“I guess I've been so wrapped in my own feelings that I haven't considered anyone else's, and that was wrong of me,” he confessed morosely.
“Life's journeys are made up of peaks and valleys, and sometimes that peak can be so sharp. But if we believe in God and know that He can help us, then that makes the going a little easier. Think of it as God providing a cushion.”
“We probably should have had this talk a little sooner than today,” Marcus said, clearly chagrined.
Reverend Wilcox said astutely, “I believe you came here when it was time. There is still time to talk to Monet and tell her everything you've been feeling, and I know she will comfort you just like you comforted her.”
“I've been such a fool for the way I treated her,” Marcus cried. “I hope I can make it up to her. But I don't know if I can be a good father to that child after what I saw of Monet's attacker today.”
“You have more strength than you know, Marcus, and I don't mean the physical kind either. Don't try to do everything on your own. Pray for guidance, and I promise you God will deliver and help you.”
“Thank you, Reverend Wilcox. I'm so glad God put it on my heart to come here tonight, and more importantly, that you were here to talk to me.”
Reverend Wilcox beamed her beautiful smile at Marcus. “I've been staying at church a little later than usual the past couple of weeks. I knew emotions might become taut for either you or Monet as her due date approached. I wanted to make myself available to either one of you, whoever needed my assistance.”
Reverend Wilcox reached for a pad on her desk and quickly began to write. When she was done, she looked at Marcus. “Sometimes we need something to focus on when we start to feel overwhelmed. Put this inside your wallet or someplace close by where you can access it quickly. I'm going to read them to you now. “
Oh Lord, you are my hiding place; You will protect me from trouble, and surround me with songs of deliverance
.” That is taken from the book of Psalm 37:7. The next one is from the book of Ecclesiastes 7:14; “
When times are good be happy, but when times are bad, consider God has made one as well as the other
.”
“And this one,” Reverend Wilcox concluded, “is my favorite.
Trust in Him in all times, O People; pour out your hearts to Him, for God is our refuge.
That one is from the book of Psalms 62:8. Pray, Marcus, and trust in God. Give Him your burdens and trust that He won't fail you. I promise you that you'll feel better. Talk to Monet, open your heart to her and everything will be all right.” She handed the paper to Marcus. He stood up and put it inside his wallet.
“Thank you, Reverend Wilcox. I promise I'm going to talk to Monet tomorrow. I hope she will forgive me.”
There was a twinkle in Reverend Wilcox's eye. “Trust me when I say that I know she will. Go get your house in order, Marcus.”
“I will,” he promised earnestly as he held out his hand.
She clasped it firmly. “I will keep you and Monet in my prayers, and don't hesitate to call or come see me if you need to.”
“I will, and Pastor, keep the prayers coming.” Marcus turned to leave the office. “Do you need me to wait on you? I can stay here until you're ready to leave.”
“No, that's okay. I'm going to be here a little while longer. You never know who may come by in need of prayer,” Reverend Wilcox said.
“Okay, be careful,” Marcus said as he walked out the door.
“I will, and the same to you.” She waved good-bye to Marcus.
As he drove home, the ice that had encased his heart began to melt. He knew he still had a lot of atoning to do, especially to his wife. He now understood what Wade was trying to tell him earlier. Marcus wondered why sometimes people had to nearly lose everything before they realized what was most important to them. He could hardly wait to see and talk to Monet. Their conversation, like Monet's due date, was long overdue.
Chapter 30
When Marcus arrived home he found the house dark. Mitzi was asleep in her basket. He walked upstairs and Monet was asleep too. He went downstairs to the basement, and Aron, like his daughter, was asleep. After he showered and changed into his pajamas, Marcus let out the sofa bed and retired for the night. He took the piece of paper Reverend Wilcox had given him out of his wallet and read the words. He hadn't prayed in a long time, but that night he asked God to forgive him for being hardheaded, and to help him to find the right words to say to Monet tomorrow.
He glanced at the clock, and decided it was too late to call Wade. He added that to his to-do list for tomorrow. Then Marcus's stomach rumbled, and he realized that he hadn't eaten since earlier that day. He rose from the sofa and checked the mini refrigerator that he stored his food in. He discovered a cold carton of noodles that he'd bought a couple of days ago. He put it in the microwave. While his food was warming, he took a can of iced tea out of the fridge and placed it on the table. The microwave beeped, Marcus took the carton out of the oven and ate. After he disposed of the can and carton, he fell asleep promptly, drained by the day's events.
When the alarm clock sounded the next morning, Marcus turned it off and debated whether he should go into the station now or later. He decided to get up and go then, and when he returned he would talk to Monet and beg her forgiveness.
When he finished his morning ritual, he checked his other weapon to make sure it was unloaded, and placed it inside his briefcase. Marcus went upstairs and found Aron sitting at the table drinking coffee.
“Good morning,” Aron said. “Could you drop me off at Duane's house? He and I are going to hang out today.”
“You want to go there this early in the morning?” Marcus asked.
“Yes, we're going out to breakfast.”
“Sure, I'll drop you off. “ Marcus looked toward the stairs. “Is Monet up? Has she been downstairs yet?”
“She was down here earlier and said she didn't feel well, so she went back to bed. I asked her if she wanted me to stay here with her today. But she told me to go ahead and keep my plans with Duane.” Aron stood up and took his white Panama straw hat off the coat rack and put it on his head.
“Let's head out.” Marcus took his keys out of his pocket, and they left the house. He locked the door behind them.
Monet tried to get out of the bed to peek out the window. By the time she maneuvered her body out of the bed and waddled over to the window, Marcus's vehicle was no longer in view. She walked slowly back to the bed, and as she sat down, a pang sizzled through her body and caused her to lean forward and gasp.
“Well, okay then. Faith, are you trying to tell me that today is the day?” She smiled and patted her tummy, then picked up the remote off her nightstand and aimed it toward the television. Monet channel surfed for a few minutes.
She tried to get comfortable when another pain shot through her midsection as it tightened up. “Oh, I felt that one. I do believe that I'm in labor.” Her body felt warm, and she dabbed at perspiration that had beaded on her brow.
Monet sat upright in the bed and placed her legs on the side of the bed. She picked up her Bible and held it to her chest. “Lord, you've blessed me so, and I hope I have done some things that are pleasing in your sight. I'm not a saint by any means, but I try to do the right thing most of time. Help Faith, and keep her safe as she transitions from one stage of life to another one. Help me to be a good mother, and I promise to raise her according to your Word. Lord, take care of me and give me strength to go through this labor . . . my labor of love. Most of all, Lord, continue to heal Marcus. He doesn't know that I know that he was in my room last night and kissed my forehead.” She rubbed her back and massaged her abdomen.
Monet looked at the clock on the nightstand; her contractions were a little under twenty minutes apart. She knew that it wouldn't be long before it was time for her to go to the hospital.
She picked up her cell phone and called Liz, only to find out that she was in a meeting. Monet left her a voice mail message. She then called Wade and was routed to his voice mail too. She thought long and hard about calling Marcus, but decided to drive herself to the hospital if she couldn't find someone to drive her.
Finally, Monet called the hospital and informed the maternity ward that she was in labor and on her way there. The idea that she could call the paramedics or a cab to take her to the hospital flickered in and out of her mind. She decided to go downstairs and wait for Liz or Wade to call her back.
She stood up, took her purse off the dresser and toddled over to her suitcase. She picked it up, and remembered that she didn't have her cell phone, which she'd left on the bed. She slipped it in the pocket of her red smock top, which read
Mommy In The Making
with an arrow pointing toward her belly.
After inspecting the room one final time, Monet verified that she hadn't forgotten anything. After she left the bedroom, she peeped into the nursery. Then she headed down the stairs. She had almost reached the last few stairs when Mitzi ran to the bottom of the staircase and began barking. Monet's hand slipped off the banister, she dropped the suitcase in her other hand and slid down the stairs. She managed to fall backward instead of forward as her hands shielded her stomach.
Her head banged the wall, and the stabbing pain through her body made Monet feel as if she were a human pin cushion. She managed to remove her cell phone out of her pocket and press 911, as her water broke. When the operator answered the call, she moaned her name and address and asked for help. She leaned back against the banister and passed out. Her body slid slowly to the bottom step. Mitzi hopped up the steps and began licking Monet's face and alternately barking. It didn't take the paramedics long to arrive at her house.
Marcus had turned the corner onto his street when he noticed the ambulance parked in front of his house. He sped down the street and had barely put the car into park before hopping out of his car and jogging toward his residence.
The paramedics were about to break the door down when he stopped them. He shouted that he lived there and held up his keys. He ran to the staircase with the paramedics closely on his heels. Marcus nearly fainted when he saw Monet's lifeless body at the bottom of the stairs. He wanted to cradle her in his arms, but knew it was best not to move her.
“Sir, what hospital is your wife scheduled to give birth at?” one of the paramedics asked.
Marcus had never felt so low in his life. “I'm not sure, maybe St. Bernard Hospital. She's on staff there.” His hands dangled helplessly at his side.
The two men looked at each other and shook their heads, as if to say, how could a husband not know where his wife was going to deliver their baby? One of the paramedics went outside to bring the stretcher in the house. The other one asked Marcus if Monet had a list of emergency numbers anywhere in the house.
He didn't want to leave Monet, but he ran into the kitchen and found Dr. Armstrong's number and the telephone number of the hospital on the refrigerator. He snatched it and ran back to the staircase where the paramedics were loading Monet's inert body onto the stretcher. He held her hand as the paramedics wheeled her out to the ambulance.
“Did you find anything?” the paramedic asked.
“Yes, her obstetrician is named Dr. Armstrong, and she's on staff at Northwestern Memorial Hospital.” Marcus didn't have a clue whether the doctor was male or female.
The paramedic decided to take Monet to the nearest hospital; Advocate Christ Hospital located on Ninety-fifth Street in Oak Lawn, a suburb of Illinois, instead of Northwestern Memorial Hospital, which was located near the Chicago loop, because driving downtown would take too long.
One of the paramedics called Dr. Armstrong to notify her of what had taken place. The doctor promised to call Christ Hospital and fax Monet's medical records there so they would be available when Monet arrived at the hospital. Marcus climbed into the ambulance and rode with Monet and the paramedics to the hospital. Fear, like a playful puppy, nipped at the edges of his heart.
By the time the wailing ambulance pulled in front of the emergency room entrance, Monet began regaining consciousness. She looked at Marcus and said, “Uh-oh, I must really be in trouble for you to be here.” Then a contraction rocked her body and her face crumpled from the pain.
The paramedics removed her gently from the vehicle and quickly wheeled her into the hospital. The staff had been alerted for Monet's arrival, and instructed the paramedics to wheel her to the second floor where the maternity ward was located.
Marcus went to the business office to start the paperwork. Before Monet left, she gave her husband a tremulous smile and whispered that she'd see him later.
She was quickly whisked into a birthing room and assisted by a nurse named Mrs. Murphy. After she had changed into a gown, Monet leaned back against the pillows and looked up to see a young woman, who looked all of eighteen years old, wearing blue scrubs enter the room. She walked to Monet's bedside and held out her hand.
“My name is Doctor Riddell, and I'll be filling in for your obstetrician today. How are you feeling, and how far apart are your contractions? When was the last time you timed them?” she asked.
“I'm okay.” Monet nodded. “Before I fell at home they were about twenty minutes apart. They seemed to have slowed down somewhat.”
The nurse handed Monet's chart to Dr. Riddell, who made notations inside of it. “I understand that you were unconscious for a while, and I'd like to examine you for that first, and then we'll see how the baby's doing.” The doctor used an instrument that looked like a pen, which emitted light, and peered into Monet's eyes. She felt along the back of Monet's head. “You have a small goose egg there. Have you experienced any nausea or do you have a headache?”
“I don't feel nauseated, but I do have a mild headache, like a dull throb. It's not really bad,” she responded.
“We'll keep an eye on that. Being in labor I don't think you're going to get much sleep, so we don't have to worry about you becoming sleepy and falling asleep. That's something we monitor for suspected concussion victims. Let me know if the headache worsens. Do you feel pain anywhere else from the fall or in your abdomen?”
“No,” Monet said, and her eyes filled with tears, knowing that the situation could have been worse.
“I'm going to check the baby, and then Nurse Murphy will hook you up to a fetal monitor. Are you familiar with how that works?”
“Yes, I am. I'm a neonatal nurse at St. Bernard's Hospital. Oh, did I mention my water broke while I was at home?” Monet said as she shifted her body in the bed, trying to get comfortable.
“Well, that's great then. Is this your first child?” Monet nodded yes. “The fax from your doctor is printing as we speak.” Dr. Riddell put on latex gloves and raised Monet's gown and felt along her abdomen, all the while, asking her if she felt any pain. Monet replied that she didn't.
When Dr. Riddell finished her examination, she covered Monet's belly and told her, “All seems well. We'll monitor you and let nature take its course. I'll be in and out of here, and Nurse Murphy will be assisting me as your primary nurse. If you need assistance, press the button on the side of the bed.”
“I will,” Monet said. The doctor and nurse departed from the room. She closed her eyes. “Well, Lord, I guess Faith and I had a little scare earlier. We were wrapped in your loving arms, and no harm came to either of us. Thank you, Father, for blessing us. Marcus came home. I was so shocked to see him. I can't believe he's actually here in the hospital. After all the planning Liz and I did, You took control. I know Faith and I will be fine. Lord, I can't wait to see my baby's face.”
The nurse returned to the room and stood at the foot of the bed. “Mrs. Caldwell, do you want an epidural or a pain killer? You doctor said it would be okay for us to administer one to you now if you'd like.”
“The pain is tolerable for now. I didn't plan on taking any drugs. We'll see how I feel later as the labor progresses,” she replied.
“That's fine. Don't hesitate to call if you need me.” Nurse Murphy smiled at her patient. “I guess you're excited about being a mommy.”
“Excited doesn't even begin to explain how I feel. I've waited for this moment for a long time. I'm sure you've noticed I'm not exactly a spring chicken.” Monet's eyes sparkled with bliss.
“Events happen when they're supposed to according to the Master's plan. I wish you the best, and I'll be praying for you.”
“Thank you,” Monet said. She felt at ease by the older woman's words. Nurse Murphy was plump, had gray hair that was cut into a short haircut, and had a calming demeanor. Monet knew she was in good hands; another blessing.
Monet experienced a contraction, and she gasped. When it passed, she said, “That one was hard. I guess I can time them and see where I am.”