By the time they said goodbye to Willow and returned across the little stream, the silver car was gone. Pru breathed a sigh of relief and leaned into Carney’s side. “Thank you for being you,” she murmured.
His arm draped around her in an uncharacteristic show of affection, he tugged her in closer and kissed the top of her head. “I hope I never do something so terrible that you send me packing for a year. Being away from you for two weeks is bad enough.”
“Oh Carney. I missed you so much.”
Chapter 6
They walked the rest of the way in silence, but once inside, Carney pulled away and dropped into one corner of the loveseat, his expression contemplative, his gaze on Al’s trailer outside the window. Pru puttered around the room, placing the rest of the scones in a plastic bag, the empty coffee cups in the sink, waiting for him to say whatever was on his mind. If Carney had taught her nothing else, it was patience.
Finally, he turned to her, a slight scowl on his face. “Would you come sit for a minute, please. We need to talk.”
“Uh-oh,” Pru laughed, but she couldn’t remember any other time when Carney had used those words. She was always the one demanding they talk. Her heart beat a little faster, and she took a few slow, deep breaths as she dried her hands on the dish towel hanging from the oven door.
By the time she settled into the couch beside Carney, her cheeks were flushed, and she felt uncomfortably close to tears. Surely he wasn’t going to break up with her, not after the sweet things he’d said on the way back from Willow’s.
Carney leaned forward, his forearms on his knees, toying with a beaded coaster from the set on the coffee table. Pru brushed at imaginary fuzz on her black pants.
“I need to tell you something.” He paused just long enough to make her even more nervous.
“I actually went to get my medical card renewed last month. I knew it was coming up due so I took care of it one day while you were visiting Mumsy in the hospital. But the doctor wouldn’t clear me; he was concerned about my blood pressure and the way my heart sounded. I’ve always had a slight heart murmur, ever since I was little, so I was more irritated than worried. When I tried to explain that to him, though, he asked me about other symptoms. I got to thinking that things have been changing. My feet and ankles have started to swell, especially on my long hauls, and I’m more tired than usual. After hearing that, he insisted I get in right away for further testing, but I had that delivery run to make.
“So I promised I’d go in as soon as I got back. That’s what I was doing today.” Pru sat stunned, swallowing hard, trying to find her voice. While she’d been keeping Mumsy company in the hospital, Carney had been dealing with the weight of all this on his own. Why didn’t he tell her?
“They did an ultrasound of my heart this morning, then a chest x-ray, and finally, they took a ridiculous amount of blood for more testing.” Carney took a deep breath, and absentmindedly put his hand to his chest. “Basically, I have a bum valve. One of the little gates inside my heart that’s supposed to let blood through only one way isn’t closing all the way, and the blood is flowing backward, not just forward, making my heart work extra hard to get good blood to my whole body. Which is probably why I’ve been feeling so tired lately; not just because I’m getting old.”
“What are you saying, Carney? Don’t joke with me. Is this serious?” She struggled to take it all in, to understand what was going on. “Are you...are you going to have a heart attack?”
“The thing is, Pru,” he reached over and laid a beefy hand on hers where they were folded tightly in her lap, but he didn’t really answer her question. “My dad had the same problem. I didn’t know that until I talked to my sister last week. I thought he just had a fluke heart attack, but Judy told me he had valve trouble, too. She found out when she started looking into our family health history because her doctor was worried about Judy’s heart during her pregnancies. Hers cleared up though, fortunately, after having both kids.
“Anyway, they didn’t catch Dad’s in time, not until his heart had worked so hard it just gave out.” He turned toward her, shifting in his seat until his knee was pressing uncomfortably into her thigh. “The doctor says it’s most likely the same thing, that it’s often genetic, but he thinks we caught it early enough to be able to keep me from going the way Dad did.”
“Carney! Stop talking like that!” Now the tears came, sliding down her cheeks and dropping onto their clasped hands. “I don’t think I can bear this,” she whispered.
He sighed heavily, and squeezed her hands. “That’s what I want to talk to you about.”
The way he said it made Pru straighten up, the fear in her belly shifting uncomfortably.
“They’re pulling me off the road for a while, maybe indefinitely. I’ll need surgery, and depending on what they find in the next few weeks, it could be pretty major.” He took a deep breath. “They’re talking about opening up my heart and either fixing the valve or replacing that part altogether, depending on what the tests show.”
She gasped and covered her face with her hands, shaking her head. Carney pushed the coffee table away and slipped off the sofa to kneel in front of her. He reached up and placed both palms against her cheeks, lifting her face toward his. “Pru, I need you to look at me.”
She shook her head, so afraid. She didn’t want to hear him tell her he might die.
He waited. Finally, she lowered her hands. His expression was gentle, his eyes glistening a little, but he was smiling. “There you are, Doll.” Then he took both her hands in his again.
“Pru, I imagined this so differently. I had such big plans for when the time came. I don’t want to wait a minute longer, though, not because I’m sick, but because it’s become very clear to me just how important every single day, every single minute, every single heartbeat is with you.” He paused and swallowed loudly, his Adam’s apple dipping low. “I don’t know what kind of future I can promise you. In fact, it could get really ugly for a while, but if I know you’re waiting for me at the end of the day, I’ll fight with everything that’s in me to get home to you.”
From his back pocket, he withdrew a small velvet box and pried it open with clumsy fingers. “Prudence Meriweather, will you marry me?”
The white gold ring shimmered beautifully with its square-cut diamond held high on four prongs, and Pru could only nod, her voice stuck behind the huge lump that had formed in her throat. Carney took her hand and tenderly, slowly, slid the ring onto her finger.
Pink powder rooms and jungle-themed bedrooms no longer mattered the way they did just hours ago. Girlie décor and leopard print drapery; it was all superfluous. The ring on her finger was a monument of what was truly important in her life—the rock of a man who knelt on the floor in front of her, offering her everything he had, including his bruised and battered, but still madly-beating heart.
“Yes, you big stud.” The words finally broke loose as she threw her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. “Yes, yes, yes. A thousand times, yes. Every day. Every minute. Every heartbeat. I’m yours.
OCTOBER MOURNING
Chapter 1
The full-moon curve of her belly fascinated her, and she smoothed the fabric of her shirt tight so she could study her profile in the mirror. This baby, so unexpected, had made her into a different woman, both inside and out. Over the last few months, Andrea had grown introspective and serene. Even George had commented on how calm she was about it all.
She was almost three months along before she realized she was pregnant. Even on the pill, her cycle was sometimes inconsistent, so she hadn’t paid much attention at first, but by the third skipped period, she was nauseated and using the bathroom far more than usual, and the pregnancy test only confirmed what she already knew.
She and George agreed having children was a “someday, maybe” topic, but not something either of them was ready to take on right now. “Right now” had stretched out into almost four years of Dual-Income-No-Kids, and the two
of them were just fine with it. Andrea enjoyed her freedom, dismissing any twinges she felt at the sight of a new baby at a friend’s breast, or the cherub smiles of darling children posted on Facebook. For every cute toddler with whom she’d interacted personally, she could list at least as many incidences of grave discomfort while witnessing a mother dealing with a fit-throwing child in the grocery store or some other public setting. No, children were not in the forecast for Andrea and George.
But a child was most certainly on its way, and this baby would arrive in a few short months, just in time to celebrate their first Christmas together. A gift like no other.
Andrea cooed softly at the flutter of movement low on her right side. She pressed her palm to the spot, hoping the baby would push back. It was such a strange feeling, this heaviness inside of her. Everything seemed to be loosening, stretching, opening up, and the skin pulled taut over her abdomen was hypersensitive; it felt almost bruised beneath her fingers. But every day, she felt her baby shifting and turning more acutely as the little one took up more and more of the limited space. Each nudge tugged at her heart in a way she’d never experienced before, and she could hardly wait to meet him or her.
“Andy? You ready?” George came down the short hallway to their bedroom, slipping his arms into the navy blue jacket issued to each employee as part of the postal service uniform. He crossed the room to stand behind her and wrapped his arms around her, covering her hands with his own beneath the curve of her belly. He grinned at their reflection.
“Hi, sexy Mama.” He spoke close to her ear.
“Hey, big Daddy,” she murmured, leaning back against him and tucking her head into the hollow beneath his chin. He was a whole foot taller than her 5’2” frame, and when he held her this way, she felt covered, shielded.
“I’m ready.” It was ten o’clock and time to go. They both worked the graveyard shift at the local post office—it was where they’d met—but they loved spending their time together. Lady Luck, Miss Fortune, the Fates, God; to whom-ever the credit should be attributed, someone, or something, had seen to it that the two of them simply enjoyed each other’s company almost all the time. Andrea couldn’t help but wonder if and how a baby would change that.
“How’re you feeling?” George asked, once they were on the road. It usually took them about fifteen minutes to get to work, but it was routine to swing through the drive-through for a cup of strong, hot coffee; albeit decaf for Andrea.
Her back had been bothering her lately, a dull ache between her kidneys, but her job required her to be on her feet for most of her shift, and as her stomach grew, so did the strain on her body. She’d been extra tired lately, too, but she knew from all the books she’d read that fatigue was to be expected, especially during this stage in a pregnancy. “Oh, George. I feel like I could sleep for the next two months and still feel tired. What I wouldn’t give right now for an IV drip of Cuban roast directly to my bloodstream.” She gave the crease at her elbow an experienced tap with two fingers.
George frowned and Andrea rolled her eyes. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. It was supposed to be funny.” She reached over and squeezed his thigh. “I’m doing fine, okay? I’m getting lumpy, and bumpy, and my back hurts, and my feet swell, and I’m super tired, yes, but I also feel calm and excited and happy.” She slid her hand up his arm and touched his cheek with her fingertips. “Are you happy, George?”
Grabbing her hand, he brought it to his lips and placed a soft, warm kiss in the center of her palm. “I’m happy, Andy.”
There were days when she missed it. Not very often anymore, truth be told; especially since the new life inside her started consuming her every waking moment. When she and George met, she’d been clean for four months. Very few people knew about her past, but once, during a shared lunch hour, she’d told George everything, wanting him to fully understand who she was if he was going to pursue her.
Their relationship had grounded her; given her the foundation she needed to start her new life for real. In George, she found someone else to live for, someone besides herself to think about, someone else’s feelings to consider. In George, she found her comfort, her freedom to be truly and completely herself. With George’s love—the way he believed in everything good about her—she found her confidence and her worth.
Andrea drew his hand to her mouth in turn, and planted a series of soft kisses at the base of each finger and thumb. Then she pressed his palm against her stomach. The baby kicked back and George grinned proudly.
~ ~ ~
By the time their shift was over, Andy could hardly hold her head up. She sat on the curb, the morning sun too bright for her tired eyes, waiting for George to pull around. He’d taken one look at her and made her stay there while he went for the car. Elbows on her knees, Andy dropped her forehead into her hands, pushing her fingers through her loosened hair. She’d had a headache for the last two hours and had pulled out her ponytail to try to relieve some of the tension. Her back was really bothering her, too, and no matter how she stretched, straightened, or bent, she couldn’t seem to find relief. She needed to lie down.
George pulled up just as her eyelids began to drift shut, and hurried around to open her door for her. She looked up at him to thank him and didn’t miss the concern she saw in his eyes. “I’m fine, George. Really. I just need my bed.”
They drove in silence, not unusual for the end of their workday, but it wasn’t the comfortable, winding down kind of silence. George kept glancing over at her; she didn’t have the energy to even smile reassuringly at him. She leaned her forehead against the chilled car window and closed her eyes, the rumble of their little Volkswagen bug lulling her into a stupor.
Pulling into their parking spot under the eaves of the main building at The Coach House Trailer Park, George turned off the engine and came around to help her out. Climbing the steps to their upstairs apartment with his help made her giggle. “I feel like a little old lady, the way you’re practically carrying me. I’m fine, George. Just tired.”
Andrea went straight to the bathroom, didn’t bother showering as she usually did, but washed her face and hands and brushed her teeth half-heartedly. She stripped out of her work clothes and climbed between the sheets in her underwear, too tired to listen to her mother’s voice inside her head, warning her about having to flee a house fire in only the clothes on one’s back.
She was asleep within minutes of placing her head on her pillow.
Two hours later, Andrea awoke with the most urgent need to use the toilet. Trying not to wake George, she slid her legs out from the warmth of the covers and shivered. It was cold early this year in Southern California where they lived, and she immediately regretted not putting on pajamas. The heavy drapes were drawn to block out daylight, but she could see well enough to make her way to the bathroom without bumping into anything.
Hurrying, the pressure on her bladder intensifying with every step, she pulled the bathroom door closed behind her, barely making it to the toilet on time. As she stood at the sink a few minutes later, she squinted at her reflection in the mirror. She looked pasty, and there were dark circles under her eyes.
By the time she made it back to bed, Andrea was shivering from the cold and a possible fever. She curled in around her belly, trying not to disturb George, but lying as close as she could to his warmth beneath the blankets. Her back hurt terribly, and she took deep, soothing breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth, trying to force her body to relax.
Just as she was beginning to feel her toes again, another wave of pressure squeezed on her back and abdomen. She threw off the covers and sat up, clutching her belly.
“George!” she cried out. “The baby!”
Chapter 2
George scrambled across the bed and knelt down in front of her. “What’s going on? What can I do?”
“I—I don’t know. I need to get to the bathroom. Oh George, my back! I’m being crushed.” She gasped as she slid her legs over the side of
the bed, and pressed her forehead into his shoulder. “Something’s wrong,” she groaned.
She linked her fingers together around the back of his neck and he helped her stand. She whimpered against her clenched teeth, shaking at the intensity of the pain that wrapped in bands around her midsection. They took a few steps when it eased, then she stopped, unable to go on, as the band tightened again, turning her stomach to a hard ball up under her ribcage. “Please, God. Help me.”
A sudden, warm rush of fluid poured over her bare thighs and she closed her eyes, crying out. “My water. No, oh no! It’s too early.”
“Andy, baby, I need to call 911 right now.” George’s voice was tight. Andrea opened her eyes and looked up at him; even in the dim shadows of the bedroom, she could read the fear on his face. Glancing down past the curve of her belly, she saw the dark pool forming on the carpet as more liquid flowed out of her. Then she smelled it, the acrid stench of blood.
She began to wail, clutching her belly. “No! No! What’s happening? My baby!” Another contraction hit, hard, and she screamed in agony.
George scooped her up and laid her on her side on their bed where she rolled into a ball of suffering. She futilely wiped at the blood on her legs, unable to believe this was happening, then clutched at the pillow under her head as another contraction hit. They were coming hard and fast.
“Help me, George,” she gasped.
A pounding on the front door of their little apartment distracted him and he turned away. “Call 911!” he shouted at whoever was out there. “Call 911!” His voice tore out of his throat like a lion’s, ripping into her heart. His fear only heightened hers, and she screamed again as more blood flowed out of her body with another contraction, staining the pale pink sheet beneath her.
Elderberry Croft: The Complete Collection Page 28