and a pulse tracker on one of her fingers.
He looked at her. Looked into the past. The last time he saw her like this was after the shooting. Today was nothing like then, but still, the clinical smell of the room pressed his memory. The faint beep of monitors echoed in his mind and a sadness filled his chest, remembering how Daisy’s face had been so motionless and far away as he stood at her bedside that day. Gunfire still ringing in his ears. Her blood all over his shirt. Caked in his nail beds and smeared on his work boots. His palms and knees nicked and scratched because he’d crawled through broken glass to get to her.
We were so young, he thought, taking her hand. His fingers played with her wedding rings, thumb running along the edge of the diamond.
“Where are you?” Daisy said. Her head lolled and settled toward him, her eyes still closed.
“Here,” Erik said. “I’m right here, Dais.”
The polite rattle of knuckles on the door and LeBlanc leaned into the room.
“I hear she did great,” he said. “Beautiful eggs and lots of them.”
“She’s generous,” Erik said, bringing Daisy’s limp fingers up to his cheek.
And forgiving.
LeBlanc stood at the foot of the bed, looking at Daisy. “I’m pleased,” he said. “Everything has been absolutely textbook. It’s going much better than I expected.”
“Dude.” Erik reached to knock on the wall. “Are you out of your mind saying that out loud?”
“Sorry, sorry, her eggs are rotten.” LeBlanc said, laughing and rapping his head. “This is going terrible. You’re doomed. I have no hope whatsoever.”
Thirteen eggs were retrieved from Daisy’s ovaries. Six were immediately frozen. The other seven were injected with a single sperm each.
They lay in bed that night: Erik black and blue, Daisy sore and cramping. They held hands and imagined what was happening in the lab. Two becoming one. Then dividing into two again. Four. Eight. Merging. Melding. Becoming something greater.
“I wish I could watch it,” Daisy said. “Wouldn’t that be something?”
“I think my head would explode.”
The clinic called daily with updates and, to the Fiskares’ fascination, even emailed pictures. Daisy printed out all seven and tacked them to the refrigerator.
“I think this one has your eyes,” Erik said, peering close at the black-and-white blobs.
“This one has your ass,” Daisy said. “It gets my vote.”
On day three the lab reported two of the fertilized eggs did not mature to the blastocyst stage. Day four’s status was given as “normal.”
“We have five beauties,” Dr. Alibrandi said the morning of the fifth day. “Given your age, and that this is your first IVF cycle, my recommendation is to implant three and freeze the remaining two.”
The next day, Daisy and Erik witnessed as the embryos were selected and loaded into the catheter. They watched on the monitor as the sonogram showed the catheter being placed.
“You so much,” Erik said, holding Daisy’s hand tight.
“So much you.”
He began to softly whistle “Daisy Bell.” The nurse joined in. Then Alibrandi. With a puff of air the embryos were released. The catheter was examined under a microscope to make sure they left.
“A successful transfer,” Alibrandi said. “Well done.”
Daisy rested for twenty minutes at the clinic, then went home to recline as queen for another seventy-two hours. Sara Kaeger took this quite literally and brought over a tiara. Daisy wore it the rest of the night.
Francine called. “How are you, my loveys,” she said. “What are you doing now?”
“Hatching,” Daisy said.
The blood work said yes. The urine tests said yes. Progesterone levels insisted yes. Daisy wouldn’t accept anything until she saw it with her own eyes. Even the onset of morning sickness didn’t convince her.
“Believe it now?” Erik said as she came out of the bathroom, green and shaky.
“Stomach bug,” she said. And continued to say nearly every day, living in benign and superstitious denial until the first ultrasound.
“We could walk out of here the parents of triplets,” Daisy said, pausing with her hand on the clinic’s door. “I kind of feel like running.”
“Go big or go home,” Erik said, feeling a little terrified himself, but opening the door with purpose. “After you.”
“One,” the technician said.
The Fiskares peered closer. “Are you sure?” Daisy said.
“Just one.” The technician circled the screen with a fingertip. “And look at that heartbeat. Fantastic.”
Daisy started crying.
“Hey, we were braced for triplets,” Erik said, gathering her against him.
“I was braced for none,” she cried. “I can’t believe it worked.”
“Congratulations,” the technician said.
Erik kept staring at the monitor. “Holy crap, I got