future? As if to answer, a woman walked through the door of the room, pushing a cart. In a plastic bassinet on the cart was the most beautiful baby Lori had ever seen. It was her baby. “Isn’t she gorgeous? What’s her name?”
“Mikayla Hope.” The words popped out before Lori could stop them. The little girl looked pleased with her name somehow. She knew that babies less than a day old didn’t smile. But this one seemed to if you looked just right. And nestled back in Lori’s arms with the help of the woman, who brought her into the room, she was a warm, welcome weight.
She smelled of mild soap, fresh cotton and some magical scent all her own. “Mikayla Hope,” Lori whispered in her ear. The velvet warmth of the baby’s face was overpowering. Here was her little miracle.
As if on cue Tyler burst into the room, followed by Carrie. “Hey, there’s our baby. And she’s not dirty at all,” he said, crowding up to the bed. “What’s her name, Mama?”
“This is Mikayla Hope. Come up and see her. Gently.” Tyler scrambled onto the bed. He reached out one hand and stroked the baby’s cheek.
“Hi, Mikayla. I’m Tyler. I’m your big brother.” His voice was soft. “She feels good.”
“I’ll bet she does.” Carrie pulled up the bedside chair. “Mikayla Hope, huh? Does a certain someone know about the Mikayla part?”
“Not yet. I just found out myself.” Carrie’s look was one of pure confusion, and Lori hastened to explain. “The nurse asked what her name was, and the words just came out. But it’s perfect. I can’t see her being anybody else, can you?”
Carrie peered over at the swaddled baby. “I don’t know. I think she looks like Mr. Peanut in that wrapping. Or I guess Ms. Peanut. What do you think, Tyler?”
“Ms. Peanut!” How could Carrie say that about her beautiful baby?
“Sure.” Carrie stifled a giggle, although the stifling wasn’t very successful. “Look at her, all wrapped in that blanket. She looks just like a little peanut. No arms, no legs, just a cute little face for one half and…”
“All right, have it your way.” Lori couldn’t help laughing with Carrie. Tyler got into the act, too, chortling while he put a finger into his sister’s fist.
“Look, Mama. She’s holding on already. Isn’t she smart?”
“Smarter than the rest of us. She’s going to sleep while she has the chance.” Lori looked over at Carrie. “You want to take her and put her in her bassinet?”
Sheer panic flashed across Carrie’s face. “Me? Take her all the way across the room?”
“I think you’re up to it.” Lori lifted her right elbow, lifting Mikayla’s head as well with her gesture. “She won’t break.”
Carrie swallowed hard. “If you say so. How do I settle her in that thing?”
“On her back. Just ease your arm out from under there when you get ready to put her down.”
Carrie spoke through gritted teeth. “Easy for you to say. I know she’s going to wake up when I put her down. Oh, see…” The baby startled a little, then went straight back to sleep. “Okay, maybe not. Maybe I can do this.” There was a note of incredulity in Carrie’s voice.
“Sure you can. Now come back here and tell me some stuff about what I do next. How much does Tyler know?”
The little boy looked up from where he was driving an imaginary car through the hills and valleys created by Lori’s legs under the blanket. “I know lots. What do you want me to know?”
Carrie shook her head. “About his sister, plenty. About the other situation, nothing. And nobody’s going to tell him anything, either. Do you have any idea why Mike and I went out there?”
“Not a clue.” Lori took a deep breath, trying to sort things out in her mind. “There wasn’t more trouble somehow, was there?”
“Just the opposite. The guys do something for Christmas every year, and well, your name came up. I guess Mike and me were the ones who got to…”
“Play Santa Claus.” So that was why the silly dog was wearing antlers, poor thing. “But I can’t take anything else. That would be worse than ever. Or will it be more paperwork for you if I turn this down?”
Carrie looked skyward. “Don’t even remind me. Sitting in this hospital room is far more pleasant and entertaining than starting my reports.”
“Well, don’t get too comfortable. I don’t expect to be here too long.” Lori told her about her situation—the lack of insurance and money needed to stay in the hospital. As she talked, Carrie looked more and more grim.
“That isn’t right. I bet there’s somebody I can talk to and get that straightened out. Maybe even Mike. I think his mom’s on the hospital board.”
Carrie was out of her chair quickly. She might not be confident of her baby-holding skills, but she showed great self-confidence in other areas. Lori wished she could think that fast on her feet.
“No, really, don’t do that.” Didn’t she owe Mike enough already? No sense in being beholden to him for one more thing she couldn’t pay back.
Carrie wasn’t listening. She was already out the door. Tyler pulled on Lori’s sleeve. “Mama? Do we have movies? I’m sleepy. Can we watch movies in bed together and take a nap?”
“I’ll find out.” Lori pushed the call button, preparing herself for the storm that would envelop her when the nurse found out she had a five-year-old for company in her hospital room with no one to take care of him. Maybe nearly giving birth in an ambulance would be the easiest part of her day after all.
“Okay, it’s all fixed…” Mike came into the room talking. He stopped once he crossed the threshold and noticed that nobody was listening to him. Lori and Tyler were both on the bed, cuddled together and asleep. A video played on the TV, sending bright, cheerful cartoon music into the room. A few feet from the bed the top of a swaddled bundle rose and fell in a hospital bassinet.
Mike walked over to look at the baby. She was so beautiful. He saw the card for her name had been filled out at the bottom of the bassinet. Mikayla Hope. Ouch. Why did Lori have to saddle such a beautiful baby with that first name? He wasn’t even sure he liked Michael after all these years. It still felt funny much of the time, as if it ought to be something else that was just beyond the tip of his tongue.
He’d talked about changing his name as a teenager, but his mom had protested. Every teenager hated their name. And everyone that changed it legally had regrets, according to her. Maybe she was right. When he thought about his high school classmates, almost all of them had reverted to their given names by their recent ten-year reunion. All but Sunshine Feathers. And he couldn’t blame her a bit.
There was noise behind him. Mike turned around to see Tyler slip off the bed. “Hey, Mike. That’s my baby sister. That’s Mikayla Hope.”
“I see.” Mike motioned to the name tag on the end of the bed. “Her name’s written right here.”
“Yeah? That says Mikayla Hope? Cool. Does it say anything about me?” Tyler looked
