“I’m not sick, Eric.” I do my best to encourage him. Anything I can do to rekindle his faith. “I don’t have cancer. I’m not dying.”
“But if we get to the point where it comes to risking your life to save the baby’s, I won’t go through that again. Do you hear me?” he demands as his eyes pierce through me with such sadness. “We’ll end the pregnancy, and we’ll try again another time.”
“I promised you that you would never have to be alone again,” I say shakily. “And I’m not leaving you. No matter what.”
I feel my tears mixing with his as I pull his lips onto mine. It’s a heady kiss full of trepidation and angst and frustration. He breaks away first, choking back a sob as he releases me.
“I know it probably sounds heartless and selfish after the lengths Cassidy went to,” he continues, trying to keep his tears in check in order to say what he has to say. “But it’d be like sacrificing my life as well. I barely made it through something like this once. Please don’t ask me to do it again.”
“Eric—” I groan, not knowing what to say.
“If we find out there is a tear in the placenta this early in the pregnancy and there’s nothing that can be done, then all we have is a waiting game, hoping it doesn’t rupture until we reach twenty-two weeks.” He reaches for my arm, urging me to look at him. “If that’s the case, we’re terminating the pregnancy, and I don’t think anyone would blame us.”
“Of course not,” I mutter, my voice hoarse. “But Eric, when it comes down to it, I don’t think I have it in me to abort this baby. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”
“But you’d have me live without you?” The raw anger in his voice fills the room.
“Let’s not cross any bridges before we get to them, okay?” I try to soothe him and defuse his anxiety.
“Ivy, you can’t pretend like this isn’t happening. I’m not going to play the ‘what if’ game with you. Because it’s not a game. It’s a situation with dire consequences, and I’m not losing you. I’m not!” he exclaims, sweeping back his arm and knocking a box of tissues off the bedside table.
“Is everything all right in here?” a nurse asks, knocking before opening the door.
“Yes,” I somehow manage to respond.
“Because I heard some yelling in here and Dr. P. told me that no one was to get you agitated,” she says, glaring at Eric.
“That’s fine because I was just leaving,” Eric remarks snidely, brushing past her.
“Eric, where are you going? They’re going to be discharging me soon,” I protest, leaning back on my elbows.
“I need some air. I won’t be long.” He gazes at me defiantly. “Besides, I don’t think it’s good for me to be around you right now.”
The nurse clucks her tongue, watching him depart.
“Well, if you need anything, sweetie, hit the call button. I’m just waiting on the pharmacy to fill that progesterone prescription that Dr. P. ordered for you. Then we’ll get the ball rolling on your release so you can go home and rest.” She walks over to help fluff up my pillows. “And don’t worry about your man. Guys are terrible when it comes to dealing with emotional situations. They all run off like scared chickens. Let him go outside and mutter to himself for a while. He’ll be better when he comes back in, I promise. I see it every day.”
“He’s kind of a special case,” I admit, not wanting to go into too much detail.
“I know who he is. I know his story,” she says, propping her hands on her hips. “Sure, he’s excited, but he doesn’t have to get you all worked up. And my main concern is you, not him. Like I said, he’ll be fine. Ever since I saw him on the news, I’ve been praying for him.”
“You have?” I ask in bewilderment. “Why?”
“Because I’m a firm believer in the power of prayer,” she states matter-of-factly. “God has a reason behind everything whether we’re able to see it or not. I don’t think anything bad is going to happen to you or that baby.”
“How can you be so sure?” I admire her confidence, but there’s a fine line between being realistically positive and simply delusional.
“What he went through with that girl wasn’t for nothing,” she says, smoothing her mocha-colored hand over my forehead. “What he learned in his time of trouble was earned at the expense of a crippling loss. And honey child, God just ain’t that cruel. That wisdom he gained about life and about himself is gonna carry the two of you through this.”
“That’s a nice way of looking at things,” I answer, not quite sure how to respond to her heartfelt proclamation.
“Nice? Divine inspiration is more like it.” She smiles, the warmth of her laughter filling the broken place in my heart. “Listen to Nurse Wanda now. I know what I’m talking about. I’ve seen a lot of joy and a lot of heartache after working in this hospital for forty years. God only gives you what you can handle, although I don’t know why he keeps on putting that man of yours to the test.”
“Or past the breaking point,” I mumble, wishing I could get out of this bed and comfort him.
“Nah, darlin.’ Not that far. He has you now. He’ll never go down that road again,” Wanda assures me, tucking me back under the covers, just like Eric had done.
“But what if something happens—” I don’t even want to think about it.
“If, if, if—nothing but if with you and him,” she chides, patting me on the head. “God has a plan for each and every one of us. Cling to that and don’t let go. No more ifs. He will guide you through any storm. He will not leave you unprotected.”
“Thank you, Wanda,” I say, smiling up at her. I’m not religious by any means, but her words are definitely giving me something to think about.
“Where’s your mother, child? You’re nothing but a babe yourself. Why ain’t she here, holding your hand?” Wanda glances down at me in concern.
I want to say, “None of your damn business.” But I don’t. From anyone else, it would feel like prying, but I can tell, for whatever reason, Wanda truly cares. She’s not just being nosy.
“Because she’s probably drunk,” I say without emotion. “I moved out when I went away to college, and I never really went back. I worked most summers and stayed in the dorm while everyone else went home. She’s never really been there for me, you know? I still haven’t even told her that I’m pregnant.”
“But you still talk?” Wanda prompts.
“Every once and a while on the phone. She’s usually complaining about how she doesn’t have enough money and that I could be helping her more instead of only being concerned about myself.” I keep talking, unable to stop now that I have a willing audience. “She doesn’t understand why receiving a degree is so important to me, when I could be working two jobs and supporting the both of us.”
“What does your man say about her?” Wanda asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Honestly?” I shrug my shoulders. “They’ve never met. I’ve never even told him that much about her.”
“And he doesn’t ask?”
“He tried to a couple of times, but I usually change the subject or give him a few vague details. She wasn’t the best mother growing up. She hit me a lot when she was tired and hung over. Or else she was out with a different man every night. We never had any money. I remember going to school with holes in my sneakers and wearing secondhand jeans. That’s what made me so determined to make something of myself. And if I’m able to have this baby, I’m going to be there for it. But now Eric’s telling me I have to give it up.”
I collapse into a fresh round of tears as Wanda pats me on the back.
“There there, child. You just get all those bad feelings out of that body of yours and away from that little peanut in your tummy. They’re not doing the two of you any good. You both need to remain strong.” Wanda hands me a tissue to dab my eyes as the door opens.
I look up hoping to see Eric, but it’s just another nurse.
“Wanda, Miss Thompson is good to go. Her prescription was just
delivered to the desk and Dr. P. signed off on her discharge papers.” She gives me a quick smile before handing the form over to Wanda.
“Thanks, Carol. Her man isn’t out there, is he? I’m going to need his signature too,” Wanda states, indicating the line where I have to sign.
My stomach drops when I realize Eric is probably paying for this out of pocket. If my medical problems continue, we won’t need Lauren to ruin us. I’ll bankrupt him myself.
“Yeah, he’s by the elevator, pacing like a tomcat,” Carol winks, taking the paper from me.
“Tell him to come back in here if he’s cooled down, but not before. Dr. P. has Miss Thompson under strict orders not to have to deal with any drama from temperamental men.” Wanda nudges my arm, causing me to grin.
“You got it,” Carol says, giggling as she steps out.
“Do you feel better now?” Wanda asks, sliding the curtain around the bed to help me change.
“I do. Thank you, Wanda,” I say wholeheartedly as she helps me untie the straps of the hospital gown. “I really hope I don’t have to wear another one of these any time soon.”
“They’re awful, aren’t they?” Wanda concurs. “Talk about drafty!”
We’re both laughing as Eric walks in.
“Just getting her changed, Mr. Young. We’ll be right with you,” Wanda calls out from behind the curtain.
“No rush. Take your time,” Eric replies, seemingly in better spirits.
“See, I told you,” Wanda mouths. Out loud, she says, “Now, Mr. Young. Miss Thompson lost quite a bit of blood, so she’s going to be a little weak on her feet for the next couple of days. I don’t advise her taking a shower alone, if you catch my drift.” Wanda wiggles her eyebrows at me, and I can only shake my head at her.
“I do.” Eric coughs nervously.
“So you’re going to have to help her, but I’m sure you won’t have any problems doing that, right?” Wanda grins widely, and I pat her arm, signaling her to stop before he runs out of the room again.
“Nope,” he manages to choke out.
“Good, I didn’t think so,” Wanda says, helping me into a pair of ugly sweatpants we had sent up from the gift shop. Unfortunately, the ambulance crew had to cut me out of Eric’s shirt in order to attach leads to my chest to monitor my heart rate. Something I’d rather not think about to be perfectly honest. Knowing that strange guys saw my boobs is a mental image I’d like to forget.
“All right. All set, Mr. Young,” Wanda announces, drawing back the curtain. “Let me have one of the orderlies bring over a wheelchair.”
“That’s not necessary,” Eric says, his eyes fixed on me.
“But sir, she can’t walk all the way—” Wanda objects, but she stops when she sees Eric lift me into his arms.
“The Lord works in mysterious ways,” I counter, tilting my chin in her direction as Eric carries me out the door.
“What?” Eric asks, peering down at me.
“Nothing, just some girl talk,” I respond, winking at Wanda.
“You take care, honey child. I’ll be praying for you,” Wanda says, tapping me lightly on the shoulder before hustling back to the desk.
“Well, she’s full of life,” Eric comments, distracted as he checks to make sure my prescription is safely in his coat pocket.
“That she is,” I answer, stroking the nape of his neck. “In more ways than one.”
No matter what happens, I’m keeping this baby—whether he agrees with me or not. It’s one of those rare moments where I feel at one with Cassidy, connected to her on a level I never would have imagined possible. I get now why she did what she did. My fears are inconsequential when it comes to the sheer power of bringing a new life into the world. A woman would literally die for her child, and I can understand that pull now. I feel it too.
Eric doesn’t get the last word on this. It’s my body, my decision. I don’t want to hurt him, but I’m going to put faith in what Wanda told me. I have to believe there’s some kind of purpose behind all of his pain and suffering. It can’t all be for nothing. It has to count for something.
In my heart of hearts, I know that this baby is destined to do great things. I’m not going to let it down. I will fight for it with everything I’ve got. No one’s going to change my mind no matter the risk—not even Eric.
One way or another, this baby is going to live.
Chapter Seventeen
Eric
“We can just call them. We don’t have to stop over there,” I protest, even though I know it’s already a lost cause as my heart starts to melt while listening to Ivy’s pleas.
“Eric, c’mon. They’re probably worried sick. I promise to stay in the truck. I won’t get out,” Ivy exclaims, naughtily running her hand up and down my thigh, driving me crazy.
“So we’re headed to the garden center then?” Will asks from the driver’s seat as we bounce along the country road.
“You heard the lady,” I reply, defeated. “But only for a short visit. Keep the motor running.”
Ivy’s hand travels to my knee and she gives it a reassuring squeeze. Her eyes light up when I turn my head to look at her. She’s seated between the two of us to prevent her from being jostled too much. But I hear her wince when we hit a particularly nasty rut.
“Slow down, jerkwad!” I bellow at Will, regretting that I agreed to let him drive us home from the hospital.
“Sorry, Ivy,” Will implores, slowing to a crawl. “I’m just not as familiar with every nook and cranny of these shitty roads as ‘John Boy’ here. If you can even call it a road, it’s more like an overgrown trail.”
“Cool it with the Waltons references, asshole,” I mutter back. “Are you okay, Ivy?”
“If it weren’t for the two of you acting like a couple of kids, I’d be fine,” Ivy says, rolling her eyes.
“He started it,” Will interjects, as we see Shep running over the grassy knoll to greet the truck.
“Yeah well, you should know better. This isn’t the Indy 500,” I retort. “And try not to hit my dog while you’re at it.”
“Enough!” Ivy exclaims, putting a hand over each of our mouths. “You’re supposed to be easing my stress level, not adding to it.”
Pulling her hand away, I snicker. “C’mon, pretty boy. Your lover awaits.”
“Lover?” Ivy questions as Ben drives the tractor out of the garage in preparation for tonight’s haunted hayride.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Young,” Will huffs, clearly miffed at me for letting Ivy in on his secret.
“Someone’s a little cranky after last night’s booty call. I don’t think I ever want to step foot in that woodshed again,” I respond, wrinkling my nose. “Not after what must have gone on in there between the two of you.”
“Wait, let me get this straight—Will and Ben?” Ivy stares at me, open-mouthed.
“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it straight,” I counter as Will slams his fist against the horn, causing Shep to yelp and my dad to come running out of the store.
“Shut it, Young,” Will warns as Ben raises his head and glances over at the truck.
“Isn’t he a little young for you, Will?” Ivy asks.
“He’s eighteen,” Will replies haughtily.
“Barely legal,” I mumble under my breath.
“Enough!” Will screams.
I open the door as Ben approaches the truck cautiously.
“Everything okay?” Ben asks, glancing at Ivy and then at Will.
“Just peachy,” Will snipes, sliding out of the truck and storming toward the greenhouse.
“You sure?” Ben questions again. “And I’m not talking about the drama queen.”
“For now,” Ivy says, not wanting to say more. She doesn’t seem to care for Ben. I wonder why.
“How’s it going, little lady? All patched up?” my dad asks with Shep hot on his heels. I called him from the hospital so he knows we didn’t lose the baby. “My tiny speck of a grandchild still
hanging in there?”
“It sure is, Frank,” she replies, bestowing on him a dazzling smile. She can’t keep buying into this false hope. I’m not going to let her give in to it. She has to come to terms with just how dangerous things really are. In the meantime, I’m not going to sit here and listen to my dad encourage her.
“I’ll be right back,” I grumble, following Will toward the greenhouse. Ben watches me out of the corner of his eye, but my dad is too preoccupied with talking to Ivy to notice my sudden change in mood. I don’t want to start a war and get her all upset. I just need some space. I feel like I’m going to explode.
When I draw nearer, Will kicks an overturned pail and it clatters against the wall. “Fuck!” he yells at the top of his lungs as I close the door, sealing us in the climate-controlled room.
It’s pretty humid in here. I unzip my jacket and look around. The Christmas poinsettias are coming along nicely. Customers will start purchasing them right after Thanksgiving, so we only have a few more weeks to get them potted and ready for sale. There’s so much that has to get done and I’m already behind. I sigh, easing myself onto a wooden slab holding a row of late-blooming mums. We’ve already had the first frost of the season. No one’s going to want them now. They’re just another lost source of income down the drain.
Will continues his rampage, knocking over a garden hose. He starts issuing a string of profanities as it kicks on, spraying his legs. “Turn this damn thing off!” he calls out, already soaked below the knees. I take my time going over to the spigot, heartily enjoying the show. He tries nudging the nozzle away with his toe but only ends up squirting himself in the face.
“I said you could shower at the garden center, but I didn’t mean inside the greenhouse,” I tease, throwing him a beat-up, old rag to dry off.
“Could this day get any worse?” he sputters, wiping his face.
“I don’t think that’s possible.”
“Don’t be so sure,” he retorts, rolling up his sleeves.
“Did you talk to Lauren?”
Meant for Me (Take Me Now) Page 15