“It's all right, Paris. They'll take care of her at the hospital. She knows what she's doing. She wants to do this. Don't make it harder for her.” Paris understood then. They each had their role, their separate destinies to follow. It seemed so lonely to her. She called Bix then and told him too, and in spite of all his grumbling, he was happy for her. And then, feeling a little silly because she didn't know him very well, she called Andrew Warren on his cell phone. But he had driven her to the hospital and asked her to call him. She told him Hope had arrived and how much she weighed and how beautiful she was, as she described her to him. She didn't even realize she was crying as she did.
“I love her name,” he said softly.
“So do I,” Paris said. “It suits her.” And it was what she had become to her mother, a symbol of hope for the future. The past was healed now. The gift had been delivered at last.
“I left your car keys at the information desk,” he explained. “When are you going home?”
“They said we could leave at six o'clock tonight.” She still sounded a little awestruck, and hadn't slept yet. She was too excited.
“Would you let me drive you?”
“Are you sure it wouldn't be a nuisance?” Bix hadn't offered, and she hadn't expected him to. Steven was still under the weather, and he wouldn't have anyway. Bix hated hospitals, and wasn't wildly fond of babies. This was her deal. And she did have her car there. She hadn't expected Andrew to renew his offer to drive her home.
“It would be an honor,” he said solemnly. “I'll be there at five-thirty, in case they let you leave early.”
“Thank you.” It was a night that had solidified their friendship, and was an important moment for her, and her new daughter. He congratulated her again, and after that she called Meg and Wim on their cell phones. And they were surprised that the baby had come early. She was laughing and talking to them, and after she hung up, she went back to get the baby in the nursery, and was startled to discover that they had taken her to Amy. She was awake and had asked for her, which worried Paris. What if she changed her mind now? Paris already loved this baby. But Amy was still legally her mother.
And when she walked back into the room, Amy was holding her, looking into the baby's eyes and talking to her, as though she'd been saying something very important to her. And she had been, she'd been saying good-bye.
She looked up when she saw Paris, and without hesitating, she held the baby out to her, as Paris held her breath. “I was watching your baby for you,” she said softly, acknowledging in one sentence all she was giving to her. Paris's eyes filled with tears as she took Hope from her. And a little while later the social worker came in with papers for Amy to sign.
Paris slept most of the afternoon, as the baby did. And at five o'clock they told her Hope could go home. Paris went to the nursery to dress her in the outfit she'd brought. It was just a nightgown and a blanket and an undershirt and a little cap. She hadn't had time to put something pretty together as she had done so long ago for Meg. But all that mattered now was that they were going home together.
When the baby was dressed, Paris walked back into Amy's room with Hope wrapped in the blanket in her arms. She wanted to give her one last look at her, and she was surprised by how calm Amy was, and she was sure that the drugs had worn off.
“Do you want to hold her?” Paris offered, but Amy shook her head. She looked sad, but she was very quiet. She just looked long and hard at the baby and then at Paris.
“Thank you,” she said, which was what Paris wanted to say to her.
“Thank you… God bless you… please take care of yourself.” She had promised to send her address so Paris would know where to send the photographs next year. It was so incredible to be walking away with this woman's child. But now she was hers. That was the most amazing part of it… this incredible baby was hers. “I love you,” Paris said, and briefly touched her hand. Amy nodded, and said not a word, and as the door closed slowly behind her, Paris heard her say, “Good-bye.”
There were tears streaming down Paris's cheeks, as a nurse escorted her downstairs. She felt like a kidnapper, spiriting this tiny bundle away. But everyone was smiling at her, and wishing her well, and Andrew was waiting for her downstairs in the lobby.
“Let me see her,” he whispered, and found himself looking into two big bright eyes as Hope stared intently at him, as though wondering who he was.
“Isn't she gorgeous?” Paris grinned at him, and he nodded. He had the car waiting for them. And as he helped Paris put Hope in the baby seat and strap her in, she realized that he had been touched by the miracle too. They had come there together eighteen hours before, a man and a woman who barely knew each other, and had set out on an adventure together. And now they were friends, and there was a brand-new little person driving back across the bridge with them.
