Ugh, could I have been more cryptic? I had no idea how to tell him our lives might not be the same again … not when I had barely come to terms with it myself.
“Then I’ll distract you from the distraction,” he declared, urging me to my feet. “I’m going to shower, then walk down to that place we saw that rents out bikes. We can pick one of the trails and go get lost in the woods.”
“Oh, God,” I grumbled. “We’re going to get chased by an axe murderer, aren’t we? Tate, you know the black person always dies first in these situations.”
He laughed, the sound loud and boisterous—the sort of laugh he’d been incapable of just shy of one year ago. It never ceased to amaze me how much he’d changed for the better.
“I’ll protect my beautiful Bell,” he said, his shoulders still quivering as if he choked back more laughter. “And I promise I won’t lead us off the trail.”
I pursed my lips at him. “You mean like you did that time we went hiking?”
Holding his hands up defensively, he chuckled again. “Okay, I’ll admit, that was completely my bad. I didn’t think we’d get lost if we went off the path a bit.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “A bit? Try three miles … and then it took us hours to find the trail again.”
He reached out to grab me, pulling me into his arms. “I made that up to you, though … remember?”
I closed my eyes as he kissed me, tightening his hold on me. Boy, did I remember. If it hadn’t happened so long ago, I might have even thought that was the time he’d knocked me up. My skin grew warm just thinking about it.
Placing my hands against his chest, I gently pushed him away. “No wandering today.”
“You got it,” he said, moving around me to find the duffel bag containing his clothes. “Just give me ten minutes and we can go.”
Reaching for my own bag, I retrieved my sneakers and a pair of socks, then sat down to trade my sandals for them. “Okay.”
He gathered what he needed and made his way into the hall where the bathroom we shared with the other occupants of the cabin was situated.
“Hey, Tate?” I called out before he could close the door.
He poked his head back in, his gaze meeting mine. “Yeah, Bell?”
I stared back at him in silence for a moment, trying to picture him as a father. An impossible task, since I couldn’t really picture myself as a mom. I’d had a mother—for fifteen years of my life, I had the best mother a girl could ask for. Losing her had been like a blow to the gut, and the pain of that had only lessened slightly with each passing year. Remembering her—the way she always seemed to know what to do or say, her voice, her warm hugs—made me all-too aware of how unprepared I was to be someone’s mother. I didn’t think I could ever live up to her example.
“Bell?” he prodded, wrinkling his brow.
I shook my head, realizing I’d zoned out for a second.
“Nothing,” I murmured. “Just … I love you.”
He grinned. “Love you too, Bell.”
***
Hours later, I sat with Tate on the bank of the lake, watching the sun set in the distance. As it turned out, our time on the biking trail had been just what I’d needed. The physical activity kept me moving, while the scenic route had me turning my head every second to take it all in. We’d ridden on a path along the lake, which then wound through a heavily wooded area and came out near the marina. Close to the rows of boats and jet skis bobbing in the lake sat a restaurant with a patio that overlooked the water.
I wasn’t quite ready for dinner yet, but Tate insisted we grab something to go, since we still had the long ride back and might be hungry once we got there. He’d turned out to be right, and by the time we arrived back to the cabins, the to-go containers sitting in the basket of my bike looked like heaven to me.
Now, eating and talking while watching the sun set, I felt more at ease. Still not sure how to go about telling Tate our news, but at least content after getting to spend the afternoon with my guy.
“I’ve been thinking,” Tate said suddenly, closing his empty Styrofoam box and sliding it back into the paper bag before leaning back on his elbows in the grass. “I might be ready to finally choose a major.”
Tate had stuck to General Studies for his first few semesters, still uncertain about what he wanted to major in. Before his illness had forced him into seclusion, he’d hoped to earn his way into college on a football scholarship. Four years of college football, and the prospect of going pro, had been his plan for so long. But getting sick had weakened him, making it too dangerous for him to be hit in the head—thus ending his chances.
He seemed to have come to terms with that, and I was just glad he could move forward with his life now that the curse had been broken.
“Really?” I said, mimicking his posture and leaning back beside him. “That’s great! What did you decide on?”
Staring pensively out at the water, he raised his eyebrows. “I think I want to study Law. Last year, when we were working to solve the mystery of Isabella’s murder, we dug up so much corruption on Wellhollow’s local government. Crooked cops and a shady mayor … and it felt so good when we finally took them all down. I realized recently that I miss that feeling—of knowing justice was served because we didn’t give up. I think I could help more people find justice as a lawyer … going after the bad guys in court.”
The corners of my mouth moved of their own will, and my smile was so wide I was surprised it didn’t split my face. “I’m so proud of you, Tate. I think you’d be an amazing lawyer.”
Turning his head to face me, he leaned a bit, nudging my shoulder with his. “I still say you should study criminal justice … become a detective or something. We never would have figured out who murdered Isabella if not for you.”
I laughed. “Playing Nancy Drew on the side was enough for me, thank you. I’ll be happy with my English degree, surrounding myself with words and books while watching you go off to slay dragons in court every day.”
He smirked. “Do you think about stuff like that a lot … our future?”
“All the time,” I admitted. “Does that freak you out?”
Turning on his side to face me, he reached out and draped his arm across my middle. “No, because I think about it all the time. Us, in a cute little house where you have a reading room full of books, and I have an office so I can work from home whenever I want … you know, so I can spend time with you and Camryn.”
I giggled. “And who is Camryn? Our dog?”
Pulling me against him, he kissed my temple and buried his face in my hair. “She’s our daughter … she looks just like you. She plays soccer, but she isn’t very good. That’s okay, though, because we cheer for her like she’s the best there is.”
“You think about our kids?” I asked, my stomach beginning to churn.
“Sure,” he murmured. “I’m thinking there should be four—two boys and two girls, so they can pair off when one is mad at one of the others. But not right away, of course. We’ll wait to have kids in case you want to get your master’s or something. But we’ll have them close together, so they can be friends and go to school together.”
I snorted. “Right, and I suppose you’ll be the one pushing all four of these close-together kids out of your vagina… Oh wait, that’s right, you don’t have one!”
He chuckled. “Okay, maybe just one or two kids then. I don’t care, as long as you’re happy. But whether there’s one kid or four, I think you’re going to be an amazing mom someday.”
I cringed when his hand come down over my belly, his lips kissing their way toward my mouth. Choking back the nausea welling up in my throat, I closed my eyes and blurted out the first words that came to mind.
“I might already be one.”
Tate froze, his lips lingering at the corner of my mouth. His breath hitched, and I could feel his eyes boring into the side of my face, his hand tensing against my stomach.
“What?” he whispere
d, his voice growing hoarse. “What did you say?”
Sitting up, I sighed, running my hands over my hair and dislodging the grass that had clung to the curls. “I didn’t mean to just blurt it out like that, but … well, I might be pregnant.”
Bolting upright, he stared at me with wide eyes. “Might be?”
I nodded, telling myself to just keep breathing and say what needed to be said. In and out, slow breaths. Talk. I could do this.
“I’m late … by almost a week,” I said. “I’m never this late.”
“You’re not late,” he protested. “You just had a period—”
“The week you had that sociology paper due,” I reminded him. “That was five weeks ago. I should have had another one by now.”
Reaching up to run a hand through his hair, Tate released his breath on a rush. “Wow. That’s …”
“A nightmare,” I filled in when he seemed at a loss for words.
“Something we can work through,” he stated, placing one hand over mine in the grass. “Bell, it’s unexpected, but … we’ve been through so much together already. We can get through this.”
For some reason, his cool composure bothered me. How could be so calm and rational about this when I felt like my entire world had just been flipped upside down?
“How, Tate? How are we going to get through this?” I challenged, coming to my feet. “I’m a college freshman, and you’re only a semester ahead of me. Our jobs barely make enough for us to take care of ourselves, let alone a baby!”
Rising to face me, Tate sighed. “Listen, we just need a plan, okay? If you decide to have this baby, I will do everything I can to provide for you and him … or her. And it’s not like we’re on our own here. We have my parents, who definitely have the means to make sure their grandchild doesn’t want for anything.”
I rolled my eyes. “That is such a typical rich-guy response. You seriously can’t be expecting your parents to take care of a baby we made!”
His mouth tight at the corners, he said, “I didn’t say that. I just meant they would help us if we needed it. Obviously, I would need to drop out of school and get a full-time job. I see no reason for you to drop out, though.”
“I couldn’t let you do that,” I argued. “You just decided what you want to do with your life. I can’t ask you to sacrifice your future.”
Reaching out toward me, he grasped my shoulders and pulled me toward him. “Bell, you are my future. I don’t care if I have to overhaul my entire life to make this work … that is what I will do, because I love you. And because I love you, and this baby is a part of you, then I already love it. That means I will do anything for both of you. Besides, me dropping out of school doesn’t mean I can’t ever become a lawyer … it just means it’ll take me longer to get there.”
Shrugging out of his hold, I backed away, my throat constricting and my eyes beginning to sting. “Stop doing that.”
“Doing what?” he asked, pursuing me as I continued backpedaling.
I paused when I felt the water lapping at the soles of my sneakers.
“Acting like this isn’t a big deal,” I whispered, trying my best not to cry and failing miserably. “I don’t think I’m ready to be a mother … and even if we do all those things you just said, our lives will never be the same again. We’ll be responsible for another person. I don’t think either of us is ready for what that will involve.”
Nodding, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “There are other options, Bell. I’m not going to tell you what to do, but I am going to stick by you no matter what you decide. If I have to hold your hand and walk with you into an abortion clinic, then I will do that. If it goes the other way, and I have to hold your hand to coach you through a birth, then I will do that. You were right … we did this, both of us, together. So we’ll get through it together, too. I’m not trying to act like this isn’t a big deal. It’s just that after all we’ve been through, I’m confident in our ability to face things as they come. For now, we’ll take things in baby steps. First, a pregnancy test. Once we know for sure, we will decide how to proceed. Okay?”
Absorbing his words, I realized he was right. I’d freaked out for a second, but he’d reminded me that we had faced so much together as a couple already. He also reminded me why I loved him—why I wouldn’t have chosen to be with anyone else.
“Okay,” I replied, swiping at my damp eyes. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he insisted, coming toward me. “You get to wig out a little bit in a situation like this.”
I smiled and reached out to take his offered hand. “Thank you.”
I took a step toward him and found my progress impeded. With a frown, I glanced down at my other foot to find something wrapped around it—something that looked like a tree root, though I couldn’t be sure with the sun gone and now only the meager light of the stars overhead.
“What the hell?” I murmured.
I released Tate’s hand to bend down and inspect it. The moment his hand slipped from mine, a rough jerk pulled me facedown onto the ground.
“Bell!”
Tate’s voice was muffled through the ringing in my ears caused by the way my head had hit the ground. Raising my head and shaking it a bit, I sucked in a breath—the wind having been knocked from me.
Then, something was dragging me by my foot, so hard and swift I hardly had the chance to take another breath before I was plunged into the lake.
I flailed beneath the water, kicking my legs and trying to break through the surface. I was so close I could see the moon reflecting through the water, shining and refracting in shimmering prisms. But the thing holding me by the ankle refused to let go no matter how much I kicked—seeming to fight against me and tighten as I fought for my life. I bent and twisted my body, trying to reach down and unwrap the root from around my ankle. My fingers became clumsy and useless, while I quickly ran out of oxygen, my throat and chest burning from the need to breathe.
Struggling for more time, I made one last effort to break free, to swim up the mere inches I needed to be able to take in a mouthful of precious air. But then, my body seemed to give up, my lungs forcing me to breathe in while my vision went hazy at the edges. The water flooding my mouth and nostrils burned, and my body began to convulse as my lungs tried to expel the water, only to be forced to take in more.
There wasn’t time to think about the fact that I was dying, or about how sad it made me to realize that my father would now be alone in the world … and Tate.
I couldn’t think about him, or anything else, because a bright flash filled my vision and the sensation of drowning eased. Images sped through my mind, like a slideshow reel moving at warp speed—way too fast for me to grab on to a single picture.
A few things stood out in stark relief in my mind—a silver necklace with a half-moon pendant, the smile of a boy I’d never met, and a dusty red pickup truck. Then, a stark white face hurtling toward me out of the dark, its inky black hair floating around it in the water, the whites of its eyes eaten up by black, while blue veins showed through white skin. Blue lips parted to emit a familiar sound … a long, raspy exhale.
Suddenly, the sensation of being lifted buoyed me, and the images faded, leaving me with nothing but blackness. I wasn’t sure how long I’d remained in the black place, but at some point, a familiar voice reached out to me from the other side—sounding as if coming through a closed door.
“Bell! Bell, come on, baby … breathe!”
Something heavy pressed against my chest, once, twice, a third time … the force so hard I thought it might crack my sternum. Then … a mouth on mine and a rush of air.
Air!
Sweet, precious air, flooding my lungs.
The heavy pressure came against my chest again … once, twice. On the third time, I gagged, water filling my mouth and spilling out over my chin.
“Thank God!”
The voice was clearer now—Tate’s voice, I realized. H
is hands turned me onto my side as I coughed and sputtered, water pouring from me in waves. By the time I’d spewed it all up, my stomach ached from all the heaving and my chest burned. My vision cleared, and I rested on my side, letting my head fall limply to the ground as I sucked in breath after breath.
Tate’s arms came around me, and he gathered me close. He trembled as he pushed the hair back from my face. Cupping my chin, he angled my face upward so I could see him—terror widening his eyes, which brimmed with tears. He was soaked, his hair wet and curling, drops of water clinging to his eyelashes.
“Thank God,” he repeated. “I thought … oh, God, I thought I’d lost you.”
“Tate,” I whispered weakly, clinging to the front of his shirt as he gathered me against his chest and stood. “I saw—”
“I’m calling an ambulance,” he declared, his long strides carrying us away from the lake.
“But, Tate, I saw something.”
“Not now, Bell,” he snapped, staring down at me with worry pulling at the corners of his mouth. “You just drowned, and you need to be seen by a doctor. I know some freaky shit is happening here, because one minute, you were standing there, and the next, you were literally dragged into the lake. I saw it, okay? But that doesn’t matter right now, not until you get checked out by a doctor.”
“I’m fine,” I argued, even though fatigue made it to where I could barely keep my eyes open. Breathing still hurt, and my lungs felt as if they were on fire.
“Are you a doctor?” he challenged. When I didn’t answer, he added, “Then you don’t get to decide whether you’re fine.
Deciding it wasn’t worth arguing over, I rested my head against his chest and closed my eyes. I fell asleep within seconds.
***
I woke up in a hospital bed with Tate at my side. He sat in a chair beside me, a second chair positioned for him to prop his feet up on. The remote to the small TV mounted on the wall sat in his lap, but he’d fallen asleep, his head angled to the side, mouth hanging open. He looked exhausted, with dark circles beneath his eyes. His neck was going to hurt when he woke up, but I was reluctant to adjust him, preferring to let him rest.
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