The CEO’s Quadruplets

Chapter 11

            The wing was dark. Lit by deep blue lights, the only bulbs were in necessary places like in nurses’ workstations and just in the plastic boxes that held five babies in all. Four of them were his. The nurse helped Amory wash up, giving him instructions in soothing tone. He wondered if this was her natural tone, and if so the young woman had chosen her profession well. Another young man brought out a blue outfit that looked like something Amory had seen on television. The hospital wanted him to have on scrubs to protect the children’s fragile state.

            If they had wanted, Amory Blake would have worn a Hazmat suit. He craved to see his own flesh and blood, but he suddenly felt compelled to protect the tiny things at all costs. He could see them through the glass doors, swaddled and quiet. Elation and concern distracted him from his tired state as staff led him through the nook where they all slept.

Amory did his best not to cry. They were better than anything he ever could have dreamed. No film or television series could fit the depth of this one emotion. He had seen moments play out like this before him on a variety of screens in a myriad of differing contexts, but those screenwriters, directors, and actors had ever done the moment justice.

These were his children.

“Have you and your wife discussed names for the babies?” The nurse asked softly as she stood quietly beside him. “We were just filling out the paperwork, and wondered if you knew. We can wait if you would like to discuss it with your wife.”

“Do you know how long that would be?” Amory asked with an unveiled sadness in his voice, unable to forget the horror that had been racing through the back of his mind since first getting that terrible phone call.

“It could be some time, but don’t feel any pressure.”

Amory laughed as a thought came to mind before asking the nurse in return, “What would you call them all? Baby Blake One, Two, Three, and Four?”

She politely laughed to humor him. “It would be something like that, sir.”

He sighed, looking at them all. “No, children should have names.”

All in a line slept Sidney, Clark, Lena, and Sophia. Each named after an iconic actor or actress, Amory had once talked about it long before they ever had children. He had suggested it as a bit of a joke, but Isabella had been enamored with the idea. They had not even discussed naming the children yet, but it seemed unfair for four babies to live without names for too long. Also, their early arrival to this world brought fearful doubting into Amory’s heart that one might not live long enough to have a proper name from his or her mother.

Naming them helped wipe that terror away from Amory’s many jumbled and extensive thoughts about his current reality. While thinking it through, the nurse gave him some information about their birth that Amory now chose to commit to memory instead of worrying.

Each baby was about two minutes apart with the boys being older than the girls. Each had light brown skin and tiny curls on their head peeking out from little cotton hats marking their sex. All the babies’ respective weights had added up to be no more than the Christmas turkey in the refrigerator back at home. Each sat in their own sterile little box swaddled by the doting nurses. Amory had no interest in the holidays anymore. The metallic red and green boxes under the tree seemed unimportant. These four tiny little things were his, and there was no better gift to know they were all alive and well.

“When can I hold them?” he asked the nurse who had returned to have him sign some papers.

Amory found himself unable to leave their side.

“If they’re stable when your wife wakes up from the anesthesia, we thought we would bring them to her room then. Your babies are small, but upon examination everything seems well developed. They will just have to stay in hospital to keep an eye on them and away from infection. As you may have already guessed, their immunities are quite fragile. The outside world would be too much for them as they continue to develop,” the frog-clad nurse explained.

He nodded in understanding, and followed up with, “When will she be back from surgery?”

“Um, probably soon. We just got word she was out of surgery. She might be in her room even now.”

Amory’s eyes widened. “Is it all right if I leave them here with you?”

The nurse laughed as Amory gestured to the quads, but she answered politely, “We will take good care of them, Mr. Blake.”

He smiled, and began to peel of the surgical mask and gloves they gave him to wear in the intensive care ward. He nearly got turned around, but sure enough a team of nurses was hooking up Isabella to the equipment in the peachy room. Her arm was in a sling, and she was covered in faint bruises. A scratch traced the outline of her face like a horrific caress. It was amazing she was still breathing. A pair left the room with a breathing device as another secure a line of oxygen to her nose.

“You must be Mr. Blake,” a young man checking her vitals offered as he noticed Amory’s presence. “Your wife is quite the trooper. She should be able to hear you, but I don’t think she’ll be one for conversation.”

“That’s okay.” Amory reached out and found her hand through the sheets. It was cool and unreactive to the touch, but it still left like home to him.

He watched her eyelids flutter as if she were deep into a dream, and then they came alive slowly but surely. Isabella’s eyes were half-open, but they saw him. Armory could feel it. Even in this sterile place, the look of Isabella was like sunshine.

“Bella Donna,” Amory said softly as a smile played at the corner of her lips. “I just saw our children. They’re more perfect than I ever could have imagined. It’s two sets of identical twins, but they all have dark soft curly hair and are much more attractive than me already.”