Rolling in Clover

by Dawn, Penny

  "You see? You don't know."

  "Maybe I just can't say it. Did you ever think of that?"

  "Just say it. Tell me you need me for one thing, but you don't need me for—"

  "I love you."

  A smile crept onto her face. He was kidding, of course. “You do not."

  Instantly, his cheeks flushed. “I should go.” He backed away.

  "What? Why? Luke, I'm sorry.” She grasped his left hand. “I don't know what to say."

  "I should go."

  "I don't want you to go."

  "Well, you don't want me to stay, and if this is what you want—this house, this man, this life—I don't want to tear your world apart."

  "Luke, it never occurred to me that you might—"

  "I don't expect anything from you. Just spend some time with me every once in a while, all right? Maybe lunch every now and again. So I don't forget how pretty you are."

  From her position on the floor, she watched him walk away, longing for just one minute more with his arms around her.

  With a hand pressed to her back—she felt a bruise coming on—she crept up the stairs, checked on her gorgeous, sleeping daughter, and fell into bed.

  * * * *

  Luke sucked the fading taste of Kimberley from his fingers and entered his home. A packed duffel bag sat on the table, and his wife, sans wedding ring, read in her favorite recliner.

  "I won't ask where you've been,” she said, without taking her eyes from the pages, “if you turn right around and go back there."

  He continued on to the family room and sat on the rug in front of her. “I'm not going anywhere."

  "Who is she?” Diane set aside the book, glaring at him.

  "What do you care, Diane?"

  "Are you having an affair?"

  "Is this what it's going to take to have it out?"

  "Answer me."

  He licked his lips and nodded. “Yes, I am."

  "Then take your bag and go back to her.” She reached for her book.

  "I'm not going anywhere.” He flung the paperback across the end table and stared hard into her eyes. “I'm done playing this game, Diane. You've been pushing me for years, and I'm done. But I'm not going anywhere."

  "I can call the police and have you physically removed, if you'd like, but I'm giving you a chance to go."

  "I'm not leaving my children."

  "Don't you mean your child?"

  "Rachael's mine, too, and it's your turn to go. Take your positive pregnancy test and go, but you're not taking my children."

  "Do you think I'd leave them with you?"

  "Do you think I'd let you out that door with them?"

  "Your bag is packed, and in sixty seconds, if you aren't one foot out the door, I'm calling the police."

  "Great. Tell them you're knocked up, tell them it isn't your husband's, tell them—"

  "What's ‘knocked up'?” Caleb's inquiry instantly silenced the room.

  "Caleb, I—"

  "Your dad and I are in the middle of something, Caleb. Go back to bed."

  "Dad?” Caleb eyed the bag on the table. “Are you leaving us again?"

  "I'm not going anywhere. I'll be up to tuck you in soon."

  Caleb dawdled in the doorway. “Whose bag is that?"

  "I'll be up in a minute. I promise."

  The boy sighed heavily and finally turned back toward the stairs. When he was out of sight, Luke turned to his wife. “What do you think he heard?"

  "The worst of it. Watch what you're saying."

  "Ready to come clean with me?"

  "There's nothing to say, Luke."

  He pressed his lips together and nodded. “Okay. Give me a few days to get things ready at Julie's, and...” He shoved a hand through his hair. “Christ, let's be cooperative about this. Fifty-fifty, joint custody, all right? And I'll give you maintenance, if you want."

  She shook her head. “I don't want to separate the children—"

  "Neither do I."

  "And since Paul's—"

  "I don't want to hear about Paul Radcliffe. Where's he been the past five years? Was he there when I cut her umbilical cord? Was he there when she took her first step? When she said her first word? When she cried at the door on her first day of school? That gorgeous baby girl up there is mine. You aren't taking her."

  "Damn it, she doesn't even like you, and you ... you don't know the first thing about raising her."

  "I know how to raise her just fine, and you know that. For once, Diane, think about our children.” He stood, retrieved the book, and handed it back to her. “I'm going to say goodnight to Caleb."

  CHAPTER 14

  The sun had yet to rise when Kimberley sat up in bed, pressing her hands to her pounding forehead. “Ooh.” One hand flew to her agitated abdomen. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and inched toward the bathroom.

  Bile rose halfway up her throat and she barely made it to the commode. With her purging, she felt a dampness in her panties. What was that? Did she have to pee? Wasn't it a little early in pregnancy to lose urine?

  With closed eyes, she yanked down her panties and sat. She felt a thick, mucus-like ooze gush out of her body and hit the water. She glanced into the bowl and saw only blood.

  "Oh, God.” Tears came instantly. She was miscarrying. “Okay, okay. It's okay."

  She fashioned a pad out of toilet paper—shouldn't use tampons—and stuck it into her panties to absorb more of the blood. But her panties were already soaked with uterine lining.

  Upon returning to bed, she found a dark red stain on the sheets, and looking down, she realized her nightgown, too, had been soiled.

  She stripped the bed, slipped out of her nightgown, dressed in a bulky sweatshirt and underwear reserved for that time of the month, and headed to the laundry room, the bloody mess piled in her arms.

  With a slow and disciplined gait, she thought of Luke's breathing with her at the doctor's office and exhaled her way through the pain. Deep breath in, two, three, four, and out, two, three, four.

  At long last, she reached the upstairs laundry room and tossed the load in.

  She pulled a pile of old towels—the ones she kept for the cleaning service—from a shelf in a custom linen cabinet, and after a long trek back to her bedroom, piled them atop her bed, fashioning a mattress guard she could lie down on.

  She reached for the phone and dialed her doctor's office. “This is Kimberley Roderick. I'm thirteen-and-a-half weeks pregnant, and I'm having a miscarriage.” The nurse on call relayed instructions.

  Next, she called Lauren, who arrived within twenty minutes with Extra Strength Aspirin—Brennan had packed their home supply, for the likely event he'd have to nurse a hangover out of town—and a box of Super Maxis.

  Kimberley swallowed three aspirin and pressed a pad into her panties. “Thanks, Lauren."

  "Are you sure you won't let me drive you?"

  "No, you have to get home to the kids before Rick leaves for work."

  "He can take the morning off, Kimmy. You shouldn't drive yourself."

  "This isn't your responsibility. If anyone should be missing work...” Kimberley stifled a sob. “You're doing more than enough."

  * * * *

  A D&C was an unplanned abortion. She didn't want to admit it, but in listening to the nurse's explanation of what was about to occur within her body, Kimberley couldn't help drawing the parallel. This baby had already died, but through a medical procedure, its body would be removed much in the same way Jason's child had been, years ago.

  "You won't be able to drive after,” the nurse said. “We need to call someone to pick you up."

  Kimberley rattled off Luke's cell phone number.

  "And that's whose number?"

  "A good friend. Luke Jackson."

  "Just a few more questions, Mrs. Roderick."

  "Questions about what? I've already told you everything I can think to tell you."

  "Just routine, for clinical documentation."

>   "I don't want to talk about it. I just want it to be over."

  "I understand, but your answers will help us give you the best possible care."

  Kimberley nodded, wishing she had a hand to hold.

  "Have you ever had a miscarriage before?"

  "No."

  "This is your second pregnancy?"

  "Third."

  "Any problems with the previous two?"

  She looked away. “I ended the first. The second was fine."

  "Have you been abused during this pregnancy? Emotionally, physically, sexually?"

  She pressed her lips together. Had she been abused? By whose definition?

  The nurse grasped her hand. “It's routine. What you say here stays here."

  "I haven't been abused."

  "You have several bruises on your legs, and one on your back."

  No doubt, a product of sex against the kitchen island, foreplay in the foyer. “I bruise easily."

  "For no reason?"

  "I'm sure there's a reason. Maybe I bumped into a coffee table. I just don't remember."

  "Are you anemic?"

  "I don't know. I don't think so."

  "How have you been eating?"

  "Fine."

  "Women who aren't normally anemic can become anemic if they fast, or if they don't follow a proper diet during pregnancy."

  "I've been eating.” But she'd missed many meals due to Brennan's sub-par Saturday morning conditions and secret meetings with Luke in the forest preserve.

  "Have you been experiencing excessive fatigue?"

  "I'm tired all the time. I'm always tired during the first trimester."

  "We'll test your cell count. Fatigue is another symptom of anemia. When did you last have intercourse?"

  She hesitated. Would Brennan ever see this record?

  "Sometimes, Mrs. Roderick, intercourse stimulates uterine contractions. That's not likely the reason you lost this baby, but it might help explain why your body chose to expel it at this particular time."

  "A few days ago."

  "Any spotting afterward?"

  "No."

  * * * *

  Through sleep-filled eyes, Luke read six-o-eight on the clock. He rolled over, feeling for Diane, knowing she wouldn't be there. His wedding ring, however, perched on her pillow. He picked it up and spun it around the tip of his little finger.

  What the hell was she trying to say? That she wanted him to wear it again? Just an ordinary morning, was that what he was supposed to think? Did she expect him to forget the evening of purgatory they'd shared? Never. He'd never forget the moment of clarity, when he'd realized his marriage was over.

  The shrill of his cell phone jolted him from the ludicrous consideration. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and answered the phone. “Hello? Speaking.” He tossed his ring onto the bedside table and hung his head while Evanston Northwest Hospital personnel confirmed his worst fears regarding his beautiful girl's pregnancy. “I'll be there as soon as I can."

  After an abbreviated morning routine, he hurried to the kitchen for a quick cup of caffeine. But Diane hadn't brewed the coffee yet. He opened the pantry and located a filter and the coffee canister. Now he was about to be single again, he should probably get used to doing things on his own anyway. Folding his laundry, sweeping his own dirt out the door, clearing the table.

  He looked up. Diane had always taken care of those things. Six-thirty in the morning, and the kitchen was spotless. And the duffel bag was gone. And so was she. “Hell."

  He threw together some lunch items and rushed up to his son's room. “Caleb."

  His son's eyes opened. “Hi, Dad."

  "Come on, buddy. Aunt Julie's going to get you off to school this morning."

  "Why?” Caleb yawned.

  "I have an emergency."

  "Is Rachael coming?"

  Panic. Had Diane taken his little girl? He hadn't yet checked her room. He cleared his throat. “Yes. Come on, grab your things."

  "Why can't Mom take me to the bus?"

  "Mom had a rough night and she needs some time."

  "Because you were fighting again?"

  "Get dressed and brush your teeth."

  Caleb groaned and rolled out of bed.

  Luke swept into the next room, relief washing through him while he ran a hand over his daughter's flannel-clad back. “Rachael."

  "Hmmm.” The little girl's sigh sent satisfied tingles up and down his arms.

  "Wake up, Rae-rae."

  Slowly, her eyes peeled open. “Hi, Daddy."

  * * * *

  In a pale yellow room, Kimberley awakened to see Luke sitting with his head in his hands in a chair opposite her recovery bed, a T-shirt—torn at the collar—clinging to his body. “Thanks for coming.” Her words escaped her much more quietly than she'd expected, but Luke snapped to attention.

  He half-smiled. “Hey, beautiful girl."

  She ran a hand through the mop of frizz atop her head. “Don't look at me."

  "You're beautiful."

  "You're too kind."

  "Kimber"—he rubbed a callus on his thumb—"I can't pretend to understand what you're going through, but if it helps you, I feel like it's my loss, too.” He looked away, sighing. “I'm sorry."

  Tears welled in her eyes and she blinked them away. “I guess I got what I deserved, didn't I?"

  "You know this isn't your fault. It's God's way of weeding out babies who can't make it.” His eyes settled on her, and she softened under his scrutiny. “I wish I'd been there. To help you."

  She shook her head, imagining the mess his being there would've caused. She would have bled all over him, Lauren would have arrived, finding him there...

  "You're right, Kimber. I didn't have to be there, but that son-of-a-bitch you married should've been."

  "He's traveling."

  "Yeah, I know.” Luke rose from his seat and paced about the room. “And if he happened to be home, he'd be preoccupied with who's leading in the seventh inning, the money he has riding on it, and the bottle of whiskey getting him through it all."

  "I've learned to handle things like this on my own."

  "And that makes it okay?” He frowned. “You can't be fulfilled, living like this. I mean...” He stopped at the foot of her bed and stared at her. “Are you?"

  "Fulfilled? There's plenty wrong with my marriage, Luke, but I have to try."

  "You ever going to be tired of trying?"

  "I don't know. Are you?"

  He rubbed his eyes with the thumb and forefinger on his left hand. Still no wedding ring. “She left. When I woke up this morning, she was gone."

  "Oh, my God,” she said softly, “how are you holding up?"

  He sat on the edge of her bed. “I'm all right. She left the children, so—"

  "Come here."

  He leaned to her, pressing a hand to her stomach. “Don't worry about me. Concentrate on getting better."

  "About last night.” She squeezed his hand. “About what you said."

  "You shouldn't be thinking about that right now."

  "It means a lot to me. But it hit me out of the blue, and I suppose I reacted poorly."

  "Don't worry about it."

  "And about this.” She tickled his bare ring finger. “You would've taken it off sooner or later, whether or not you ever met me."

  "Maybe.” His brow furrowed. “But as things turned out, I took it off because I met you."

  "Why do you think you love me?"

  "I don't think it, I know it."

  "But doing this is too hard. We can't—"

  "You're upset. But don't worry, beautiful girl. You'll be pregnant again in no time. With my baby, and my babies hold on."

  "I can't—"

  "It doesn't have to be this crazy. It can be as simple as two people giving each other what they need. No one expects you to stay with him, if you aren't happy.” He brushed his thumb over her fingers. “And I don't expect you to do anything right now but heal."
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