Luke bit into a roll. “So I’ve been thinking….”
Whenever he broached a topic in that manner, I immediately went on self-alert. My spine straightened.
“If I go on tour again….”
“Again? I thought this was the last tour for Five Guys.”
He shrugged, trying his hardest to not look guilty. “It is, but I’m thinking about starting a new band. As a hobby, of course, under my own record label. Depending on how it goes, we could do small tours up and down the west coast.”
Luke was a musician through and through. Just like how I was a baker. Without our passions, our lives were devoid of color. I couldn’t accept him to function in a black and white world because of my own selfishness.
I smiled. “That’s a wonderful idea.”
He beamed from ear to ear, radiating happiness. “Really? Because the concept of creating my own record label has been on my mind a lot lately. Since, I have first hand experience as a musician, I could rework how the entire system operates. Make it more personal, not so corporate.”
“And you already have connections.”
He nodded his head. “Exactly! There are a lot of bands out there who are unhappy with their representation.”
Caught in a whirlwind of inspiration and excitement, Luke talked a mile a minute, explaining exactly what his hopes and dreams were for this newfound concept. As I watched his hands fly in the air around him, unadulterated bliss hit me square in the gut. Although our wedding hadn’t gone off without a hitch, I knew one thing. There is no one I would rather ride the rollercoaster called life with than Luke.
“Mom, is Daddy home yet?”
Outfitted in her Cinderella pajamas, Nil walked into my bedroom half past seven in the morning. She had been doing the same song and dance since Luke left on tour, two weeks ago. I lifted the corner of my duvet and she crawled into bed with me. Her hair, perfumed with baby powder, was a reminder of how in five months or so, another child will be joining us. Another reminder wasn’t needed though. His or hers karate style kicks were growing more frequent. Luke and I had created a miniature fighter.
My arms cradled Nil against my chest. “I told you Daddy would be home on the thirty-first. What is today?”
“The fifteenth.”
“Two more weeks to go.”
She let out a dejected sigh, matching my own mood on the subject. Nevertheless, Luke hadn’t only gone tour for Five Guys. He’d gone on tour with the goal to seek out other musician’s opinions on records labels. What they would change, what they liked and where they thought record labels would be in twenty years. Armed with this information, he and Matthew would come back to Seattle and proceed with whatever the first step was. I had faith he could still juggle Norma Jean’s with this new endeavor. The man had multi-tasking down to a science. Right now though, the restaurant had to be put on hold while we fixed the plumbing. According to Hendro, the pipes were almost fifty years old. He was shocked they hadn’t burst sooner.
Drifting back to sleep, I fell into a dreamless slumber. My exhaustion knew no bounds at this point in my pregnancy. It was weird how each month differed from the last. I wished the energy I had a couple of weeks ago would return. Then, my mile long to-do list wouldn’t keep getting longer. A couple of hours or minutes later, the smell of coffee wafted under my nose. Like a zombie rising from the dead, I opened my eyes.
Camille stood over me, holding a paper cup. She flashed her pearly whites and silently pointed to the living room. I gently pushed Nil off my arm. She groaned but continued to doze. Curled tightly in a ball with her hand tucked under chin, she looked like an angel. When I padded into the living room, Camille handed me my life support, coffee. Taking a large swig, it scalded my throat but the effects of caffeine buzzed through my veins. That’s all that mattered.
“It’s decaf,” Camille admitted.
Guess the placebo affect was real because I did feel more alert. Downing another gulp, the difference couldn’t be defected. Decaf coffee tasted like—coffee.
“Thanks. You are a true friend.” My butt plopped on the couch. “What brings you by on this fine morning?”
“Nothing in particular. I had a break in between classes and thought you might need some cheering up.”
I immediately perked up in my seat. “You know what would really cheer me up?”
Camille waved her hands in front of her face, frantically. “No! No, no, no. We are not going there.”
“We are. I deserve an answer.”
“I told you my answer. Mathew and I hadn’t met before that night. He’s just simply one of those people who gets underneath your skin.”
“Being best friends for as long as we have, I have the right to call bullshit.”
“You do, but I don’t know what you want from me.”
I sighed heavily at her pure stubborn will power. Camille had been sticking with the same story since I’d first asked about her and Matthew. She could lie till the cows came home, but her poker face needed improvements. She was a therapist, not an actress after all.
“The chemistry exploded around you two,” I stated. “And I saw how you kept looking at him when you thought he wasn’t doing the same.”
Her features tightened. “Marlene, drop it. You are not playing matchmaker.”
“Why not? Matthew is a good man. He worked on Norma Jean’s as if it was his own restaurant. Plus, he gave Luke and me the crown molding for free. That high quality craftsmanship easily cost Matthew two grand.”
“I don’t care if he is the Dalai Lama. I don’t want anything to do with him.”
“The other day, you gave your sandwich to a homeless man on the corner. On Saturdays, you volunteer at the rehab center, counseling former drug addicts. Yet you are treating Matthew, a ‘stranger,’ as if he has rabies.”
Camille quickly arose from the couch as if she had been jabbed. Her mouth set into a thin line while her eyes blackened. “I said drop it,” she bit out.
“We promised not to hide any secrets from each other.”
“Some secrets are worth hiding.”
“Yeah?” My voice incased in ice. “Well you don’t have a very good track record of which secrets are worth keeping and which aren’t.”
“Oh my God! That was a stupid mistake. When are you going to move on? Luke is your husband now. You got the picture perfect family you always wanted.”
My hands pushed my body off the couch when an icy hot pain sliced through my stomach. I crumpled backwards into the cushions. Another cramp muted my ability to speak. Squeezing my eyes shut, sweat beaded along my hairline.
“Marlene! Are you ok?” Camille’s voice sounded as if dryer sheets were muffling it.
The rubber band around my belly lessened, as did the fuzziness. I reopened my eyes and blinked back tears. Kneeling at my side, Camille’s expression was etched with concern.
“We need to go to the E.R.,” I breathed. “Something isn’t right.”
“Alright. Stay there. I’ll call your mother to come watch Nil.”
“And Luke—call Luke.”
She walked out the room with her cellphone pressed to her ear. My last pregnancy had very little complication, none in fact. A relative cakewalk, minus the nausea. I’d heard horror stories though and counted my lucky stars that Nil was born a healthy nine pounds. A naïve part of me thought that this pregnancy would be free of complications as well.
As I sat on the couch, breathing through another mind-altering cramp, anxiety gripped my heart. My palm flattened against the swell of my stomach. Hoping, praying for a flutter, a kick, anything to show life still lived inside me. Nothing.
A cry of despair broke free from lips. “Come on, baby. Please.” My palm pressed harder then frantically I moved it the side, higher, lower. “Come on.”
Seconds ticked by in agony while my pleas went unnoticed. Camille reentered the room with a sleep dazed Nil.
I jerked my chin up and spoke the four words I never wanted to utter. “I
don’t feel anything.”
She tried to hide the panic that flashed across her face and put on a strong front instead. However, her actions spoke for themselves.
“I'll call 911,” Camille said. “You will get to the E.R. faster than if I drove you.”
“That’s true. You do drive like a grandma.”
She attempted a strained laugh.
In times of emotional turmoil, humor became my barrier against whatever I was feeling. And right now, I was feeling grief for a child that might or might not still be swimming inside me. The uncertainty sat heavy on my chest. If I didn’t laugh, I would cry, and that’s the last thing Nil needed to see. She sucked her thumb, a habit that only presented itself when she was stressed. Camille punched in the number for emergency services. After a brief summery of my symptoms, the operator promised to have an ambulance to the house within five minutes.
“Can you pack me a bag?” I nodded toward the hall closet. “There is a suitcase in there. I only need the basic, underwear, t-shirts, and jeans.”
“Pajamas?”
A golf ball sized lump formed in my throat. Pajamas meant that I would be sleeping overnight in a stuffy hospital that reeked of death. It also meant that whatever was wrong with me was serious enough to warrant extra care. Moments like this, I wished I believed in God.
My mouth disconnected from my brain. “Sure, that’s smart.”
As if a starting gun blew, the events around me sped up to a breakneck speed. Camille began to frantically throw things into a bag while Nil, unsure of what was happening, followed her actions. They sealed the zipper just as two paramedics knocked on the door. Fear swam in Nil’s blue eyes.
With great care, I lifted myself off the couch and waddled to the entrance. Before my hand turned the knob, Camille and I reached a silent agreement. At such a young age, Nil shouldn’t have to witness her mother getting carried away on a backboard.
“I’ll meet you at the hospital.” My mouth lifted as I glanced at Nil. “Don’t worry, sweet girl. Everything is going to be ok.
She gave a watery smile in return. Camille guided her to the back of the house, their voices growing faint. I opened the door as a cramp stole the breath from the lungs. My knees threatened to buckle. The paramedics rushed in and propped their arms underneath my shoulders.
“Lenny, go get the backboard,” the one with the brown hair ordered.
Call it pride or plain stubbornness, but I wanted to walk the mere five feet. “No, I’m fine.” The paramedics gave me a look as if I was crazy, which was entirely possible. “Just help me to the ambulance.”
“Lady, you can barely stand,” said the man who I presumed to be Lenny.
They backed down when my best murderous glare got turned on them.
Lenny spoke. “Ok, whatever you want.”
They practically carried me to the ambulance. Lenny climbed inside with me and helped me onto the stretcher. Soon after the doors slammed shut, a long mournful siren wailed. Soundlessly, my lips began to recite a love letter to my unborn child that started with one simple sentence: Keep fighting little one, Mama has you.
“Marlene?”
“Shh. She needs her sleep.”
A cool palm brushed my forehead. The smell of wood smoke wafted under my nose. I stirred and pried open my eyelids, which felt as if they had been rubbed with sand.
“Sweetie?”
My chin turned toward the sound of Luke’s voice. It was like a healing balm over my raw wounds. His beautiful face came into sight and I nearly broke down into tears of relief.
“You’re here,” I croaked.
He pressed his lips against my temple. “Of course I’m here. There is no other place I’d rather be.”
I soaked in the feeling of his touch until a cold dose of reality poured itself over my head. Our baby. Panic rose swiftly, building to dangerous heights. The monitor beeped in rapid succession and alerted Luke to my current state.
His blue eyes locked onto mine. “Everything is ok.”
“Is…” I swallowed. “Is our baby…?”
“Our baby is fine.”
“Fine?”
He stroked my wrist with his thumb. “Perfect. The doctor came by to talk to us, but you were asleep.”
Scrambling to an upright position, I almost tore the wire free from my veins. “Get her…”
“Him. His name is Dr. Adam.”
“Whatever. I don’t care if he is a she or a freaking llama. I want to know what happened.”
Earlier that morning, after the paramedics brought me to the hospital, they ran numerous tests that lasted until night fell. As soon as the nurses had set me free, I’d face planted into the lumpy bed. Nil had stayed behind with my mother but Camille had slept on a cot in my room equally as uncomfortable. Her actions showed that no matter what transpired between us, we would never stop being there for each other.
Luke alerted a passing nurse that we were ready to see Dr. Adma. As we waited, I bit my nails nervously.
Luke shifted in his seat. “How are you feeling?”
“Better. The cramps are gone—or at least I think they are. I haven’t felt them but I have only been up for less than five minutes.” Acutely aware that I was rambling, my mouth closed shut. Then reopened. “How did you get here so quick?”
“There are perks to having friends in high places.”
“What? Did you borrow somebody’s jet?”
“I didn’t borrow it. He was already en-route to Seattle and when he saw how important it was, he offered me a lift.”
Luke: humble as cherry pie. That should be his slogan. Nevertheless, the anonymous friend had my life long gratitude. He’d delivered Luke to me when I needed him the most.
Studying him closely, I noticed the black and blue smudges underneath his eyes. “Have you slept?”
“A little.”
“A little is code for no.”
He shrugged. “How could I?”
Poor Luke. He must have felt so helpless being a thousand miles away when he received that phone call from Camille. I couldn’t imagine what was going through his head. If I had to guess though, we probably launched into similar worst-case scenarios that didn’t end with a happy conclusion. Craving Luke’s warmth, my body scooted to the far edge of the twin bed.
“Come here and cuddle with me and the baby.”
He folded his six-foot frame to accommodate our tight quarters and stretched sideways, facing me. He laid one hand on my stomach, the other resting on my hip. The hospital sounds dimmed as if a bubble encased us. Luke’s blue eyes stripped me bare.
“I was so scared that we lost our child. It was as if somebody was slashing my insides with a knife. That kind of pain could only be associated with loss.”
“But it wasn’t. Our baby is still alive.”
It was hard to believe that until I had tangible proof. The baby, once a fighter, hadn’t moved since the incident. He or she was either a cruel jokester or something wasn’t right physically.
Luke squeezed my hip. “Hey, the doctor said….”
“Doctors are wrong all the time. They have reality TV shows about it for God’s sake.”
“You have to have faith, Marlene.”
“Faith isn’t what I need right now. I need to see my baby.”
The desperation in my voice caused Luke to gather me into his arms. Chest to chest, my heartbeat fell in sync with his. Strong and steady. Shutting my eyes, I clung to Luke like a life raft bobbing in the choppy open sea. His fingers lazily stroked my back.
“I love you. No matter what happens, remember that. I love you,” Luke said. “We will get through this together like we always do.”
“We are a unit.”
“Enforced with steel, wrapped in fire resistant coating and bullet proof. Nothing will destroy us.”
“I love you,” I whispered.
He cozied closer until you couldn’t tell where I began and he ended. In the hospital, time ceased to exist. Seconds bled into minute
s as we lay together.
“Mr. and Mrs. Anderson?”
Over Luke’s shoulder, a man I presumed to be Dr. Adma stood in the doorway.
Luke untangled himself from our embrace and sat back in the chair.
Dr. Adma stepped into the room, holding a clipboard. Whatever was written on that piece of paper could untimely change our lives for the better or for the worse.
He flashed a friendly smile at me. “It’s nice to see you awake.”
“Thanks.”
While I wanted to skip over the pleasantries and get straight to the point, my mother had taught me better. Dr. Adma scanned my chart then looked back up.
“So, you had quite the scare last night, huh?”
“You can say that.”
More ruffing of papers ensued. My patience as thin as a string threatened to snap. Luke gathered my clenched fist into his lap.
Finally after what seemed like an unnecessary lengthy pause, Dr. Adma spoke. “You have a low grade kidney infection. We are going to keep you here in the hospital for the next twelve to twenty-four hours to monitor your reaction to the medication and ensure that you don’t go into pre-term labor.”
“How did she get a kidney infection?” Luke questioned.
“Usually it’s because of a bladder infection that goes untreated, but no worries, you are on the mend now, Mrs. Anderson.”
With such a full plate, my health had played second fiddle to my work. That mistake could have cost Luke and I our child. These next few months I’d need to slow my roll and pay closer attention to the signals my body sends.
“Is the medication safe for the baby?” I wondered.
Dr. Adma smiled. “Yes, completely safe.”
“And you are one hundred percent no damage has been done?”
Being a doctor, I’m sure he’d seen his fair share of neurotic mothers, but that didn’t mean I liked being one. It couldn’t be helped though. The neurotic gene implanted itself into your chromosome makeup once you gave birth.
To Cherish and To Hold (Love of a Rockstar #1.5) Page 8