Patricia Davids - His Bundle of Love

He gave a pointed glance to where she gripped his arm. “You’re doing a bit of acupuncture with those fingernails.”

She jerked away. “I’m sorry.”

“Why don’t you hold my hand?” He offered it, but she ignored him and gripped the edge of the mattress instead, and he regretted saying anything.

He had seen this young woman occasionally at Pastor Frank’s shelter in the last month. She would show up for the evening meal, but she never stayed long. Like many of the women at Mercy House, she kept to herself. He’d never spoken to her, yet something in her eyes had captured his attention the first time he saw her.

The women who came to Mercy House were mostly single mothers with ragged children in tow or old women alone and without families. Their eyes were dull with hopelessness, desperation and sadness, but life hadn’t emptied this girl’s eyes—they blazed with defiance.

Up close, their unusual color intrigued him. A light golden brown, they held flecks of green that made them seem to change with the light. They reminded him of the eyes of a cougar he had seen in the zoo. Aloof, watchful, wary. Only now, raw fear lurked in their depths.

Come on, Eddy, don’t let me down. Get that ambulance here.

Struggling to hide his concerns, Mick searched for a way to establish a rapport and put her at ease. “Have you got a name picked out for your baby?”

“No. I thought I had plenty of time.”

He gave her a wry smile. “I’ve got names picked out for my kids, and I’m not even married yet.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Goody for you.”

“A kid’s name is important. It’s something you should give a lot of thought. Not that you haven’t—or wouldn’t—I mean,” he murmured as he ducked his head.

Caitlin couldn’t believe it. This grown man, as big as a house, and probably twenty-five years old was blushing. His neck grew almost as red as his hair. It was sweet, really.

What could she say to someone about to deliver her baby? Things were going to get intimate. Maybe soon. She felt the beginnings of another contraction and reached for his hand. His large fingers engulfed her small ones. Strength and reassurance seem to flow from him into her, easing her fear. Focusing on his face, she followed his instructions to breathe in and blow out. The pain did seem more bearable.

As the contraction faded, she realized he still held her hand. She pulled away and drew his jacket close, relishing the warmth and comforting scent of leather and masculine cologne. The quiet of the old building pressed in around them.

“So, tell me what names you got picked out,” she said at last. “Maybe I’ll use one.”

He smiled. “For a boy, it’ll be William Perry.”

“Willie Perry Williams.” She tried the name out but shook her head. “Not a chance. Why would you do that to a kid?”

“Are you joking? William ‘The Refrigerator’ Perry was the greatest football player in the history of the Chicago Bears.”

Her husband had liked football. The thought of Vinnie sent a stab of regret through her heart. He would never see his son or daughter. How she had hoped that he would give up his wild ways once he knew they were having a baby. He hadn’t. A high-speed chase while trying to outrun the police ended his life when his car veered off the highway and struck a tree. His death that night had started her down the painful path that led to her current desperate situation.

Within days she had discovered that Vinnie had been gambling away the rent money she worked so hard to earn. The landlord didn’t want to hear her sob story. He wanted his money. Three months of unpaid rent was more than she could come up with. She was evicted the day after her husband’s funeral. With no money and nowhere to go, she soon found herself living on the streets. The one place she swore she’d never go back to.

She took a close look at her rescuer. Was he the same kind of man? One who would drink and gamble and then lie to his pregnant wife about it? She didn’t believe that. Not a guy who liked kids as much as he did.

Managing a little smile, she said, “You don’t plan on naming a girl after a football player, do you?”

“No,” he answered quietly. “I’ll name her after my mother. Elizabeth Anne O’Callaghan.”

Amazing! If this guy was any sweeter, he’d rival a candy bar.

Another contraction hit, and his hand found hers. “You got it, that’s it. Breathe,” he coaxed. “Breathe, breathe. You’re doing great.”

She curled onto her side and focused on his singsong voice. With his free hand, he began to rub her lower back in slow circles. Okay, she thought, a sweet guy is a good thing to have around just now.

“Is there someone I can call once we get to the hospital?” he asked. “Family? The baby’s father?”

She shook her head. “Vinnie, my husband, he’s dead. There’s nobody.”

“I’m sorry.”

She bristled at the pity in his voice. Normally, she would have ignored it, but now she couldn’t seem to control the emotions that flared in her.

“I don’t need your pity. I’ve had a little bad luck, that’s all.” She raised up on her elbow to glare at him. “I’ll be on my feet again in no time and a lot better off than I was before.”

Holding up one hand, he said, “Chill, lady. I wasn’t feeling sorry for you.”

“You’d better not. I can take care of myself. And I can take care of my baby, too.”

“In here?” He gestured around the room. The broken window let the wind in, and strips of dingy wallpaper peeling from the stained plaster waved in the breeze that carried the smells of mildew and rotting wood.

“Lady, I’ve seen kids living in places like this covered with rat bites and worse. If you think you can go it alone, you’re crazy. There’s a system to help if you’ll use it.”

“Why do you care? You want to name your little girl after your mother, right? You know what I remember about dear old Mom? On my fifth birthday she gave me a Twinkie with a candle in it. Then she left me inside a Dumpster for two days because she was too strung out to remember where she’d put me to keep me quiet while some new boyfriend supplied her habit. Your precious system moved me from one foster home to another when it wasn’t giving me back to Mom so she could have another go at me. By the time I was sixteen, I’d figured out living in a back alley was a better deal. Your system isn’t going to get its hands on my baby. I’ll make sure of that.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting to hold back a scream as the pain overwhelmed her.

“Okay, you’ve had it rough,” he said gently. “Show me one kid down at the shelter that hasn’t. But, if Child Welfare finds out this is where you’re living, do you think they’re going to let you bring a baby here? I’m just saying stay at a shelter until you find something better. It’s not you I’m worried about, it’s the baby.”

Everyone who’d ever shown her compassion had had their own agenda in mind. Why did she think this guy was any different? Why did she find herself believing he really did care?

“How come you’re so concerned about someone else’s kid?”

He stared out the broken window for a long moment without speaking, then he looked at her and said, “Maybe because I can’t have kids of my own.”

She frowned. “I don’t get it. What about the names?”

The smile he tried for was edged with sadness. “If I ever marry, I’ll adopt children.”

“You look healthy to me,” she said, giving him the once-over. “What’s wrong with you?”

He hesitated, then admitted, “I had a bad case of the mumps when I was a teenager. It left me sterile.” He shrugged. “It’s just one of those things.”

But not a little thing, Caitlin thought as she glimpsed the sadness in his eyes.

“Mick? Mick O’Callaghan?” A shout echoed through the building.

“Last room on the left, Pastor,” Mick shouted back.

The sound of someone clambering past the debris in the hall reached them. A moment later, Pastor Frank’s bald head appeared in the doorway. “Mick, what are you doing in here? Eddy was raving about you delivering a baby.”

His eyes, behind silver wire-rimmed glasses, widened as he caught sight of Caitlin. “For goodness’ sake. Are you?”

“Not yet, but we could be. Did you call for an ambulance?”

“I did.” The sound of a distant siren followed his words.

Mick turned to her and smiled. “Everything’s going to be all right now.”

He gripped her hand again. The warmth and strength of his touch made her believe him. He would take care of her and her baby.

Twenty minutes later, two paramedics loaded the stretcher she lay on into the ambulance. Another contraction hit, stronger this time. As she tried to pant through it, the need to push became uncontrollable. One of the paramedics started to close the door, shutting Mick out.

“Wait,” she shouted. “He’s got to come with me.”

She wasn’t sure why she needed Mick. Maybe it was because he truly seemed to care—about her, and about her baby.

She stretched her hand out and pleaded, “Please, Mick, we need you.”

The two paramedics looked at Mick. The older one said, “Okay, O’Callaghan, come on. We’re wasting time.” He motioned with his head, and Mick jumped in. Moments later, the ambulance rolled with red lights and siren.

Mick knew he’d be late getting home for sure now. He would have to call once he reached the hospital. The last thing he wanted was to worry his mother. Yet, for some reason he knew he couldn’t let Caitlin go through this alone.

She didn’t have anyone. He couldn’t imagine what that must be like. Besides his mother, he had two sisters, a dozen nephews and nieces and more cousins than he could count. There were enough O’Callaghans in Chicago to fill the upper deck at Wrigley Field, while this destitute young woman was totally alone.

No, God had set his feet on the path that led to Caitlin today. Mick couldn’t believe the Lord wanted him to bail out now. Taking her hand, he smiled at her and said, “You got it now. Just breathe.”

The siren wailed overhead. Caitlin struggled to block out the sound as she panted through the contraction with Mick coaching her. Why didn’t they shut it off? She couldn’t concentrate. She needed to hear his voice telling her everything was going to be okay. And she needed to push.

She was pushing by the time the ambulance reached the hospital. Her stretcher was quickly unloaded and wheeled into the building. People came at her from all directions, yelling instructions, asking for information and giving orders she couldn’t follow. All she could do was bear down and push a new life into the world as she clung to Mick’s hand like a life-line.

A sudden gush of fluid soaked the stretcher, and her tiny baby slid into the hands of a startled doctor. “We have a girl,” he said. Mick lifted Caitlin’s head so she could see.

“She’s so small.” Dread snaked its way into her soul as they whisked her daughter to a table with warming lamps glowing above it.

“Is she okay? Why isn’t she crying?” Caitlin tightened her grip on Mick’s hand. So many people crowded around the baby that she couldn’t see her. She tried to sit up, but a nurse held her back.

“Your baby’s being taken care of.”

“Just tell me she’s okay. Please, someone tell me she’s okay.” Frantic now, Caitlin struggled to push the nurse aside, but a sudden, sharp pain in her chest halted her.

She tried to draw a breath but couldn’t get any air. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. She collapsed back onto the bed as the crushing pain overwhelmed her.