Second Chance Sweethearts

She’d prayed for strength for everyone earlier tonight, and this was the second time she was seeing it in action. Tanna’s focus amazed Gloria, even as the world ran out of control and the wind battered the house, causing it to sway gently on the pilings. She’d attended more than a thousand births in her career, and thought she’d worked in every kind of condition possible—highly advanced labor-and-delivery suites, standing by in cesarian sections, working the past two years at an independent out-of-hospital birthing center at the edge of Provident Medical Center’s footprint. She’d even been present for a few planned home births.

But until today, she’d never supervised a birth in a candlelit room with not even the most basic of equipment or running water—she’d never been crazy enough to rationally consider such a thing. Tanna, the young nineteen-year-old who, nine months ago, Gloria had initially judged as a good candidate to ask middelivery for a transfer to a hospital to get an epidural, was showing strength through adversity tonight.

With one last forceful push and a punctuating explosion of breath, another refugee from the hurricane’s fury shot into the world. Gloria picked up another towel from her box of supplies with one hand as she held the little squealing baby with the other.

It was a triumphant moment, made all the more incredible not just because of the amazing nature of birth, but because of how amazing it was to have this birth in the middle of this particular storm.

The hurricane may have been merely named Hope, but as Gloria lifted the mewling baby and handed it to the euphoric, exhausted mother on the bed, she knew she was holding in her arms literal hope in the form of brand-new life.

“Congratulations, Tanna. It’s a boy! And a strong one, too. Do you want to cut the cord?”

Tanna shook her head, unable to tear her gaze from the tiny stranger that she already knew so well. “No. I couldn’t have done this without you and Rigo. I’d be alone in that awful apartment if you hadn’t come to check on me, and who knows what would have happened if Rigo wasn’t there to protect us.”

Gloria met Rigo’s eyes and felt something chip at the heavy cement that had poured in her heart hours before when he walked back into her life. Tanna saw Rigo as a hero. And maybe she was right.

She handed Rigo the scissors she’d found in a downstairs drawer upon their arrival. She’d sanitized them in some boiling water before they’d lost all the utilities. They were just common household scissors, but they’d have to do. She had one plastic cord clamp in her box of tools but couldn’t find another at the bottom of the box with the dim half-light. Instead, she tied a length of twine tightly, using it as a makeshift clamp. “Do you want to do the honors?”

It felt so strange to be standing over a baby, sharing in a cord-cutting ceremony with Rigo. All those foolish teenage dreams and plans she’d once had for the future popped in her mind like kernels of corn.

“Sure. Wow.” Rigo took the scissors, and with one steady press, snipped the baby’s last physical tie with Tanna. Rigo stared at the little infant as though he was seeing one for the first time. “I’ve never done that before.”

“Not even with any of your training?” Gloria took the baby and towel-dried him. His hair stuck up in ten different directions.

“No. I don’t think I’ve really done much past treating things like puncture wounds and doing CPR and chest compressions. That’s most of what you see on the street and on the beach. Not a lot of babies being born in the sand dunes.”

He intently watched every move Gloria made. “What are you doing with that? That’s my sock.”

His curiosity was so intense it made Gloria chuckle, a welcome feeling. This day needed some comic relief. It was now almost one in the morning. Today had been too long and too life-changing.

“I don’t have a hat. An old tube sock seemed like the next best thing to keep his head warm. Is this one of your favorites?”

Rigo shook his head. “Not anymore.”

Inez slid off the bed and walked out to the hallway. “I’ll find something for her to eat in that box I packed. There’s some peanut butter and a bottle of coconut water. We need to keep her strength up and the coconut water is full of electrolytes.”

Gloria finished bundling the baby tightly in a blanket. It seemed to have once had Winnie the Pooh scenes all over it, and had probably belonged to one of Inez’s children or grandchildren. Now it was soft and faded from wear and love. The baby settled and made a smacking sound.

“Here, Rigo, hold him while I check Tanna quickly.” Rigo held his arms out. “Not like that. He won’t bite. He doesn’t have teeth. Haven’t you ever held a baby before?”

“Well, no. Not really.” Rigo’s eyebrows raised slightly in a position that seemed to say, What did you expect? without uttering a single word.

“Bend your arms. Here, like mine. You need to cradle him. He’s completely floppy. You have to support his head.”

Gingerly, she laid the baby in Rigo’s arms. It felt strangely powerful.

In just a few minutes, all the stages of labor were completely finished, and Gloria wanted to give Tanna the chance to rest and cuddle with her baby.

Gloria tried to keep the visual of Rigo holding the baby from being burned in her mind. Tanna wasn’t the only one who needed rest. So did Gloria’s swirling mind.

“Rigo, you can hand the little man back to his mama. Tanna, why don’t you start to try and feed him? I’m sure he’ll appreciate the comfort and it’s important to start a good nursing relationship early.”

Inez came back in, peanut butter jar in one hand, a sleeve of crackers in the other and a bottle of coconut water tucked under an arm. This had undoubtedly been the most unconventional birth Gloria had ever attended, but she wasn’t sure she could have asked for a better crew to share it with.

“I’ll help her with that, Gloria, while you clean up. I’ve got some experience with this.” Inez placed the food on the bedside table and got Tanna set up with pillows tucked securely behind her. “You can hand the baby to me, Rigo.”

Slowly, Rigo moved toward his aunt.

“Something wrong?” Gloria looked up and caught Inez studying her nephew’s face. It was as blank as the wall behind the bed.

He continued to stare at the baby, almost tracing the little smacking lips with his gaze.

“No,” he said quietly and flicked a split-second glance at Gloria. “Not at all.” He laid the baby in Tanna’s open arms. She cuddled the little bundle tightly against her chest.

Rigo backed up and headed toward the door, then turned back to the bed. “Tanna, do you have a name for him?”

The baby squirmed, drinking in his mother’s scent.

“No, not really.” She tore her gaze away from the tiny face in her arms for just a second. “Gloria, earlier when we were at your house, what did you say your baby’s name was?”

Sadness pierced Gloria’s heart. She needed that strength she’d prayed for. And she needed it now.

“Mateo,” she said, her tongue stumbling over every syllable. “His name was Mateo.”

A smile crossed Tanna’s face. “I like it. Mateo Rodrigo, for you both.”

White-hot shock pierced her heart. Tanna didn’t know their history. She just thought she was doing them a great honor.

Gloria prayed for the second time today. For the second time in the past two years.

Oh, please, God, don’t let me fall.

Chapter Four (#ulink_b362cd8e-37ed-5c81-8505-c3a67654a15d)

As the immediacy of the birth wore off, Rigo had time to notice the demeanor of everyone around him. There wasn’t really much else to do besides sit and wait. The baby was peaceful. Tanna was euphoric, brushing the baby’s downy hair with the tips of her fingers, over and over again. Tía Inez was in her element, delivering advice and suggestions.

Gloria seemed reflective, quietly tidying things up as best she could, keeping the makeshift birthing center comfortable by relighting the candles when they burned low and writing down details of the birth.

As he’d watched Gloria at work earlier, he’d found himself unable to take his eyes off her. He’d pursued his career in law enforcement and rescue because he liked the thrill, the chase. The constant of never knowing what would come next—and the adrenaline buzz that came along with it.

Gloria was different, though. She had directed Tanna’s birth without lights, without equipment, without conveniences, in a manner that connected strongly to birthing women throughout the ages before hospitals and delivery rooms. In spite of the uncertainty, he never saw fear when Gloria was in that room. She had to have been scared by the hurricane—he knew he was—but even so, he only saw the actions of a woman who was uniquely called to do that very career. Not because she chose it. Because it chose her.

The stubbornness he used to chide her for. The single-minded focus he used to try and break through his teasing. The drive to accomplish exactly the path set in front of her. It was all still there, more than a decade later.

So, too, were the things he’d been attracted to as a teenager. The soft glow that caused her topaz eyes to glitter when she got truly excited about something. The fierce protectiveness that took complete care of and responsibility for anyone in her inner circle. And the petite frame that made her look like a tiny, sweet package, like a dulce de leche candy you could tuck in your pocket and carry with you. Looking at Gloria, people might first disregard her—until they later learned they did so at their own peril.

He’d figured she’d changed over the years, like everyone did, although he hadn’t been close enough in a long time to know for sure.

But now back, face-to-face with the woman who appeared in all of his best memories—and at the center of his worst—Rigo saw nothing had changed.