix the situation.
Tad had sense enough not to signal any hope. Instead, he picked up my purse from where I’d almost left it. “Here. You might need this, Grandma.” His smile and his tone were comforting.
I pushed my purse up on my shoulder and stared down at my now war-beaten shoes, shocked at how good they looked despite the stains.
“Thanks.” This let me know that I was totally out of control. My purse was like an extension of my body, always attached.
His gaze rested around my ankles as we started back to the room. “I’m glad you found your shoes. Gotta take care of those—”
“Don’t say it.” I sucked up half the oxygen in Illinois. Didn’t he know not to go there while my illegitimate grandchild was being born? Goodness. My feet had been through enough. My mind, too.
He smiled, the little-boy-with-a-secret grin again. “I won’t say it. I don’t have to.”
The baby, whose cry had filled the room not long before, now rested in a nurse’s arms, swaddled by enough baby blankets to almost double her size. We’d only been allowed a peek at her before, but this time, the nurse motioned for Jordan and me to approach. The little face, cocoa with a splash of milk, looked beautiful to me. A bed of thick curls framed the baby’s face.
Her face.
“A girl, right?” Jordan asked.
“Yes,” my son said, pointing to the card attached to the bed. “Girl. Seven pounds, eight ounces.”
Tad patted my hand as I moved closer to my grandchild and then to my son.
Jericho smiled but didn’t say anything more. Instead, he mopped Shemika’s brow. The furrows in his forehead worried me. Terri chattered on, pulling designer baby clothes from her bag in more shades of pink than I knew existed. I paused, listening to the deadly quiet that had rushed into the room.
“Should she still be bleeding?” my son whispered to me.
“No.” I tried not to get anxious, turning to the midwife for the look of reassurance. Instead, concerned eyes met mine. My toes balled up in my shoes. This couldn’t happen. Not again.
The midwife pushed her glasses up on her nose with a gloved wrist. “Shemika’s blood pressure rose significantly during the birth, almost to stroke levels. Her pressure is coming down, but not as quickly as I’d like. There’s also a blood-loss concern. My backup doctor will take over from here.”
Jordan, who’d somehow managed to hear over his girlfriend’s loud talking, gripped my arm. We’d never talked about what had happened to me after the birth of our son, but someone must have told him. Or perhaps he figured something must have happened for me to only have one child. That the woman he’d known back then could have been celibate all these years was probably his last guess.
As I started running through all the scenarios and how my son and I could split the care for Shemika and the baby, something told me to be still. I was.
The nurse took the sweet bundle from my arms. Terri reached out her hands, but the woman ignored her. “The baby is going to the nursery now to get cleaned up—”
“Can I come too?” Jordan interrupted the nurse. “I’d just like to make sure that she’s okay.” Terri gave me a contented look of victory, but the voice in my head remained.
What was that Scripture in Ephesians that Tracey liked to quote?
Having done all to stand…stand. Stay here.
“You can come on with us, Tad. I know all this can be a little overwhelming, especially for a single cat like you.” Jordan nodded for Tad to follow.
Tad shook his head. “I’ll stay here.” None of that “if it’s all the same to you,” or “if you don’t mind” stuff, just, “I’ll stay here.”
Already walking behind the bassinet, Jordan waved. “Suit yourself, man.” He turned to Shemika. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Grandpa’s on the job.”
It was a sorry attempt to lighten the mood, but it was much needed, even if it only lasted a few seconds. As soon as the baby was out of the door, things went downhill quickly.
“Prep the O.R. She’s bleeding out.”
“Lord, we ask that You stop this blood, in Jesus’ name…”
Those voices, first the doctor’s and then Tad’s were the last I remembered hearing. From there, I was back in an icy recovery room, waking to the sensation of my insides on fire. No one was in the room but a nurse who looked as if she’d rather be somewhere, anywhere else. Her voice, though, was much kinder than her appearance when I asked about the baby.
“He’s fine,” she’d said in a soft tone. “There won’t be any more, though. Babies, I mean. You had some problems. The doctor will come and talk to you about it later. Just be thankful that you got one.”
She wasn’t the last person to tell me that and the doctor never came to explain. But now, here in Shemika’s hospital room, all the pain and regret came back to me. I gripped my waist and doubled over.
“Are you all right, Grandma?” one of the nurses asked as they moved Shemika from the bed to a stretcher.
I could hear Tad still praying under his breath. “I’m fine, just