Epilogue

Baby boy Austin came into the world screaming, objecting to everything that was happening and indignant that the comfort of his mother’s belly was no longer an option.

When they laid him on his mother’s chest, and she put her hands on his little bare back, the doctor laughed.

“Did that baby just let out a sigh?”

“I think he was just drawing a breath for the next round,” a nurse said.

“He recognized the heartbeat. He’s not afraid anymore,” Trey said.

Moments later, they were measuring and weighing and typing his blood and he was screaming again. Then finally, as he was still wailing, they swaddled him in a soft blue blanket and handed him to Trey.

“There’s my boy. There’s my sweet baby boy,” he kept saying.

The baby’s cries dwindled down to a little squeak and then nothing, and Trey kept talking to him in that deep, rumbly voice, and the baby shuddered, as if ridding himself of the last of his complaints and stared straight up into Trey’s face.

“He can’t see me yet, can he?” Trey asked.

“They see, but not perfect vision. It takes a while for their eyes to adjust and focus. He doesn’t know what he’s looking at, but he already knows what he hears,” the doctor said.

“He knows the sound of his father’s voice as well as he knows mine,” Marley said, but she could barely see the look of wonder on Trey’s face for the tears in her own eyes.

Before you knew each other, your son chose the both of you.

Marley got chills. Someday she’d tell Trey what they said, or maybe not. Maybe the simple miracle of this baby’s birth was enough.

***

Trey cradled his son against his chest, gently kissed his soft baby cheek, and then whispered in his ear.

“I will love you forever. I will always have your back. And whatever you come to be in this world, it will be enough.”

A nurse approached. “Sorry, Daddy. He’s going to the nursery for a bit. Have you two picked out a name?”

“Corbett Joseph Austin,” Trey said.

“Nice name,” she said. “Mama needs to rest, and Daddy needs to start making phone calls to all the family to let them know Corbett is in the building.” She was laughing at her own joke as she laid the baby in the little bed and wheeled him out of the room.

Trey kissed Marley’s forehead, smoothing the blond curls away from her face. “Rest, darlin’. This may be the last chance we get for the next twenty years. I’ll call Jack and Wanda.”

“Don’t forget to call Meredith,” she added, and then closed her eyes.

He stood, watching her sleep, remembering that, just like his son, his first knowledge of her had been the sound of her voice.

Life was a wonderful thing.