by Melissa Huie
I spent the rest of the weekend and the following week hanging around the house. I cut the grass in the backyard and plucked out the weeds that were invading my front garden. I stayed away from the news shows and only took calls from Jen or my mom. I didn’t want to talk to anyone else or have to answer the inane question of “how are you coping?” I coped by working. Working in my house, working in the garden, catching up on all the work I had missed at the office the previous week. I stayed busy. Uncle Bob understood and didn’t object when I called in. The busier I was, the less I dwelled on the heartbreak that was crushing my chest.
I did end up getting a lot accomplished. Everything was cleaned, straightened, or thrown out. I reorganized my pantry. I went through my closet and took out everything I had no intention of wearing again. I went shopping for new curtains. Eventually, I ran out of things to do. I couldn’t avoid the real world any longer. It was time to pull on my big girl undies and be an adult.
* * *
After a week of hiding from my everyday life, I went back to my normal routine, the routine I had before Shane came into my life. On Monday I woke up at my normal time and blasted the music while I was in the shower. I dressed in a brown and white polka-dotted wrap dress, a pair of kitten heels, and added some color with a topaz necklace. I looked normal on the outside, even though I felt sick as a dog on the inside.
I walked into the office as if nothing was wrong. I smiled at the paralegals and interns, and brought my computer up as the coffee was being made. I was pouring myself another cup when Uncle Bob coughed behind me.
“Megan, I wasn’t sure if you would be in today. How are you doing?” he asked gently. A lump formed in my throat and I swallowed before answering.
“Just fine, Uncle Bob,” I replied. The cheerfulness in my voice was fake and Uncle Bob knew it.
“I’m meeting Shane today. Is there anything you’d like me to tell him?” Uncle Bob asked, putting a hand on my shoulder.
“Nope. I have nothing to say to that lying jerk. In fact, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell me anything about the trial. It’s bad enough that it will be dominating the news. But honestly, I don’t care anymore,” I answered, lifting my head to show him the steely gaze in my eyes. I told myself the same thing—that I didn’t care. I was done worrying about him, regardless that my heart was dying for any shred of information, which I knew Uncle Bob had. I knew that I shouldn’t hang on to anything related to Shane. It would kill me to know any more. I didn’t want to know if he was still thinking about me, if he was doing okay in jail. I had to go on. Like it never happened.
Uncle Bob accepted my resolute answer and gave me a quick peck on the cheek. “I understand. I hope I see you next week for the barbecue.” Every year my aunt and uncle went all out for their annual barbecue. Colleagues, family, and friends all got together at my uncle’s house on the Chesapeake Bay. There were games and a moon bounce for the kids, swimming in the bay, and face painters.
I nodded. “We’ll be there. I’m sure Mom is already making trays of brownies and cookies.” He gave my hand a squeeze and headed out the door, his briefcase in hand.
The rest of the day wore on slowly. No one really talked to me and I was grateful, but at the same time, their glances of pity and hushed whispers had really started to grate on my nerves. It took a while before I got through my inbox. I had barely made a dent in my workload. Uncle Bob was back from seeing Shane, and it took all I had to keep from asking any questions. He understood though, and told me to go home. I was in no shape to be at work.
* * *
I finally walked out of the office at six thirty, knowing that I really should have gone home earlier. My eyes felt like they had a mind of their own and I struggled to keep them open. I had a horrible headache and an upset stomach. I was able to keep the vomiting down to a minimum, but anytime I even glanced at a piece of food, my stomach churned. I must be coming down with a bug. I made my way to the car, not paying any attention to the beautiful afternoon. I just wanted to go home and sleep. I was fumbling with my keys when I felt a hard stab to my head and a low voice. “Do not scream. Turn around now, you stupid bitch.”
My heart raced and my hands started shaking. I slowly turned around. He was dressed in all black with a black mask over his face, showing nothing but a menacing tattoo under his dark eyes. I had never seen him before but the threat in his voice was all it took to make me comply. I didn’t want to show that I was afraid, but I couldn’t stop quaking. I stared at the man who held a pistol to my head. “Here. Here’s my purse and my keys. Take them,” I stuttered. I winced when I heard the fear in my voice.
He took his free hand and gave me a hard shove against my car. My head hit the roof and I bit my lip to keep from crying out in pain. I didn’t want him to hear how terrified I was. He threw my purse and keys to the ground. I could hear my phone clatter and break.
“I don’t want your fucking purse, bitch. I want Shane. Where the fuck is Shane?” he growled.
“Shane was arrested last week. I don’t know where he is,” I said desperately. I held out my hands in surrender. Panic and adrenaline were rapidly coursing through my veins. I tried desperately to remember the self-defense techniques that my brother taught me, but I was helpless.
“Shane was arrested but he was released on bail. Where the fuck is he?” the stranger demanded, pressing the gun to my temple. I didn’t even consider what he said, that Shane had been released. Apparently, I didn’t answer quickly enough; he wheeled back and sent the butt of the gun flying across my face. I fell to the side, pain screaming down my jaw.
“I don’t know where he is!” I cried, holding my face. Tears stung my eyes as I tried to hold it together. He grabbed me up and shoved me against the car again. His hand closed around my throat as he held me there. I struggled against him, smacking at his hands and kicking his shins, desperate to get free. I was terrified at what might come next. I grappled against his bulky jacket. I scratched and clawed at his hands, frantically trying to free myself. My vision started getting cloudy and I was struggling to breathe. I could see black dots and I frantically tried to do anything I could.
“Wrong answer. We’ve been to your house. His shit is gone. I know he’s been there.” He threw me back down. I was wheezing for air, trying to breathe, when the first kick came, right against my side. I screamed, I felt such heat and burning in my side. The second kick was harder. The sharp pain took away what little breath I had.
“I don’t . . . know . . . where he is,” I struggled to say. “Please,” I begged helplessly. I grasped for anything I could throw: rocks, keys, anything. I could see the jagged edge of my phone and I scrambled toward it. The monster saw what I was doing and pulled me back.
“No. You won’t be calling anyone but Shane. Give him a message. We’re looking for him and this is the least of what we’re going to do,” he threatened as he pulled back his fist. I braced for the impact and held up my hands in a weak shield, but I was unable to stop the crack of my cheek as he put his entire weight behind the punch. I could feel myself falling to the ground. I closed my eyes, waiting for more.
Chapter 21
I SLOWLY OPENED MY EYES, my vision blurred. My heart raced and I tried to look around, to see where my attacker was. Thankfully, he was gone. I pushed myself up with trembling arms. It was so painful to breathe and I couldn’t see out of my right eye. My entire face felt like it was on fire. I made my way slowly back to the office. It was late, but I knew that Uncle Bob was still in the building. He was always the first one in and the last to leave. I got to the front door just as he was walking out. The horrified look that came across his face gave me an inkling of how bad I really looked. “Uncle Bob,” I said weakly. I didn’t want to cry, but I couldn’t help it. The pain was too much. Sobs broke through as he rushed over to me.
“Jesus Christ! What the hell happened? Get inside right now.” He helped me into the office and locked the door behind us. He sat me down in the reception area a
nd rushed to get an ice pack from the fridge. I cautiously held the pack to my face, wincing at the sting of the cold. I managed to relay the attacker’s message. The furious look on Uncle Bob’s face shocked me. His face turned purple and the veins in his head bulged and pulsated. He ran to the phone and dialed 911. I didn’t want to ride in an ambulance. I could have had someone pick me up, but he ignored my protests. He stayed by my side, going through the horrific episode with me again, trying to pull together as many details as he could.
Ten minutes later there was a sharp rap at the door. Uncle Bob rushed over to let in the EMTs and police. Luckily, we were in another jurisdiction so my brother wasn’t there. I’m sure he’ll find out sooner or later. I answered the police questions as best I could. I described the creep’s tattoo. I didn’t remember seeing a vehicle so I was no help there. As I was answering their questions and being lifted onto the stretcher, I heard my uncle’s furious tone. He was yelling at someone and even though his office door was closed, I could clearly hear him.
“Dammit. You said she would be protected! That is the main reason why I agreed to this. You said you would protect her! Where was her protection detail? Why didn’t anyone see anything? I demand answers! So help me God, if anything more happens to her, I’m pulling my support from this case. Do you hear me?”
Who the heck was he talking to? What was he talking about? What protection? I was so confused. My head was pounding, my body was crying in pain. I couldn’t move my arm anymore and it tortured me when the EMTs strapped me onto the gurney. I could hear Bob moving behind me, calling out, “I’ll be right behind you, Meg! I’m going to call your mom.”
Good lord. Not my mom. First, Kyle was shot, now I was banged up. She didn’t need this. Guilt and dread kept me occupied while I was in the ambulance. The medics worked over me, checking my vitals and examining the bruises on my face. They asked me inane questions, like What is your name? and What day is it? I understood that they had to follow protocol, but I didn’t want to talk to them. I just wanted to close my eyes and forget what happened.
* * *
Once we arrived at the hospital, they wheeled me into the ER and I heard my mother’s voice in the waiting room. “That’s her! That’s my daughter. Please let me go back there!”
I glanced wearily at the nurse who was checking my chart. “If you don’t let her back here, she’s going to tear this place apart,” I warned, only half joking. Mom is a force to be reckoned with when it comes to her kids. As the nurse retook my vitals, she smiled and said, “I understand, but I want the doctor to take a look at you first. We’ll let her come over in a minute.”
An older doctor came around the curtain and asked me the same questions the EMTs did. His hands were freezing and shaking, but his eyes were sharp. He examined my face and side. His fingers were light to the touch, which was needed. The pain was excruciating. The nurse hooked me up to an IV. I took a quick peek and saw that my ribcage was already turning colors.
The doctor noticed my glance. “It looks like your ribs may be fractured. We’re going to take an X-ray just to be sure. Your jaw line is severely bruised, and it looks like your cheekbone is bruised as well, but nothing looks broken. I’m going to send in an ophthalmologist to check your vision after the CT scan. I also want get some bloodwork done so I can see if you’re anemic.”
After he gave the nurse the orders, he turned around and walked out. Apparently, his bedside manners were in need of a booster shot. The nurse began asking me questions and I answered automatically, but she stopped me in my tracks when she asked when my last period was. I thought back. I knew it was before Eric’s bonfire. Had there been one after that? I answered her as truthfully as I could.
“Could you be pregnant?” she asked, her eyes darting down to my ring finger.
“No. It’s just stress. I’ve been dealing with a lot of crap,” I muttered. I could feel the blush creeping up. My sex life wasn’t the issue here. My ribs were killing me and my face looked like I had been whacked with a hammer. Luckily, I started to feel numb thanks to the nifty little painkiller button they had installed next to me.
“I’m letting your mother in for just a quick second. We need to get going to radiology,” the nurse quipped, pulling back the curtain and gesturing to my mom. She rushed over to me and I could feel my eyes welling up with tears. I could see the anguish in her eyes.
“Oh, Megs. You poor thing. I told you not to wear those heels,” my mom gently chastised, sniffling through her smile. What the hell is she talking about? I looked at her, confused, until Uncle Bob came up behind her.
“Megs, I’m sorry. I had to tell your mom. We are quite concerned, especially with you hitting your face on the sink.” His voice was gentle, but the look on his face was anything but. His eyes were urging and he nodded slightly. I took a deep breath. He was right. Keeping the truth from my mom was probably the best thing to do.
“Yeah, I know Mom. You know how gravity and I don’t get along. Add a pair of heels to the equation and you have a recipe for disaster,” I replied. Thankfully, the nurse hustled in at that exact moment and ended the conversation.
“She’ll be back in an hour or so. Why don’t you take a seat in the waiting room?” The nurse ushered my mom out of the way so that the orderly could wheel me down the hall. Mom squeezed my hand and kissed my cheek before she let go. I felt so bad for lying but the truth would be too much.
I got through the CT scan and the X-ray without too much poking and prodding. Five hours later, I was back in my little curtain-enclosed room with my mother hovering. The doctor came in and barely acknowledged her. “Amazingly, young lady, you’re not as bad off as you look. Your ribs are severely bruised but not enough to be seriously worried. Your lung function is fine. Your cheekbone is also pretty bruised but not broken. Your jaw will be sore, but nothing is shattered. It will hurt to chew, so I’m recommending a soft diet. When you sneeze, hold a pillow to your chest. I want you to stay home and rest for the next week. You’ll be in pain. I’m writing you a pain prescription, a medication that’s safe to take during pregnancy, ready to be filled. This IV drip is fine for now and will not hurt the fetus. If at any point you feel worse, get dizzy, or have weakness in your legs, please let me know as soon as possible. If it becomes hard to breathe, contact emergency services immediately. I’ve signed the discharge papers so the nurse will come and get you shortly,” he said curtly and started to walk around the curtain. As an afterthought, he paused. “Do you have any questions?”
My mind was in a haze. He must have put me on some good drugs because I hadn’t heard a single thing after he mentioned the word fetus. Fetus? Did that mean I was pregnant? No. No way. Huh? I shook my head, then instantly regretted it when I yelped in pain.
“Um . . . Wait. What? Did you say fetus?” I asked. I glanced at my mom, who was staring at the doctor like he had grown a second head. Bewildered and disoriented, I slowly turned back to the doctor. “There has to be a mistake.”
I must have been messing up his late-night dinner plans because the doctor sighed with exasperation. “Yes. You’re pregnant. About six weeks along. You’ll need to make an appointment with your OB/GYN. Prenatal vitamins can be picked up at the pharmacy along with your prescription. The nurse will be in shortly.” With that, the curmudgeon of a doctor turned on his heels and walked away.
Dumbfounded. I was absolutely dumbfounded. I was pregnant. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I had been on the pill, but then there were those couple days when I had forgotten to take it. Oh, crap. I remembered my mother was sitting next to me, and I slowly turned and checked her reaction. She was just as stunned as I was.
“Momma?” I ventured. “Mom? Are you okay?”
She shook her head. “Did he just say what I think he said?”
I shrugged. “I think he said I was pregnant.” I couldn’t say any more than that. I was speechless. Thoughts flew through my head in a drug-filled haze. Me? A mom? How in the hell was I going to make this work
? I wasn’t married. I wasn’t with Shane anymore. Was I really going to end up a single mother? I rubbed my eyes with my hand, grimacing as the slight movement hurt.
“Well. Let’s not think about this now. We’ll get you home and into bed. I have Penny at my place already,” Mom said briskly, gathering up my things. “Sarah brought over some clothes for you. She stopped by while you were getting X-rayed. She had a bridal dress fitting or she would have stayed. I’m going to run and get the car while the nurse discharges you. I’ll be right back.” She hurried out of the room. The wedding was in October, and Sarah had already picked out form-fitting dresses for her bridesmaids to wear. I’m not going to fit in my dress! I momentarily panicked, then gave myself a mental slap. Really? Why was I freaking out about this now? I needed to think straight and worry about what was happening, not about fitting into some dress.
I felt flustered, only this time I knew it wasn’t the drugs. I lay back onto the pillows and tried to rationalize my way through what I’d just been told. This was the twenty-first century. A woman had options. But no options came to mind when I pictured Shane’s baby, a baby boy with his mischievous grin and hazel eyes; my father’s dimples.
Shane. A stark realization hit me. Shane didn’t know. How could I get a hold of him to let him know? He had left his cell phone at the house and, from my understanding, hadn’t touched base with anyone. He would make an excellent father. I could just imagine the conversation. “Oh, I know you lied to my family and me. You shot my brother and dealt drugs. I also heard that you bailed yourself out of jail and didn’t even bother to let me know. By the way, I’m having your baby.” No. That wasn’t going to happen. My baby deserved better than that. My head felt so heavy and confused; thoughts kept bashing into each other. It was too much to think about.
The nurse came bustling in at that moment and I was grateful for her interruption. “Now, Megan, here’s your prescription for your pain reliever. Take it twice a day for the next couple of days. Then you’ll decrease it over time. Make sure you follow up with your primary physician and your OB. You should refrain from driving for the next week and lifting anything heavy for the next six weeks. Here you go, just sign here,” she said with a perky smile. I dutifully signed the release forms and she helped me stand up. “I believe your mom is on her way back in. I can help you get dressed if you want.”