Annihilate Me 2: Omnibus (Complete Vols. 1-3, Annihilate Me 2)

by Christina Ross

“I had no idea.”

  “How could you?”

  "How did yours happen?”

  "It's a long story. Do you want all of it, or some of it? I’m not sure how clear your head is right now.”

  "I might be sedated, but it’s clear.”

  Blackwell’s back stiffened. “All right, then. When I got pregnant, Charles and I were just out of college. We were newlyweds, and we had no intention of having children until we could afford them, which we both knew wouldn’t be for several years. So when I learned that I was pregnant, it came as a shock—Charles and I were using protection, after all. We were fastidious about it, just as you and Alex were. But nothing is foolproof when it comes to love and sex. In fact, it’s the fool who believes otherwise.”

  She shifted in her seat, and I could tell by her grim expression that this wasn’t easy for her to discuss. “Back then, I was busy climbing the ladder at Wenn. I was working so hard, it wasn't uncommon for me to go a couple of days without sleep, and to exist on little more than coffee when a real break was out of the question. Because of that—not to mention the stress I was under just to keep up with the workload—it wasn't unlike me to miss my period. Stress can do that to a person, and I came to know the downside of it all too well. Missing my period happened often during those first several months at Wenn. But I learned that if I just gave it a month, the tide would come rushing back with a vengeance, as if it were sorry to be late for the party.” Her face darkened. “Until the day I realized that it wasn’t coming back.”

  “You were pregnant,” I said.

  “I was. The tests you can buy over the counter these days weren’t nearly as sophisticated and as accurate back then, so when it read positive, I panicked and took myself to my doctor, who confirmed the pregnancy. At first, I wasn’t sure what to think. I was so young and naive at that point. Ambition ran through my veins. Charles and I were hungry. We were on the upswing. Both of us wanted to make names for ourselves. But as distressed as I was, there was this other part of me that was quietly elated about being pregnant. I was going to have a child. I was going to give birth and be a mother—a good mother. A better mother than the mother God had given me. I couldn’t believe it. I was at once terrified by my situation and over the moon that I was going to give birth to a little girl or a little boy. And I knew that I would be a good mother—I was certain of it.

  “Because I was so thin, my doctor told me that I needed to take care of myself. She said I needed to work less and eat right. Lay off the coffee. Make time for sleep. She said it was in the baby’s best interest that I lessen my stress. That’s one of the reasons I didn't tell Charles that I was pregnant. I didn't know how he would react to the news, which brought on its own share of stress. I didn’t know how a baby would affect our marriage, especially because we couldn’t afford a child at that point. I thought that he might explode in rage. Suggest an abortion. Perhaps even divorce me, because that’s how driven he was. So, I decided to keep quiet, not wanting to deal with any of it until I had no choice but to tell him.”

  As she sat there talking, a blanket of grief came over her face that mirrored my own. “I didn’t do all that I should have done to protect my child,” she said. “I didn’t follow my doctor’s orders. At Wenn, you see, people were starting to take notice of me, the quality of my work, and my work ethic, which was bar none. Chief among them was Alex’s father, who took a liking to me, which gave me hope for my career and my future. It made me believe that I could make it in New York, despite my mother’s objections to the contrary.”

  She moved a hand across her face as if she were waving away a bad odor. “But let’s not talk about her. What matters is that, at that age, I felt infallible. Parts of me still do, but as you know very well at this point in our friendship, some of that is just smoke and mirrors. I know who I am. I’m acutely aware of the mistakes I’ve made in my life, and not completely listening to my doctor when I first got pregnant is perhaps the biggest mistake I’ve ever made because it cost me my child. You see, through it all, I kept working like a mule. Yes, I made sure that I took the proper vitamins and I ate better, but I never gave up on the work, and because I didn’t, the stress took its toll. I was sitting at my desk one afternoon, overwhelmed with all the work I still needed to finish before the end of the day, when I felt sick to my stomach. I broke out into a cold sweat, and I had a horrible case of cramps, and you can imagine what those led to—my miscarriage. That day still stands as the worst day of my life. Unlike you—and this is why I’m sharing this with you, Jennifer—I was the one who was responsible for my child’s death. You are not. You were the victim of a horrible accident. I was the victim of my own stupidity and drive. It’s different, you see? That’s why I wanted to tell you my story. Even if you might not believe so now, you should bear none of the shame that I’ve rightfully had to bear for nearly three decades. What happened to me won’t lessen your pain—I know that. But it might give you some perspective going forward as you deal with your own feelings of loss. You need to understand that no action you took claimed your child’s life. I only wish that I could say the same.”

  “I'm so sorry,” I said.

  “So am I. You don’t know how sorry I am—or how guilty I feel, even some thirty years later. But now you know why I tolerate Daniella and Alexa’s ridiculous little spats. I don't just love them—I’m grateful for them. They were the second and third chances I never thought I’d get. And here is where I need you to listen to me. You and Alex will have children. You will raise them well, and then you will send them off into the world. The pain of your miscarriage will never go away, but it will become something you can manage as life goes on. I look at you, and what I see is a strong woman. A loving woman. You have a capacity to love openly and without fear, despite the fact that your parents abused you when you were growing up. That takes a certain person, and I’m here to tell you that I admire you for it.”

  “I love you, you know?”

  “I love you, too.”

  “Thank you for sharing your story with me. I’ll never tell anyone.”

  “I already know that you won’t. It’s who you are. You wouldn’t betray a soul. But if it can help to alleviate whatever guilt you’re feeling, then use my own experience to see that you didn’t behave as recklessly as I did. You were at the wrong place at the wrong time. I realize that it will take time to accept that, but you will.”

  When she was finished, I could sense that she was at once unnerved that she had shared something so private with me, but also that another part of her was relieved to have finally shared her experience with another human being.

  “So,” she said, taking my hand in her own. “There’s my darkest secret, for you to absorb and use as you wish. My heart goes out to you and to Alex. Just know that I’ve been there, and that I’ll always be here for you if you need a sounding board. OK?”

  “Thank you.”

  “Well,” she said, standing. “I should get Alex. I’ve taken up too much time. He needs to be with you. You two need to be together, especially now.”

  “There’s just one thing that concerns me,” I said.

  “What's that?”

  “What if any of this gets out? Nobody knew that I was pregnant. If someone here leaks the news that I did miscarry, I’ll be hammered with questions and pity from the media, which are the last things I want. I just want to grieve in peace with my husband and my closest friends. What happened to me should remain private, but I’m not sure if it’s realistic for me to expect that.”

  “This hospital is top notch,” she said. “One of the world's best. I have no question that your privacy will be respected. That said, I’ll nevertheless have a word with the doctor and the nurses if you'd like.”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  She patted my hand before leaving to get Alex. “Then I’ll take care of it,” she said. And then she was gone.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  When Alex came into the room, there was a mome
nt when all we did was look at each other before he came to my side and kissed me.

  He also had taken a shower and changed into a fresh pair of clothes. He’d kept his beard, which I thought suited him, and he was wearing a new pair of dark jeans, a white button-front shirt, and a pair of black shoes with bright silver buckles that hung low on the outer sides.

  Blackwell, I thought. She didn’t just take care of herself and me. She also took care of everyone else. I looked at Alex, saw the sorrow in his eyes and the devastation on his face, and I could feel him searching for words that wouldn’t come.

  And now I need to be strong for both of us.

  “You look handsome,” I said in an effort to open the conversation on a light note.

  He sat down next to me, and seemed caught off guard by the comment. “I do?”

  “You do.”

  “Blackwell,” he said as he reached for my hand and started to run his thumb gently over my fingers. “She had new clothes delivered for all of us. She insisted that we take showers.”

  “After nearly two weeks on that island, can you blame her?”

  “Not really.”

  “I like the beard," I said.

  “I didn’t have anything to shave it off.”

  “Maybe you won’t.”

  “I thought you liked the stubble?”

  “I like this, too.”

  He lifted my hand and kissed the back of it.

  “Are you comfortable?” he asked.

  “Whatever they’ve given me must be localized because I can’t feel any pain where they operated, and yet I’m fully awake. I’m not groggy at all.”

  “Is there anything I can get for you?”

  “You're enough.”

  “I wish that were true. I wasn’t enough for you outside of that bank, I know that much. You put your life on the line for me again.”

  “It's not as if you didn’t do the same for us when you went away with those men, Alex. You knew the risks you were taking. So did I when I went after that son of a bitch, Wes. I have no regrets. I’d do it again.”

  “That’s what concerns me.”

  “Don’t let it concern you.”

  “But it does, and it should. There was a moment when I thought I was going to lose you,” he said quietly. “The idea of it tore me apart. Do you remember what you said to me before you passed out?”

  “I remember what I said—and I meant it. I still do.”

  “No one could replace you.”

  “And now no one has to.”

  “But what you said—”

  “—was said out of love. If I had died, I would have wanted you to find someone else. I don’t regret saying that because I’ll always want you to be happy, Alex. I would have wanted you to eventually find love, and to have the baby that I have failed to give you—”

  “That’s enough,” he said.

  “You didn’t let me finish. The baby I failed to give you at this point. We will have children. I have to believe that we will.”

  “Do you want to talk about any of this?”

  “About the baby?”

  “Yes. But only if you’re ready to. We don't have to do it now. I don’t want to upset you if you’re not ready.”

  If I hadn’t talked with Blackwell earlier, I might not have been ready to talk about our loss this soon because the pain was too deep. But now, thanks to the perspective she had offered, I felt that I could handle the conversation, as difficult as it would be for each of us to have. The sooner we discussed it, the sooner the healing could begin. “I think we probably should talk, though I’m not sure how much there is to say because there’s no taking back what happened. I lost our child. Apparently, it happened soon after the crash.”

  “You need to know that you did nothing wrong.”

  “Blackwell said the same thing.”

  “Do you agree?”

  “The doctor said that there wasn’t a trace of HCG in my system, which says to me that the miscarriage was caused by the crash. I know that what happened was out of my hands, but that doesn’t make it any easier for me to accept. Do I want to cry right now? Yes, I do. Am I aching inside? I’m barely holding it together. But for the sake of our marriage, I’m going to have to accept that there’s nothing I could have done to protect our baby. The crash was too much for it. That’s where the blame needs to go. Otherwise, if I don’t accept that, I don't see how I’m going to come through this. And if I don’t come through this, it will only harm both of us in the end.”

  “Jennifer—”

  “You know it’s true,” I said. “No matter how strong our marriage is, it can only sustain so much, Alex. That’s true for anyone. We’re both heartbroken. We’re going to have to support each other through this for the rest of our lives. It won’t be easy—how could it ever be easy? But at the very least—and after all we’ve been through together—we still have each other, and that alone will help us deal with the pain even during those moments when it seems as if the pain might become too much.”

  My eyes brightened with tears when I said that, and I could hear my voice start to break when I spoke again. “I’ve never felt such a loss,” I said. “I’ve never felt so empty before. But we have to be strong. We need to mourn the death of our child, and when my gynecologist tells me that we can try for another, I don’t want to wait, because I do want to have your child.”

  “I want the same thing.”

  “Then we’ll have it,” I said with resolve. “I have no doubt. Now, listen to me,” I said, pulling myself together the best I could. “Blackwell told me that there is a better chance that Cutter will pull through.”

  “I believe that he will.”

  “Then that leaves us with only one other thing to worry about,” I said.

  At first, he tilted his head at me as if he didn’t understand, but then he caught the steely look in my eyes, and the undercurrent of what I was thinking became clear to him. I could tell by the way his lips parted that he saw what I saw—that we could channel our collective rage at the loss of our child toward something that needed our help before it was too late.

  If it wasn’t already too late.

  One child was lost to us, but what about our other child? What about Wenn? Didn’t we also have a responsibility to fight for that?

  In silence, Alex and I looked at each other for a long, tenuous moment in which all I could hear was myself breathing, Alex breathing, and the monitors beeping beside me in a faster clip as my heartbeat rose.

  And then I felt my heart harden—and my soul darken—as my protective instincts kicked in.

  “Who is running Wenn now?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. My focus has been on you. Frankly, until I knew you were well, I didn’t give a damn. I haven’t checked.”

  “Then I need you to give a damn now. Wenn is your other child. We need to fight for it. We can’t lose them both.”

  “Wenn is not my child. It was my father’s child. I just inherited it. Wenn is a thing.”

  “So, we’re just going to abandon it?”

  “What are you saying?”

  “That we’re not going to lose this battle. And I’m afraid that we’re in for one. I might be wrong, but we went missing for two weeks, which is enough time for anything to have happened at Wenn. I need you to find out who’s running Wenn now. Find out if it’s that son of a bitch Stephen Rowe. Find out if he’s running the ship, or if somebody else is. And at what capacity. If we need to go to war, then we need every bit of information we can get in order to develop a plan.”

  “Jennifer, I can take care of Wenn on my own. You need to get well.”

  I reached for his hand and gripped it in my own. “Don’t you see? I also need an outlet. I need to fight for something. So, please just hear me out. Because of everything we’ve been through, everything we’ve lost, I’m ready to go to hell and back for something else that matters to me. Something that I hope hasn’t already been stolen from us. Something I might be able to he
lp save. I might just need to win a war to get through the worst of what I’m feeling right now, Alex. And right now? Right now, that war begins with Wenn. Wenn is worth it. If each of us needs to get in the dirt and fight for it, then that’s what we’ll do. So, go. Make whatever phone calls you need to make. Find out whatever it is you need to know. And then?” When I met his eyes with my own, I could tell that he was shocked—and perhaps a little taken aback—by the coldness of my passion. “Then we’re going to crush anyone who’s ever thought they could take that child away from us.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  Before Alex left, I asked him to send in Blackwell.

  “You should rest,” he said.

  “I’m fine. I just need to ask her a few questions.”

  “About Wenn?”

  “That, and a few other things. I won’t be long with her. I’ll get my rest.”

  “I know you better than that.”

  “Rest comes in all sorts of forms,” I said.

  “I don’t need you worrying about Wenn.”

  “And I’m telling you that’s not an option. How can it be? I need to focus on something, Alex, or else I’m going to go crazy. Please try to understand. I’m doing my best to deal with our loss the only way I know how.”

  “And that’s to fight?”

  “For something that deserves to be fought for, yes. God can’t take both of them away from us. I won’t let Him.”

  Beside me, the monitors started to beep faster. I saw Alex shoot them a worried look and then, perhaps sensing it was best to just send in Blackwell, he looked at me with a deep well of concern before telling me that he loved me and stepping out of the room.

  When he left, I put my face in my hands and took a breath in an effort to calm my nerves. But it didn’t work. I was too overwhelmed, too upset, too physically drained to calm emotions that were already fried. I wanted to cry again for the loss of our child. I wanted to throw something across the room because, on the island, there really was a part of me that thought our baby might have made it. But right now, there was another part of me that felt like a fool for believing that a fetus so young in its development could have survived that crash. Hope is a powerful elixir, and what do any of us have but hope when everything around us looks so bleak?