Just then there was a knock at the door. Casey glanced at the clock—it was 10 a.m. sharp. The gift had arrived right on time.
She rose to answer, and was greeted by the most elegant crib she had ever seen. That day at the store, she had chosen carefully, making sure that the color was gender neutral and the wood was strong. She also made sure that it would arrive already assembled for effect.
“Who is it?” Sammie called from the couch.
“It’s for you, actually,” she said, a smile creeping across her face as she backed away from the door.
Sammie stood, and turned around. She gasped at the sight, her eyes filling with tears. “Did you buy this?” she asked.
“Merry Christmas, Sammie. I hope you didn’t already have one picked out. If so, or if you don’t like it, we can return it.”
Sammie shook her head. “It’s perfect.” She threw herself into Casey’s arms, tears flowing joyously from her eyes. “Thank you.” A sense of ease flooded through her.
After Sammie had inspected the crib, running her fingers along the smooth wood and commenting repeatedly on its beauty, she informed Casey that it was her turn to open her gifts. She waddled over to the tree, grabbing three gifts and heading over to the couch.
Casey sat beside her as Sammie handed her the first package. She opened the small present that was beautifully wrapped in purple and silver paper. It was a gorgeous picture frame that held a photo of Casey and Sammie in high school. Sammie had one arm thrown over Casey’s shoulder, and they were laughing hysterically.
“Oh my gosh, I haven’t seen this photo in ages.” Casey laughed out loud as she remembered that day. It was the last day of freshman year, and the girls were both so excited to be moving on to their second year of high school. They were walking in the hall when an unknown graduating senior came streaking down the hallway wearing nothing but a giant, yellow chicken head. She didn’t know who had taken the picture, or that a photo still existed at all.
“Did we ever find out who was underneath the chicken head?” Casey asked, feeling suddenly nostalgic.
“No, but he sure had a nice ass,” Sammie said. They both burst out laughing.
When they finally calmed, Casey said, “I haven’t had a laugh like that in a while. Thank you.”
The next gift turned out to be a book on Irish heritage and culture. Casey inspected the emerald color of the binding, and thought of Conor’s eyes. She missed him so badly. “Maybe there is something in here that has a traditional Irish apology?” Casey said, only half joking.
“It doesn’t have to be traditional…It just has to be the truth,” Sammie said.
When Sammie handed Casey the third gift, she held it in her hands. It was larger than the other two. She wasted no time opening what she revealed to be a large photo canvas. The portrait was of her and Conor, his arms wrapped around her, his lips pressed to her forehead. Casey’s eyes were closed, a smile stretched across her face. They looked so happy, so in love.
“Oh Sammie,” Casey said bringing her hand to her face as tears rushed to the corners of her eyes.
“I had already bought it when you guys broke up, and I thought it was just so beautiful. I couldn’t bear not to give it to you. I hope I wasn’t in the wrong,” Sammie said apologetically.
“No, it’s beautiful. I love it,” Casey replied. It was one of the most amazing gifts she had ever received.
“I secretly snapped it the night we all went to dinner with Giovanni. You and Conor just looked so perfect together. I knew that night that he was the one for you.”
“I just miss him so much,” Casey said through silent sobs.
“Then call him, Case. He will forgive you. It’s Christmas, after all.”
Later that evening, Casey lay on the couch watching traditional Christmas movies on TV. The apartment was dark aside from the lights on the tree and the fire that was struggling to keep aflame. Sammie had left a few hours earlier to spend the rest of Christmas with Giovanni. Casey was lonely. Her heart yearned for Conor, especially after the single text he had sent earlier that day. Three simple words, Merry Christmas, love, were all she needed to make her miserable.
Her cell phone taunted her, her fingers stretching to pick it up and dial his number. At one point, she actually did grab her phone, but then the panic set in. How would she start? How would he react? Could she gather her courage to tell him the entire story about Jace murdering her infant son, whose name she still could not bear to say out loud? Casey decided that as much as it hurt, she needed more time to get her head straight. She needed to accept the past before she could move on, but she just was not there yet.
Chapter 36
One month later…
Casey lay on the examination table, her feet nestled comfortably in the stirrups. The doctor, a friendly man in his mid-forties, entered the room to greet her.
“Hello, Ms. Dwyer. My name is Dr. O’Donnell. How are you today?” Casey studied the doctor. His salt-and-pepper hair was nearly to his shoulders, and he had a well-groomed beard to match. He looked to Casey like he belonged on a surfboard, but his smile was friendly and his eyes were kind.
“I am pretty good. How about you?”
“Well, I can’t complain,” he said with a nonchalant attitude. “Another beautiful day in paradise.”
Casey admired his carefree persona. She wished she could be more like that. Over the course of the last month, she had been anything but carefree. When she was not thinking about Conor night and day, she was trying to force herself to accept what happened in her past, which was proving to be nearly impossible. Each day she spent hours racking her brain, trying to piece together an unsolvable puzzle.
“I hear that you were recommended to us by your roommate, Samantha.”
“That’s right,” Casey said. “She told me that you have a way of making people feel comfortable.”
“Ah, that’s just because I’m an old hippie. Though my bedside manner isn’t too professional, it seems to put my patients at ease. There is nothin’ worse than a stiff gynecologist, am I right?” Casey looked at the doctor awkwardly. “Okay, that was a bad joke.” He laughed. “Let’s see what this baby is up to, shall we?”
He squeezed the warm jelly on her stomach and moved around the transducer until a small fetus appeared on the screen. He then turned up the volume on the machine so that Casey could hear the rapid thud-thud-thud of her baby’s heartbeat. Tears filled her eyes as immeasurable love and joy overtook her heart.
“It looks like your baby is about twelve weeks. That puts your conception date around mid-to-late October.” Casey thought back to when she had been with Conor in October. Mid-to-late meant that she probably conceived while they were in Salem. “It looks like your estimated due date is July 17th.”
“Is everything…okay?” Casey asked, praying that the baby looked healthy. Though she had now accepted that she was having another child, she was still worried sick that something would happen to the baby.
“The baby looks healthy as can be. You are on to your second trimester, and I should be able to tell the sex on your next visit, one month from now.”
Casey sighed in relief. That was the best news that she had gotten in a very long time. “Wow, that’s such a breath of fresh air,” Casey said.
“There is one thing that I would like to discuss with you Casey. On the questionnaire you filled out before the appointment, you stated that you had been under a great deal of stress recently. Would you like to talk about that?”
Casey was caught off-guard by the question. It sounded like something that Dr. Roma would say—not a gynecologist. But for some reason, Casey felt comfortable with her new laid-back doctor. After all, if he was going to be the one making sure that her baby was born strong and healthy, he should know about her past.
“Well, I had a child once before. He died.” Casey then proceeded to tell the doctor her story, omitting only a few unnecessary details. She was surprised at how good it felt to say it out loud.
“I am very sorry to hear about that, Casey,” he said when she had finished. “It is important for you to know that this little critter inside your belly is safe and healthy. I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure he or she stays that way, but I need your help keeping your stress level down throughout the entire pregnancy, okay? Do yoga or write…whatever you need to do to remain at ease. Take care, and I’ll see you in a month.” The doctor patted her leg, and she stood to get dressed.
Later that week, Casey stood in her kitchen sipping a cup of hot tea. She had been trying to cut down on the coffee over the last month, which was proving more difficult than she had anticipated. She decided by the second day of limiting herself to two cups that she was truly an addict. It did not help that the baby was sucking the life out of her. She was exhausted.
Casey’s phone went off, and she opened the screen to view the text. I miss you. Conor had been sending her texts daily, pleading with her to speak with him, or assuring her that he loved and missed her. The temptation to respond had not gotten any easier over time. In fact, Casey was starting to have a hard time convincing herself not to, but she knew it was not fair to him to respond unless she planned to divulge her secret, which she still did not think she could do.
She sat down her phone just as Sammie came out of her room. Her stomach was huge now, stretching out even the new maternity clothes that she had bought. She walked slow, clearly aching all over from the weight of the baby.
“Conor texting you still?” she said, sounding minimally interested.
“Every day,” Casey responded.
“When are you going to give that poor man a break? Just put on your big girl panties and tell him about Jace and the baby. He is already aware that you were pregnant once before,” Sammie said, sounding agitated. “Do you think that he is going to like, hate you or something because you married a drunk dumbass that ruined your life until he showed up all knight-in-shining-armor?” At this point in Sammie’s pregnancy, she was becoming more moody by the day. Casey could not blame her for being irritated at the situation. Sammie was surely tired of hearing Casey piss and moan about Conor every day, only to be too chicken-shit to just get the inevitable over with. “It’s exhausting,” Sammie said. Casey agreed.
The two roommates chitchatted for a while before Sammie proclaimed that she had to lie down. She had not been feeling well for a couple of days, and Casey wondered if the baby might come early.
A while later, Casey decided to go out for a bit. She walked through the city, which was still snow-covered and deserted, and then decided to settle her intense craving for pizza.
At Regina’s, her go-to pizza place, she devoured nearly an entire medium pizza for herself. Being pregnant was fun in that way—eating like a pig was encouraged. After her pizza, she decided to go home before the impending heartburn set in.
When she got to the apartment, she opened the door to find Conor sitting next to Sammie on the couch. Casey stopped dead in her tracks and stared at the both of them. The look on Conor’s face was something more than the despair and yearning that she expected to be present, but she could not place the emotion. She looked to Sammie who stood, her eyes filled with guilt, her mouth open but silent. She looked back to Conor. She could now place the look. Pity. He stood and walked toward her.
“Casey, love…I’m sorry for bargin’ in like this. I just missed ya so badly and I needed some answers. I…I am so sorry.” He came close to embrace her, but she backed away, her eyes darting to Sammie.
“You told him?” she asked, a sick feeling forming in the pit of her stomach.
“Casey, he is in love with you. It wasn’t fair that you were dragging him through hell,” she said, obviously thinking that she was justified in her actions.
“That wasn’t your decision to make!” Casey yelled as she struggled to process Sammie’s treachery.
“I didn’t tell him details, Case—just the basics. He deserved to know, and you know it. I couldn’t just sit here anymore while you were depressed when I knew that there was an easy solution.”
“How could you?” Casey saw red as she stormed in the direction of her bedroom.
“Casey, wait. Love, can’t we talk about this?” Conor pleaded.
“There is nothing to talk about. Get out. Both of you.” Casey slammed her door and sunk to the floor, leaning against it. She buried her face in her hands and wept. How could Sammie do that? What gave her the right?
A light knock sounded at the door as Sammie said, “Case, please open the door and talk about this with me. I thought I was helping. I just want you to be happy.”
“After all I have done for you, you waltz in and stab me in the back,” Casey said through angry tears.
“I just wanted to help,” Sammie said with regret in her voice.
“Go the fuck away!” Casey yelled in response. She had not cursed at her friend since Jr. High when they fought about a boy they both liked. She felt instantly ashamed, but she was just so angry. How dare Sammie tell her lover about her past? She had no right.
“Okay, Casey,” Sammie said quietly, hurt residing in the tones of her voice. “Okay.”
For a moment, it was silent. Casey could hear nothing but the blood roaring in her ears. She could not believe what Sammie had done. She felt betrayed, hurt. What’s more, she felt ashamed that she had not been the one to tell Conor.
A few moments later, as the red began to fade from her eyes and she could see an array of colors again, she was surprised to feel a little relieved. Though what Sammie did was wrong, she had paved the way for Casey’s explanation to Conor. Maybe now she could muster the courage to tell him her story. She got to her feet, thinking that her lover might still be in the apartment—she had not heard the front door open or shut.
Before she could open the door, Casey heard Sammie cry out in pain and then a loud thud. The next thing she heard was rapid footsteps, and Conor’s voice.
“Case, get out here! Somethin’ is wrong with Samantha!”
Casey opened the door briskly and ran toward Conor, who was kneeling beside Sammie on the floor. Her eyes were closed, and she was still. Casey knelt beside her.
“Oh God, Sammie. Wake up! Sammie!” she yelled as she shook her friend. Panic set in. “Conor, call 9-1-1,” she said as she felt Sammie’s wrist for a pulse.
Conor stood to retrieve his cell from his pocket and paced as he made the call. “Sammie, please!” she pleaded frantically
Conor ended the call and came back to kneel beside her.
“What is wrong with her?” she asked Conor. “What happened?”
“I haven’t a clue. She was just standin’ there and then she grabbed her stomach, screamed, and collapsed.”
They knelt over Sammie, her hand wrapped tightly in Casey’s. Please wake up, Casey pleaded over and over in her mind. Casey felt like she was going to throw up.
“Why won’t she wake up?” she said shakily, terror taking over her body.
As if Sammie followed the sound of her voice through the darkness, her eyes fluttered open. When she fully returned to consciousness, her hand darted to her stomach. She moaned in pain, her eyes closing tightly, small tears forming in the corners.
“Casey, something is wrong. It hurts. The baby…”
“I know, sweetie, just hang in there. An ambulance is on the way. They will be here in no time. Just hold on to my hand.” Casey hoped that what she was promising was true as Sammie let out another moan, this time louder and nearing a scream.
Within five minutes, Casey could hear the sirens of the ambulance outside. When they entered the apartment with a stretcher, they wasted no time getting the information about what had happened and rushing Sammie downstairs. Casey followed the paramedics, completely unaware that Conor was gripping her hand tightly in his.
When they loaded Sammie into the back of the ambulance, Casey climbed in beside her, grasping for her hand once again as she bellowed in pain. At the seam of her maternity pan
ts, a dark red stain was forming. Fear engulfed Casey. Was Sammie losing the baby?
As they shut the ambulance doors Conor said, “I’ll be followin’ right behind ya.” She nodded, glad that he would be there to comfort them both.
Chapter 37
Once at the hospital, they rushed Sammie to an emergency room immediately, and told Casey to take a seat in the waiting room. She tried to sit, to keep calm. When a cold sweat formed on her brow, and her heart pounded in her chest, she rose to pace the waiting room. What had happened? How long would it take to find out? Was her best friend going to be okay? How would she deal with the loss of the baby? All the questions in her mind just made Casey pace faster.
“Love, why don’t you come and sit down? Ya are goin’ to wear yourself out,” Conor said from a chair nearby.
“I think we should call Giovanni, don’t you? He would want to know that she is in the ER.” More pacing.
“I’ll call him, but ya need to calm down. Take a breath. Samantha is goin’ to be okay.”
“And how exactly do you know that?” She stopped pacing to wait for his reply. When he did not warrant an answer, she went back to pacing, feeling a tinge of guilt for taking it out on him. He had done nothing wrong.
Casey glanced toward the doors to the ER to see Dr. O’Donnell walking swiftly toward her. She stopped pacing.
“Casey, how are you? Nice to see you again.” Casey glanced at Conor, who flashed her a strange look, most likely questioning how she knew the doc.
“I am okay, I guess. What is going on with Sammie?” Casey had no time for O’Donnell’s laid-back attitude today—not when her best friend in the entire world was bleeding, and crying out in pain.
“Right now, they are prepping her for surgery. Sammie had a placental abruption, which means that the placenta separated from the uterine lining. In this type of situation, the separation usually interferes with the oxygen getting to the baby, depending on the severity. In Sammie’s case, the separation is moderately severe, so we are going to do an emergency Cesarean.”
The Art of Moving On (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 23