The Suggestion Box (Volume 1)

Part 3: Golden Gate Wishes (5)

Based on the following Suggestions:

Names: Neal D. Parker, Suzannah
Times: Winter Solstice, 5 minutes to midnight, 11:59 PM, 1988
Places: San Francisco Bay Area, cave hidden behind a waterfall
Objects: baby, electric A-frame guitar

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TWO YEARS LATER....

At five minutes to midnight, just four days before Christmas, Neal paced the downstairs living room till he had just about worn a track in the carpet. The suspense was killing him—as were the furious screams of his wife. If the midwife hadn't sworn on her own life that there was absolutely nothing that could be done to lessen the pain, and that it was all a part of the natural process, and that everything would be just fine if he left well enough alone, he would be up there, at his wife's side, comforting her in the arduous labor. But the midwife had promised to call him when it was time for him to come and assist in the birthing process. So Neal waited—and paced—and waited—and paced some more. He paused near the photo from their wedding day on the mantelpiece. Suzannah wore a fifties-style tea-length white dress with a shoulder-length veil. The brightness of the material contrasted amazingly with her dark-brown hair—so much more natural and stunning than the ugly peroxide streaks she'd had when she first came to San Francisco. Neal smiled at the insanely happy couple in the photo. In spite of the awkwardness when they first met, Suzannah had consistently brought out the best in him, gave him the strength he needed to take the risks and make the name for himself that he always imagined having, but never quite managed till she came along.

Soon after they married, Suzannah had convinced him to record an album of original work—but not a solo album. She joined him with her voice, and played guitar when he played piano or bass, and the two of them released a duet album that completely sold out at Turntable Records within the first day. Neal was convinced at first that the album's success was due to the family name (Sarah still called him Crooner, but now Suzannah had become Mrs. Crooner; Neal consoled his injured pride with the realization that Sarah and her icy, dagger-like manner, was still very single, even after so many years), but after a while he discovered that people enjoyed his music who had never even heard of Cal Parker. He understood something his father could never quite figure out: the love of Neal's life was his wife, not his music. What they shared infused their music and enhanced it; sure, Suzannah was not the naturally gifted or professionally trained musician that Neal was, nor could she ever be—but their music had heart and soul.

Now their baby daughter was on the way; when Suzannah found out she was pregnant, her immediate reaction had been to sit in the middle of the carpet and sob. She had harbored such bitterness against her own parents, she informed Neal, that she was positive she didn't have what it would take to raise a child.

"I'm just not ready! I don't think I'll ever be ready! I can't do this, Neal!" she wailed.

Neal had grinned and held his weeping wife, assuring her that she would not have to do this alone. Further discussion also led to the day Suzannah called her mother for the first time since coming to San Francisco, to inform her of the impending grandbaby. Neal allowed Suzannah her space for the conversation. Reconciliation took all day, but that evening, Suzannah finally hung up the phone and smiled at Neal. She said nothing at first, but slowly wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. He felt the thrill of anticipation coursing through her body, and he knew everything was all right.

Nine months later, sitting downstairs while Suzannah screamed at the labor pains upstairs, Neal felt that things were currently not all right. Did he really trust the midwife enough to believe that she would not mess something up, that the screams were the byproduct of something good and not something bad?