Devotion (A Golden Beach Novella)

by Kim Loraine

  “I’m not fucking leaving her.”

  A firm hand gripped his bicep, tearing his attention away from his wife, motionless and unconscious in the ambulance. “Miller, you know you have to let them do their jobs. You need to get your ass to General, man.” Sully’s face held a mixture of pity and worry. I’m sorry.”

  As he drove, blood pounded in his ears. Everything went by in a fog, seeming to speed past even as he felt like he was moving through molasses. Even after parking and stepping through the emergency room doors, he couldn’t make anything feel real. This wasn’t happening to him. He was watching someone else’s life fall apart.

  “She’s in surgery, Donovan.” Casey, the charge nurse caught him as soon as he approached the desk. Her tone wasn’t friendly.

  Surgery? What the hell was happening? “Do you know anything?”

  “Not really. They almost lost her in the ambulance. She’s bleeding into her belly. Did she fall or have some sort of accident?” The look of suspicion in her eyes made the hair on the back of his neck stand at attention.

  “No. She wasn’t feeling well earlier, but she said it was the stomach flu.”

  “Okay. If you think of anything, let me know. The doc will have some answers for you soon, I’m sure.”

  Numb, he took a seat in the waiting area and stared, focused hard on his feet at the old leather flip-flops that he’d had for years. His feet were tanned from a summer spent in the sun with Valerie. Tears pricked the corner of his eyes as his brain assaulted him with visions of her, helpless, in pain, trying to call him. He ground his teeth together, angry at himself for not trusting his instincts. Something more had been going on, and he had left her alone.

  He didn’t know how long he sat there, head in his hands, staring at the cracked, brown leather straps across his toes. But the moment a pair of burgundy shoes and green surgical scrubs entered his periphery, his heart clenched. He couldn’t bring himself to look up, fearing the doctor’s expression would crush him.

  “Mister Miller?” The woman’s voice was soft, the kind of cautious you only get with years of practice.

  Closing his eyes, he took a breath, steeling himself against the onslaught of emotion. He sat up straight and locked eyes with the doctor. “Yes. Is she,” he had to clear his throat before he could continue. “Is my wife all right?”

  ~ ~ ~

  The first thing Valerie was aware of was the pain. Her abdomen was full and aching, head pounding, and as she flexed her fingers, a stinging pull shot through her hand. Eyelids heavy, she forced them open, taking in the sterile hospital room and the man at her side. Donovan sat with his eyes trained on his wedding band as he rolled it between his thumb and forefinger.

  “Hey, hotshot.” Her voice came out a harsh whisper, but his anguished gaze snapped to hers.

  In a flash, he took her hand and ran his fingers through her hair, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Are you okay, sweetheart? What do you need?”

  “Water,” she rasped.

  Standing, he reached for the cup sitting on the little table and brought the straw to her lips. The cool, clean taste made her feel more human as she let the liquid coat her parched throat.

  “What happened?”

  The pained look on his face sent anticipation gnawing at her. Oh, it was bad.

  Taking her hand again, he sighed before pulling his chair closer and settling beside her. “You uh, you were pregnant.”

  “What? No. I couldn’t have been pregnant.” She felt sick at his words.

  “Sweetheart, you were. No birth control is one-hundred-percent effective, you know that. But it was ectopic. The baby implanted in your fallopian tube and when it got too big, it ruptured the tube. That must’ve been why you passed out. I’m so fucking glad you called when you did. You were bleeding internally.” His voice wobbled as he spoke, making her blood run cold. This had been serious enough to rattle him, which meant it had been bad. “They, um . . . shit . . . they almost lost you twice. You had to have a blood transfusion, and when they removed the baby they had to take your fallopian tube, too.”

  Ice flooded her veins. “How long do I have to be here?” She wanted to cry. What an idiot she’d been, thinking her missing period was just because of the new birth control, the pain on her left side, just another ovarian cyst. She’d almost killed herself because she’d refused to believe the symptoms she’d been having for weeks were anything other than side effects.

  “A few days at least. They said you’ll be out of work a week or two while you recover. But, I’ve been doing some research. Most women who experience ectopic pregnancies go on to have children without any problems.”

  Her heart sank and nausea clutched her throat. “Donovan. I . . . I have something to tell you.”

  Cautious green eyes met hers. “Anything, sweetheart.” He brushed her hair back from her forehead with a gentle smile on his handsome face.

  “I’m so sorry.” Her chin trembled along with her voice as she worked up the courage to permanently snuff out the hope in his face. “I never told you, because I didn’t think it would ever matter.”

  His smile faltered. “What?”

  “When I was nineteen, I had to have my right ovary removed. I’m prone to cysts. They usually resolve on their own, but this one didn’t. It grew until it was so big the doctor decided to remove it. My ovary and tube had to come with it.”

  “Okay.”

  She fought the tears brimming in her eyes. “That means, now I lost my only fallopian tube. I . . . I don’t think I’ll be able to get pregnant.”

  She saw it the moment her words hit him fully. The crushing weight of defeat dimmed the light in his eyes and settled over him, slumping his shoulders momentarily. With a deep breath, he put himself back together and set his jaw before taking her hand. “We’ll talk to the doctor. I’m sure there’s something they can do.”

  “Donovan—”

  “No, sweetheart. Let’s just focus on getting you better for now, okay? We can deal with whatever comes next.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Three days later, Valerie sat in the passenger seat of the jeep as Donovan drove them home. A heavy silence filled the space between them, but she knew exactly what he was thinking. Just like her, he was replaying the last conversation they’d had with the doctor.

  One-percent. That was the slim chance they had of conceiving a baby on their own. It could happen . . . but it was more likely Valerie would be struck by lighting after winning the lottery. Donovan had wanted to have a baby, he’d asked her for it, but she’d chosen to do the one thing that increased her chances of ectopic pregnancy. Even though the risk was slight, it felt like a harsh slap in the face to think she’d brushed it off as nothing. Especially now that she’d been added to the rare cases list.

  This was her fault.

  Remaining silent, Donovan parked and shut off the engine, turning to stare at her as though he wanted to say something. Instead, he sighed and got out, opened her door and helped her from the height of the jeep.

  “You okay to walk? I can carry you.”

  She hurt, it was undeniable, but there was no way he was carrying her into their home. “I’m fine. I just need to go slow.”

  After getting settled inside, she finally let the events of the last few days wash over her. Every twinge of pain in her lower belly sent a wave of grief crashing into her heart. She’d lost their baby. She’d lost any chance of them having children. She’d lost them the future they’d planned to have.

  Hours passed as she stared blankly at the television vaguely aware of her husband bringing her food, rubbing her thigh—at one point he might have spoken. The program changed from daytime soap operas to talk shows, then finally to primetime sitcoms. She barely moved. Her eyes burned from so much screen time and it was only after Donovan turned off th
e television that she realized he’d been sitting at the other end of the couch.

  “Valerie, I think we should go to bed. Do you need help changing?” He wouldn’t look at her. His gaze remained focused in front of them rather than on her face.

  “No.”

  He took in a breath as though he might say something else, but closed his mouth and stood instead. Reaching out a hand, he waited expectantly. Guilt swamped her just looking at his outstretched palm. She couldn’t go with him. The last thing she wanted was to sleep next to him, thinking of everything she’d taken from him.

  “I’m not tired,” she muttered.

  “Your eyes are barely open.”

  “Go ahead. I’ll be there in a little while.”

  “How can I make this better?” His words were barely a whisper behind her.

  Stiffening, she tried to come up with something other than a harsh retort. This wasn’t his fault. All he wanted to do was make things easier, help her feel normal. She settled on the truth. “You can’t.”

  Chapter 5

  “Sweetheart, wake up.” Donovan traced the line of Valerie’s jaw with the tips of his fingers as he tried to rouse her.

  She was awake. He could tell just by the tension in her features and the cadence of her breath. She was awake, but pretending to be asleep because she didn’t want to deal with him. His chest ached at the thought. It had been six days since she’d come home from the hospital and so far she’d pulled deeper inside of herself.

  “Valerie. I know you’re awake. I’m going for a run. Call me if you need anything.”

  Still, she ignored him. Pressing a kiss to her temple, his breath caught when she tensed. He pulled away, steeling his heart and reminding himself this was temporary. He’d get her back, they’d be okay. He just needed to wait it out and be there for her.

  As his feet hit the pavement, he focused on the music blasting through his headphones and the jolt up his legs with every stride. He couldn’t let his thoughts drift to what had happened. Couldn’t let himself picture his wife in the hospital bed, pale and tired. He ran until his lungs burned and his shirt was wet with sweat, and eight miles later he found himself standing outside the door to the Peters home.

  How had he ended up here? He didn’t know what to do to help his wife, and clearly his mind was on her even when he didn’t want it to be. Settling himself on the porch swing, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He stared at the chipping paint on the slats of decking that made up the wrap-around porch. If he couldn’t help Valerie, at least he could fix this.

  Standing, he walked around to the back of the house to find Hank’s storage shed. It was unlocked, as usual, and in minutes, Donovan had a sander, mask, and paint. He cleared the porch of furniture and got to work. Ten minutes into sanding, he caught sight of Hank Peters, standing in the driveway with a mug of coffee and a puzzled expression on his face.

  Donovan turned off the sander and removed his mask, raising to his full height on aching knees. Damn, he should have looked for knee pads in the shed.

  “Hank.”

  “What in the world are you doing, son?”

  Running a hand through his hair, Donovan shrugged. “Paint was chipping pretty bad.”

  “So you thought you’d come over at nine in the morning and take care of that for me?”

  He shrugged again.

  Hank frowned at his mug before finishing the coffee in one long swallow. “I’ll be out in a few minutes. We can get this done in a few hours rather than you working all damn day.”

  With a curt nod, Donovan turned back to the deck and got to his knees, starting the machine again. Soon he was joined by Hank as well as his brother-in-law, Brandon. They worked silently until Donovan’s arms were numb from the vibrations of the sander and the deck was smooth and ready for paint.

  “All right, Donovan. Let’s take a break and talk about what brought you to my door without my daughter and has you looking like someone chewed you up and spit you out.”

  Hank opened the door and walked inside, Brandon following behind as Donovan fought the urge to bare his soul at his father-in-law’s feet. “I’m fine, Hank.”

  The older man offered a slight smile, but his eyes held sadness. “Boy, you are so far from fine. And if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred damn times. Call me Dad.”

  “Dad.” Donovan tried the word, unsure of how he felt. The only man he’d called Dad had been the worst man he’d ever known. It seemed unfair to associate the same name to a man he admired as much as he did Hank.

  “Come on inside. It’s almost lunchtime. I think I can pull together some sandwiches.”

  They wandered to the kitchen, Hank pulling out bread and cheese while Donovan tried to work out what to say.

  “Where’s Kelly?”

  “Oh, she’s away on a visit with Riley. This is his first time living off campus and she’s having a hard time letting him go.” Hank slapped some lunchmeat on a piece of bread and turned back to the refrigerator. “You know, Valerie won’t talk to her . . . about what happened.”

  And here it was. Leave it to Hank to broach the subject for him. “She won’t talk to anyone.”

  “That’s not surprising. My girl is stubborn and she’s never been one to ask for pity. She gets that from her mother.”

  “She’s pulling away from me,” Donovan admitted.

  Nodding, Hank spread some mustard across the slices of bread. “You know, when Simon died I had two women who are exactly the same living in my house. Both of them retreated, refused to talk, and I just had to sit back and watch for opportunities to pull them back to me. Kelly came back because of the kids, I didn’t do a damn thing. And then my wife brought Valerie back. I wish I had some words that would magically snap her out of it, but I think you’re just going to have to wait it out.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  They ate in silence until their plates were empty. Hank clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Okay, you need to get home. Brandon and I can finish up here.”

  “But, it’s only half-done.”

  “My daughter needs her husband more than I need a painted deck.”

  Nodding, Donovan headed outside.

  “Son, did you run all the way here?” Hank’s words were laced with disbelief.

  Donovan shrugged.

  “You need a ride?”

  With a slight grin, Donovan shook his head. “No thanks, Dad. I’m good.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Valerie stood in the shower, the hot water beating down on her shoulders as she tried to feel something, anything other than the crushing numbness which had become her constant companion. Leaning against the tile wall, she slid down until she sat curled up with her knees to her chest. Her breaths came as empty sobs and all she wanted was for things to go back to the way they were. If she’d only been open to the idea of having kids, this wouldn’t have happened.

  It wasn’t until the water stopped hammering her back that she realized the stream had turned frigid and she was shivering.

  “Jesus, sweetheart. Your lips are fucking blue.” Donovan’s voice broke through her haze as he draped a towel around her and pulled her out of the shower.

  He pressed his lips to her temple while rubbing the fluffy cotton over her skin. She wanted to want him and wished she felt something other than irrational anger. But his worry, his need to take care of her, just made her feel helpless.

  Shrugging out of his arms even as her body trembled with cold, she snatched her robe off the hook on the door. “I’m fine.”

  “Come here, let me help you get warm. Didn’t you notice the hot water was gone?”

  He reached for her, his fingers grazing her shoulders. Panic clawed at her throat at the contact even through the fabric covering her.
Tearing herself away, she scuttled backward and turned, unable to meet his gaze.

  “Sweetheart . . .”

  “Stop it, Donovan. Stop touching me, stop being sweet. Just leave me the hell alone.”

  His sharp intake of breath registered faintly, but she just needed him gone. Every word from his mouth was a reminder of her failure as his wife. How could they make it through this? They’d always planned on a big family and now she couldn’t even give him one child. And the look in his eyes every time he touched her or even came into the room was so filled with pity she wanted to scream.

  “Let me be there for you. I can’t help if you won’t let me.”

  “I don’t want you to help me.”

  “Why? I’m your husband. It’s my job.”

  Shaking her head, she dropped her robe to the floor, standing completely nude in front of him. Just as she’d thought, there wasn’t even a flare of heat in his eyes. All he saw was a pathetic victim needing to be treated with care. Pulling a loose-fitting shirt over her head, she winced as she realized it was one of Donovan’s old GBFD shirts. After stepping into a pair of yoga pants, she ripped off the shirt and tossed it on the bed.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “It’s your shirt.”

  “You wear that shirt more than me.” The hurt in his voice chipped away at the wall she was hiding behind.

  Choosing another top, she covered herself. “Is there something wrong with me wearing my own fucking clothes, Donovan?”

  His big shoulders slumped as he sighed. “No. Nothing wrong with that. I’ve got some studying to do. Do you need anything before I start?”

  “I’m fine.” She snapped at him and wished she could regret the tone, but all she wanted was to be alone.