57. Auld Lang Syne

December, 2000

"What I wouldn't give for a juicy steak right now. Or ice cream."

"What kind of ice cream, Kate?"

"Does it matter? I can't get any."

"I'm just curious. I'll file it in my 'Facts about Katherine Rodgers' booklet, right up here," he smiled, pointing to his head.

"Well, right now I want chocolate anything, but my very favorite is a well-made vanilla."

"What?" He turned to see if she were serious. They were sitting in the lake, in just far enough to sit with their chests out of the water. It was late afternoon, and Kate had become more and more miserable now that she was past 37 weeks. Hot all the time, back aching constantly from the position of the baby—being in the water was like nirvana. It helped support the baby—so her back felt better—and it was cooling.

"Yes, Rick. Vanilla. Deal with it."

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, speechless. "I—I suppose if you put some awesome toppings on it, then…"

"Nope. Nothing more than maybe a little chocolate sauce and some nuts. It's the flavor of the vanilla that's important, and if you bury it under a mound of toppings, it defeats the whole purpose of making it vanilla."

"I sure hope our children don't inherit your taste in food," he mumbled. Not softly enough. Pregnancy had turned her ears into bionic super-hearers, at least when it came to stupid things he said out loud.

"Exactly what's wrong with my taste in food?"

"Nothi—why, nothing, sweetie pie. Here, let me rub your back." Moving behind her, he started massaging her lower back before she'd had a chance to even sputter.

"Mmmmm, that feels so good. You're lucky that I appreciate you for all the things that you can do so well."

He leaned forward, whispering seductively into her ear, "This is the least of my talents, Mrs. Rodgers. I'm really, really good at something very different from back rubs."

"Oh, really? And does that specialty involve me?"

"Definitively."

"Does it, perchance, involve your mouth?"

"Assuredly." His voice got lower with each word, and he'd forgotten to keep up the massage. He was, however, tracing figures absently on her skin.

"Does it, possibly, involve your tongue?"

"Unquestionably."

"Then I would have to agree; you're very, very good at that skill."

"Just very good?"

"I would say you're probably an expert, by now."

"Expert, eh?" She could almost hear him puffing out his chest behind her.

"Yes, an expert. I didn't say that was a good thing, though, did I?"

"Wha—What? Not a good thing?"

She half turned—much easier to do with the buoyancy of the water assisting her. "No, it's not a good thing. Why would you think that it was?"

"Well, I—I always thought—Kate! You've always enjoyed…"

"Enjoyed? Your annoying jabber? Not always, Rick."

He let out a shrill shriek when she splashed some water up on his chest. She couldn't resist: he'd made quite the portrait, with his mouth hanging open, staring at her in consternation. "Gotcha, Rick."

It was her turn to shriek when he splashed her back, then it was an all-out war. A few minutes into it, he had captured her hands.

"I'll show you what I can do with my mouth and my tongue, Mrs. Rodgers," he smirked, drawing her to him like a moth to a flame. When he looked at her like that, with that hunger in his eyes that was all just for her, she had no defense.

Thank goodness that water made many aspects of her otherwise ungainly pregnant body much, much less awkward. And, she had to admit, he was extremely talented with his mouth, tongue, and many other body parts.

New Year's Eve, 2000 dawned warm and humid—like nearly every other day of the month of December. Kate had been up and down all night, pacing in turn with sitting on one of the chairs. Her legs were cramping at times, so Rick insisted that she eat more bananas than she wanted to imagine, as well as drinking what seemed like her weight in water.

She didn't protest, per se. The cramps were unpleasant, even with the frequent massages that they garnered from her husband. However, drinking that much water meant she had to pee constantly.

The pressure on her bladder seemed much worse. A few days after Christmas, she felt like a bowling ball had taken root in her pelvis. Rick said he thought it meant that the baby had dropped. She supposed it was a good thing—the delivery was imminent. And, it meant she had a little more room to breathe, which was very nice.

However, it was frightening to contemplate that she could go into labor at any moment. She was very nervous about it. And, the baby's head sitting deep in her pelvis meant that there was almost no position that was comfortable for more than a half hour, max. The only modicum of relief was being in the water.

She might have spent all of her time there, except that Rick wanted her to do some exercises to prepare for the delivery. Most of it was stretching; he even had her doing a stretching massage of her perineum. It was something Hina had stressed to him, in order to cut down on rips or tears. And without any real medical care nearby, she was all for anything that would make delivery less complicated. Especially when she considered the size of Rick's noggin. The man had a big head.

"Morning, Kate."

"Hmmph," was her only response. He'd just awakened from a nice, refreshing night's sleep. Well, except when she'd made him get up twice to give her legs another rub. But, still. No one had the right to be this perky in the morning.

He walked over and gave her a kiss, which she did allow. She loved kissing him; it always made her feel better. Her mood lightened noticeably.

"Can you believe it's the last day of the year 2000?"

"No, it's gone by really slowly and really fast, at the same time."

"Yeah, I agree. We've accomplished so much. In the real world I'm not sure I would ever have been this productive."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I met the woman of my dreams, married her, built a house together and furnished it, got her pregnant, and will welcome my first baby any day now. I'd say that's a pretty productive year."

Kate just laughed. "Last year, we were huddled under a tarp with rain pelting down on us while the New Year came into being. Remember how we wondered about Y2K?"

"Yeah. We still don't know if anything happened with that. I mean, they were predicting all kinds of disasters, even when I was still living in New York."

"Guess we won't know until we're rescued. But, do you think you'll be as productive in the year 2001?"

"Probably not. I don't need to build another house. And we'll be too busy with the baby to do much else. But, I have a feeling it's going to be a great year."

"I think you're right, Rick. Now, how about you make yourself productive and go fix my breakfast?"

"As my lady commands," he bowed, sweeping one arm out in an elegant gesture of acquiescence.

Kate settled into one of the living room chairs to wait for her meal. Eating small amounts through the day had helped her heartburn. It wasn't gone, but she could live with it now.

She felt the baby stretching. He—or she—no longer spent most of the day trying to punch his way out of the womb. Kate supposed that there was too little room left to properly kick. She just couldn't imagine how cramped it must be—she felt like there was no possible way she could grow bigger without popping.

Smiling as she imagined what the baby would look like, she turned her attention back to her husband as he bound through the door carrying two plates.

"What are you smiling about, love?"

"Just imagining getting to meet Alex or Sarah soon."

"Ah. I can't wait, either. I know you'll be happy to be able to breathe properly again."

"And see my feet. No more back pain. Able to sleep through the night."

Rick gave her a shocked glance. "Umm, you do know a little about babies, right?"

"I told you, I know very little. Why?"

"Well, ummm. You see, babies need to eat." He was looking at her very earnestly.

"Not a surprise, Rick. My breasts have been leaking for a week now. I know how babies are fed."

"Yeah, well, about that…do you know how often they eat?"

Surprised at the question, she thought for a minute. She had heard they ate often, but she didn't really know the details. "I'm guessing by the way you're acting all nervous it's more than 4 or 5 times a day? I'll say 6 times a day? That'd be every 4 hours or so. Which doesn't sound great, but I'm sure it gets better with time."

"Well….that's true. Eventually."

He looked a bit pale to her, and he wouldn't look her in the eye. That alone told her she still didn't have it right.

"Rick…you're not telling me something. It's more than 6, isn't it? Just tell me!"

"Ahh, well, Kate. Keep in mind that every baby is different. So, who knows? But, most newborns eat every 2 to 3 hours."

She felt faint. That would leave almost no time for sleep. "Around the clock?" she squeaked. His slow nod confirmed it. "And it'll be all up to me. I'm never gonna sleep again, am I? Boy, do you men ever have it easy." There was a slightly bitter twist to her words. It just didn't seem fair.

"Kate, I'll do everything I can to help. You know I will. I wish with all my heart I could take some of this burden off of you, but I can't. And honestly, I'm a little jealous."

"Of what, exactly? The fact that I'm in near constant pain here at the end, only to have to push something the size of a melon out of me? Or the fact that I'll be up all hours of the day to feed the kid? What exactly is there to be jealous of?"

He reached over and took her hand, trying to get her to feel his sincerity through touch and hearing as well as it pouring out of his eyes. "Kate, you've had a special bond with our child for nearly 9 months. You've given it a place to grow, provided nourishment and kept it safe. You've felt it move and thrive inside you, which is something completely amazing that I'll never be able to experience. Then, after giving it life, you'll be the only one of the two of us that can feed it. It's a type of bond I'll simply never have, not while we live alone on this island. So, I'll do anything and everything that I can to help, but you will be by far the most important person of the two of us to our baby. And, honestly, I'm envious of that."

She'd had a lump in her throat as he spoke, then felt the tears well up in her eyes. They rolled silently down her cheeks as he finished, and she didn't bother wiping them away.

"You must think I'm the most selfish person in the world," she declared, more tears overwhelming her. He stood from his chair and knelt before her, hands still clasped to his.

"Why on earth would I think that? You're the most incredible person I've ever met, and far from selfish. Why would you say that?"

"Because I keep complaining about everything with the pregnancy," she sobbed. He pulled her closer, as best he could with the baby in the way. "And you're right," she hiccupped, "it is incredible to feel the baby inside me. I'm just so tired, Rick. Being pregnant takes a lot out of you. Maybe I'm not meant to be a mother."

"Shh, Kate. I know it does. You've been such a trooper through all this. Pregnancy is demanding on your body. There's nothing wrong about complaining when it hurts, or that you want things back to normal. And you've already been a great mother, for these past eight and a half months. Our child is so lucky to have you."

"You really think so? I don't know what I'm doing," she sniffed.

"I don't think so. I know so. And neither of us knows much, but we'll figure it out together, just like we have all along. Look at what we've accomplished so far. A baby can't be that bad."

"I'm so afraid I'll do something to screw up, and the kid'll hate me."

"You aren't going to screw up. Our baby is going to love you, just like I do." He clasped her tightly to his frame, hoping his words and his actions would be enough to reassure her.

January, 2001

The year 2001 entered much the same as the previous year: rain, rain, and rain. Unlike last year, however, they saw this year in under a snug roof with nary a leak. Kate felt secure and happy—she was in love with the man next to her, and the question of whether they'd be able to survive on this island alone had long been put to rest. It was amazing to consider how much her life had changed in the last few years: going from an average American teen, to essentially an orphan, to the victim of a natural and man-made disaster, to a wife, lover, and mother.

She couldn't help but smile widely at the thought of the past year with Rick. She'd never imagined she could ever love someone so much as she loved him. He wasn't a prince in a fairy tale—far from perfect, in many ways. But his imperfections made him real, and they fit together so seamlessly. He definitely brought out the best in her, and she hoped the reverse was true.

Stretching in bed, she felt Rick stir. It was late, well past midnight by her internal clock. She was used to being up at all hours now, but Rick usually was able to sleep unless she woke him up for something. However, his breathing was too irregular for him to be asleep.

"Rick?" she whispered into the soft dark breeze created by the fabulous fan turning above them, "You awake?"

He startled, confirming her suspicions that he wasn't sleeping either. She felt him roll towards her before she heard him hum his assent. The susurration of his voice, combined with the cloying darkness of the hour combined to make their conversation considerably more intimate than it would have in the light of day.

"Can't you sleep?" she wondered. "I didn't wake you, somehow, did I?"

She had, indirectly, but he wasn't sure he should bring it up. He didn't know how she'd react.

"I was awake. It's ok."

"What's wrong?" Even in the dark of the night she could hear the worry in his voice.

He rolled closer to her, running one hand up and down her arm, trying to reassure her. He didn't want to talk about this issue at all, but he was afraid if they didn't that there would be even bigger problems. If he misunderstood her wishes or her thoughts on this, he was worried that it would lead to difficulties with the delivery. That emotionally she wouldn't be ready, and it would somehow interfere.

"I don't want to upset you so close to delivery, but I've been thinking about something. I'm just not sure how to discuss it with you."

The tension in her body ratcheted up even further. Now she was scared. "Can't you just ask me? After all we've gone through together, you don't want to talk to me now?" her voice quavered.

"Oh, Kate, it's not that I don't want to talk to you. I'm just nervous about saying the wrong thing. I don't want to unsettle you if you've already come to grips with this by bringing it up again."

"Rick, if it's something I've already put to rest, then talking about it won't make it worse. And, whatever it is, if I haven't dealt with it, then talking together will only help. So, come on, out with it."

He sighed. She was right, and the intimacy he felt with her—just the two of them, alone in the world (or so it seemed)—made it just a bit more comfortable to talk about. Praying she'd forgive him this trespass over her emotional walls, he heaved out the heavy thoughts he'd been holding onto for a few days.

"It's about your mother."

They hung there, those words. They elicited a dark memory, and without light to banish them, they lingered between them. He felt her stiffen further, nearly rigid now. He'd known this was a mistake.

"What about my mother?" she hissed. Her tone, in the velvet night that enveloped them, was not reassuring.

"See, I told you that you wouldn't want to talk about it. I'm sorry, Kate. Please, let's forget about it for now."

He reassured her with repetitive petting and some soft kisses in her hair, until he felt her relax again. He thought she might have even fallen asleep, when she shocked him by breaking their mutual silence.

"It's ok. You just rattled me. It felt like it was a question from out of the blue, which I guess isn't fair. It is January, after all."

He rose up on his elbow. She couldn't see more than his outline, but the feeling of him looming over her felt protective. As if he was warding off any unseen forces trying to get to her.

"It is January, and in eight more days it will be the second anniversary of her murder. Last year, you disappeared on me. I found you unresponsive—and Kate, the thought of something like that happening again just rips at my guts."

She tried, halfheartedly, to joke her way out of it. It was a defensive mechanism to give her some time to deal with all that he was bringing up.

"Well, it was the first time you got to see me naked, so you got one positive out of it."

The silence spoke volumes.

She squirmed a bit, not sure she was ready for this conversation but knowing it was necessary to have it with him. Deciding she'd better get it over with, she elected to apologize first. Reaching out to the blackest outline in the dark, where his bulk eliminated any trace of light that might have punched through the heavy rain clouds over them, it was her turn to soothe.

"I'm sorry, that was a dumb thing to say. I know you didn't enjoy stripping my clothes off that day."

His voice was a low, choked sound. "No, Kate. That was not a pleasant task to do. There's little about that day that I enjoyed."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I just felt this incredible pressure bearing down on me during that time. It started in December, and it seemed so threatening to think about the short amount of time that I had before that day would be there. As it approached, it was like I couldn't think of anything else but her. What I'd lost when I lost her, and how she must have felt to be left in that cold alley, bleeding to death and unable to say goodbye to us. We never got to say goodbye."

A sob strangled her voice, and he was there to hold her. Normally, at this stage in her pregnancy, she was not too keen on close quarters. Too hot. But tonight, she needed him to hold her.

After crying for a good ten minutes, she finally felt ready to resume the conversation. She hadn't realized how much she needed to let her grief out; she'd been so preoccupied by the baby and the changes her body was going through.

Rick continued to hold her tight, even as her sobbing slowed down.

"Are you ok?" he asked when she seemed all cried out.

"Mostly. Thank you, I needed that. I didn't know how much I was ignoring."

"I've been worried about it; last year you were so focused on it, so this year when you didn't seem to be thinking of it at all…well, it scared me."

"You thought I wasn't processing it?"

"More or less. I was terrified the day would sneak up on you and you'd suddenly lose it again, like last year."

"It's different this year. I don't feel the same."

"Because you're pregnant?"

"I'm sure that's part of it. I have to worry about the baby, you know? Not everything can be about me right now, I've got Rodgers Junior to think of, and he or she is more important than the memories."

"That doesn't mean the memories aren't there, Kate, or that you should ignore your feelings about them."

"You're right, I shouldn't. But it was easier to shove it all aside then to try and deal with it, does that make sense?"

"Yeah. It does." He gently stroked the hair out of her eyes, even though he couldn't see her very well. He could picture how it lay on her head because it always ended up in the same general vicinity when she slept. He knew her so well; it was both amazing and terrifying. Because he knew how deeply she could hide, if she wanted to do so. Thank goodness they were able to talk to each other, and not hold things like this back.

"But, you know what, Rick? I don't think I would have run, even on January ninth. It might have hit me hard—it still might. But it won't be nearly as bad this year. This might sound silly, but it's like I can feel her with me at times. Especially as I get closer to delivery. I can hear her voice in my head sometimes. Like if the baby kicks really hard and catches me off guard. I can hear her telling me that I used to kick her even harder, and that it would all be worth it when I first see my child. I can take comfort in her memory within me, whereas last year I couldn't begin to do that."

"That's not silly, Kate. It's amazing, and I'm so glad that you have that from her. If she were still alive, she wouldn't be here with you either. Do you think that makes a difference in how you think about her?"

"Well, if she were still alive, I probably wouldn't be here on a deserted island with a husband, about to give birth. And I'm not implying that I'm glad or relieved she's dead, because it hurts. Really deeply. However, if she hadn't died, I wouldn't be with you. And I love you and this life we've made together. So, it's different this year than last. I'm more at peace with her passing, and I've got you. You're my rock, my anchor. We didn't have that kind of relationship last year."

"Kate, what if…" he trailed off. She had no idea what he was thinking, this time, so curiosity overrode her patience. She didn't want to sit in silence for however it took him to gather the courage to ask whatever it was he wanted to know.

"What if what?"

She felt him give his head a small shake, then felt, rather than saw, him smile.

"You don't let me get away with anything, do you?"

"Nope. My prerogative as your wife. Now, what if what?"

"What if you deliver on January ninth?"

She was speechless. It honestly hadn't crossed her mind. Which was stupid, because there was obviously no magical power that would prevent labor on that day. In her head, it was always just a date compartmentalized separately from the rest of the calendar. January 8th, ho hum. January 9th, my mother was murdered. Nothing else of import could happen on that day; it was already taken over by an event that overwhelmed her when she really thought about it. So, no, she couldn't deliver on that day.

"You know it could happen, Kate."

No, no it couldn't. "I don't think it will…I don't know why I say that, but my due date isn't until a week or so later. And don't most first time pregnancies go late? Though I am not advocating that, little baby," she directed at her distended abdomen.

"But what if it does? Babies are predictably unpredictable."

"Well, I guess I'll just have to deal with it. I won't have much of a choice, will I?"

It wasn't the most reassuring response to Rick, but he felt better knowing that they'd been able to talk about the approaching anniversary. He no longer worried that she'd go off on the deep end. They talked of less weighty matters for a few more minutes before drifting into sleep, still embracing.

Kate woke up an hour later roasting hot. Jolting him awake with a kick to the shins, she made him move away from her before they both went back to sleep.

Rick's worries about January 9th proved meaningless when the day came and went with no sign of any baby. Kate was a little quieter, a bit down, but she didn't shut him out or close herself off. In fact, she threw herself at him in a tight hug when he took her out to the orchard and showed her a pretty flowering tree he'd planted the day before in Johanna's honor. It stood away from the fruit trees, and would grow into a marvelous spot for shade and quiet reflection as years went by.

With her due date rapidly approaching, Rick found himself reluctant to let her out of his sight. He tried to give her space, but she didn't venture far from the lake or the house, and there were only so many places for him to hang out in while keeping an eye on her. However, she was relatively benign in her complaints about him being underfoot constantly. She knew why he didn't want to leave her alone, and she wouldn't take that protectiveness away from him.

January 15th was two days before her calculated due date. She woke up, as always, with an aching back and a burning desire to pee. Clambering to her feet, she bemoaned the thought of walking to the outhouse. It was so humid, it felt like she was breathing in pure water. Walking was miserable, so as soon as she was done, she headed for the lake. Rick trailed behind her, bringing her some fruit and a water bottle.

She didn't feel like eating, but the puppy dog eyes of her husband begged her to do some justice to the plate he'd prepared for her. Sipping on the water, she grimaced.

"What's the matter, Kate?"

"My back is killing me today. Do you think you could rub it for me?"

"Absolutely!"

His magical massages nearly always helped, but today's wasn't as relieving as she would have liked.

"Your back is so tight today. Is this helping at all?"

She shook her head. "Not really."

"Why don't we try walking in the water?"

It was an exercise that they'd started; they ambled along in the water, usually chest deep. It felt good to stretch her legs and it put much less pressure on her back.

Rick could tell it wasn't helping within a few minutes.

"Kate, maybe we should go back up to the kitchen. I want to check something."

"Ok." Honestly, nothing was helping, so she figured she might as well humor him.

When they got to the kitchen, he helped lower her into the comfortable chair she used for knitting. Once she was situated, he spanned the front of her belly with his hands.

"What are you doing?"

"Just checking something."

"The baby's been quiet so far. I don't think you'll feel him."

"It's not him I'm trying to feel."

"Oh." She wasn't sure how to respond to that. If not the baby, what else was there?

Suddenly, a crampy abdominal pain hit her, making the back pain seem like small potatoes by comparison. Rick looked up with an anxious cast to his face.

"Kate! You're in labor."