Pulling up the hospital, I hop out of the car and run inside. “I need to see Zoya Babichev. She was just brought in by Pastor Jorgensen.” I say to the nurse at the station. She clicks a few keys and then looks up at me.
“Who are you, Sir? Are you her husband?” Her face showing, she already knows the answer to that, and I am sure mine shows that I do not give a shit.
“Listen, lady. I don’t think you know who I am. My name is Danhy Jorgensen. My father is Dr. Thor Jorgensen. Chief of staff. If I pick up my phone and tell him that your bullshit is stopping me from seeing my fiancé, how do you think he is going to take it?” I know the rules exist for a reason and ordinarily, I try to follow them, but right now I can think of nothing but getting to Zoya. Suddenly, I hear someone scream my name and I don’t bother waiting anymore. I walk in the room to see her, balled up against the wall of the bed, holding the sheet to her chest, screaming my name as the male nurse stands there not sure what to do. She sees me and reaches for me.
“Danhy. Slava Bogu.” Thank God she says, squeezing me so tight. I try to calm her down by rubbing her head, telling her it is going to be ok.
“Chto sluchilos’, lyubov’?” Needing her to tell me what caused her to scream.
“I don’t know. I just freaked out waking up somewhere different, with a man standing over me. It brought back memories of the months I spent at the mercy of men who wanted to hurt me.”
“I am so sorry baby. I was trying to get back to you before you had awakened. Do you remember what happened before you passed out?”
“I had just got to Bill’s and was sitting down and then nothing. What did the doctor say?” She asks still holding me so tight.
“I was just coming in to talk to you both.” I look up when I hear my father’s voice. I can’t say I am shocked. He has long since retired from doing actual doctor’s work. He is now in charge of the staff and any issues that may arise in the hospital.
“Dad. What is going on?” He looks down at his clipboard.
“Seems that Zoya is suffering from an iron deficiency. Probably from months of being deprived and dehydrated. The good news is, it is totally manageable with vitamins and proper food. We will have to closely monitor the baby though. It could prove to be an issue for the pregnancy.”
It takes me a second to realize what he just said. I look down at Zoya and note that she is not as surprised by the news of a baby. “Baby?” I say, knowing I sound like a broken record.
“I’m sorry, son. I just assumed you knew.”
“I just figured it out this morning. I was planning something special for later tonight to tell him.” She looks at me, unsurety in her eyes at my reaction. If I wanted to, I couldn’t stop the smile that spreads across my face. Facing her, my hands cradling her face, I look at her red, exhausted face and kiss her. The kiss meant to be sweet and caring, is slow, deliberate and full of love.
“A baby! I am going to be a daddy.” I say to her not able to stop the lone tear from falling. She smiles and nods, a light giggle leaving her mouth.
“Congratulations, son!!!” My dad says to me. I turn to him forgetting that he was even in the room. “Your mom is going to be thrilled. Take care of my new daughter,” he says hitting me on the back before walking out of the room. I look Pixie in her eyes. “Forever,” I say to her, smiling at my future.
Chapter Fourteen
Zoya
Five Months Later
After my iron issue, I wasn’t up for anything. Turns out all my lazy days sleeping and watching TV were probably due to that and the baby taking all my energy. We had Bill do a very small ceremony a few days later.
I crawl out of bed and get ready for the cooking lesson I have with Enid. She and I have gotten so close. I’ve seen her every single day since I got out of the hospital. She rubs my little baby bump. I can’t wait to see her hold my baby. It still blows my mind that the sweet old lady she is today used to be a badass spy. She told me all about her hijinks and near-death experiences. I can’t imagine what it was like for her in the sixties when she was in her prime. As soon as I walk into her kitchen, I can tell something is wrong. She is asleep sitting on the barstool. That can’t be comfortable.