CALIFORNIA PARADISE
Chapter Thirty
On a Thursday night, Jack and Rose were
sitting in the kitchen, having an eight o’clock midnight snack. The phone rang,
and the butler went to answer it. The call was for Jack, and Rose watched sadly
as he left to answer it in his office.
Less than two minutes later he was back in
the kitchen, out of breath from rushing down the stairs so quickly.
"Rose, I have to go."
"What? Where?"
She followed him out into the hall and to the
coat closet as he explained, "That call. It was the mother of a little
girl. The girl is dying. And a year ago she read about me, and I’ve been kind
of like her hero ever since. It’s her last wish to see me. I have to go."
He got his coat on and followed his chauffeur outside. Through the open front
door he turned back once and said, "Rose, I love you. I left the address
on a pad of paper in the office. Bye."
The front door slammed shut.
*****
Rose clawed at her hair as the clock struck
three in the morning. She had been sitting there, just staring at the clock,
for the last five hours. But this was the last straw.
In a frenzy she rushed upstairs to the office
and looked at the pad of paper. She recognized the address immediately. It was
an apartment house just a half hour’s walk away. When she went for walks in the
morning she went past it often. Quickly memorizing the address, she rushed down
the stairs as fast as an eight months pregnant woman could rush and went to put
on a coat and boots.
"Ma‘am, are you going out?" Sheryl,
one of the maids, asked.
"Yes."
"Oh, I’m afraid you mustn’t. One of
those horrid summer storms has begun. For someone in your condition, I would
highly recommend you stay here."
Opening the front door, Rose found that
Sheryl was absolutely right. An ever-growing rain was beginning.
"I don’t care. I’m going to find my
husband."
George, their butler, grabbed her by the arm
as gently as he could but strongly enough to stop her, "Please, Mrs.
Dawson. The chauffeur is gone. I can’t let you go out roaming in the rain by
yourself."
"Look, George, have you ever had a
wife?"
"Why, yes, but she passed away ten years
ago."
"So you know what it’s like to have that
deep connection with a person. To know that while you just sit there something
is terribly wrong with them. That they might need you. And that you will stop
at absolutely nothing just to have them close to you again. You will not let
anything get in your way, and when you merely look at an obstacle it shrinks
away."
He let her go. "All right. But I hold no
responsibility if something should happen to you. Good luck, Mrs. Dawson."
*****
The rain beat down upon her relentlessly. Her
clothes were soaked all the way through, and her hair hung in her eyes and got
in the way. When she hastily lifted her arm to sweep it away, she felt the
sharp jab in her belly. She leaned against a bench and looked around. In sheer
joy, she found herself just a few yards away from the apartment house. She
sloshed over to it. Looking at the address numbers by each door, she realized
that the apartment she needed would be on the very top floor. She groaned as
she looked at the outside flight of stairs. She walked towards them and
suddenly felt dizzy, her world becoming a blur. She walked on, until she
stumbled against something at the very foot of the stairs. Her vision focused
as she looked down and realized that it was Jack.
He looked up at her and she wasn’t sure
whether the streaks on his cheeks were rain or tears. Her heart flip-flopped.
Jack never cried.
"Rose, she...she died in my arms. One
second her big, bright blue eyes were looking up at me, and the next..."
His voice broke, and he looked down again. Then his head sharply shot up. He
stood up and held her.
"Oh, my God. Rose, what are you doing
here? Did you walk?"
She nodded.
"You’re so stupid. Oh, why would you do
that? You’re so stupid. Oh, Rose." She thought back to the last time he’d
done that, calling her stupid and kissing and loving her at the same time. But
then she got too weak to think.
"No, Rose, not you." He pulled her
body close to his and carried her to the car parked on the other side of the
building.
The chauffeur was still sitting in the
driver’s seat, uncomfortable and not sure what was expected of him.
"Drive home," he was told. "I
need to get Rose into a warm bed as soon as possible. You have to call a doctor
as soon as we get inside."
*****
"I’m afraid the fever has brought the
contractions on," Dr. Lanly solemnly told Jack outside the room.
"Y-you mean she’s going to have her baby
now?"
"Not right now, no. We still have
a great deal of time, but her contractions aren’t that far apart anymore."
"She’s only eight months pregnant,
doctor."
He shrugged. "There’s really nothing we
can do about that."
*****
Rose was put in a guest room at the top of
the house and at the end of the hall to deliver. She picked it herself and Jack
looked around the pale blue room as he sat with her resting against him. She
was hot, the hairs loose from her ponytail plastered to her forehead. He swept
them back out of her way and retied the ribbon.
She whimpered in pain and pressed tightly
against him.
"Rose, I’m so, so sorry for this. I
would trade the universe for you not to have to go through this."
*****
At 2:02 AM on Friday, July sixteenth,
Jayvelin Margaret Dawson was born.
Rose lay on the bed, exhausted. Her eyes were
closed and she lay motionless. In the adjoining bathroom, Jack held his baby
girl with all the adoration in the world. He was completely awestruck by her.
As a moan escaped his wife’s lips, he handed Jayvelin to the doctor and went to
Rose.
He kissed her on the forehead, and murmured,
"Thank you."