Danielle Steel - Daddy

He drove Daphne to the station that night, because she insisted she had to get back. There was a luncheon she had to go to the next day, and her friend's wife was out of town, so she wanted to spend the night with him. He never accompanied her anywhere. He was careful not to be seen with her. But she accepted that, as she did everything else about him.

“He's a lucky bastard,” Oliver had said to her more than once, and she only laughed. She wanted nothing more than she shared with him. She loved him totally and was content to live with his restrictions. And Oliver had long since stopped trying to convince her to look for someone else.

Later that night, he was chatting with Mel, as they sat in the living room talking about the wedding, when the phone rang, and she grabbed it, convinced it was one of her friends. She looked surprised when it wasn't, and handed it to her father instead. It was Benjamin, and he had asked only for their father. So she handed him the phone, kissed him, and went up to bed.

“ 'Night, Dad.”

“See you in the morning, sweetheart. Sleep tight.” And then he turned his attention to her older brother. “What's up, Benjamin?” They had seen him only that afternoon at the wedding. He had taken the day off, and he had come alone. Sandra wasn't feeling well. She had the flu, Benjamin had said, which was unfortunate, given her condition. The baby was due in an- other ten days, and Benjamin was showing the strain. He looked absolutely awful.

“Hi, Dad.” Benjamin sounded terse. “She's in labor. We're at the hospital. We've been here since eight o'clock.”

“Everything okay?” It brought back memories of when they had been born, and how excited he had been, but Benjamin sounded scared more than excited.

“It's not going so great. She's not making any progress … and, Dad … she's having such a hard time. They gave her some stuff, but it isn't doing anything to help the pain.”

“What about your Lamaze?”

“She doesn't want to do it. And … Dad … they think the baby is having problems.” Oh Jesus. A damaged baby.

“Do you want me to come down?”

“Yeah … I … I'm sorry, I know it's late. Would you?”

“Sure.” Benjamin gave him the name of the hospital. “I'll be right there.” He hurried out of the house, grabbing his car keys on the way, and glad that Benjamin had called him. At least he was reaching out to him now, and maybe he could do something to help. He couldn't do anything to help Sandra, of course, and he was sorry for her. She had no family to take care of her, no mother to hold her hand. But at least he could be there for Benjamin, and the doctors could do the rest for Sandra.

When he got there, Benjamin was pacing nervously in the corridor, wearing green pajamas and a white gown over them, and a funny green shower cap on his head. His father smiled at the sight of him, remembering the Halloween he'd dressed up as a doctor. He'd been four years old then, and he hardly looked older than that to Ollie now. “You look like Dr. Kildare. How is she?”

“Awful. She was screaming and screaming. They asked me to leave so they could check her again and she kept begging me not to … I don't know what to do for her, Dad.”

“Relax, Son. It'll be all right. Do you want a cup of coffee?”

Benjamin shook his head, and Ollie went to get a cup for himself. He had had a lot of wine at the wedding, and he didn't want to get sleepy when Benjamin needed him. And as he came back with the steaming cup, there were two doctors in similar garb conferring with his son. Oliver stood at a little distance from them, and he saw Benjamin close his eyes and nod his head.

“They want to do a cesarean. The baby's in trouble now. I know she didn't want that, but they say there's no choice.” He pulled the shower cap slowly off his head. “They won't let me be in there with her. They're going to give her a general anesthetic.”

“She'll be all right, just hang in there.” He squeezed his shoulder in one powerful hand, and led him gently to a chair.

“What if the baby's not all right?” he asked miserably as he sat down next to him.

“We'll face that when the time comes, but I'll bet that baby will be just fine.” He wanted to ask him again about putting it up for adoption, but he knew this wasn't the time.

It seemed to take hours as they sat there. They watched the clock drag its hands. It was already after one. And then a nurse came out and asked if Mr. Watson was there, both men stood up, and then, feeling foolish, Oliver sat back down. It was obviously Benjamin they were looking for. And the boy hurried toward the door.

“Mr. Watson?”

“Yes?”

“There's someone here who wants to meet you.” And without another word, as he stood in the hallway in the middle of the night in his green pajamas, they handed him his son. He was swaddled in a tiny bundle, and he let out a wail as the nurse put him in Benjamin's hands, and then he pulled him gently toward his chest. He stood looking down at him in total amazement, as tears slid down his cheeks and he started to grin, and turned toward Oliver, holding tightly to the baby.

“It's a boy, Dad! It's a boy” Oliver hurried over to see him, and as he looked down at the tiny child, he felt his heart quiver within him. It was like looking into Benjamin's face only moments after he was born. It was the same child, the same face, the same red hair and surprised eyes, and so much of Sarah, and as Oliver looked at him he realized something that had previously escaped him. This wasn't just Benjamin's child, or Sandra's, it was his grandchild as well. It was a part of him, and all of those who had come before him … his father … his mother … and their parents before them. It was a part of all of them, and he could no longer deny that. There were tears in his eyes, as he gently touched the child that belonged to all of them now.

“How's Sandra?” Benjamin suddenly remembered her, feeling guilty. “Is she okay?” he asked the nurse.

“She's fine. She'll be in the recovery room for a while. And now, would you like to come to the nursery with us for a little while? You can hold the baby, while we check him.”

“Is he all right?”

“Everything's just fine. He weighs eight pounds, nine ounces, and his Apgars were perfect. That means he's an alert, healthy little boy.” She took the baby from Benjamin,' and led the way to the nursery as the new father beamed, and Oliver stayed behind. It was an amazing moment in his life. At forty-five years of age, he was suddenly a grandfather, but he was still struck by how much his grandchild looked like his own son. And then, needing to share it with someone, he walked to a pay phone, dialed the number, and charged it to his home phone.

When she answered the phone, he suddenly smiled to himself, and his voice was hoarse and gentle. “Hello, Grandma.”

“Who is this?” She thought it was a crank call and was about to hang up.

“You have a grandson, Sarah.” There were tears in his eyes again, as he remembered the children they had borne together.

“Oh my God. Is he all right?”

“He's perfect. Eight pounds, nine ounces, and he looks just like Benjamin when he was born.”

“How's Sandra?”

“Not too great, I suspect. They had to do a cesarean.

But she'll be all right. The baby is so sweet, Sarrie … wait till you see him.”

“They're keeping him, then?” She was wide awake now.

“Yes,” he said quietly, suddenly feeling something for the baby he had never expected to feel again, almost as though it were his own baby. “I think they'll keep him.” And it was impossible to disagree with Benjamin, now that he had seen his grandson.

“How's Benjamin holding up?”