Chapter 18 - Before the First Cry
The operating room was bright and cold. Adrian wore hospital scrubs and a mask, and his hands shook even though he wasn't the patient.
Nora lay behind a blue surgical drape. “Talk to me,” she said. “About anything.”
Adrian tried to remember a happy story. Instead he blurted, “Lily ate half a jar of pickles at Claire's place yesterday.”
Nora gave a startled laugh. “That sounds like her.”
“And she made me promise not to tell you she spilled juice on the couch.”
“You just told me.”
“I've never been good at secrets.”
She looked at him over the edge of her mask. “You were good at believing everybody else's.”
He nodded. “I know.”
For a while the only sounds were medical instructions and the steady work of the team. Adrian kept his eyes on Nora's face. He told her how proud he was of Lily, how sorry he was for the days he'd disappeared into work, and how he would show up differently from now on.
Then, at 12:43 a.m., a tiny cry rose above the room.
Their son had arrived early, small but breathing. The neonatal team began checking him immediately and explained that he would need care in the NICU.
Nora started crying too. “Is he okay?”
“He needs some help, but he's here,” Dr. Flores said. “We're looking after him.”
Adrian kissed Nora's forehead. “You did it.”
“We did not,” she said with a faint smile. “I did it. You told a pickle story.”
He laughed through tears.
They named the baby Benjamin Thomas Cole, after Nora's father and the grandfather who had tried to protect them. Lily saw his picture the next morning and declared him “the tiniest person in the whole world.”
For one precious day, the family allowed themselves to think about nothing but Benjamin's breathing, Nora's recovery, and the way Lily carefully practiced saying his full name.
Then Detective Jackson arrived with news. Victor's attorney had produced an agreement that might complicate the prosecution. Someone inside the foundation had apparently signed a document giving Victor broad control over the disputed property transactions.
“Whose signature?” Adrian asked.
May you like
Jackson looked at Nora. “Yours.”
