Playing for Keeps

by Shiloh Walker

  Jake had sat beside her while Joe told her she could call any time she needed, then he’d patted her on the shoulder and sent her on home. Jake had taken the time to drive her home, but he hadn’t been able to stay so she had spent most of the afternoon on the couch and trying not to think.

  Not thinking wasn’t working as well, now. Not with the fever, headache and body aches that were just now making themselves known. “No reason to call him…” Her voice trailed off and she blew out a breath. “Shit. Yeah, there is. I wasn’t showing any symptoms until just now, but still, just to be safe we need to let them know.”

  “That wasn’t why I was asking,” Jake said quietly.

  Dana shook her head. “I know. But still—I have to think about it.” She squinted, tried to think back over the patients she’d seen since Tuesday. Daisy had been in most of the afternoon and Dana’s schedule had been pretty much bare, so she had ended up taking care of the girl and keeping her occupied. For several hours. Right when the poor kid had been in the contagious stage of the virus.

  Wednesdays were her off day.

  Thursday, she’d spent the morning going back and forth between a delivery and her own patients, and fortunately, the only mom in the first trimester had cancelled her appointment. The new baby should be okay—most likely protected by mom’s immune system. All but a few people ended up contracting Fifth’s Disease as a child, hopefully this mother would be one of them.

  Still, they’d notify the baby’s pediatrician. Friday, she’d seen five patients in the morning—three in their second trimester, one in the third—well into the safe zone. The fifth patient had been a mom who’d miscarried two weeks earlier.

  In a weird enough way, things had gone well on that front.

  Just not for her.

  Blowing out a ragged breath, she said, “None of my patients should have anything to worry about—that’s good news, right?”

  Jake wrapped his arms around her, easing her head down until it rested on his shoulder. “You want me to do anything?”

  “Just hold me, okay?”

  There was nothing he could do to ease the fear and pain swamping her—but with his arms around her, she knew she wasn’t dealing with it alone.

  The rash was all over her when she woke up before dawn Monday morning. She’d woken with the urgent need to pee. After tending to that, she paused at the sink to wash her hands and a weird sensation along her arms had made her turn on the bathroom light.

  Tears rolled down her cheeks in silence as she stared at her arms, stared at the lacy look of the rash and gulped, tried to breathe past the knot forming in her throat. Shuffling to the door, she leaned against the door jam, staring at Jake’s sleeping form.

  She opened her mouth to call him, but just a bare whisper escaped her lips. It was enough, though. He came awake immediately, rolling out of bed and padding across the floor to her. Hair rumpled, eyes squinting at the bright light, he stared at her.

  Wordlessly, she held out her arms.

  He lowered his gaze and stared, reached out and traced a finger down her forearm. His mouth spasmed as he closed the distance between them and wrapped her in his arms. “Dana…”

  The sobs building inside her chest broke free and she collapsed against him, crying.

  Chapter Six

  Three weeks later

  It had been seven days since she’d last had an ultrasound.

  Last week, she’d lay on the table while one of the techs performed the test and she’d watched, smiling as the baby bounced around inside her.

  Today was an “official” check and Jake was at her side. That morning, she’d been laying in the bed when she felt the baby move for the first time. Quick—hard. Both of them had felt it, and they’d lain together and smiled.

  But there wouldn’t be any more smiles today.

  She knew the moment the image cleared on the screen that something was wrong. Joe Castillo closed his eyes and then moved the probe away before turning to face her.

  Next to her, Jake was silent, but she knew he’d seen it, too. He scooted the chair closer to the bed and leaned in, pressed his lips to her brow.

  “There’s no heartbeat,” she said, her voice flat, emotionless. Inside, she was all but screaming with the pain, dying from it.

  Her baby was dead—their baby was dead.

  “I’m sorry, Dana,” Joe said softly.

  She nodded, licked her lips. Sorry—something bitter and ugly formed inside her, but she bit it back.

  He left in silence after handing her a paper towel to clean the gel from her tummy. The door closed behind him and she just lay there, unable to move, unable to do anything about the cold gel congealing on her belly. She couldn’t move—if she moved, she’d shatter into a thousand pieces. Jake took the paper towel and with a hand that shook, cleaned the gel away.

  “Dana.”

  She turned her head and stared at him. She wanted to cry. She needed to. But her eyes were painfully dry. “The baby’s dead.”

  “God, Dana…”

  She rolled towards him and wrapped her arms around him.

  “I feel empty.”

  Jake could sympathize, although he knew that wasn’t exactly something Dana needed to hear just then. She stood in front of the mirror, still wearing the loose sweats she’d worn home from the hospital, her hand resting on her belly.

  Only a few hours after the ultrasound, nature had taken course and Dana had gone into labor. After six miserable hours in an uncomfortable hospital bed, she’d given birth to their baby, but there was no joy in the moment.

  Still in her first trimester, the virus Dana had caught a month earlier had killed their child. That one, harsh, abrupt movement they’d felt from the baby the morning of the ultrasound had been the one and only time they’d feel the little one move.

  Moving up to stand behind her, he wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder. She lifted her hands, gripping his arms but continued to stare into the mirror. “Do you think it was a boy or a girl?”

  “Dana…”

  “I think it was a girl. Joe will let me know for certain when…when I go in for the follow up. I want to know for sure, so we can name her.”

  Name her—his heart twisted inside him and he wasn’t entirely certain he’d be able to speak past the pain choking him. But he managed. He had to—had to be strong right now, for her. She was close to buckling under the pain, he could feel it. Even as she tried to act normal, he could see the pain. It shone in her over-bright eyes, in the way she couldn’t sit still for long or focus on any one thing.

  A name…dear God, a name. He didn’t want to think about that.

  Part of him understood—even now, the medical professional in his head was calmly droning on about closure, a need to grieve. But the bigger part of him was still in shock, still trying to adjust and he couldn’t even wrap his mind around the thought of giving a name to a baby he would never get the chance to know.

  “What do you want to name her?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

  Dana shrugged and sighed. “I don’t know…we hadn’t really gotten around to thinking about it, had we?”

  She hadn’t cried. He kept waiting for it to happen and every so often he had to blink back the tears that crept up on him. But Dana hadn’t cried, and he knew she was fighting it. In his gut, he knew she need to, needed to let herself grieve, but he didn’t know how to handle it. Did he push her? Give her space?

  Time—everybody always yammers on about time. He cleared his throat, carefully easing away until a few inches separated them. Smoothing his hands down her arms, he asked, “Do you feel like some lunch? Taking a nap?”

  She started to shrug, then stopped. “A nap. Yeah, I think I want a nap.”

  “Want me to lay down with you?” He made the offer, even though what he really wanted to do, what he needed, was to lay down with her and hold her.

  Grieve. Fuck, he needed it.

  But obviously, she didn’t. She steppe
d away, giving him an absent, rather empty smile. “No. I just want to be alone for a while.”

  “No. I just want to be alone for a while,” Dana said into the mouthpiece.

  Cissy had called, offered to come by, every day for the past week.

  But Dana didn’t want company.

  Hell, she wasn’t entirely certain she wanted Jake here, but she wasn’t going to tell him that.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw him come into the room, and then stop as he caught sight of her. She acted like she didn’t see him—hated herself for it. Hated herself for not being able to move past the apathy swamping her. Hated herself for hurting him.

  “Yeah, if I need anything, I’ll call.”

  Cissy snorted. “No, you won’t.” Then her voice softened. “Dana…honey, I’m worried about you.”

  She shrugged, although Cissy wasn’t there to see it. “Don’t be. I’m doing okay.”

  “No. You’re not. You’re hiding.” She blew out a breath and then said, “Call me when you’re ready to talk.”

  They disconnected and as Dana hung up, she knew she wouldn’t be calling Cissy any time soon. She didn’t need to talk—there was nothing to talk about.

  She’d been pregnant.

  Now she wasn’t.

  She had been planning to be a mom.

  Now she wasn’t.

  She’d been happy—

  Don’t go there. She spun away from the phone as though she could evade her thoughts, but what she ended up doing was plowing straight into Jake. He reached up to steady her, and automatically, she sidestepped. Then she wanted to kick herself as something dark and hurt flashed through his eyes.

  The lines of his face smoothed almost immediately and a shutter fell over his eyes. “Was that Cissy?”

  Dana nodded. “Yeah. Just wanted to say hi.”

  He nodded back.

  Broken, Jake realized, staring at her.

  They were broken. They used to be able to talk for hours, even before they’d gotten involved like this again—they’d been best friends. They’d shared everything—was it unrealistic of him to think they could share this, too? It had been his baby…

  “I ran into Joe today,” he said. Feeling awkward, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “He said you’d come by.”

  As she started to brush past him, Dana gave him that blank, vague smile. The same smile she’d given everybody over the past three weeks. “Yes. I’m going back to work Monday—”

  He reached out and caught her arm. She stilled—same damn thing she’d done every time he touched her. Ever since…ever since that day. Ever since she’d blocked him out, locked him out. But he didn’t let go.

  He’d tried giving her time, but it wasn’t helping.

  He’d tried giving her space, but it wasn’t helping.

  Her going back to work this soon? Not going to help.

  “You sure that’s a good idea?”

  She blinked, giving him a puzzled look. “I have to go back to work at some point, Jake. I still have a house payment to make every month. Groceries. Bills.”

  “I can help with that.” He made no mention of the fact that just a few weeks ago they’d been planning on him moving in. The one time he’d mentioned it since they lost the baby, she’d retreated even farther away. “Take a few more weeks.”

  Dana just shook her head. “There’s no reason—”

  “Don’t. Don’t give me that,” he snapped. “Damn it, I know what you do in your job. You’re going to be seeing women with what you just…no, what we just lost. Every time a new baby has come into the office over the past two weeks, it’s taken everything I have just to get through the damn visit. And you want to tell me you can handle it?”

  Cocking a brow, she said, “That’s my job.”

  But her voice shook—just a little.

  He didn’t know why, but he pushed it. “And when you go through the first delivery next week? When you hold some woman’s baby in your hands, hear her cry, are you going to handle that…because it’s your job?”

  “What else am I supposed to do, damn it?” Dana snapped. Her voice cracked and for the first time in weeks, he saw a glitter of emotion there.

  Something…

  “You’re supposed to let yourself grieve.” He closed the distance between them and when she would have evaded him, he wouldn’t let her. Wrapping an arm around her narrow waist, he pulled her against him and fisted his free hand in her hair, forcing her to look at him. “Grieve…cry, damn it. Stop shutting yourself off and just let yourself feel. Let me…let me help.”

  She snarled at him. “Help? How in the hell you gonna help me, Dr. Mac? Can you give me my baby back? Can you make it all better with a pink Band-Aid and a couple of stickers?” She struggled against him.

  Unwilling to hurt her, or let her hurt herself, he let go and stepped back.

  He was bleeding inside. A huge, gaping wound inside his heart was seeping something black, acrid and bitter through his veins. In a ragged voice, he whispered, “She was my baby, too, Dana.”

  Then, without saying another word, he grabbed his keys from the coffee table and left.

  He didn’t look back.

  He couldn’t. He could barely see to walk as he headed over to his house, one foot in front of the other. One step, two, five, ten…finally, he hit the driveway, but he didn’t head towards the house. Instead, he went to his car and climbed in. He didn’t close the door right away, and he didn’t start the car.

  He waited, the hot, oppressive heat of the Kentucky summer wrapping around him, a suffocating blanket that did nothing to dispel the chill inside.

  He waited and willed away the tears burning in his eyes.

  Once he could see clearly, he slammed the door and started the car.

  As he pulled out of the driveway, he could see Dana from the corner of his eye, standing on her porch and staring across the street at him.

  But he didn’t slow down.

  He didn’t look back.

  Breathe.

  She just had to breathe.

  Breathe past the knot forming in her chest, breathe past the pain that kept trying to tear free inside her.

  She could do it.

  She’d been tamping that pain down for three weeks now, she could keep on doing it.

  Grieve—I want you to grieve.

  Let me help.

  She flinched as she heard her own words, How in the hell you gonna help me, Dr. Mac?

  The stark, naked pain in his eyes, raw in his voice as he said, She was my baby, too.

  “I know that,” she whispered, shying away from the memory.

  She still stood on the porch, staring woodenly at his house.

  His house—where he’d been spending more and more time as she pushed him farther and farther away.

  She just needed time.

  She was entitled to take some time, right?

  How in the hell you gonna help me, Dr. Mac?

  The derisive scorn in her voice, even as she’d said it, appalled her. “Why did I do that?”

  Closer—it crept closer…closer…breathing down her neck, threatening to burn her, to consume her. She shoved it back. “Breathe. Breathe. Don’t think…don’t think…”

  It had become her mantra for the past three weeks.

  Don’t think about the baby.

  Don’t think about what you lost.

  But now she had to add something new to it.

  Don’t think about Jake.

  She couldn’t.

  Not yet.

  She just wasn’t ready.

  Chapter Seven

  “You sure you’re ready for this?”

  Dana forced a smile at Joe as she stood in the break room and sipped piping hot, caffeine-laden coffee from an oversized mug. “It’s been three weeks, Joe. I’m fine.”

  “Three weeks?” He shook his head and smoothed a hand through dark hair. “Dana, three weeks, you and me both know that’s nothing.”

  He heaved
out a sigh and then shoved off the counter opposite her. He closed the door behind him and then turned to look at her, crossing his arms over his chest. “I never told you that my wife and I lost our first child.”

  Dana stiffened.

  She didn’t want to hear this.

  Shaking her head, she said, “Joe, don’t—”

  A sad smile curled his lips and he shook his head. “Don’t. You don’t want to hear this…you already know this. You know how common miscarriages are, that a quarter or more of all pregnancies end in the death of the baby. Yeah, you’re a nurse, a trained midwife, and you know all these facts, because you’ve had to share them with others who’ve been where you are. They didn’t want to hear it, but you told them, because often they need to hear it. Now it’s your turn. Dana, it’s too soon.”

  “I’m fine,” she snapped, her voice harsh. Brittle.

  “No. You’re not. I went back to work three days after Maria miscarried—three days. I told myself I had to. I had to get back to work, get back on with life, and yeah, I couldn’t just stop working. But I should have taken more time. That first baby I held after losing mine, it was like a knife cutting me up inside. But I told myself I had to. Had to do my job, because that was how life got back to normal, by living it. So I kept working. A week later, I’d delivered six babies—then I went home and had a fight with my wife that almost cost me my marriage. I had a fight with her, because it was easier to fight than face the pain.”

  Easier to fight than face the pain… She closed her eyes and in her mind, she saw Jake.

  How you gonna help me, Dr. Mac?

  Swallowing, she shook her head. “I know what I’m doing, Joe.”

  “Yeah, I thought so, too.” He gave her a humorless smile. “I almost lost my wife. I almost walked away from a career I love. And I was pretty damn sure I knew what I was doing, too.” He opened the door to leave, but before he did, he paused once more and looked back at her. “You have to face the pain, Dana. I’m not telling you this as your doctor, or even as any doctor. I’m not even telling you this as somebody who also lost a baby—as much as I loved the little boy, I didn’t spent five months carrying him around inside me, waiting for the first time he’d kick, worrying about whether I was taking good enough care of myself—and therefore him. I might be a doctor, but I’m a guy and I can imagine this hurts a woman on a deeper level than it does a guy. And trust me, it hurts a guy a whole hell of a lot. But you have to face that pain. I’m telling you this as a friend, Dana. I don’t want you doing something that’s going to tear you apart any more than you already are.”