Perfectly Unpredictable by Linda O'Connor Page A

brushed hair from Kalia’s face. “When I
was ten years old, my grandmother died. For most of my life, she lived with us
for half the year and with her sisters in England for the other half. She died
when she was in England. My mom went over for the funeral, but it was too
expensive for all of us to go. I missed her something fierce, and my mom
suggested I write a good-bye letter to her. Tell her the things I would have
said if I’d had the chance when she was dying. It really helped.
    “Maybe you don’t have to go to Paris to say
good-bye. Maybe he . . .” She waved at the computer.
    “Alexandre,” Kalia supplied.
    “Maybe Alexandre can hear you. Maybe you
could write a letter with everything you want to tell him. Like a long-distance
email.” She rubbed Kalia’s back.
    Kalia sniffed. “I like that idea.” She
rested her head on Krista’s shoulder. “Do you think that when people die, they become
angels and watch over us? That they see what we do and hear what we have to
say?”
    “I think so. I like to believe it. Otherwise,
it’s too sad to think they won’t be a part of our lives. I don’t know if I
believe that they talk to us, but I think they keep an eye on us –
sort of like guardian angels.”
    Fresh tears ran down Kalia’s cheeks. “I
hope so, too. I really hope so.” She swallowed. “I want Alex to know I loved
him. That I love this baby and that he has a son or daughter,” she said, her
voice hitching. “I could really use a guardian angel.”
    “Write a letter,” Krista encouraged.
    “Uh, Krista?”
    “Yes, love?”
    “I think my water just broke.”

 
 

Chapter 8

 
 
    Krista leaned back in the visitor’s chair, holding
the little bundle swathed in blue. Only the tiny face was visible.
    Kalia sat on the edge of the hospital bed,
dressed and waiting impatiently for permission to go home. “Why is it that it
takes longer to be discharged than it does to deliver a baby?”
    “I think most women spend longer than four
hours in labor,” Krista said with a wince. “I really didn’t think you were
going to make it to the delivery room.”
    After Kalia’s water broke, things had
happened pretty quickly. By the time they’d started timing the contractions, they’d
gone from five minutes apart to two. Krista’s mantra during the twenty-minute
drive to the hospital became “Don’t you dare deliver in the car.” Kalia had
been more than happy to oblige, but had pointed out that it might not be within
her control. Luckily, they had made it to the hospital, and shortly after the
obstetrical nurse examined Kalia, Dr. Finn had arrived to deliver the baby.
    A boy. Six pounds seven ounces. Twenty-three
inches long. Absolutely perfect in every way.
    “Have you considered what you’re going to
name him?” Krista asked, eyeing the bassinet labeled Baby Boy Beck.
    “I’ve thought about it,” Kalia mused. “It’s
really hard to find a name that doesn’t conjure up the image of a boy I once
knew and don’t want to be reminded of. My brother was named after my dad, and
he’ll probably want to pass that name onto his son, when the time comes. I was
thinking of naming him after my mom.”
    “You want to name your son Geneviève?”
    “No.” Kalia smiled. “Her maiden name is
Mani. I was thinking of calling him Mani. What do you think?”
    Krista looked at the little bundle she was
holding. “I like it. And I bet your mom will love the idea.”
    “I was thinking of Alexandre for his middle
name. He looks like Alexandre,” Kalia said quietly, her eyes watering.
    Alexandre
was pale, bald, wrinkled, and smelly? Probably not
what Kalia meant. She rested her hand on Kalia’s shoulder and squeezed.
    Krista had had a moment during the labor
and delivery. Sure, it was hard on the mother, but the partner watching? Oh. My.
God. She had felt absolutely helpless. The one she loved had been in pain,
significant pain. Blood had been everywhere. She could not believe the size of
the