Promise Her

by Johnston, Andrea

  My next message is to my son’s honorary uncles, Grant, Connor, and Taylor. The responses are quick with confirmation my baby is going to be a star athlete and is already handsome like his uncles.

  I hover over my sister’s name next. I don’t bother reaching out to my parents or my brother, each making their opinions and thoughts of my life choices clear. My sister, though, sent the gift and since then we’ve spoken a few times. Our communication is sparse, but I think her maternal instincts make it possible for her to show me a small sliver of family connection. I’m not sure if it’s the loneliness or the emotions from today’s appointment, but I have a strong need to feel connected to my family, so I suck it up and hit her contact information.

  Halfway through the second ring, voice mail picks up. I’ve been sent to voicemail. Ignored. This shouldn’t surprise me, but it hurts, nonetheless.

  With a shaky hand, I set my phone down and take a sip from the water glass sitting untouched on the table.

  “Hey, you okay?” Mercy asks as she slides into the seat across from me.

  “Yeah. Just tired, I think. I should go home and rest. Doctor’s orders and all that.”

  “Okay, pie’s on me. Still want to hang out later this week? Maybe Saturday evening?”

  “Yes, please! I love Grant and Connor, but I need some girl talk.”

  She winks, and I grab my phone and purse before scooting out of the booth. We hug, and I walk out of the diner, waving my goodbyes to the other customers. By the time I settle behind the wheel of my car, my adrenaline from the day begins to plummet, and I know a nap is in my immediate future.

  Pulling up in front of my house, I pull my mail from the box before parking in the driveway. Mr. Stanton waves from where he’s kneeling before his flower beds. Smiling, I take my mail and drag myself into the house.

  As I sort through the mail, I pull a square envelope from the pile. I’ve been receiving random gifts from other friends we’ve made through the years, and this is likely another gift card. I should add finishing thank you cards to my to do list.

  Looking at the envelope, it isn’t the writing that catches my attention, it’s the sender’s name. “Gilbert” is scrawled across the upper left of the envelope and my heart skips. I haven’t heard from Henry’s parents since the funeral.

  Sliding my finger under the seal I tug the card from the envelope. As I open it, a newspaper clipping falls to the floor and lands next to my foot. Bending down, I retrieve the paper and note the photo. Smiling, I look back at a young Henry. This young man in the photo is the one I met in a dive bar a dozen years ago. His baby face and huge smile were what drew me to him. His arm is slung over Taylor’s shoulder, and they look happy as clams.

  Glancing down at the text under the photo I read: “Hometown boys making us proud.” It must be a clipping from their local paper. Proudly, I take the picture and place it on my refrigerator. Turning my attention back to the card, I look for a note from the Gilberts but instead, it’s blank. Not even a standard greeting from the card’s creator. Just blank.

  It was nice of them to send the clipping. I don’t have many keepsakes from Henry’s years before me, and this will be something our son will love to have. Setting the card on the pile of mail, I make my way to the living room and my favorite napping corner of the couch.

  Chapter 19

  Taylor

  Saturday nights at Country Road used to be my favorite shift of the week. It’s just a bunch of people out for a good time. The early part of the evening is primarily couples while the singles venture out later in the night. Regulars and new-to-town folks on nights like this are what keep my doors open and why I love owning this place. Watching strangers meet for the first time and knowing there’s a chance I’ll see them back week after week, sometimes together, is one of the best parts of the job.

  Invitations to engagement parties, weddings, and baby showers come my way monthly. I won’t say meeting your future partner in a bar is easy, but there’s something about this place, the way friendships and love stories find their beginnings here. It’s special.

  Handing a group of guys their change, I catch Jameson and Ashton approaching the bar. “What are you guys doing here? Shouldn’t you be changing diapers or something?”

  “Dude, she has been bugging me for some of your nachos smothered in extra cheese—”

  “And jalapenos. Oh and bacon. Maybe some tomatoes. Gosh, I’m hungry.”

  Shaking my head, I turn for the taps and pour Jameson’s preferred IPA. When I slide the glass his way, I ask Ashton, “And for you, mama? Leaded or unleaded?”

  “Leaded. Margarita on the rocks, please. Only one tonight.”

  “She’s so excited for a margarita; it’s all she’s talked about since her parents showed up to babysit.” Laughing, I listen to my friends tease each other before setting her cocktail on a napkin. “Anything else, your highness?”

  “Yes, can you maybe add some extra chicken to those nachos? I’d love you forever.”

  “Sure thing,” I say with a snicker as I punch in their order for the kitchen. I go about my business for the next few minutes, unloading and reloading the dishwasher while pouring a few more drinks. I hear my name called and turn to Caleb. He’s standing with Ashton’s nachos in one hand and the bar’s phone in the other.

  “Thanks,” I reply, reaching for the platter when he thrusts the phone in my direction.

  “It’s for you. I couldn’t hear well but someone is crying and asked for you. A woman. What’d you do, man? Break a heart?”

  Confused, I take the phone and tell him to take the nachos to Ashton. Lifting the phone to my ear, I click the button on the cordless phone and walk toward my office.

  “Hello?” I shout into the phone.

  Sniffles fill the line. Commotion in the background sends my pulse racing. I’m not on my cell so I don’t know who’s calling, but it’s a woman. Fuck. My sister? Did something happen to my nephew? Then I hear it. The wail I heard many nights as I held Scarlett in my arms while she cried.

  “Red? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” My instinct is to grab my keys and head for the door. Only, I don’t know what’s wrong or where I’d go.

  “Taylor, I’m sc . . . sc . . . scared.”

  Blood pulses in my ears and my breathing increases. “What’s happened? Honey, tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Someone was in my house. It’s safe here. Why would they do that? Who was it? Taylor, I can’t . . . Oh God—”

  Motherfucker.

  “Scarlett, where are you? Are you alone?” I’m reaching for my keys when Grant’s voice booms in my ear.

  “Sugar. I’m here with her. She’s okay. Honey, stay here with Mercy, okay? I’m going to talk to Taylor.”

  Tossing my keys back on my desk, I run my free hand through my hair in frustration. Inhaling through my nose, I pace the office, waiting for an explanation.

  “What the fuck is going on, Cap?” Visions of Scarlett scared and crying flash before my eyes and rage sends my blood boiling. The need to get to her is overwhelming. To protect her and the baby.

  “Relax. It’s okay. She’s okay.”

  His calmness does nothing to ease my need to get to her. If anything, it infuriates me. How can he be so fucking calm? She’s losing it, I can hear her crying in the background.

  “Tell me what the fuck happened, Grant,” I growl.

  “It doesn’t look like anything was stolen. She’s safe. I’m taking her home with me tonight.”

  “That doesn’t tell me what happened, Grant.”

  Coughing, he lets out a chuckle, which only adds fuel to my existing fire. “Wow. You’ve used my name twice in one call. I’ve been trying to get you to use my name for years.” An actual growl is my response. Why is he taking this so lightly?

  “Fine. She came home from dinner and says she knew instantly something was wrong. The porch light was off, which isn’t normal for her. Then when she got to the front door, she noticed the curtains in the
window were shifted. But when she went to put her key in the door, it opened right away. Thankfully, Mercy was with her and waiting in the car. Scarlett rushed from the house and locked herself in the car. They called the cops and then me.”

  “I will close down the bar and be there in a few hours. Fuck, why is Fayhill so fucking far away?”

  “Jesus, you’re a fucking mess. Calm down. You won’t do anyone any good if you’re swearing up a storm and trying to go Rambo on everyone. I’m going to . . . shit. Hold on.”

  Leaning my head back, I listen to the dead air, my heart racing as a thousand scenarios of what is transpiring run through my mind. Grant’s voice becomes clearer, panic lacing every word. Fuck.

  “What’s happening?” I shout, jumping from my seat.

  “Honey, breathe. It’s okay. Taylor, I’ve got to go. I think we need to get Red to the hospital. She doesn’t look good.”

  The last words I hear him say before the line goes dead is “It’s too soon . . .” The baby. Shit.

  Rushing from the office, I make my way back to the bar and sigh in relief when I see Ashton still perched on her stool. She catches my eye and her wide smile falls as I approach her.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks, panic lacing her question.

  “I have to leave. I have to get to the hospital. I have to—”

  “Taylor, breathe. What’s wrong?” She’s standing before me in seconds, her hands on my arms. She’s a tiny little sprout, barely reaching my chest but her presence is big and welcome.

  With two deep breaths, I exhale and croak, “The baby. I have to go. Scarlett needs me. I can’t leave the bar. Fuck, I need more bartenders. Shit.” Looking around, I see how busy the bar is and know I can’t just walk out.

  “I don’t know that you should drive like this. You’re shaking.”

  “Ash, I have to go. I’m going to close. Everyone will have to fucking suck it up.”

  “No way. You’ll have a riot on your hands.” Turning to Jameson she says, “Babe, sorry but how do you feel about a working date night?” I open my mouth to stop her, tell her it’s not her job, but before I can, Jameson hops up and does an awkward fist pump.

  “I have always wanted to pour a beer behind this bar. Dreams do come true. We’ve got this man,” Jameson says as he motions me out of the way.

  I turn my attention back to Ashton as she places her hand on my cheek, “You go calm the fuck down, and when you think it’s safe to drive, go. It’ll be fine, and we’ll cover as long as you need us.” She pushes me out of the way, points at Jameson, and then leans over, taking a large bite of food before dumping her fresh cocktail for a glass of water.

  Taking Ashton’s advice, I didn’t immediately leave for Fayhill. Instead, I called my sister on the drive to my house. She was as freaked out by what happened as I was but went quickly into nurse mode while I packed a bag.

  By the time I threw a bunch of random stuff in a bag and was standing in my driveway trying to decide between climbing on my bike and breaking every speed limit law between here and Fayhill, or being sensible and driving my truck, my phone rang with an update from Addy.

  Scarlett’s in labor, but it’s early and slow going. It isn’t that I’m questioning her doctor’s opinion but from everything I’ve read, she isn’t due for another four weeks. That’s a month away and yet he doesn’t seem too concerned about her well-being. Something Addy found funny and worth mocking me about. Regardless, I flew out of Lexington like a bat out of hell. I may have chosen to leave my bike behind, but I’m still pushing the limits with what is a reasonable speed.

  I shaved off about an hour of what my drive would normally take and make it to the hospital around the time I’d be climbing into bed after closing the bar. Parking my truck in a spot just outside the entrance to the hospital, I read Grant’s last text message with Scarlett’s room number.

  Approaching the nurse’s station, I take a deep breath and plaster on a huge smile. Getting in afterhours may require charm I’m used to playing behind the bar. The older woman sitting behind the computer glances at me and then turns to look at the large clock on the wall. Her brows furrow, and I know she’s going to tell me it’s too late, or I suppose, too early for visiting hours.

  “Good morning, ma’am,” I say in greeting. Okay, so maybe I’m laying it on a little thick. I’m fucking amped and tired at the same time.

  “Sir.”

  “Would you mind directing me to room three twenty-six? Scarlett Gilbert.”

  “Sir, visiting hours are long over. I’m sorry, you’ll have to come back after eight a.m.”

  I’m about to plead my case when Grant turns the corner. He looks exhausted and worse for wear. A look of relief crosses his face as he approaches me, hand extended. “Karen, this is Taylor. I’ll take him back.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize. Go on ahead, Grant. Do y’all need anything?”

  Shaking his head, he leads me down a hall. We stop in front of a door marked 326. Turning to me he says, “She’s okay. Sleeping right now. I waited for you to get here because I knew you’d want to see her for yourself.”

  “What did the doctor say? And, why did Nurse Ratchet bat her lashes at you like that?”

  Rolling his eyes he scoffs. “Karen is a friend. I spend some time here volunteering, and I told her earlier you would be here late. As for Red, the doc said the stress of the last few months and then tonight’s scare likely triggered the labor. Before you freak out, she’s completely in the “safe zone” of delivery time. Now we just wait for the little guy to make his appearance.”

  All the tension I’ve been carrying since I heard Scarlett’s wails on the phone earlier drops from my body and exhaustion overwhelms me. She’s going to be okay.

  “Grant, I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared as I was listening to her on the phone. Then you shouted about the baby and every bad scenario played out in my mind. I’m relieved it’s a better outcome than my imagination was coming up with.”

  “Me too, man.”

  We both know I won’t be leaving anytime soon so Grant agrees to go home. I promise to call him if anything changes. As I watch him retreat down the hall toward the elevators, I turn back to Scarlett’s door.

  With a deep breath, I open the door and peer inside. Lying on the bed, her red hair a tangled mess on the pillow and a peaceful look on her face, is Scarlett. Her hands rest protectively on her stomach. Tears form in my eyes, but I suck them back. If something happened to her, to them, I’m not sure what I’d do.

  Quietly, I move to the chair next to the bed. As I slide it closer to the bed side, her hand slips from her abdomen and lands on the bed. Slowly, I sit down and take her hand in mine. Placing a chaste kiss to her fingers, I lean forward, elbows on the bed and watch her sleep. Relief and protectiveness overwhelm me as I lay my head down on the bed next to her and let the sounds of the machines surround me.

  Chapter 20

  Taylor

  Finger-light touches on my head stir me from a deep sleep. Blinking, I let my eyes adjust to the bright room. Beeps and hums of machines and a giggle greet me as I sit up quickly, blood rushing to my head. Scarlett’s beautiful face greets me, a huge smile on her face. Looking down, I note I’m still sitting in the awful chair beside her bed. I must have fallen asleep as I lay here last night holding her hand.

  “Morning.” Her voice is a little raspy in the pre-dawn hours. I look over to a nurse who is smirking while she taps away on a small tablet.

  “Hey. How are you feeling?”

  Shrugging, she looks at the nurse instead of responding. Turning her attention to us, the young woman in scrubs says, “Your wife and baby boy are just fine. Contractions seem to be pretty steady, are you doing okay?” Scarlett smiles and nods to the nurse. “We’d like to get her up and walking, see if we can move this along a little.”

  I open my mouth to correct her mistake when Scarlett interrupts me to say, “Thank you. Is it okay if he walks with me?” She confirms my role as wal
king partner is fine, and once she’s gone, I turn my attention to Scarlett, brow quirked.

  “I don’t want to explain it all over and over. While you were sleeping, I heard the nurses talking. It’s almost shift change. We can explain it to whoever will be with me all day and into delivery because, I’m having this baby today. These contractions suck.”

  Ignoring her attempt at humor I say, “You scared me, Red.”

  She pushes up on her hands and adjusts her body, settling her hands on her stomach, fingers laced. “I was pretty scared myself. I’m sorry you came all this way. I hate being a bur—”

  “You are never a burden. I’m sorry it took me so long.” It’s a simple statement, but I mean more than just my drive from Lexington. “So, sounds like we need to get in a little cardio.”

  Rolling her eyes, she snorts. My smile is instant at her reaction, which earns me a look that is meant to be menacing but is more cute than anything. “There will be a steady shuffle in the hallway and that’s about it. I’m getting ready to birth a baby, Sugar, not prepare for the CrossFit Open.”

  She pushes the blankets from her legs and slides to the side of the bed, her feet dangling off the side. I stand and grab her elbow, helping her settle on her feet. With a hand on her back she sucks in a deep breath and slowly releases it. Lifting her eyes, she looks up at me sweetly and I pull her to me. Wrapping her hands around my waist with her head resting on my chest, she begins to cry softly.

  We stand wrapped in each other for only a few minutes before she squirms out of my hold. “I’m going to thank you in a few minutes for that hug and everything else, but I have to pee so bad. If I don’t move it, we’re going to be calling maintenance for a spill on aisle pregnant lady.”

  Laughing, I step aside and let her shuffle to the bathroom in the far corner of the room, her IV pole by her side. Before she steps through the door I say, “I’m going call Grant while you’re in there. Give him a quick update.”