“It’s Mel. It’s the baby. She’s bleeding.”
“Give me two minutes to throw some clothes on. I’ll meet you downstairs.”
“Pyro?” Mel’s right behind me. “Pyro, I…”
“We’ll get you checked out. It’s probably nothing.” I try to reassure her, while deep down inside I have the dreadful feeling that something is very wrong. Even I know bleeding is not a good sign in a pregnant woman.
She clutches my hand as Crash drives. When we arrive the emergency room isn’t crowded, and they prioritise her, rushing her into a room to be examined. She still hangs onto me, her fingers tightly wrapped around mine, even though the nurse wants to throw me out.
“It’s my baby,” I tell her with a growl.
It’s eerily similar to that visit to the doctor’s office just a week ago, when Mel undergoes another ultrasound examination. But this time, there’s a significant difference. Last week we heard the reassuring, exciting sound, of a heart beating. This time, there’s nothing.
The technician moves the probe, this way and that, but nothing changes.
“Is the machine fuckin’ working?” I snarl.
“Wait here.” She disappears.
“Pyro, I’m scared. There’s something wrong, isn’t there?”
There is, but I try and reassure her. “Something’s up with their fuckin’ machine,” I tell her, not believing it for a second.
The technician’s back, with someone else with her. A man in a white coat. He too examines Mel. Her face is strained, and she looks so pale. I will myself to smile at her. “He’s probably sleeping,” I tell her. But even I know hearts don’t sleep. They keep beating.
They do another ultrasound, this time with a probe that’s inserted into her vagina, but their faces don’t change. No smiles of relief, no words to tell her everything’s going to be fine.
Finally, they clean the gel off her stomach, the doctor stands by looking so fucking serious.
“Just tell me doctor,” she cries out, my gut twisting at the anguish in her voice.
“I’m very sorry Ms Martins.”
“No,” Mel gasps. “No. No. No.”
“Mel,” I grasp her hand tighter, but I can’t find anything to say. I’m sorry is totally inadequate.
“No!” She’s almost screaming now. “There’s a mistake. There has to be.”
I pull my distraught woman to me, holding her tight in my arms. Looking up at the doctor over her shoulder I ask, already knowing there’s nothing he can say that I want to hear, “What do we do now?”
“I’ll give your wife a sedative.”
“No,” Mel wails. “It might hurt the baby.”
But nothing can hurt him now.
It can hurt her, though. When I’m old and grey I know I’ll never forget that night. Never forget when Mel at last comes to terms with the fact her baby has died inside her. What we hadn’t realised immediately, was the fact it had to come out, and how. She wasn’t even given the luxury of having time to come to get used to it.
Because Mel was experiencing heavy bleeding, they decided they needed to do an immediate dilatation and curettage. Mel screamed when she realised they were going to take her baby from her. I talked to her, trying to calm her. They gave us space until she was numb with grief, accepting all hope was gone.
Then they took her away.
Fuck, there’s no more baby. No more expecting that in just over four months we’d visit the hospital looking forward to bringing a healthy baby home with us.
I thought I knew how a broken heart felt from what Mel had already been through. I hadn’t had a clue. To see her wheeled away to deal with a baby that wouldn’t take a first breath was devastating.
By then the waiting room was filled with Devils, strangely quiet and hushed, reverent in their silence.
I go and update Red.
“Skull’s a dead man walking,” Red growls, but quietly considering there are medical staff around.
As far as I can tell, almost all the Vegas club are here. It's a sign Devils pile in to give support, even when there’s nothing anyone can say or do to make the situation better. Nods and chin lifts offered with scowls from all around confirm no one has any doubt that Mel losing the baby has been down to Skull suddenly reappearing in her life.
When was the damage done? When she’d first found out? I shake my head to rid myself of those thoughts. They don’t matter. They can’t bring back her—our—baby. How is she going to get through this?
What can I do?
“We’ll bury the baby in our plot,” Red suddenly says. “Know it’s not much, but both you and Mel might like to know he’s among brothers.”
I hadn’t thought about what would happen to his tiny body. I know I don’t want him disposed like waste. He might not have taken breath, but to me he was already living, and much more so to Mel. To bury him properly… I think that would be something to help start the grieving process. I tell Red so and thank him sincerely.
“Pyro…” Suddenly Red’s hand is pressing into my shoulder. “We’re here for you. For you both.”
I raise my chin to him. Mel’s lost our baby and she’s my focus now. Red’s acknowledging that this is also a loss for me.
Hushed conversations are interrupted as suddenly an older couple appear. They barge in, then come to an abrupt halt. The woman’s voice stopping in mid flow, “Where’s my daught—”
Red steps forward. “Mr and Mrs Martins?”
It’s Mel’s mom and dad. Red must have called them. While I’ve never met them before, I feel a wave of relief. I’d do anything for Mel, want to be there for her, but I’m lost as to how to make this right. Someone to share the burden is welcomed.
I step forward. “I’m Pyro, Mel’s man.” From their reaction, she’s told them about me. I go on to explain what’s happened as briefly as I can. Her mom’s eyes fill with tears, though those of her dad’s harden.
It’s him who goes to speak but is interrupted.
“Family of Melissa Martins?”
Fuck me, but a dozen bikers all stand. But it’s me and her mom and dad who step forward. “You can go and see her now. We’ll keep her in for observation for a few hours, then, she can go home.
Mel’s groggy, but awake and looks completely lost, a shadow of her usual self. I stand back as her mom goes to her, holding her tight. Now there are tears again, this time from both women.
The doctor comes in briefly to check on her, as he goes out, I mention the plans for burial, and he agrees to prepare the paperwork to release the remains of the foetus to me.
I’ve watched men die, lost brothers and have attended too many funerals before now, but I don’t think anything has ever affected me so badly. I’m firmly convinced, if Skull hadn’t reappeared, that baby would still be breathing. It’s only my need to stay strong for Mel that keeps me drawing in air.
I nearly forget to ask but remember just before the doctor leaves. “Oh, Doc?” I ask, quickly. “Can you do a DNA test on him?”
“Of course,” his eyes narrow. “But it’s a bit late to be worried about paternity. That woman there has enough to deal with.”
He thinks I’m going to use it to prove she’s been unfaithful?
“Not what you think, Doc. We know who the father is. Just want to have something to prove it.”
His brow furrows as he tries to make sense of my request, but it seems it’s easier for him to just acquiesce. “I’ll make the arrangements.”
I thank him, then walk back to Mel. She’s still clutching to her mother.
“Can I have a word with you?” It’s her dad, and he looks grim. “I need to know why my daughter lost her baby. Is it because of her association with your club? Has anyone hurt her?”
He’s in his late fifties, but right now, he looks like he’d personally take on whoever harmed his only child. I have no regrets as I hand him his target.
“Skull. We found him. He’s an undercover cop,” I sum up quickly. “Mel’s
relationship with him had all been a lie. He’s already married with a wife and kid.”
His eyes go wide, and twin red spots appear on his cheeks as he indicates I should follow him out of the room. I don’t want to leave her, not for a moment, but there are things he, as a parent, should know.
We make use of the two chairs in the corridor. He’s sharp, I soon discover as I go over what’s happened during the past few days.
“My daughter’s in there, broken,” he starts when I’ve completed my sorry tale, his eyes watery with distress.
I can only make a promise. “I don’t know how, but I swear I’m going to put her back together.”
His lips thin as he realises I’ll be attempting the impossible. “How, Pyro? How?”
I tell him. “I love her, sir. I lost the baby too, it was mine more than Skull’s. I…” I gulp, “I heard his heart beating, saw him on that screen. He was mine.”
Reaching out his hand, he pats my leg. I try to push my own emotion down. “We’re a biker club, we’ve got our methods of retribution…”
“Don’t tell me more,” he warns.
“There’s nothing more to tell. Before she lost the baby, before she had that to add to her misery, we had decided to put the fight into her hands rather than the club acting on her behalf. Give her something to focus on. Let her take back the control he took from her.” I now have my doubts, and whether she’ll ever be in the right mindset. “She wanted to report him and what he’d done. Take him to whatever court she could. It seems a good case for misrepresentation and his successful attempt to involve an innocent citizen in what he must have thought was a criminal underworld.”
Once again, his lips thin, and he tilts his head. “You’re right,” he says after a moment’s thought. “And now more than ever, she’ll need something to focus on.” He goes still, the wheels turning in his head as he considers, then, a grin just as evil as I’ve seen from any of my brothers spreads over his face when he informs me, “It’s a good thing I’m a lawyer.”
It’s my turn to widen my eyes. “Is this where I give you a dollar?”
The grin disappears and is replaced by a sad smile. “If you want, but on behalf of my daughter.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Melissa
There are times when a woman needs her mom, whatever age she is. Especially with things only another woman can understand, even if they haven’t been there themselves.
I know there’s a chance any pregnancy might not go to term, it’s the fear of any woman carrying a baby. A fear my mother would have had at the back of her mind when I was inside her. That the worst didn’t happen to her doesn’t affect her ability to comprehend exactly how I’m feeling.
Grief, first and foremost. Sorrow I won’t get to know my son or hold him in my arms. Misery that my body’s now empty. The difficulty of coming to terms with my loss, wondering how or if I’ll ever be able to accept it.
Guilt, that it was my fault. Was it that too hot shower followed by the cold? Maybe that I’d travelled when pregnant? Or, was it that my reaction to Skull turning up had been overdramatic?
Anger. Rage. That Skull caused me to miscarry his baby.
When Pyro and my dad had disappeared, the doctor had returned, but provided no answers to my questions. It might be my first miscarriage, but certainly not his. It can happen with no reason, he told me. If I miscarry again, maybe then they’ll look for a cause.
“Sometimes it just happens,” Mom tells me reasonably after he’s gone.
But I’m in no state of mind to believe that. There is a reason. If Skull hadn’t reappeared, I’d still be carrying my baby.
I swing between despair and rage as I wait to be discharged. Pyro’s being as supportive as he can, but I can see he’s trying hard not to say the wrong thing, opening his mouth as though wanting to speak, then second guessing himself and shutting it again. In my more rationale moments I know he’ll be hurting too, he’s lost a son the same as I have. Yet, I can’t help being selfish, wanting all the misery myself and not being able to share his.
He’s been talking in whispers with my dad. Under other circumstances I’d be pleased at how they’re getting along, now I’m suspicious as to what they’re so animatedly discussing.
I veer between wanting Pyro close at hand and wanting nothing to do with him. My head’s muddling everything up. If I’d never been drawn into the club, I wouldn’t have stayed with Skull. But how can I hate people for being nice and accepting me? Everything in my head is fucked up.
Mom’s patient, but my swiftly changing moods are trying her parenting skills. If she tries platitudes I end up frustrated, if she encourages my anger, I swiftly change it to guilt, and if she tries to tell me I’m not responsible for killing my baby, I tell her all the reasons why I am.
I’m a complete mess.
Two days back at the club and I’m feeling no easier. Even though I’m not really ill, I’ve spent most of the time up in the room we’d been allocated when we first arrived in Vegas. I wish I wasn’t in an alien place, would much rather be in my own home, but due to the bleeding that’s still continuing, Pyro and my parents don’t want me to fly.
“Hey, Mel.” Pyro stands, hesitantly in the doorway.
Well, he’s just heard me dismissing my mom and not very pleasantly, I’ve no doubt his cautious approach is him questioning my mood right now.
I sigh. “It’s okay, come in.” What’s unfair is that Pyro and I had been so close to cementing our relationship until Skull stepped in and blew that away.
What’s he going to say now? I’m fed up with people asking me how I’m feeling, as I don’t know. I could tell them the truth, then only a moment later, find out that had been a lie, as I’m now feeling something else.
But he surprises me. He stands just inside the door, not coming right in. “Mel, will you come with me?”
“Where?”
He shakes his head. “Trust me, okay?”
Go with him? I notice my parents are standing behind him. Dad looks serious, mom’s expression holds a mixture of grief and oddly, anticipation. She’s also nodding encouragingly.
Downstairs, it gets even stranger. Leather clad men are milling around, on seeing me, they fall silent, then start walking out the front door.
“What’s going on?” I ask, looking around. Then my eyes fall on a tiny coffin, resting on a black cloth on a table.
I gasp, my hands covering my face. Feeling guilty I hadn’t asked what had happened to the baby. I’d just assumed the hospital would deal with whatever was left and hadn’t wanted to know the details. When I’d left I’d been too befuddled with the residue of the anaesthesia, when I’d thought about it, I’d been too scared to ask.
“Is that…?” I ask to be certain.
“Pyro arranged it,” said my mom.
It’s Pyro who steps forward and carries him, so lovingly and carefully as though he was a living child. I follow him out and watch as he places the wooden box containing my son into the back of an SUV, then sit in the rear seat with my mom, while Dad and Pyro are in the front.
It looks like every biker from the club is following behind. I don’t know where, I don’t ask why. My mind focused on the loss. My hands rest on my stomach. That’s where my son should be, that’s where he belongs. I should be able to feel him moving… But he’s not there. He’s gone, and his remains are in that box.
We go to a graveyard on the edge of the desert, grass beneath our feet kept watered and green. Escorted by bikers wearing their Satan’s Devils cuts, I follow Pyro to one part of the burial ground where all the gravestones have one thing in common—the Satan’s Devils name etched into the granite.
A small hole has been dug, just the right size for the tiny coffin Pyro is holding.
Red steps up, as Pyro carefully lays it down. “We’ll never know if Baby Martins would have become a Devil, but he was conceived in the club, and is one of our own. Here he’ll lie, knowing he has brothers watching out for him.
Even though he never knew life, in death he will never be alone.”
I feel choked up. Tears blind my vision.
“Sleep, baby boy.” Pyro’s voice is deep.
“Sleep in peace, child,” says my dad, though Mom is openly weeping against his shoulder.
Someone hands me a rose. When I step forward to place it in the grave, a shadow briefly passes over the coffin, looking up I see a kestrel flying. Symbolic, as if my child had grown wings and flown.
I’m incapable of speech, so I think the words instead. Bye baby. I love you so much.
Then I’m crying, hard, wracking sobs shaking my body. Pyro’s arms hold me tightly as he rocks me, his tears mingling with my own.
I hadn’t realised I needed to say goodbye. There’s no doubt it had helped. No contrary view that the support of these men who can be gruff and rough helped me get through those first dark days.
After the funeral, I had no longer kept to my room. No longer felt awkward when a man simply patted my shoulder as he passed me. No longer had the need to hide when I heard snippets of conversation, as their feelings only mirror my own. There’s only one outcome I can focus on. The reason I lost my baby has to be resolved. Skull has to be taken down.
But he can’t be killed. Even if I wish he’d remained, at least in my head, no longer breathing. I can’t risk the safety or freedom of the man I love or these men I call friends.
“Mel?”
I raise my head as Dad and Pyro walk over.
“Skull needs to feel our revenge. Are you strong enough to do it?”
They pull up chairs and sit down. My eyes narrow. But they soon elaborate on their plan.
Dad puts it into words. “Skull started a relationship with you under false pretences. Those false pretences included making you a spy to get information on the club which he otherwise might not get. He got you pregnant…”
“There’s no proof,” I interject, my mouth twisting as I remember he’d tried to deny it.
“We’ll get proof.” Pyro shifts uncomfortably. “You’ll be sent the copy of the baby’s DNA test.”
I just stare at him, shaking my head.
Devil's Dilemma: Satan's Devils MC Colorado Chapter #4 Page 27