Letting Go (Healing Hearts)

by Michelle Sutton

  She needed a miracle, but couldn’t see any possibility of one happening. Exhaustion and heartache threatened to swallow her up.

  What was she going to do?

  Chapter 2

  The mouth-watering scent of meatloaf and gravy wafted in the cool evening air. With a frustrated groan Diane ignored her growling stomach and walked toward the main office of the motel.

  As she rounded the corner she saw her ex-boyfriend, Dr. Kenneth Perjeux, climbing the motel stairs to the second floor. She watched him enter a room.

  What was he doing here? She doubted he was having a rendezvous with a prostitute. That wasn’t his style.

  She pressed her fingers to her lips when the realization hit her. “I can’t believe my luck,” she whispered.

  Her dark day brightened, filling her with indescribable energy. She felt almost manic with giddiness and relief.

  Someone in her office had mentioned that Ken’s girlfriend had broken up with him last week. Maybe he was still reeling from the breakup and just wanted to get away. Maybe he’d welcome her company tonight.

  Maybe he’d want her again.

  While she went through the motions of checking in and settling in her room, she devised a plan. She’d talk to him about Randy, and then he might offer her the comfort she desired. Maybe she could comfort him. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d turned to each other when hurting.

  And if one thing led to another and Ken slept with her, he might believe the baby was his. He would marry her because he was a decent guy. He’d always talked about wanting to be a father. Maybe she could give him that chance.

  At least she knew Ken was available, and he wouldn’t leave her. Or cheat on her. They’d known each other for too many years and had simply drifted apart. She trusted Ken.

  She put on a low-cut, virtually see-through white silk blouse and the short, black leather skirt Randy had given her on her last birthday. She unbuttoned her top as far as she could to show off her cleavage, but without looking too desperate.

  Quickly refreshing her makeup, she applied waterproof cobalt-blue mascara to her lashes. The shade brought out the golden hue circling her green irises. The new tube of pink lipstick she applied was guaranteed not to kiss off. She hadn’t needed to test it before, but tonight she planned to give it a thorough one. After one last glance in the mirror, she checked her purse to make sure she had her key.

  This is your chance. Don’t screw it up.

  She clutched the handrail as she ascended the stairs to his room. Willing herself not to tremble, she focused on the pleasure her encounter with Ken might bring. Fleeting pleasure maybe, but tangible, and something to give her hope.

  Guilt knotted her throat. She knocked and waited, clenching her hands to keep them from shaking. Although she hated to deceive Ken, she didn’t know what else to do. She swallowed hard, mentally rehearsing what she’d say.

  I should’ve seen the signs. Now I’m doing something worse by dragging a friend into this mess. I hope he doesn’t hate me if he finds out. I hope I don’t hate myself. I can’t believe I’m—

  Ken opened the door. His eyebrows shot up.

  “Diane?”

  Stepping toward him, she released the air she’d sucked in when he opened the door. He looked so good with his shirt clutched in his fist, his bare chest reminding her of how good they’d once been together.

  He stepped aside. She offered a shy smile and entered the room, blinking away the tears filling her eyes.

  “You alone?”

  He peered closer, his gaze settling on her face. “Have you been crying?”

  She froze. She hadn’t expected kindness.

  Stepping past him as he shut the door, she sighed. “I was at a conference in Seattle and stopped to get some rest on my way back home.” Turning, she glanced at him from under lowered lashes and pouted. “I’m simply exhausted.”

  He stared at her, his expression unreadable.

  Easing onto his bed, she crossed her ankles and leaned back on her hands. “I couldn’t drive for another minute, not even if I had to.” Her attention shifted and lingered on his mouth. “Why are you here?”

  Avoiding eye contact, Ken said, “I needed to get away. Katia and I broke up.”

  Her voice lowered to a whisper, “Want company tonight?”

  Cocking his head to the side, he studied her. “It’s been a long time. Why now?”

  Come play with Daddy. You make Daddy so happy.

  “Diane? Are you there?”

  She blinked. Where had that memory come from?

  Ken frowned. “Hello?”

  “Don’t tease me.” She wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand and sat up. “I’m really upset right now. I just found out Randy’s married.”

  “Randy . . . the pilot? Did he tell you?”

  “Would you?” She frowned. “On second thought, don’t answer that.”

  His posture grew rigid.

  “I had a conversation with this guy at a coffee shop in Seattle. He talked about Randy’s wife and their baby and even showed me a picture.” She inhaled deeply and let out a shaky breath. “There’s no doubt in my mind. It was him.”

  “Wow, that’s rough.” His eyes revealed sympathy, but he made no move to console her.

  She angled her head and gazed up at him, nibbling on her lower lip. “Why do I end up with married men? You know I don’t want that. I never want that.”

  Ken just stood there and listened.

  Choking on tears, she cried, “Do I have an invisible sign over my head that says, ‘I’ll only take you if you’re married?’ ”

  He crossed his arms over his broad chest, his shirt still clutched in his hand. “Maybe you should find out more about a guy’s background before you fall for him.”

  His tone sounded matter of fact, not snarky or insulting.

  “I know you’re not married.” She batted her eyelashes and gave him what her mother called “the look.”

  His gaze drifted to her mouth and lingered. Her heart pounded. He was actually considering her offer. She let her gaze slide from his face to the dark hair on his chest.

  As if he’d suddenly snapped out of a trance, Ken straightened and pulled on his shirt.

  Standing, she whispered, “Wait. Don’t do that.”

  Again, he avoided eye contact and stepped back.

  “Please, Ken, just let me stay the night.”

  “I’m a Christian. I won’t fall for that now.”

  “Why should it matter? You’re lonely and so am I. We used to be so good together.” She managed an uncertain smile. “Remember?”

  He turned away. “You’re a beautiful woman, but I can’t. You know I love Katia. I won’t do that to her.”

  She stared at his back, stunned by his refusal.

  Daddy likes that . . . hmmm . . . Let’s play another game.

  A sudden chill made her shudder. As if watching from a distance, she mentally replayed her attempt to seduce Ken. A wave of nausea washed over her, and the déjà vu feeling made her want to bolt from the room.

  Blinking back tears, she covered her mouth and sobbed, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here.”

  She rushed from his room and darted down the stairs. Her hands trembled as she attempted to slip the electronic key in her door, but it failed to open.

  Pounding on the door with her fist, she growled, “Stupid door!”

  Wrapping her arms around her abdomen, she leaned her hip against the frame while tears streamed down. After several minutes she swiped her palm over her wet face and tried again.

  This time the green light flashed. She shoved the door open, rushed inside, and slammed it behind her. Falling onto the bed, she curled into a fetal position and sobbed.

  Why doesn’t anyone love me? What’s wrong with me?

  After crying a while, she released an exhausted moan and finally drifted off to sleep.

  * * *

  She awoke before dawn, wondering where she was. T
hen she remembered.

  Her throat ached with renewed regret for her actions. The urge to leave the motel and go home where she could crawl into bed grabbed hold. Collecting her things, she checked out.

  Three hours later, she threw her keys on the entry table in the foyer of her condo. She didn’t even remember how she got there.

  Shrugging out of her leather blazer, she tossed it at the coat tree, but missed. Her jacket fell to the floor. Not bothering to pick it up, she grabbed her purse, walked into the kitchen, and plopped on a stool at the breakfast bar.

  She’d all but given up hope of having a biological child when she’d been diagnosed with endometriosis ten years ago. And now, when the impossible had happened and she’d finally conceived, the baby’s father turned out to be a lying, cheating jerk.

  Scrolling through the address book in her Blackberry, she tried to locate the phone number of her gynecologist. She needed to schedule an appointment for prenatal care.

  Being a single mom would be hard, but she’d make the best of it. It just seemed so unfair.

  Why did you lie to me, Randy? You said you loved me. Didn’t your words mean anything? Have the past two years been nothing but a lie?

  A frustrated growl erupted. She pounded the counter with her fist and swore.

  When she reached for the phone, she noticed the light on her answering machine flickering, and pushed the button.

  “Diane, how are you? Are we still on for next weekend? I’ve got tickets to the symphony. Can’t wait to see you. Love you. Bye.”

  She had difficulty thinking through the fog in her brain. Randy’s message echoed in her head, sounding ten times louder than usual.

  Love you. Bye.

  Panic made her lungs constrict. She felt so trapped. Although getting an abortion would certainly fix her problem, she refused to kill her baby now that she’d finally conceived. Not after all those procedures and the emotional pain she’d suffered thinking she’d never have a child.

  But she’d hoped to raise her baby in a secure home. Now her child wouldn’t have that chance. Anger consumed her like a raging fire, the flames licking at her heart until it melted under the heat.

  Grabbing the answering machine, she screamed, “How could I be so stupid?”

  She hurled it at the floor, and it hit with a crash, scattering pieces in all directions. Elation washed over her at having utterly destroyed the stupid machine that had recorded Randy’s voice. But the high soon faded in another cloud of despair.

  Daddy was right. I am stupid, or I would’ve seen the signs.

  Maybe if she hadn’t come on so strong at the hotel last night, Ken would have slept with her. Then at least her baby would have had a father, even if it was based on a lie. Ken would have been the perfect man to raise her child.

  She buried her face in her hands. Fate had brought Ken right to her, and she’d almost had him. She’d seen the spark of desire lighting his eyes. What had she done wrong?

  He’d always been willing to meet her needs in the past—when they were both lonely. But then he had to get uptight and find religion.

  She wept as she picked the pieces of the broken answering machine off the floor. Angry at herself for being so naïve, she vowed to make the best of her situation and somehow endure the humiliation. Her baby might not have a father, but she’d make sure he or she felt loved.

  But the sting of Ken’s rejection still hurt. “Why did you have to go and find that stupid religion? You were my last hope.”

  She found it sadly ironic that all her life people had told her they envied her. They thought being wealthy and beautiful had to be wonderful, as if that meant she couldn’t have any real problems. But being attractive and successful hadn’t helped her at all. She was still stuck—pregnant and unmarried—and wondering how she’d allowed herself to get into such a mess.

  She had to face the truth. Nobody wanted her. Not Randy. Not Ken. No one.

  Chapter 3

  Diane sat in her doctor’s office in downtown Boise, waiting for the results of her blood work. Staring out the window, she watched people enter and exit the building.

  Someone tapped on the door. “May I come in?”

  “Sure.” Diane adjusted her hospital gown, which gaped in the back because she hadn’t bothered to tie it.

  Dr. Johnson gave her a sympathetic smile. She held her breath. Something is wrong.

  Shrugging off the thought, she asked, “When am I due?”

  “You’re not. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Diane, but you’re not pregnant.”

  She felt the blood drain from her face. “What do you mean, I’m not pregnant? Did something go wrong?”

  Dr. Johnson cleared his throat. “Not exactly. You—”

  “But I have to be! You don’t understand. It’s been months since I had my last period. I have all the symptoms. Can’t I take another test?”

  Fear stabbed at her chest, cold and sharp like icicles. He has to be wrong.

  “I’m sorry, but it won’t make a difference. Your blood sample clearly ruled out pregnancy. I was concerned there might be a problem when I felt your cervix earlier. Your blood test confirmed my suspicions.”

  The elderly doctor peered over the top of his reading glasses. “You were never pregnant.”

  She stared at him with her mouth gaping, trying to make sense of his words while he wrote some notes in her chart. There must be some mistake. It can’t be true.

  “Is it possible my blood could have gotten mixed up with someone else’s in the lab?” Her voice squeaked.

  “No. Your blood is labeled right on the vial after it’s drawn.”

  Her vision blurred. Had she wanted to be pregnant so badly that she’d imagined it? How could she not be pregnant? During the past two weeks, she’d adjusted to the idea of being pregnant and had even developed feelings for the baby. She touched her womb, bereft of child. Her baby had never even existed.

  Silent tears poured from her eyes. “So what do I do now?” She focused on the floor, trying to sift through the information.

  “You’ll need further tests because you’re too young to experience menopause, and the interruption in your cycle could indicate something serious. I want to rule out potential problems as quickly as possible.”

  “What do you want to rule out? Is something wrong with me?”

  Dr. Johnson cleared his throat again. “Possible malignancy.”

  “Wait a minute.” She held up her hand and choked out, “You mean to tell me I might have . . . cancer?”

  “I hope that’s not the case. But I’ve had several patients who’ve experienced similar symptoms. A tumor will occasionally mimic a fetus and make a woman’s body think it’s pregnant, so the symptoms feel the same.”

  Diane’s stomach clenched, and she hunched over. “Oh, God—”

  “I’m sorry to give you such difficult news, but at least we’ll know if we can rule it out before you go home today. Just take this slip over to the office across the street, and they’ll do an ultrasound of your uterus. When that’s done I want you to return to my office right away. Make sure you bring the images the technician prints for me to review.”

  “Okay.” Diane nodded, still reeling from disbelief. Once he left the room, she slid off the exam table. Her limbs hung like stiff, leaden beams. The ache in her soul made her want to kick something, yet she could barely move.

  After dressing, she reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone. She scrolled down the short list of phone numbers in her address book. Who could she call with the horrible news? With a sigh, she shut her phone off and put it back in her handbag. Better to wait to find out her actual diagnosis before panicking and contacting anyone.

  * * *

  She didn’t remember driving home from the doctor’s office. Words echoed in her brain.

  “Tumor . . . may be malignant . . . We’ll have to operate.”

  She dragged herself into her condo and fell onto the suede couch. Each time the r
ational part of her brain attempted to cut through the fog, her heart hammered with grief so strong that her body shook with racking sobs. Could things get any worse?

  She’d refused chemo if it was cancer. Thankfully her blood work didn’t confirm that. Fortunately she’d be able to keep her ovaries since they were still healthy. Not that keeping part of her female organs provided much consolation, other than the knowledge that her hormones would remain intact.

  For what felt like hours, she slipped in and out of the blur of despair. Numbness finally enveloped her, and she felt nothing.

  Somewhere in the distance she heard a faint ringing sound that grew louder with every passing moment. Someone is calling me. Maybe Mother got my message.

  Diane stood, searching anxiously for the cordless, hoping to hear her mother’s voice. Normally her machine picked up the call by the fourth ring. Since she’d smashed the recorder, however, she had no way to screen her calls.

  “Hello? Mother?”

  “Diane?” Randy’s husky, familiar voice resurrected the hurt of the past two weeks. When she remained silent, he continued, “Come on, Diane. I know you’re listening. Please, just talk to me. What’s going on with you?”

  She asked through clenched teeth, “Why do you keep calling?”

  “What do you mean, why do I keep calling? I love you. Why haven’t you called me back? I’ve tried to leave messages. I even came by to see you, but you weren’t home. I’m off in a few days, and I really want to see you. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  Her heart pounded at his declaration of love. For a moment she reveled in the feeling, but it didn’t last. The man really knew how to lie, and he even sounded remarkably genuine. He’d fooled her for a long time, but no more.

  “I thought I was pregnant.” Her resolve to remain detached weakened, and her throat constricted over the words.

  “What?” he shouted into the phone.

  She jumped and nearly dropped the receiver. “I said, I thought I was pregnant. But don’t worry,” she sneered, “I’m not.”

  “Thank God. That would have been a disaster.” His voice softened. “Are you okay?”