Dream Lover: Pam of Babylon Book #3

by Suzanne Jenkins

  “This is her boyfriend. The back of her skirt and the sheets on her bed are saturated,” he told the operator. Listening for second, he put his hand over the receiver. “She asked me to hold on; she’s going to call the doctor while we hold.” Shortly, the operator came back on and said to hold for the doctor. When she came on the phone, she told Tom to take Sandra to the hospital.

  “Come on, my dear, you are going for a ride in a police car.” Tom was trying to keep things light, but he didn’t feel good about this situation. Sandra pulled her clothes off without modesty and cried out when she saw the clots in her underpants.

  “Oh my God! Am I losing this baby?” Tom put his arm around her shoulders.

  “Get something on and I’ll take you right now.” Sandra pulled on her pajama bottoms and then went into the bathroom to find if she had any pads to wear so she wouldn’t bleed all over Tom’s patrol car. Just to be safe, she grabbed a couple of towels, too. There was an air of surrealism and she felt almost disconnected from her real emotions. Am I losing Jack’s baby? Just like that? Tom felt like the reluctant observer. Why did this have to happen now? He thought. How much was this young woman expected to handle without falling apart? When she came out of the bathroom, Tom asked her if she was ready to go. He was holding her purse for her and had her keys. He said a prayer for the baby in his mind, repeating it over and over again, Protect the baby, Lord. Protect the baby, Lord. His police training told him it was too late. But he wasn’t going to be a naysayer. Think positive! And then, Protect Sandra, Lord. Protect Sandra. He became frightened at that, and started thinking it as a chant. Protect Sandra, Lord. Protect Sandra.

  Chapter 36

  Saturday morning brought the end of Indian Summer. It was dark and rainy and there was a chill in the air. Pam took her morning coffee out on the veranda and lit the fire pit. It threw off enough heat to keep her comfortable, but she thought that maybe it was the end of the veranda season for her after all. She turned the fire off and went back into the house. In the den, she opened the curtains so she could see the water. The fireplace was gas, and with a flick of a switch, she had a roaring fire going. With Jack’s desk gone, it felt like a new room. She looked around, imagining what she could do to it to make it even more comfortable. It was a room that reminded her of a ship. It had a huge mullioned window which covered the entire exterior wall. It was furnished with over stuffed leather pieces, and she had piled on afghans and pillows, most of them she knit. Everyone had their own afghan. Brent’s was a large circle that looked like a Spiderman cape. Lisa’s was in a faux plaid that looked very Native American. Jack’s went to Bernice at her request. Pam’s was pink and fluffy. When she finished it and brought it out for the family to admire, Jack said right away, “I should have known.” Everyone laughed. They knew exactly what he meant.

  She sat in a leather arm chair that was positioned so she could see the ocean. She and Jack used to sit there on winter nights, he with a pair of night vision binoculars and she with a cup of tea. He would talk about what he was looking at and she would listen. Did she ever contribute to their conversation? She was a sounding board for him, but more, she just realized, she was his audience. Jack could say just about anything to Pam and she would smile and agree, or rarely, frown and give him a look. “Oh Jesus Christ, there’s that ‘look,’” he would say. “What’s wrong now? What don’t you agree with?” For some reason, Jack had to have her approval. They would stay up all night with him trying to convince her that he was right, or his opinion was correct. He listened to her earnestly and took what she said under consideration and in the end, if she couldn’t change his mind, nor he change hers, they would call a truce. Jack never, ever allowed Pam to go to bed thinking he was angry. “Let’s agree to disagree, okay? Are you okay with that?” He’d say. She laughed. “Jack, get over it! It’s no big deal,” she’d tell him. But on the nights that they sat together while Jack spied on the world, Pam would think to herself, How lucky am I! My God, why do I deserve this? Thank you, thank you.

  She snickered. Yes, how lucky am I! And right that second, she decided to do what her sister and Sandra had done the day before and do a mental list of sorts. She would eliminate the con, because she felt like she had concentrated too much lately on the ills of her life and not enough on the good things; her children, her wonderful children. Her family. Her health! Yes, her health, in spite of having AIDS, she was healthy right now and that was a thing to rejoice and not take for granted. This lovely home. She looked out over the dark sea and the rain hitting the water and the glass of the window. She loved weather. Being at the beach meant seeing the entire gamut of weather. She never shied from it before and wasn’t going to now that she was alone. She might spend a night or two in Manhattan this winter, but to move there for any length of time, no. She was embarrassed to add even silently to herself; she was grateful for the wealth that Jack had left her. It was nothing to be ashamed of. He worked like a machine for years to build his business, and he did it for her and their children. It was something to be proud of. They had always been generous to a fault to others. It was okay to be rich. She startled herself thinking that word. It wasn’t one she had ever used in her conversation. Polite people didn’t talk about money.

  Getting up to pour another cup of coffee, Pam heard the phone ring out in the hallway. It was the manager of Organic Bonanza. Pam was surprised to hear his voice.

  “Mrs. Smith, this is Dave. I was thinking about you this morning and wanted to give you a call to see how you are. The incident last week was awful and I want you to know how badly I feel,” he said.

  “Thank you, Dave. I really appreciate you calling. It was sort of creepy for lack of a better word. Anyway, I love the store regardless! I need to come in today and pick up a few things although I hate going out in this.” She looked out at the rain lashing the waves.

  “What do you need? I live about two blocks from you; I can drop it off on my way home for lunch,” he offered.

  “You eat lunch at home?” She asked, incredulous. She couldn’t help herself and started laughing. “I’d never eat at home again if I worked at that store.”

  “Sometimes it helps to get out for a little while. Since I live so close, I can get away for a bit and take my dogs for a walk,” he explained. “So what’s your order? I’m ready with pencil and paper.” They laughed together, and Pam told him what she needed; just coffee creamer and bread. “You’d come all the way into the store for that?” He asked. They arranged that he would be there at noon.

  After they hung up, Pam fell to thinking about Dave from Organic Bonanza. He was about her age, maybe a little younger, and nice looking in a rugged, non-Long Island way. She wondered how a grocery store manager could afford to live in her neighborhood. And it crossed her mind that maybe he was single because he came home to walk the dogs. Unless his wife was out working all day. She grew annoyed with herself thinking about him, feeling like a snob because the house thing came up in her thoughts. Then the phone rang again.

  “Pam, it’s Sandra. I’m in the hospital.” And she started crying. Pam knew right away. She didn’t even have to be told. “I lost the baby!” Fresh tears. “I have to have a D & C in a few minutes, but I wanted to tell you, I wanted you to know before I went into surgery.” She was crying. Pam forced herself to speak words of comfort to her grieving friend. Words that she didn’t feel.

  “Sandra, I am so sorry. How awful for you!”

  “I can’t believe it happened! I didn’t feel right this afternoon and Tom was in the apartment with me when everything started,” Sandra cried.

  “I’m so sorry!” Pam repeated. “What an awful thing to happen!” Sandra talked a little more and then said goodbye, the nurse needed to draw some blood.

  “Goodbye Sandra, I’m so sorry!” Pam said for the third time. She was shocked with herself. The second she realized in her heart that the baby was gone; her feeling for Sandra left her for the moment. It was swift and brutal. Standing up to retrieve
her coffee, Pam was shocked and angered. What just happened? She asked herself. Sitting back down in front of the window, the storm escalated. She imagined it was windy and raining in the city, as well. Rain would be beating against the windows of Sandra’s hospital room. It would be gray and depressing. Her last connection to Jack through Sandra would be flushed down the toilet, or tossed into the garbage. Sandra would be alone now, no mother or family to comfort her. Pam couldn’t bring herself to assume that role. Her young man, the policeman Tom, would have to do it. Losing the baby was so sad. Pam imagined another part of Jack, gone. But Sandra would have no more power over Pam and her family. She was reduced to what she had formerly been; the immoral, careless young woman who would have an affair with a married man without thinking of the consequences. That she was one of many made no difference to Pam. She would go through the motions of a decent human being, but her friendship with Sandra may have ended with the death of the baby. Pam picked up the phone and dialed the number for the local florist. She would send flowers, cards, even meet her for coffee. But the hold Sandra had on her, the demands to tell her innocent children the truth about their father no longer existed. A long, slow breath escaped her, like a balloon deflating over time because it was old and worn out. How long had she been on edge because of Sandra? Time would tell.

  Checking the clock, it was almost time for Dave from Organic Bonanza to arrive. She got up to freshen her makeup. She primped a little bit, giving herself the once over in the mirror. Jack had been gone for five months. Enough time had passed. She was going to have fun again.

  *

  Marie woke up Saturday morning to the smell of bacon frying. She swore she still had steak and baked potato in her stomach. Although she hadn’t seen any evidence up to this point in their relationship, she prayed Steve wasn’t a foodie like Jeff Babcock. She rolled over and closed her eyes. He would come and get her when he wanted her and as long as he didn’t care, she was staying in bed. Memories of their lovemaking filtered through her mind. Except for the safe part, it was wonderful. Steve put so much feeling into it and Marie felt like it was genuine. Blessedly, she never considered or thought of Jack once.

  *

  Sandra lay in her hospital bed, staring out the window. She asked Tom if he wouldn’t mind going back to her apartment and getting her makeup bag and clean clothes. The pajama bottoms she wore into the hospital were in the trash can in the bathroom, covered in baby. The horrible emptiness couldn’t be described. It wasn’t simply uterine. She felt it in her throat. Her chest was hollow; the ache around her heart brutal. Even her feet were suffering. She was guilt-ridden. The loss wouldn’t be contributed to any one factor the doctor said, her kindness overshadowed by a need to look at her watch every thirty seconds. Finally not able to tolerate it another second, Sandra released her.

  “Please, go! If you look at your watch one more time, I am going to lose it,” she said. The doctor turned red and apologized, but she left. Sandra was alone with her thoughts. Life would go on as it had before she ever met the flamboyant Jack Smith. She would go to work every day with no plans beyond the immediate needs of her job. She would minimally feed her body. Add the retinue of antiviral drugs, and there was nothing else she needed. At that moment, she was without any emotional feeling for Tom Adams. She wished he would end it as he had before, swiftly and without a look backward. She knew enough about human nature to understand that she shouldn’t make any decisions so she wouldn’t do it now, she wouldn’t ask him to leave her alone. She had unfairly compared him to Jack. Tom was a fine man, an honorable, faithful man. Jack was a reprobate, apparently a sexual deviate. His interest appealed to her pride, her need for attention. She turned over and put her face in the pillow to cry. How the hell had it come to this?

  She thought of the little baby. Her pregnancy was over twenty weeks, so the facility where she had the miscarriage treated the baby like a full term stillborn. It was a girl. After she had it, the nurses cleaned her up and wrapped her in a tiny blanket. The nurses gave Sandra a choice to see her or not. She hesitated but knew that no matter how sad it would be, she might regret it if she didn’t see her, and then it would be too late.

  After Sandra left the Recovery Room, the sedation from the procedure barely worn off, they brought the baby in to her. She was confused at first, not understanding what they expected her to do. Was she supposed to just look? Or could she touch her? If she took her from the nurses to unwrap, to exam, how was she going to find the courage to give her back? She had no husband by her side to share her grief. She never felt so alone.

  “What should I do?” She cried. The nurse grasped her shoulder and squeezed.

  “You don’t have to do anything, dear. This is your baby. That’s all.” She held her up for Sandra to see. “You may hold her if you want, but it’s not necessary. It’s enough to just look at her.” Afraid to touch the baby, Sandra lay there and looked at her, tears streaming down her face. The nursery nurses would take a picture of her, print her feet and give her the blanket and little stockinet hat she had on. It would be all she would have of the five months of pregnancy, of a short, foolish romance. She was never so despondent.

  “Do you want me to take her back to the nursery now?” The nurse asked. Sandra didn’t want to give in to her fears, so she shook her head no and reached out her arms to take the baby. She was so small. The nurse kept her hand under the baby’s head until Sandra felt sure of herself. The tiny body was still warm in the blanket. Sandra, looking through her tears, carefully lifted the blanket away from the baby’s face so she could see her ears. She had a little blood around her lobe; my blood, Sandra thought. This is my baby. She grew inside of me for five months. Why? Why did this happen? Sandra began to cry again. The nurse never left her side. If there had been a father or a support person available, she would have stepped out of the room and allowed the parent to have privacy. But this young woman is no more than a child, the nurse thought. She was in her mid-twenties. And she wasn’t going to leave the patient alone when she was so vulnerable.

  Sandra unwrapped the baby’s body with the nurse’s help. Her tiny body was so sweet and so sad at the same time. She was no bigger than Sandra’s hand. She peaked under the cap and the nurse nodded in approval. She already had hair, and it appeared to be red. Sandra’s mother had red hair.

  “Would you like to name her?” The nurse asked.

  “Ellin. It was my mother’s name,” Sandra said. Tom walked in as Sandra broke down crying, thinking about her dead mother and now, her dead baby. His police work had not prepared him for this. He went to her side and peered down at the tiny bundle in her lap.

  “Oh, my God!” He exclaimed, and then he started crying, as well. He knelt down beside Sandra with his arm around her shoulder. “She’s so tiny! Oh, she is so beautiful. Sandra I’m so sorry!” He was so touching, offering his support and showing his concern, that even the nurse was moved. Sandra would never forget how he had offered her exactly what she needed at that moment; validation that her daughter had been important, that she was going to be missed. Sandra reached around with her free arm and hugged Tom. They held each other for a brief minute, the threesome heartbreaking to the onlooker. The nurse left to allow the young couple some time alone.

  “Look at her tiny feet,” Sandra whispered. Tom touched the tiny toes, no bigger than grains of rice.

  “How are we going to recover from this?” Tom asked, crying unabashedly. “How are you going to?” His vulnerability strengthened her.

  “We’ll just take it one day at time. I don’t want to give her up now, but I have to keep telling myself that she is gone. She’s not alive.” Sandra cried again, but this time, she made the attempt to pull herself together. She pressed her buzzer and the nurse came in immediately.

  “I’ll never forget how nice you were to me,” Sandra said to her. The nurse bent over and embraced her patient. “I’m ready for you to take her now.” Sandra started to sob, but she lifted the bundle up for the nurse. �
�Thank you! Good bye, little Ellin!” The nurse left and Tom and Sandra held each other.

  “I’ve had enough of this damn place. Let’s get out of her,” Sandra said after the nurse left. She slipped her legs out of the bed. Tom took her clothes out of the Zabar’s bag he had put them in. She immodestly pulled her underpants on over the huge pad she had wedged in between her legs. Tom held her spandex pants open for her to put on; she held on to his shoulder and stepped into the legs. He helped her pull the t shirt he brought over her head. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and her breasts were already getting bigger, preparing to feed a baby that no longer existed. She put some lipstick on, “just so I don’t scare anyone,” and some blush, combed her hair back into a pony tail, grabbed her purse and motioned to Tom to follow her. She was leaving. They stopped at the nursery for the baby’s belongings and at the nurse’s desk to thank them once again. Whether her doctor was discharging her or not, she was going home.

  Chapter 37

  Dave from Organic Bonanza showed up at the Smith residence with three overflowing bags of deli items for Pam. He remembered to get what she asked for, but he took the time to check her past deli purchases and brought her containers of all her favorites. He also had sandwiches made for lunch; if she would agree to eat with him he’d stay, if she was put off by his forwardness, he’d leave. From the moment she opened the door for him, they were friends. Pam couldn’t remember him being so attractive. He was tall and lanky, but he had a firm jaw, an impressive hairline, and he was neat and clean. Dave had always admired Pam, thinking she was striking. She greeted him at the door and could not hide her pleasure that he thought of her enough to bring lunch. It was still crappy out, the rain beating down and the sky dark and foreboding, but in Pam’s den, it was warm and welcoming, even with the curtains open wide to the vista of the choppy, black sea. They unpacked the bags of food together and made up plates of food to take into the den. Pam dragged a table over to the chairs looking out at the view. She made fresh coffee and brought in a tray with cream and sugar. They ate their lunch, talking like old friends. He said yes to coffee afterwards, and they sat and talked for over an hour. The only uncomfortable moment came when Pam went to the pantry to get napkins for them and realized the door was locked and in the center of the floor was a pile of porn and the destroyed drawer full of who knew what. She had forgotten about the travesty of the photos. But she circumvented any awkwardness with her usual grace by saying she locked the door because she had tossed her tax papers in there when some workmen were in the house the day before. Conversation came so easy for them. She was interested in his dogs; English Bulldogs. Two of them.