“Are you having contractions?” John motioned her toward a waiting wheelchair.
Laurie grimaced as she sat. “Maybe. Mostly pressure.”
“She wants an epidural right away,” Pierce said.
“I know. She reminded me when she called.” John pushed her down the hall. “Laurie—”
“Her water broke an hour ago.” Pierce jogged alongside. “Don’t you need to call the anesthesiologist? She took a nap earlier, but hasn’t had anything to eat or drink since breakfast. She might be dehydrated.”
John stopped abruptly outside an unoccupied delivery room. “Pierce. This isn’t my first delivery, but I do understand that it is your first delivery. More importantly, it’s Laurie’s. Let me do my job.”
Pierce grabbed John’s arm. “I need to know everything that’s going on. I need to know what to do to help her.”
“Pierce. I get it. I do. I’ll double-check, triple-check everything, and then tell you everything, okay? This is a good hospital and I’m a fairly decent doctor.”
“Can I lie down in that bed now?” Laurie panted. “This is starting to get uncomfortable.”
John hit the intercom button. “I need a nurse in room nine, please—relax brother. And smile. In less than twenty-four hours, you’ll be a father.”
“Twenty-four hours?” he asked.
Then he heard a scream. A shout from the hallway: “I need whole blood. Now!”
He turned, looked out into the hall only a few strides away. A nurse, whose uniform was covered in blood, ran toward the room and stopped in the doorway facing him. “I paged Dr. Trent Stat! but he hasn’t responded.” She looked at John, frantic. “Can you come?”
A voice sounded from the overhead speaker. “Code 100. Code 100. Any anesthesiologist to Labor and Delivery.”
John ran past Pierce, but Pierce felt compelled to follow.
“Pierce? Where are you going?” Laurie’s voice fluttered with uncertainty.
He stepped into the hall as a host of medical personnel hurried past and into the next room. He pressed back against the wall, his heart raced, his vision tunneled. His knees shook, and he lowered himself to the ground.
“Pierce?” Laurie called with a shaky voice.
A hand touched his shoulder. Pierce looked up into his parents’ faces.
“I’ll go in with Laurie,” his mom said.
Pierce simply nodded.
“Where’s John?” Daniel asked.
The door of the next room slammed shut. Still, clipped voices and sharp commands echoed into the hall. Pierce stood. “He’s in there. Dad, I thought I could do this. But now, I don’t know.”
Another nurse walked past him and into Laurie’s room. She left the door open, but slid a curtain closed. “Mrs. Crane, right? Laurie?”
“I’m Laurie Crane,” his wife said. He could almost hear her heart breaking. She cleared her throat. “Mom, would you see if Pierce and Dad are still in the hall?”
His mom edged around the curtain and came to him. “I don’t mind staying with Laurie, Pierce. I consider it a privilege. But it’s you she wants and needs most.”
Beyond the curtain, the nurse murmured to Laurie, who answered back quietly. But Pierce knew that tone; he’d heard it after the miscarriage, on the phone while he was in Florida, and every other time she tried to hide her disappointment.
Dear God, I thought I had my fear under control. Why does walking into that room and staying there now seem impossible?
He looked at his parents. “Can we just stand here for a minute?”
Dad dug in his pocket, offered Pierce a stick of Juicy Fruit then took one himself. Cheers sounded from the next room; its door opened, and John exited, sweaty and smiling. He looked at Daniel.
“Hello, sir. Thanks for visiting my dad yesterday.”
“You’re welcome. How is he?”
“Not as good as the mother and baby behind me,” he said, and entered Laurie’s room.
Flanked by his parents, Pierce followed and stopped a few feet away from the bed as the nurse spoke to John.
“She isn’t having contractions. The baby’s turned, and her head is blocking further leakage of amniotic fluid.”
“All right. If nothing changes, we’ll let her rest tonight and have Dr. Nate induce her labor in the morning.”
Dad popped his gum. “I think she needs a hamburger. Or a donut. A woman’s got to have her strength when she’s about to have a baby.”
John winked at Laurie. “Sorry, Grandpa Crane,” he said. “We’re doing this one by the book. Clear liquids, maybe Jell-O. Dr. Nate will be here at six a.m.”
“To induce me.”
“Yes.”
Pierce looked at his brother. “But I thought you’d be delivering Hope.”
“If the baby came tonight, yes. But my shift ends at six tomorrow morning.”
They all fell silent, but Pierce’s heart thundered in his chest. He was supposed to do something. He knew he was. But what?
“John. Tell me about our dad.”
His brother hesitated, looked from him to Laurie, then back to him again.
“Are you sure you want to talk about this now?” He paced then stopped, stared straight at Pierce. “The day I drove Dad to church, did you see him in the back, weeping?”
Pierce had seen him. And heard him. Probably everyone near Luther had. “Yes.” If Pierce hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he probably wouldn’t have believed it. “But I didn’t recognize him.”
“That’s the second time in my life I have seen him cry. The first time was before that—the day he told me about burying our mother in the yard and giving you away. He cried all the way home that Sunday. He sat in my truck, shrinking right before my eyes, and quietly wept buckets.” He sniffed. “The only other time was when he met Laurie, that morning at the farm.”
Pierce met Laurie’s gaze. She nodded, and John continued.
“Dad, our dad,” he said, gesturing between the two of them, “gave me orders and chores when I was a child. He told me not to get into trouble when I went away to college. He refuses to let me pay the back taxes on the farm. He barely let me install an air conditioner in the living room. He never asked me for anything, Pierce.” John looked at him again. “Until the day he told me about you.”
He will bring to light what is hidden in darkness.
John continued. “He told me, ‘She died because I loved her.’”
Which was exactly what Laurie had suggested. Luther viewed Annabelle’s second pregnancy as a death sentence.
“He believes he killed her by getting her pregnant with me.” John spread his fingers, stretched them toward Pierce. “You should have seen his hands when I found him. His fingers were ripped to shreds. He’d been digging with his hands. Hate him if you have to—”
“I don’t hate him. I thought I did, but, no.”
Pierce could hear his father’s frantic whispers.
“How far, Annabelle? How far?”
His father’s fear.
“I never should have …”
He saw his daddy. Crying in the truck. Then going into the house and holding Mama.
“Don’t leave me, Annabelle. Please, don’t go.”
Then you shall know the truth, and the truth will set you free.
Pierce knew exactly what John was going to ask. And this time he had all the power to relieve his brother’s and his father’s anguish.
Or he could turn his back, fold his arms, and walk away. But would that cost him more?
“There’s no legal will, and Dad’s fading fast,” John said. “Please, Pierce. If she’s really there, before Dad dies and the farm is gone, help me find Mama’s grave. It’s the only thing he ever asked me. I can’t stand the thought of careless strangers digging her up or building on top of her.”
Pierce glanced at his watch. 11:42 p.m. Just over six hours until Dr. Nate would start Laurie’s labor. “How many patients do you have in labor right now?”
“L
aurie’s my only patient so far. Of course, two more are scheduled for induction tomorrow morning when Dr. Nate arrives.”
God, I know this is right. Help me, and protect Laurie and our baby.
“Can you leave for a while?”
“Now?”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe. Yeah, I can fix it.”
“Pierce, what are you doing?” Laurie’s voice was filled with trepidation.
He took her hand, kissed it. He could see her questioning, processing. “Do you trust me?”
“Do you have … to do this … right now?”
“Trust me, Laurie.”
“I want to.”
The unspoken “but” cut him, yet he understood it.
“Pierce, we don’t have to do this tonight,” John said.
He looked at his brother. “I do. I know it doesn’t make sense, but I know God wants me to do this right now.”
John shook his head. “If you say so.”
The monitor showed Laurie’s heart rate increasing. “You promised me.”
“I’m not breaking my promise. I’m not leaving you because I’m afraid to stay.” He kept her hand in his, closed his eyes to concentrate. God, help me say this right.“John. She isn’t having contractions, right?”
“Right.”
Laurie pulled her hand away.
Pierce opened his eyes; she was trying to sit up. Gently he sat on the edge of the bed, faced her, but spoke over his shoulder to John.
“Right now, Laurie’s not in labor, right?”
“Technically that’s correct, but we can’t leave the baby exposed to infection once the amniotic sac has been compromised. That’s why we have to induce her labor.”
“Which takes place tomorrow morning.”
“Unless she starts having contractions on her own.”
Laurie stared at the hospital blanket across her lap.
“Honey. Look at me.”
“You’re asking a lot of me, Pierce.”
“Please, Laurie. Look in my eyes.”
Finally she did. Hers were filled with dread and resignation. He pressed his forehead to hers. “This isn’t me running away.”
“Prove it,” she whispered.
Pierce caressed her blanket-covered belly. “This is the right thing to do.”
Her gaze again fell to her lap. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’ll hurry. I’ll call you soon.”
He kissed her. He called Gilbert, who agreed to meet them at the farm, and ran with Daniel to the parking lot.
***
She couldn’t believe he’d left her. Not begging him to stay, not shaming him into staying with her, had taken every ounce of strength and willpower Laurie had. And now she was alone again.
Yes, Kay was there, trying to get comfortable in a hospital recliner that flattened to a bed. But Laurie felt alone, in her core. In the part of her that had dreamed of sharing a pregnancy and birth with Pierce. She touched fingertips to her mother’s earrings—she was determined to wear them during delivery. If only her mom were here.
12:14 a.m. God, I am teetering on the edge. One foot over, and I’ll be so far into a canyon of resentment I don’t know how I’ll climb out.
She tried to stay calm and gazed around the birthing suite while Kay slept. Wished she could appreciate the sweet teddy bear wallpaper borders in primary colors.
She closed her eyes, concentrated on the monitor beeping beside her. The baby’s fine.
Laurie opened her eyes. 1:06 a.m.
God, if Pierce breaks his promise …
She didn’t want to think this way. She hated being afraid, hated she was contemplating calling Pierce and begging him to return right now.
“Having this experience during a pregnancy isn’t normal,” Dr. Goodnight had said. “The question you need to ask is: why does that bother you so much?”
She’d not had an answer. Not during their conversation, not in the days and weeks that followed.
But lying here, in this room, if she closed her eyes and blocked out the hospital sounds, she felt … alone.
She’d been alone when she sold her parents’ home. Alone when she went to college. She’d stayed on campus year-round rather than living alone in an apartment. When she’d met Pierce, there’d been no family to tell. When she’d fallen in love, gotten engaged, other than a couple of girlfriends, she’d celebrated alone, dreamed alone. She’d planned her wedding alone, walked down the aisle, alone.
Getting pregnant, having this baby, was the first adult dream she’d hadn’t carried alone. Together she and Pierce had planned and—
She’d assumed if they could dream it, it would happen. Anything less couldn’t possibly be God’s plan for their lives.
The nurse returned, took her temperature and other vital signs. “Mrs. Crane. I’ll be more than happy to close your door. Why don’t you turn off your overhead light and get some sleep? You have a big day tomorrow.”
“Closing the door will be fine, but I think I prefer the light on.”
Kay roused. “Laurie, I can feel your struggle all the way over here. The air around you is vibrating with it.” Kay rose and came close. “Can I get you more ice chips? Bathe your face with a cool rag?”
“No, thanks.”
“Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Not right now.”
Kay sat again. The nurse left, but Laurie couldn’t go back to sleep.
How could she sleep, when every expectation she’d had about these precious moments was being shattered? When she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to forgive Pierce if he missed their daughter’s delivery.
When she knew Pierce was on his way to mark his mother’s grave.
He was probably pulling into that sad yard right now, a place he never wanted to see again. Walking up the rotted steps, facing every memory from his childhood—
Why? Because … because he believed it was the right thing to do.
She smiled with relief, then closed her eyes in shame. He was out there, right now, doing the hard thing because it was necessary. Just like taking her to Isaac and Ella’s after the miscarriage, and moving their belongings himself so she needn’t return to the place she’d experienced such loss.
His decision affected her, but it wasn’t about her. He hadn’t left her, he was being obedient to God.
The only One who could heal Pierce’s heart.
Not her. Not being loved by her. Not being with her during their child’s delivery, nor even their child.
Oh, God, forgive me for insisting every detail be how I’d dreamed and envisioned them. You’re here. You are right in the middle of our lives, and even though Pierce isn’t here I’m not alone. I have You, just like Pierce does.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The moon hung behind a mist, as it had the night his mother died. He’d never forget that moon.
Silence hung over the farm like that of an empty church. How both John and Gilbert arrived before he and Dad did, Pierce couldn’t guess.
Gilbert walked around the front yard, using his cell. “John’s inside. I’m talking with my dad. I’ll be right there.”
John stood on the front porch holding a metal flashlight. “I asked Old Man Dawkins to take the pigs and the cow after Dad’s accident.”
Pierce paused at the steps, then walked up. “Where’s the pig pen?”
“Gone. Collapsed in the storm while Dad was digging. But I can show you.”
Pierce looked at Daniel. “Dad, I need to go in the house.”
“There’s a shovel in the barn,” John said. “We need to hurry, Pierce. It’s almost two a.m. and I have to be back by four a.m.”
“I know, but Laurie drew me a picture of where things are, and it’s not right. I need to look out from the inside.”
Which meant facing all the rest. Every last why behind the fear and rejection.
Pierce stood beside John and pointed. “That was Mama’s chair.”
His brother�
��s face filled with wonder. “Yeah?”
“She sat in it every day.”
He saw that night again. How he awoke needing to go to the outhouse, heard Mama crying, looked through the keyhole and watched her suffer. How the blood seeped under the door toward his toes.
“Pierce! You still there? Run next door and get Mrs. Taylor!” Daddy yelled. “Do it, boy!”
Pierce ran to the porch and skidded to a stop. He could hear the pigs, and looking toward the Taylors’ farm, he could see the outline of his own outhouse and barn. Everything was still, like life had stopped. Behind him, Mama’s groans grew louder.
Beyond the barn lay the acres of fields separating their farm and the Taylors. If he hurried, if he ran as fast as he could shouting for Mrs. Taylor to come, she’d come. Then Mama would be all right.
He jumped from the porch. Ran toward the light he knew shone from a tall pole in the Taylors’ yard, yelling as his lungs heaved.
Growls and barks answered him. The Taylors’ German Shepherds were loose and roaming the fields.
He stopped. “Mrs. Taylor! Mrs. Taylor! Please come! Mrs. Taylor!”
But the dogs came instead. Black shapes bounded toward him, growling like they planned to eat him alive.
Terror-stricken, he raced home, hoping the dogs would stop as usual at their own property line. He vaulted the steps and jumped in Mama’s spindle chair. Wrapped his quivering arms around his legs. Rocked himself and wiped tears. Listened for Mama. But Mama’s cries had stopped.
“Pierce? Are you back yet? Did you get Mrs. Taylor?” Daddy called.
Pierce went back to the bedroom door and again peered through the keyhole. Daddy jerked it open and Pierce fell.
“Move,” Daddy said, and carried a screaming baby out into the night.
Pierce swallowed. “You’re pretty sure you know why Mom died.”
John looked at him. “Yes. But I don’t know what that has to do with where she’s buried.”
“I thought it was my fault,” he said. “I remember now. Dad sent me to get Mrs. Taylor, but I was too scared of their big dogs to do what he said. After, I thought she died because I didn’t bring help. And I figured that’s why he sent me away. I was the reason she died, so he didn’t want me anymore.”
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