Falling into Us

by Jasinda Wilder

“In…” Becca fumbled with my underwear, pushing at it until we got it off together. “I need…you. Ins-s-sss-side me. ”

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  I slid against her, hovering above her, poised at her entrance. “I love you. ” I locked my eyes on her black gaze.

  “P-p-promise?” She caught my lower lip between her teeth and pulled it away. “For-for-forever?”

  “And then some. ” I slid into her tight wet heat as I spoke, and she gasped, her mouth wide in a silent scream.

  She held still, trembling, eyes searching mine, breath stopped in her lungs. “Again…I’m ab-about to come already…again. ”

  “Good. Let go, baby. ”

  She moved against me, lifting her hips to mine, fingernails clawing into my shoulders, scratching down my back to my ass and pulling me harder and harder into her. I resisted her efforts to speed my pace, slipping in slowly, withdrawing more slowly, moving softly, each motion, each gentle thrust a declaration of love.

  Our eyes never wavered from each other’s.

  She wrapped her legs around my waist and moved frantically against me, finally breaking gazes to bury her face in my shoulder as she shattered beneath me. She wept as she came, thrusting against me and sobbing, smiling through her tears—her first smile in days—pulling at me and clutching me and chanting my name without stuttering.

  Limp beneath me, Becca sniffed and caressed my face with the back of her fingers. “Your turn. ”

  I let go then. She matched me thrust for thrust, clinging to my neck and letting our hips crash together, our flesh slapping, our mouths bumping in clumsy, panting kisses. I fell over the edge helplessly, and she came with me. I unleashed inside her, gush after gush filling her, and then I let my weight go against hers; I knew she liked that, after.

  We drifted, and her fingers feathered in my hair.

  “I love you, Jason. ” She whispered it softly into the silence, sounding more like my Becca from before the events of that April day.

  * * *

  Becca

  Jason’s weight pressed wonderfully against me, kept me grounded in the present. His breathing began to shift, and we rolled together in a familiar habit. He tucked me into the nook of his arm, his warm flesh and hard muscle perfectly caging me.

  I was, for the first time in weeks, feeling lucid and something like okay.

  And that’s when it hit me: I hadn’t taken my birth control since April ninth, the day I found Ben.

  SIXTEEN: Secrets & Revelations

  Becca

  September

  I was pregnant. I knew I was. I hadn’t taken a test or seen a doctor, but I knew. I was seven weeks late for my period, my br**sts were tender, and I’d been sick in the mornings. Jason had been giving me odd looks when I’d rush to the bathroom, but I didn’t think he knew, or even really suspected.

  I had panic attacks every day. In private, in the bathroom at school, in the tutoring center between students, silently shaking and unable to breathe.

  Pregnant?

  Like, with a baby? A little human? No. No.

  I didn’t know how to do that.

  What if Jason couldn’t handle it, handle me being pregnant? What if he left me? I was still in therapy over Ben’s death…his suicide. I was better about that every day, less fragile. I’d stopped needing escape, started talking more. I still stuttered when I spoke, which drove me nuts. I was back to high school, basically, back to before Jason.

  He was on fire on the football field. I went to every game and sat on the sidelines with the other players’ girlfriends, cheering on the boys in blue and yellow. The pro scouts were sniffing around him, primarily New Orleans and Dallas. I’d seen the same scout from New Orleans at every game Jason played, and he and Jason had spoken a few times. I knew Jason was geeked at the prospect of playing with Drew Brees more than any other QB in the NFL.

  I had to tell him. I had to. But first I had to be sure. After my last class, I bought four different kind of pee tests, took them home, and sat on the toilet, staring at the first one. Finally, I sucked in a deep breath, lowered my pants and peed on the end, set the test aside, and washed my hands.

  I stared in the mirror at my pale reflection, waiting. I picked up the test and stared at the box.

  Pleaseletmenotbepregnant…pleaseletmenotbepregnant…

  Blue cross: pregnant.

  Shit. Fuck. Shit.

  I felt my lungs contracting and expanding rapidly, sucking in air and expelling it far too quickly. I was hyperventilating. I smacked clumsily at the toilet lid, knocking it down so I could slump onto it, ducking my head between my knees. Slowly, after long minutes of forced deep breathing, I managed to calm myself down.

  Then my phone rang. “Hello?” I still sounded out of breath.

  “Hi, Becca? This is Rachel Hawthorne. ”

  “Hi, Mrs. …I mean, Rachel. How are you?” I tried not to panic, but I didn’t see why she would call me if it wasn’t bad news.

  “I’m okay. Has Nell called you recently?”

  My heart rate and breathing ratcheted into hyperventilation territory all over again. “N-no. I haven’t heard from her in months. I called her, but it went to voicemail and she never got ba-back to me. ” I tried a deep breath but couldn’t make it slow down. “Why? What’s…what’s going on?”

  “Well, she came back suddenly. She showed up this morning without warning. She’s…I don’t know, Becca. I’m worried about her, but she says she’s okay. I was wondering if you could come down and talk to her. See if you can get her to tell you what’s going on. ”

  “What do y-you th-think is wrong?”

  “I’m not sure, honestly,” Rachel said. “I just…she wouldn’t just come back out of the blue like this for no reason. ”

  “I have a couple big tests tom-mmm-morrow morning,” I said, “but I c-c-can head down and s-s-see her afterward, okay?”

  “Okay, that sounds good, thanks, Becca. ”

  “Let me know if any-th-thing comes uh-uh-up?”

  “I will. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. ”

  “Okay, ’bye, Rachel. ” I hung up and set the phone aside, worried about Nell now.

  And pregnant.

  I hid the extra tests, not ready for Jason to see them, and then threw the used one away, burying it in the kitchen trash and covering it. Then, driven by a sudden rush of hope that the first one had been wrong, I dug them back out and took a second test, washed my hands, and waited.

  Two pink lines: pregnant.

  Third test…pregnant.

  Fourth test…pregnant.

  I threw them all away and then took the bag to the dumpster. Intellectually, I knew Jason wouldn’t leave me, especially if I was pregnant. But…knowing in my head wasn’t the same as knowing in my heart. Fear was fear, and fear had me paralyzed, unable to tell him.

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  I half-heartedly attempted to study until Jason came home from work. He walked in wearing khaki cut-off shorts, battered and grass-stained Timberland boots, and a neon-green Bob’s Quality Landscaping and Snow Removal T-shirt with the sleeves cut off. He had a blue U of M ball cap on backward, with his jersey number stitched in yellow thread on the back, and his earbuds trailed down the front of his shirt where he’d strung them underneath to his shorts pocket. He stank of grass, sweat, gasoline, and oil, and he was filthy from head to toe. He had dirt smudged on his forehead and right cheek, his hands were nearly black with dirt and grease and bits of grass, and his shirt was sopping wet with sweat. He was gloriously sexy.

  The euphoria of seeing my man all nasty from a day of hard work only lasted a moment, and the weight of reality set in.

  Jason must’ve seen the crash on my features. “Hey, baby. What’s up?”

  I went for the easy answer. “Nell came home s-ssss-suddenly. Rachel is worried about her. ”

  Jason frowned. “That’s all she
said, though?” He set his iPhone and earbuds on the table along with his wallet and hat.

  “Yeah, basically. ” I set my books aside, stood up, and kissed him, tasting the sweat on his upper lip. “I’m going to d-d-drive d-d-down tomorrow after my tests. ” I felt the weight of my secret in my chest, but I couldn’t get the words out.

  “I’ll drive down with you, then,” Jason said from the bathroom, stripping off his clothes.

  I stood in the doorway, watching him undress, admiring the way his darkly tanned skin slid over his rippling muscles. “You have class and you work two jobs, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, but this is more important, isn’t it?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe. All I know is that Nell showed up out of b-b-bl-blue and Rachel is worried something is wrong. I don’t know for a f-f-fa-fa-fact that anything is wrong. ”

  Jason stepped under the steaming spray, and immediately the water around the drain turned brown. “True enough. Take my truck from school, then. I can get rides to and from work. ”

  A sudden burst of need shot through me, need for his hands on me and his mouth on me and his heat on me; for the first time in our relationship, I squashed the need. I pushed it down and walked away, leaving him to his shower. If I gave in to that need, I knew what would happen. I would get sucked in to the emotional whirlpool of the afterglow, and I’d tell him.

  For now, this was my secret. I needed time to figure out how I felt, aside from the sheer blind panic. Was I glad? Was I upset? Did I want, even deep down, to be a mother? Was I in any way ready?

  There was only one question that never crossed my mind: not keeping it was never an option. Regardless of my feelings, regardless of Jason’s reaction, I was keeping it.

  Him. Her. Not it.

  Him or her.

  * * *

  My tests flew by. I knew the material to the point where part of my mind was whirling with a thousand thoughts and questions, and only part of me was tuned in to the tests. I left the lecture hall and headed to the Hawthorne home, driving almost absently, the radio off, my body and brain driving on autopilot, the rest of me dizzy with rumination.

  An hour and a half later, I pulled in to the Hawthornes’ circle drive, which was empty. The front door was locked, and no one answered my repeated knocks and rings of the bell. I circled around to the back, knowing Rachel often had music on while she baked and didn’t hear the door. When I reached the back of the house, I stopped in shock. A piece of plywood covered the sliding glass patio door, or where the glass had been, rather. What I could see of the house was dark and empty. As I turned away from the house, I happened to glance down at the cobblestone patio, and my heart shuddered to a stop. Dark brown splotches led in a trail to the house, disappearing into the grass beyond the patio.

  The Hawthornes and the Calloways lived on a private lake, beyond which was an expanse of grass field, and beyond that a forest. A county line road arced through the forest, and I knew Nell used to run from her house to the county road, then follow that for a few miles to where Mr. Farrell’s corn field began, at which point she would cut through the thin strip of forest and into the acres of knee-high wild grass behind her house.

  The brown spots were dried blood. Who had bled? Why? Where was everyone?

  Had something happened to Nell? Had she…had she done something to herself? I wasn’t sure I could handle finding out.

  I fumbled my phone from my purse and scrolled through my contacts until I found Rachel Hawthorne cell. I dialed it, held the phone to my ear with trembling hands as I made my way back around to the driveway.

  “Hello?” Mr. Hawthorne’s voice on Rachel’s cell phone. He sounded…broken.

  “Mr. Hawthorne? It’s b-b-Becca. ”

  “Becca?” He sounded confused, lost.

  “Becca de Rosa. Nell’s friend?”

  “Oh. Of course. Yes, of course…sorry. I’m—we’re…Nell’s in the hospital, Becca. ” I heard the distant garble of a hospital PA.

  “What—what happened?”

  “She…” He trailed off and seemed to be listening to a voice in the background. “Yeah, you’re right, Rach. Becca? Just come to the hospital. We’ll—I’ll—we’ll explain when you get here. The ICU, she’s in room one-four-one. We’re in the waiting room right now. ”

  “I’ll be-be th-there s-s-s-soon. ” I hung up then, abruptly, not bothering with the formality of a goodbye.

  I was in Jason’s truck and peeling out, driving recklessly, tears stinging my eyes and hot on my cheeks. I felt myself cracking. I called Jason.

  Mowers blasted deafeningly in the background, blowers, weed-whips. “Hey, Beck,” Jason said, shouting over the noise. “Talk to Nell?”

  “She-she’s in the hah-hah-hos-hospital. I don’t n-n-n-know why. Someth-thing happened. Something b-b-bad. ” I was choking on my half-hysterical sobs, and I could barely understand myself.

  Jason had no problem, though. “Shit. Fuck! Okay, I’ll meet you there. Wait, which hospital?”

  I hadn’t asked. “I d-d-don’t n-n-know. I don’t—”

  Jason interrupted. “If it happened at their house, then the closest would probably be Genesee Regional. ”

  I heard my phone ding in my ear, signaling a text message. I held the phone away from my ear, seeing a message from Rachel verifying Jason’s guess. “Rachel j-j-j-just t-t-texted me. She’s at Gen-Genes-s-sss-s—d-d-damn it!” I hissed in frustration; the last thing I needed right then was to stutter myself incoherent. “What…you…said. ” I forced the words out slowly and clearly.

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  “I got you, babe. It’s okay. Breathe, all right?”

  “I’m…trying. ” It took every ounce of focus to get those two words out fluently.

  “I love you. I’ll be with you, no matter what. It’s going to be okay. ”

  “’Kay. ” One syllable, such a lie. It wasn’t going to be okay.

  I set the phone aside and focused on driving, focused on keeping my breathing slow and deep.

  Arriving at the hospital, I found Jim and Rachel Hawthorne sitting side by side, and across from them Mr. and Mrs. Calloway, Robert and Theresa. Why were they here?

  Rachel saw me first, then rushed over and wrapped me in a hug. She pulled away, and must have seen the fear in my eyes. “It’s not that, Becca. It’s not…she didn’t…she didn’t do anything to herself. Not like your…like Ben. ” I hiccuped in relief. “She’s going to be okay. ”

  “Wha-what happened? Why is your doorwall broken?”

  “Come sit over here,” Rachel said, gently but firmly ushering me to a chair. My flip-flops squeaked on the tile; the plastic chair was hard and cold under my legs. Rachel took my hands in hers, and I knew whatever had happened was going to be awful to hear.

  “Just t-t-tell me. ”

  “She had a miscarriage last night. ”

  I didn’t respond, didn’t react. I’d heard her wrong, clearly. “She…what? She had a what?”

  Rachel sniffed, and Jim Hawthorne reached over from her other side to rest his hand on her shoulder. “She was pregnant,” Rachel said. “She was out running, and she…she lost the baby. She lost a lot of blood, too much blood. She’s going to be okay, but if Colton hadn’t found her when he did, she might have…oh, god…”

  Shock hit me so hard I would have fallen over had I not been sitting down. “Colton? Colton Calloway?”

  Why would Colton have found her? He lived in New York…and then the penny dropped.

  “Wait…he-he’s the father?” I asked.

  “Yes. ” Rachel nodded, her fine blonde hair bouncing and glinting in the harsh fluorescent lighting.

  Robert and Theresa sat on the row of chairs opposite us, their faces showing concern, confusion, worry, fear. I glanced at them; I didn’t know them at all. Robert Calloway was a congressman, so he spent a lot of time in Washington, D. C. I didn’t know what Theresa did, but
she was gone a lot, too. Even as kids we rarely spent time at the Calloway house. When Nell and I had played with Kyle as young children, it was always at Nell’s house, so Robert and Theresa were basically strangers to me. Robert was tall, broad-chested with a bit of roundness to his belly, strongly built and rugged of feature, dark salt-and-pepper hair and bright blue eyes, where Colton had gotten his from, clearly. Theresa was more like Kyle, lean, trim, classically beautiful features and dark brown eyes like Kyle’s had been.

  “Colton and Nell…” I began, hoping the rest would be filled in.

  “Ran into each other in New York, I guess,” Rachel said. “I don’t really know much more than that. It all happened so fast. Nell came back yesterday morning, early. She must’ve caught a red-eye out of New York, because she was walking through our door by seven in the morning. She looked…tired. Not sleepy, I mean…emotionally exhausted. Burnt out, worried. She said she just wanted to come home for a bit, and that everything was fine. I didn’t believe her, because I know Nell. I know when she’s hiding something. I watched her hide everything for so long…but she wouldn’t talk to me. She spent most of yesterday in her room, playing her guitar. Then—late, like nine o’clock or so—she came down and said she was going for a run. She’d only been gone for maybe twenty minutes when our front door slammed open. It startled me so bad I dropped a glass. It was Colton. He was…he was acting crazy. Upset, demanding to know where Nell had gone, like he’d been looking for her. I told him she’d gone running out to the Ennis farm, and he took off after her. Then he…he came back…carrying her. God, she was…so bloody. He had blood running down his shirt from her. It was all coming from between her legs. I knew…I knew. I had two miscarriages before I had Nell. Mine were…they weren’t as bad as Nell’s. God…my baby girl. ” Rachel shuddered and turned away from me into her husband’s arms.

  Was that going to happen to me? That was my first thought when Rachel finished her story.

  “Can I…can I s-s-see her?” I asked.

  “You’ll have to ask a nurse,” Jim answered. “I don’t know if she’s awake yet. ”

  The nurse behind the desk informed me that Nell was awake, and I could see her if Nell permitted it. I followed the long hallway, watching the room numbers count up closer to 141. A crowd of people surrounded a doorway, clustered and silent. They were around Nell’s room, I realized. As I got closer, I heard why.

  A guitar played, and a deep, rich male voice sang. I couldn’t make out the words yet, but the tune was haunting, like a raw and ragged lullaby, simple chords repeated in a soul-searing refrain. I pressed into the crowd of nurses and doctors and patients until I could see into the room. Colton sat beside Nell’s bed, a guitar in his hands, head turned to one side, eyes squeezed tight, neck muscles tensing as he sang, massive biceps rippling as he strummed and picked the simple melody. His voice was so hypnotic, so full of raw grief, that the potency of his song was a palpable force washing over my skin as I listened.

  “…Did you dream?

  Did you have a soul?

  Who could you have been?

  You’ve never known my arms,

  You’ve never known your mother’s arms,