by Roy, Deanna
Her mother glanced back at me, her hair an intricate black sweep into a silver comb. She had always been elegant and kind, the sort of mother you might see on television. I knew they had their sorrows, a string of miscarriages after Corabelle, and in the days Finn was in the hospital, I knew her grief was magnified by the thought of all those children, and what tragic genetic code might have been passed on to her daughter. If I was going to make inroads with them, it would be through her.
“You’re all grown,” she said.
I didn’t know what to say to that, but nodded. I could sense the fury growing in her husband. I hoped the elevator reached our destination before he blew.
We skipped two floors to land at the fourth. Corabelle’s parents stepped out first, since they were closer to the door, but paused, not sure where to go. I squeezed behind them and to the side, prepared to lead the way, but Mr. Rotheford’s jacketed arm snaked out and snared me, his fingers grasping my elbow in a vise. “Where do you think you’re going?”
I turned around to face him squarely, man to man in a way I’d never done as a teen. I was half a head taller than him, and he seemed small and sad rather than menacing. I inhaled slowly so I could choose my words. “I’m going to Corabelle’s room. She’s expecting me back. I know you don’t want me there, but she does, and right now, she matters most.”
He let go of me, and I was relieved to have found the right thing to say. I led them down a corridor, past the nurse station, and along another hall. When we stopped in front of Corabelle’s door, Mrs. Rotheford said, “Arthur, maybe you should go down and get some flowers for her.”
“She’s probably sleeping,” I said. “You want me to check?”
Mr. Rotheford pushed past me. “I can see that on my own.”
He opened the door too quickly, and I winced when it rattled. I followed him into the room, and Corabelle was indeed still out, her hair streaming across the pillow like a goddess.
“Baby!” Mrs. Rotheford dropped her suitcase handle and rushed forward, grabbing for Corabelle’s hand. Her husband hung back now, seeming to grasp for the first time that his daughter was actually ill.
He looked around, seeming unable to keep his gaze on his pale child, eyes resting on the flowers I’d brought, plus Jenny’s, and the blue butterfly that now had the word “Finn” written across the body. His shoulders relaxed. I didn’t know what he was thinking, but I guessed he realized people did care, and that Corabelle was in good hands.
I sat down in the chair I’d come to think of as home and braced my elbows on my knees. I was bone-tired, I realized. But I’d been there before. I could keep going as well as the best of them.
Mrs. Rotheford perched on the edge of the bed, stroking Corabelle’s hand.
“I’ll go get those flowers now,” her father said. He moved their suitcases against the wall.
Her mother nodded absently, her eyes not leaving Corabelle’s face. I couldn’t imagine that fear, her only daughter in the hospital, but then I supposed I had lived it. We’d had so little time with our baby Finn. Nothing about being parents had ever felt normal for us.
When her husband was gone, she turned back to me. “So what happened?”
“She got caught in the Pacific Ocean and wound up with pneumonia.”
“You said that on the phone. I mean what really happened?”
My jaw clamped tight. I wanted Corabelle to have this conversation with them, not me. “She was awake earlier. I think she’ll be able to talk to you about it soon.”
The door opened, and one of the doctors came in. “I see we have new visitors,” he said. “I’m Dr. Snow.”
Mrs. Rotheford let go of Corabelle and turned to the doctor. “I’m her mother, Maybelle. How is she doing?”
“Well, we don’t recommend any more arctic swims.” He rounded the opposite side of the bed and leaned over to watch one of the monitors. “Now that she’s awakened, she’ll recover quickly. As long as she takes it easy, we’re through the worst of it.”
“Will she be okay?”
He consulted his iPad. “Pneumonia can be tricky. We have to watch for relapse and secondary complications. We did have to suction fluid from her lungs.”
“Oh my God.” She pressed a hand to her throat.
“She’s piped full of antibiotics. She’ll feel pretty bad for a day or two just from that. But she’s young and healthy. She’ll come out of this just fine.”
“Thank you,” Mrs. Rotheford said. “She’s all we have.”
The doctor pulled out a stethoscope. “From what I understand, that young man is the one you should be thanking. He pulled her out of the water and got her breathing.”
I stared at the floor, but I could feel her gaze on me.
“I’m still not clear what happened,” she said.
“She came in with a low body temperature, fluid in her lungs. Apparently she almost drowned.”
I glanced back up. The doctor was listening to her chest. “We kept her overnight due to the fluid, and her temperature spiked, signaling an infection.”
He moved the stethoscope back to his neck. “Corabelle, I’m going to ask you to wake up now. Open up for me.” He leaned in close to her face. “Corabelle? Let me see those eyes.”
She shifted, blinking, but as soon as her eyes opened, her forehead creased with pain, and she closed them again.
“Light hurts, doesn’t it? We’ll get the pain meds in you.” He held her hand with his gloved one. “Can you squeeze?”
She tightened her grip on him.
“Good.” He let go. “Can you tell me your name?”
“Corabelle.”
“I’m Dr. Snow. I hear you decided to wake up earlier.”
She nodded.
“You have family here. Your mom.”
Corabelle opened her eyes again. “Mom?” she croaked.
Mrs. Rotheford leaned over on the bed. “I’m here, baby.”
“Where’s Dad?”
“He’s downstairs.”
“He was awful to Gavin.”
Her mother glanced over at me. “We’ll take care of that, darling. Don’t you worry about it.”
Corabelle turned her head. “Gavin?”
I stood up. “I’m still here.”
“Don’t let him chase you off.”
“No chance,” I said, but in the silence I felt we were all thinking the same thing — no one had to chase me four years ago.
Corabelle started another wheezing cough like she had when she woke up earlier. The doctor eased her on her side to listen to her back.
“She’s got a ways to go,” Dr. Snow said. “I’ll get the nurse down with something for the headache.” He helped her settle back on the bed. “If you can keep the bed up a bit, you’ll breathe a little easier.”
Corabelle nodded, her eyes watery from the coughing.
The doctor stepped away from the bed. “I’ll be checking on her again. Nice to meet you.”
When he was gone, Mrs. Rotheford sat next to Corabelle. “Thank God you’re all right.”
Corabelle took a couple deep breaths, then said, “I’ll be fine, Mom. Gavin’s back.”
“I see that.”
“He’s been good.”
“I’m sure he has.”
“Please don’t be mad at him.”
Her mother hesitated. “I won’t.”
“Talk to Dad.”
She pursed her red lips. “He can be stubborn.”
Corabelle glanced at the door. “Where did he go?”
“I made him go get flowers. He was being obstinate.”
Corabelle smiled. “We should keep him on errands.”
The nurse came in. “I know you want these now.” She held up a cup with two pills and another with water. “Let’s get you up a bit.”
Mrs. Rotheford moved out of the way as the nurse helped Corabelle take the meds. “So glad to see you up and around.” She glanced at the clock. “We’ll see how you’re doing tonight and maybe give yo
u a little walk, see if we can take that catheter out.”
Corabelle’s face flushed red, and I knew that was for me, not her mom. Hell, I didn’t care what sort of tubes she had or where they went, as long as she was all right.
The nurse hustled out, passing Mr. Rotheford carrying the most absurdly large bouquet, one that dwarfed the ones Jenny and I had brought. I bit my lip to avoid laughing. Whatever made him feel better.
“Honey, you’re awake!” he said, setting the flowers on the table in front of the others.
“Hi, Dad.” Corabelle pushed her hair away from her face self-consciously. She always did care how she looked around her father. Her eyes darted nervously from him to me.
He’d apparently decided to go the pretend-the-jerk-isn’t-in-the-room route, keeping his back to me. “I heard you went for an ill-advised swim,” he said.
“Seemed a bit warm out,” she said. “Thought I’d take a little dip.” She sucked in a breath like she might cough again, and I almost jumped up, but she just cleared her throat.
I realized I was gripping the arms of the chair like I was about to be electrocuted. I forced myself to relax. I wouldn’t let Corabelle’s parents bully me into leaving. But I knew they had every right to be pissed off. I’d be more worried if they weren’t.
“We’ve been trying to call you, sweet pea,” Mr. Rotheford said. “I guess you don’t have your phone anymore?”
“It’s in rice,” Corabelle said. “We’re trying to save it.”
“I’ll get you another.” He settled on a stool, still with his back to me.
“Do you guys want to stay at my apartment?” she asked.
“Oh no, we’ll get a hotel close by,” her mother said. “Unless you need us to be there.”
“No, no. Gavin can check on it.” She looked around her father at me. “You have my keys?”
“I do,” I said, and I could see Mr. Rotheford’s back straighten in disapproval.
He turned around. “I can take those.”
“No, Dad, Gavin can handle it,” Corabelle said.
“I insist.”
Corabelle struggled to sit up. “No, I’m the one who is insisting.”
I wasn’t going to be pushed around. “I listen to Corabelle.”
He stood up, pointing a finger at my nose. “Listen here. I know what you did to my daughter. I was there to pick her up after you took off without any word to anybody. I don’t know how you insinuated yourself back into her life, but I’m watching you.”
He towered over me, but I didn’t challenge him, didn’t stand up. He needed this moment. I knew to let him have it. I tried to imagine having a daughter who got knocked up by some teenage lowlife and then all the things that played out for us, and I agreed that I deserved whatever they wanted to dish out. But I would not let Corabelle go, not now, not ever.
“Sir, I expect you to,” I said.
Corabelle searched for the bed button, which had slipped down the side of the mattress. I reached around her irate father and set it by her pillow. She moved the bed up a few notches, doing her Corabelle determination thing, aiming to not only do what the doctor said, but exceed his expectation on her recovery.
“We need to check in somewhere,” Mrs. Rotheford said.
“There’s a hotel on the next block,” I told them. “Easy walk.”
Mr. Rotheford still stood, stiff and angry, in the middle of the room.
“What’s it called, Gavin?” her mother asked.
“The Elms. Just go out the main entrance and turn right. I’d drive you, but I—” Maybe I shouldn’t bring up the motorcycle just now. “I would need to fetch Corabelle’s car.”
“We can walk it,” Mrs. Rotheford said. She turned back to the bed. “We’ll be back in the morning. Call us if you need us.”
Her father finally relaxed his shoulders. “I’ll pick up a new phone for you. We’ll be here.”
Corabelle nodded, then turned back to me, her eyes like a fawn’s, soft and dark. “Can you stay a minute?”
“Of course,” I said.
I stepped aside as her parents kissed her and left the room, their suitcases trailing behind them.
3: Corabelle
Gavin ran his finger across my palm, and I felt so much calmer. The rumble of the rolling suitcases faded down the hall as he pulled the stool up next to me by the bed. “That was tough, huh?” he said.
“Thankfully the pain meds are kicking in. I didn’t think I could take another minute of his beady glare.”
Gavin laughed. “He is pretty pissed at me.”
I pressed his hand to my cheek. “They’ll adjust. It’s all pretty new, even for us.” I kissed his fingers. We had to talk about what happened. I could play the sick card, but really, we should just dive in. Get through the hard stuff before it got too late to bring it up again.
“We haven’t really talked about that last conversation we had on the beach,” I said.
“You’ve been too busy trying to re-create the Pacific in your lungs.”
I tried to smile, even though my lips were cracked and dry. We had so much terrain to cover, I didn’t really know where to start. “Where did you find someone willing to give you a vasectomy so young?”
“Mexico. Cash-under-the-table thing.”
“Was it safe?”
He shrugged. “I went to a doc here and they tested it. Said it worked. Nothing seemed damaged. He was pretty pissed I had done it and wanted the name of the doctor.”
I let go of his hand. “Did you give it to them?” The heat rushing to my face made my head hurt again. I tried to slow my breathing, stay calm. A coughing fit would end the conversation fast.
“No.” He shifted over and braced his elbows on the bed rails, resting his scruffy cheek on his wrist. He was tired. He’d probably been in that chair for days.
“Have you gone home at all?”
He reached out and ran the back of his knuckles across my upper arm. “For clothes. Now that your parents have descended, this is all the time I get with you.”
“Maybe we can tell the hospital that you’re my husband.”
“Your dad won’t back us up like he did with Finn.”
I sighed. “They could kick you out, maybe.”
“They won’t.”
“Aren’t there visiting hours?”
“Probably. I don’t exactly play by the rules.”
“That’s true.” I laid my hand on his thigh. “I’m sorry I never told you about the marijuana.”
He exhaled with a long gush of air. “I never thought you’d keep a secret from me.”
“I was embarrassed. Katie got me started, and it helped me on the test, it really did.”
“But you never told the doctors. Not even when Finn was sick.”
Tears formed in the corners of my eyes, hot and painful. “I couldn’t bear everyone hating me.”
“We wouldn’t have.”
“Everyone would blame me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I did!” I grabbed fists full of the sheets, pain shooting through my head despite the meds. I could feel another cough coming on, deep in my chest. I didn’t think I could suppress it.
Gavin reached for my arm, holding it tight. “I don’t blame you. I don’t think anyone would have. When you found out you were pregnant, did you keep doing it?”
“No!”
“Then you did what you were supposed to do.” He ran his fingers along my arm, gently, carefully. I relaxed back into the pillow, slowly bringing the upset down.
“I’m sure lots of women do it,” he said. “It probably didn’t do anything.”
I breathed in carefully, testing the cough. It had passed. “People always ask if you could change one thing, what would it be? I would change that.”
“Probably everything would have happened just the same.” He kept the pressure against my skin, feather light but comforting. He knew me. He knew what worked.
“At least then I would know it w
asn’t something I did.”
He let go of my arm and stood up. I thought he was going to leave, and I could feel my chest tighten in distress, but instead he lowered the rail out of the way. “Scoot over. This bed is bigger than the one at your parents’ house, and we seemed to fit on it just fine.”
My cheeks burned to think of all the things that had happened on that narrow white bed. My parents had to have known, although the news of the baby still seemed to catch them by surprise. Of course, we all thought the shot would protect me.
I shifted over, feeling the heaviness of the tube on my leg and the pull of the tape. God, was there pee running through that into a bag somewhere? Could Gavin see it? “You’re never going to want to have sex with me again,” I said.
Gavin snorted. “I want to have sex with you now.”
“No way. I’ve got pee running down my leg.”
“Sexy.”
I wanted to punch him, but even that seemed to require too much strength. He settled in next to me, cradling my head against his shoulder.
“I’ve seen you with your feet in stirrups, pushing until you’re red in the face.” He trailed his fingers lightly along my arm, making me shiver. “I’ve seen you covered in puke with the flu.”
I groaned. “This conversation just keeps getting sexier.”
He turned my face to his. “I’ve seen you before you were out of diapers, if you recall. There is nothing that could happen that would change how I feel about you.”
I wanted to believe him, to feel that same blind faith I’d known as a girl who had never known any love but his. But he had left me. “Something did, once,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
He stilled, and I knew I had hit him close to the bone. “I was wrong,” he said. “I was foolish and stubborn and misguided and stupid.”
I snuggled into his neck, the warmth of his skin like a balm. “That was a terrible time.”
“We will never have another time as awful as that, not if it’s in my power.”
“I believe you.”
He squeezed me gently. “Things will be better now. We’re nearly there.”