Beauty From Love

by Georgia Cates

  The bed is stopped and a washcloth is placed over my face. “Close your eyes and don’t watch the overhead lights.” I remember the nurses telling me to notify them immediately if I felt nauseated. Vomiting could cause my membranes to balloon out further or possibly even rupture. “Concentrate on your breathing and take slow, deep breaths. We’re almost there.” I feel something being placed in my hand. “This is an alcohol pad. Sniff it. It’ll help the nausea pass.”

  I bring it to my nose and inhale deeply. Miraculously, it helps. I sure wish I’d known about that little trick a couple months ago.

  The freezing cold air of the operating room hits me the second I’m taken inside and my body involuntarily shakes before it’s really even had a chance to cool. My teeth are clenched tightly and a rigor causes me to jerk. “I have some warm blankets for you once we get you moved over.”

  I’m slid with sheets and a backboard to a table in the middle of the room. Bright lights shine directly on my crotch. Stirrups await, and I’m pretty sure I know what’s next. I’ll be spread-eagle for everyone in this room to see. How humiliating. I hope they put me to sleep first.

  I look up and see the upside down face of the nurse anesthetist placing an oxygen mask over my mouth and nose. “Just a little fresh air for you, Mrs. McLachlan.” A moment later the woman standing over me says, “I’m going to give you something through your IV to make you really sleepy.”

  “Okay.”

  And everything goes black.

  I can’t sit. I’m restless, pacing L’s room from the door to look down the hall and back to the ignored chair.

  “The doctor said Laurelyn would be in surgery almost an hour if there were no complications and then she’d go to the recovery room for an hour, so park your ass in that chair before you give me motion sickness.” Mum doesn’t look up from where she’s reading, her glasses low on her nose.

  I take the chair next to her. “Sorry. I can’t help myself.” My heart pounds and bats flutter in my gut.

  “You always were a nervous one, watching over Chloe like she was a delicate flower. You could never see that your baby sister was as tough as nails but it was good practice for you. You’ve transitioned from the sheltering big brother into the protective husband and father.”

  “I’m still the sheltering big brother.” And I don’t like Chloe being with that fucker.

  “Ben is good for Chloe. He treats her well.”

  Because he knows I’ll kick his ass if he steps out of line. “He’s a bastard, Mum. He’s using Chloe and he’s only going to hurt her in the end. You don’t know him the way I do.” It’s only a matter of time and I’ll be there to take him down when he does.

  She looks skeptical. “And how well do you know him?”

  “Well enough.”

  “Ben is the brother of Laurelyn’s best friend and he pursued her when she came to Australia.”

  My mum knows Ben went after L? “That’s right.”

  “You were both chasing after her at the same time so he was your opponent in the duel to win Laurelyn’s heart.”

  “But she was mine and he knew that,” I argue.

  “Listen to me, son. Ben went after his sister’s best friend, knowing there would be hell to pay if he screwed it up. He proposed an authentic relationship with her from the beginning, one that might have prospered into something real. Now, think back on what you offered—a fling lasting a few months with no connection afterward. You never even asked her last name while she was living with you and sharing your bed. So, tell me who behaved worse.”

  Okay. Mum has a point. I was probably more of a bastard than Ben but that doesn’t mean I should stop looking out for Chloe. “I’ll lighten up a little on him.”

  “No, son. You’ll lighten up a lot. Chloe’s in love with Ben and you don’t have the right to ruin it because you refuse to let go of a rivalry that ended when you won Laurelyn’s heart.”

  Oh hell. Why’d my sister have to go and fall in love with Ben Donavon, of all fucking people? The earth is populated by billions and she had to choose him. “I can do it but it’s going to take some time. I can’t cut it off like a switch.”

  “If it helps, think of it as a favor to your mum.”

  No. It doesn’t help one bit but I don’t have time to answer because L’s phone is ringing in the cabinet where her things are stored. I’m sure it’s her mum. I really don’t have the patience or desire to talk to her right now, but she has the right to an update on her daughter and grandchild—if that’s the reason behind her call. She could be calling to discuss wedding plans. I wouldn’t put that past her. Selfish bitch.

  I don’t recognize the number and then remember it wasn’t her ringtone I heard. “Hello?”

  “Good morning, this is Grayson Drake, assistant to the prosecuting attorney in the case against Blake Phillips. I’m trying to locate Miss Laurelyn Prescott.”

  “It’s McLachlan now.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “She’s no longer a Prescott. It’s Laurelyn McLachlan. This is her husband, Jack McLachlan,” I explain.

  “I was unaware you and Miss Prescott had married. May I speak with her?”

  “She’s not available at the moment and won’t be anytime soon.”

  “Well … I guess I can go ahead and speak with you since you’re one of the witnesses to testify in this case. I spoke with Miss Prescott several months ago …”

  I interrupt because that’s no longer who she is. “It’s Mrs. McLachlan.”

  “Er … yes. I spoke with your wife several months ago when the Blake Phillips case went before a judge for arraignment but I’ll catch you up, as you are now her husband and you both live in another country. Are you familiar with the American justice system?”

  “Not at all.”

  “As you know, Mr. Phillips was released on bail months ago since he wasn’t considered a flight risk due to his ties in the community, meaning his wife and children.” Yeah, I know. The fucker has been walking around free as a bird. “The judge in the preliminary hearing felt there was sufficient evidence to move the case to trial, and the grand jury did as well, so Mr. Phillips was officially indicted. He entered a plea of not guilty to all charges against him and a trial has been set for next week on May seventh. The prosecutor needs to speak with both of you about your testimony prior to that day, preferably in person, but over the phone is acceptable if you can’t be present before the trial.”

  Seriously? We live on a different continent and we’re given a week’s notice? “Our presence isn’t possible at this time. My wife is pregnant and is experiencing some complications so she’s been admitted to the hospital for an indefinite period of time.”

  “We can try to move the date back but not more than a few weeks at most.”

  That won’t work. “Laurelyn won’t be traveling for the remainder of her pregnancy.” Or soon after. She’ll be nursing and there’s no way we’re dragging a newborn across the globe because of Blake Phillips.

  “Well, that certainly poses a problem, Mr. McLachlan. Mr. Phillips is already making a lot of noise about his constitutional right to a speedy trial being violated with the date as it is.”

  That sends me into orbit. “Who gives a fuck about his rights after the things he did to my wife?”

  “The American justice system does.”

  “Well, that’s very unfortunate.” This is a technical world we live in. “What about testifying via video?”

  “It isn’t unheard of for a witness to testify over closed-circuit video but it’s a long shot. I wouldn’t expect the judge to go for it. Allowing a victim to testify from the other side of the globe is unprecedented in a criminal case where constitutional rights are at stake. Not to mention that cross-examining over webcast would be terribly difficult. Frankly, Mr. McLachlan, I’m surprised this case made it to trial because you and your
wife are basically the only evidence we have. It’s weak even with your testimony because it’s otherwise unsupported. The remaining evidence is circumstantial, at best, and likely inadmissible, so it would be damn near impossible to get a guilty verdict without your testimony. I would expect his defense attorney to make a motion for the charges to be dropped and that will likely happen if you don’t testify.”

  This is incredible. “You have our statements. Can’t you use those?”

  “They’re hearsay, and even if we could use them, they are unpersuasive.” He has an answer for everything.

  Un-fucking-believable. “So, you’re telling me he can attack my wife, attempt to rape her, and get away with it?”

  “It’s hard to win a case when the defendant has connections and the best defense attorney money can buy,” he explains.

  “Well, he’s not the only one with money and connections. So, I guess that’s the American way.” But it’s not the McLachlan way. There’s no way I’m letting that fucker get away with what he did to Laurelyn. “It truly sickens me to see him walk but we can’t risk the safety of our unborn child. As such, Laurelyn won’t be coming and I can’t leave her at this critical time.”

  “I’m very sorry to hear that, Mr. McLachlan. I wish you and your wife the best.”

  I end the call with Mr. Drake and I’m beyond furious. “Blake Phillips attacked Laurelyn—left her body bloody with bruises—and attempted to rape her. He would have been successful had I not gotten to her in time and he’s going to walk without any repercussions.”

  I’m sorry my mum had to hear that conversation. “It’s not right but at least she’s here now and not in Nashville. He can’t get to her from where he is.”

  “I’m not done with him.”

  “Son, there’s nothing you can do. As much as I hate what that man did to our girl, you have to let it go.”

  I’m set to argue with my mum and throw her words back in her face. “She’s one of us now and we protect our own … at any cost.” But I’m not able because the door opens with L being brought back into her room.

  I’m happy to see the head of her bed in a normal position. I reach for her hand but she’s sleeping and doesn’t stir when I take it in mine. “I thought she’d be awake when she came back.”

  “Some people are a little groggier than others after anesthesia. It’s just sticking with her a little longer—doesn’t mean anything’s wrong.” The nurse reapplies the monitor on her belly. “I’m putting the contraction monitor back on so we can make sure she isn’t having contractions. Sometimes a cerclage will cause the uterus to contract. If that happens, we’ll need to give her some medicine to stop them.”

  So, the cerclage is a step in the right direction but we’ve yet to hit a safe place. “The procedure went well as far as you know?”

  “She did great. Dr. Sommersby should come around and talk to you within the hour.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief because nothing catastrophic, such as ruptured membranes, happened. This woman is my life and now this baby is as well. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to either of them.

  It takes a moment for my eyes to focus but I’m able to make out Jack Henry sitting at my bedside. He’s holding my hand, brushing his thumb over the top the way he so often does. “Hey, pretty girl.”

  “McLachlan,” I croak out and realize how sore and scratchy my throat is. I try to cough, to clear what feels like a plug but to no avail. “Can I have something to drink?”

  Margaret comes to my bedside with a cup and spoon. “The nurse says you can have a few ice chips and progress to sips of water once you’re more alert.”

  Jack Henry lifts the head of the bed and it dawns on me—I’m no longer lying with my head down. I panic, my hands immediately reaching for my stomach as I fear the worst. “The baby?”

  My husband’s hand joins mine on my abdomen. “She’s fine.”

  Margaret purses her lips while looking at Jack Henry. “You little shit. It’s a girl and you didn’t tell me.”

  He’s in trouble now. “No, Mum. We don’t know what the baby is. I think it’s a girl so I call it a she to aggravate L—she’s leaning toward a boy.”

  “Oh.”

  Although I just had surgery, I feel more normal than I have in days. “I guess everything went well since they’re letting me sit up?”

  “Yeah. Dr. Sommersby came in about thirty minutes ago. She’s optimistic the cerclage will hold because your cervix felt firm and is thicker than it appeared on the ultrasound. She said the bag of waters ballooning through the cervix probably had it stretched.” What a relief.

  Margaret comes over to kiss me. “All right, kiddos. I’m going to step out and let the two of you have some time together. Can I get you something?”

  I have everything I need right here. “I can’t think of anything, but thank you.”

  Jack Henry waits until Margaret is gone before he hovers over me, his head against mine, and places his hand on my stomach. “I was so scared, L.”

  I reach for his face because I want to feel it. He’s been too preoccupied with me and the baby to trim his facial hair. His scruff is too long to be considered stubble so it’s almost a beard. “I know. I was too, but for the first time in days, I finally feel like everything’s going to be okay.”

  “Dr. Sommersby says she wants to observe you today and most of tomorrow. If you don’t have pain or contractions, she’s going to discharge you late tomorrow evening.”

  “Omigod, what a relief.” I can’t wait to get back to Avalon. I can’t believe how much I’ve missed it. “I could’ve pushed through as long as I needed to but I must admit, I’m ready to get out of here. Four days of lying in this bed staring at these walls is a lot to take.”

  “Babe, you’ve been a champ. Even the nurses have bragged on how well you handled standing on your head for days. You never complained once.”

  Complaining would’ve only made it harder on Jack Henry and would’ve accomplished nothing. “There was no reason to. I was prepared to do whatever was needed for this baby and there was no other way of looking at it.”

  “I know you would and it’s only one of the many reasons I love you so much.”

  I shouldn’t but I want to know if my mom has checked on us. “Has anyone called?”

  A peculiar look claims Jack Henry’s face and I can only interpret it to mean my mom isn’t concerned enough to call for an update. “I’ve updated Addison. She said to tell you she loves you and wishes she could be here. Emma called and wants you to know she loves you and is thinking of you and the baby. Chloe, pretty much the same—loves you, thinking of you.”

  “But nothing from my family?” I bet she didn’t even tell Nanna and Pops. I know they would’ve called if they knew something was wrong.

  “I’m sorry, babe.”

  “It’s fine—she’s wrapped up in him. I’m used to it.” I guess I was stupid for thinking she might put me before herself, or him, for once, but it’s okay. Margaret’s been more of a mom to me this year than my own has been my whole life. The McLachlans are my family now and they love me. And I love them.

  I’m discharged from the hospital for good behavior—no complications such as pain, bleeding, leaking, or contractions—but I’m given instructions to return immediately should any of these things occur. I’m to be on modified bed rest at home, meaning I can only shower and go to the bathroom. Otherwise I’m to do a lot of nothing while lying around. Dr. Sommersby says I may progress to routine activities after two weeks with one exception. No sex. My vagina is completely off limits so nothing is allowed within the temple. Strict doctor’s orders and one of the few things she isn’t lax about.

  This is going to be a rough five months.

  “Couch or bed?” Jack Henry asks as we pass through the kitchen.

  “I’m sort of sick of the bed so I thi
nk I’d prefer the couch for a little while. Maybe you can sit with me and we can watch TV.”

  “Absolutely. Mum thought you might need something comfy to wear the next couple of weeks so she brought some to the house this morning. Would you like me to get them for you?”

  Margaret is so thoughtful. “Yes, please.” Mental note: Call and thank her for that.

  Jack Henry returns with a pink T-shirt and a pair of white and pink pinstriped pants. Both are soft cotton and freshly laundered. “I can’t believe she washed them too.”

  “She would do anything for you.” He hands the clothes to me. “She loves you dearly.”

  My eyes fill with tears and my heart aches, but I don’t know if it’s the hormones or the sadness I feel when I think of how little my own mother cares about me. “I love her too.”

  “She knows.”

  I change into my new jammies and stretch out on the couch with a fluffy pillow under my head and my feet in Jack Henry’s lap. He’s rubbing my feet as we watch television and it’s one of the most boring times we’ve ever spent together. And I love it—just being with him in our home doing nothing. It’s absolutely shitastic.

  I’ve been home from the hospital for a week and every day is pretty much the same. I go to bed with Jack Henry every night without sex. We wake up. He showers and goes to work. I shower and go to the couch. I lie there all day and when he comes in after work, we have dinner together on the couch. When’s it’s late, we go back to bed, again without sex, for another night of sleep.

  I’m a very compliant patient but it’s killing me.

  Poor Addison. I don’t know how she maintained her sanity for as long as she did, especially in that small apartment, but her jail sentence ended this week. The placenta previa is gone and she’s allowed to return to her normal activities. First on her agenda is coming to see me, and I’m glad because I have questions for her.