“How long do you think I’ll be here?” I asked, hating being away from Cami.
“As long as it takes for them to interview you and to verify everything you said. I’ll do whatever I can to get you back to your wife as soon as possible; but you know how these things go. This isn’t my jurisdiction, so I’m at the mercy of others. I’ll get on the phone with Chief Robson and see what he can do from his end to help things along.” He turned the knob. “Do you need anything to drink? Coffee, maybe? I imagine you’re in for a long day.”
I shook my head. “No, thanks. I’ll be okay. Just make sure Cami is taken care of until I can get back.”
“Russ hasn’t left her side and her parents are with her. Your parents and my wife, however, are waiting in the lobby. So, while you sit all safe in here, I get to go out and face the firing squad.”
I couldn’t help chuckling. “Good luck.”
“Thanks. I’m gonna need it.
***
As strange as it seemed, I never realized how happy I’d be to see this hospital. Getting out of the car, I turned to Chris. “Thanks again, for everything.”
“No problem. Now get in there and see your girl. Oh! And just so you know, the guards are still stationed here, as a safety precaution. They didn’t want to pull them prematurely until they had time to organize and go through the items found in Gabby’s hotel room. They’re bagging everything to send to forensics.”
“Sounds good.” Despite what I’d been through, I actually felt all right. After my testimony checked out and I’d filled out a mountain of paperwork, they released me. Chris was waiting with fresh clothing, razor, and other personal care products. We stopped off at the hotel on the way back so I could assure my parents and Sheridan all was well and borrow their shower before heading back to Cami.
I was anxious to see her, hoping we could start putting the whole stalker thing behind us. The guard let us in and I hurried around the corner, only to be brought up short.
Cami was walking down the hallway in the opposite direction. Russ was guiding her along. Just seeing her there, out of the bed and moving again, made me feel overwhelming gratitude. I was so happy she’d survived. From this view, though, I could still imagine her with her pregnant belly poking out in front. Sorrow flooded through me. This is what it should’ve been like—walking around the halls to help things progress faster while she was in labor.
“Are you okay?” Chris asked softly, placing his hand on my shoulder.
I sighed. “Just feeling equally happy and sad at the moment.”
He nodded. “I can understand that.”
I simply stood there, watching her move, observing her progress. They reached the end of the hall and turned around to come back. Then she saw me.
“Dylan!” she cried out, letting go of Russ. Picking up her pace, she started jogging toward me, discomfort etched on her face. Terrified she was going to fall; I rushed to meet her, catching her in my arms as she threw hers around me. It had to have hurt her.
“Goody. Take it easy, would you? You just had surgery. You shouldn’t be trying to run down the hall. I swear you’re going to take years off my life.”
“Shut up and hold me. I’ve been terrified for hours, wondering what was going on with you.”
I wasn’t going to deny her request, embracing her close, but carefully, so I wouldn’t hurt her. The two of us swayed lightly back and forth. “I missed you,” I whispered.
“I missed you, too.” She didn’t release her hold on me—practically a death grip around my neck.
“I’m sorry for scaring you. That was never my intention,” I said, attempting to ease her worries.
Lifting her head, she locked her gaze with mine. “Are you okay? I mean it couldn’t have been easy for you to—,”
“Cami.” I cut her off, not caring to re-live the experience ever again. “I’m fine, but I’d love to forget all this crap and concentrate on the two of us, now. Is that good with you?”
She sighed. “That would be wonderful. I’d like that.”
“Have you seen the doctor this evening?” I asked and she nodded.
“He said if everything looks good tomorrow, he’ll release me. But I had to prove I could walk to the end of the hall and back, which I’ve done several time with Russ’ help. I was so nervous about everything, I had to get it all out. No offense to anyone here, but I’ll be so happy to leave this place.”
I chuckled. “I don’t think anyone would blame you, honey. You’ve had a rough time.”
She pushed away from me abruptly, staring at my arm where it was bandaged. “You’re bleeding, again. What happened?”
“It’s nothing. After,” I paused, trying to decide how to continue, “everything. I was tackled to the ground by a couple of very exuberant security guards. They pulled my arm back and pinned it behind me and I felt some of the stitches pop out.”
“Did they hurt you?” Her eyes were flaming with some of her old spirit and I thought she looked beautiful, despite everything she’d been through.
Shrugging, I smiled at her. “Well, it wasn’t a day at the spa or anything, but I don’t know if I’d say it hurt. Mostly just uncomfortable, like it would be for anyone who had two guys, over a couple hundred pounds, laying on them.”
“Why did they do that? Didn’t you show them your badge?”
“Yes, but if it were you, would you believe a badge or control first and ask questions later?”
“That’s true.” She sighed once more, running her fingers over my bandage. “Do we need to go get these redone?”
I shook my head. “Maybe, but not right now. Right now, I just want to be with you.”
Glancing around, I saw that Russ and Chris had disappeared, leaving us alone for our private reunion. “Shall we get you back to bed? I don’t want you getting too worn out.”
Shaking her head she stared at me pointedly.
“What?” I asked, recognizing that look.
“Here I am, in the hospital, and you’re still trying to get me into bed.”
Laughter escaped, uncontrolled, and it felt good. “You’re a funny little girl.” Bending, I very gently scooped her off her feet and carried her back to the room. A blush spread across her face as we passed the nurse’s station and they all chuckled at us, watching me carry her.
“That’s so romantic,” one of them said after we stepped through the door to her room and we both laughed, again.
“Still hauling her off to bed like a barbarian, are you?” Russ said as I carefully laid her on the bed.
“Always and forever,” I replied.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Cami-
It seemed fitting to me that the skies picked today, of all days, to start the Arizona monsoon season. Dylan held a big umbrella over both our heads, his free arm wrapped tightly around my shoulders as he clutched me. My tears fell with the rain as I stared at the very tiny casket that held the body of my precious baby. Glancing around our small group of ten, I saw many others whose eyes weren’t dry either, and I was glad our family was here with us.
“It is often said, there is no loss greater than that of a child . . . .” The priest began. He stood at the head of the grave, reading his sermon, as he huddled under an umbrella that Russ was holding for him. “In this case, it is especially so, because the child wasn’t lost by natural means, but by the actions of another.”
Dylan squeezed me tighter and I leaned my head against his chest, thankful to have his support.
“One may think it’s hard to get past carrying a burden of this magnitude, something that weighs your soul so heavily you feel as if you might perish. In Matthew, chapter eleven, the words of our Lord and Savior bring comfort to those who morn: Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”
Unable to swallow past the knot in my throat, I wondered if I would ever feel that way about this. Would I ever find rest? Would I ever find peace in my heart?
I was angry??
?angry that this miracle of life had been robbed from me—angry that the proof of Dylan’s and my love was going to be lowered into the ground. The elation we’d felt together at the idea of being pregnant and welcoming a little one into our home was gone, replaced with agonizing sorrow. Now that the immediate threat against our lives was over, the loss of my child ached bitterly inside me. The pain was much worse than the pain in my body, where my baby had been ripped from my womb.
No, this pain was black. It crept along in my veins like venom searing me as it poisoned me to the core. There was no relief from it, either. Gabby’s death wasn’t going to bring my baby back. It didn’t make me feel better that justice had been served at the hands of my husband. I simply had to content myself to sit by and live with this for the rest of my life, knowing that every time I thought of this child, I would get to relive the anguish I felt right now. Memories of my baby would consist of a few short minutes in a funeral home, knowing the only time I got to spend with him was as he lay in a casket. It would haunt me for the rest of my days.
So, Gabby had won after all. Dylan told me her desire was to make us pay for what she’d suffered at the hands of others. Well, it had worked. Maybe not in the way she’d planned, but this was way worse than death. And she could rest in peace knowing she’d left Dylan and me aching and raw inside with grief.
I couldn’t understand how someone reached that point in his or her mind. How did enacting a personal hatred against another right another wrong? It was an absurd way to think; yet uncountable battles had been fought for the very same reasons—people who disagreed with one another chose hate, death, and war to try and bring punishment and justice to someone else. How is that justice? What does it accomplish? If everyone on this planet set out to get revenge for every offense done against them, there would be no people in the world at all. Why can’t we try to teach love and work things out? Why can’t forgiveness be offered freely between people?
Well, now I was the one who had been wronged. Did this give me the right to punish someone else for my pain? Should I hunt down Gabby’s parents and slaughter them for bringing my baby’s killer into the world? Even the sarcastic thought made me ill. Truly, how could a human being, with any sort of feeling at all, do something like this to another human being?
“As we lay this infant, Cameron Hunter Wilcock, to rest today,” the priest’s words drew my attention back, “we ask the Lord to help us find His promised peace in our hearts. Let us turn to one another for help and compassion, strengthening ourselves in the bonds of love. Let us pray.”
I stared at the tiny casket and the spray of lilies on it that almost dwarfed it, as the priest recited his prayer. And then it was over, just like that.
“On behalf of Cami and Dylan, I’d like to thank you all for joining us today to express your sympathies,” the priest said. “This ends our service. There will be a small luncheon provided by Weston and Connie Wilcock at their home.”
I stood numbly as our loved ones filed by once more, hugging Dylan and me as they passed, making their way to the vehicles parked a short distance away. We thanked the minister and he stepped aside, allowing Dylan and me the opportunity to say our goodbyes in private.
“I didn’t think it’d be this hard to walk away,” I said in a choked whisper as the tears fell down my face. He didn’t reply, simply continued to hold me tightly, leaning over to kiss me briefly. We stood there, in silence, for several long minutes, unable to bear leaving.
He squeezed me lovingly. “I love you, Goody.” His words were soft.
“I love you, too,” I replied.
“I was right, you know. You’re a beautiful mother.”
A choked sob escaped me and the floodgates I’d been trying so desperately to hold, broke. So many emotions where churning inside me. I felt like I was going to explode. Dylan wrapped me in his arms and I clung to him like he was my only lifeline in a tempest sea.
“We need to go, honey,” he finally said. “There are people waiting to finish things up and I don’t want to risk you getting sick in this rain while you’re still recovering.” Slowly, he released me and we both turned to look at the casket one more time.
Stepping out from under the umbrella, I placed my hand on the beautifully carved box, bending to kiss it lightly, saying my last words to my son. “Mommy loves you, Cameron. Sleep well.”
***
The comfort of both our families around us had helped our hearts today, but I was ready for some alone time with my husband. I wanted to spend the rest of the evening and night wrapped in his arms in his old bedroom. We were staying with his parents for now, until we figured out what we were going to do about our living situation. I still hadn’t been by to see what was left of our house. Dylan refused to take me, insisting that I keep resting. He kept saying he would take me later, when I was more recovered. I’d believe that when it happened. He’d been extremely overprotective of me, barely leaving my side; not that I could blame him after all we’d been through.
Catching his eye from where he was talking to his dad and Russ by the large granite fireplace, he excused himself and made his way back to me. “How’re you holding up?” he asked, concerned.
“Would it be bad for us to leave and go up to your room?” I asked, reaching out and squeezing his hand. “I think I’ve had about all I can handle of this drama for the moment. I just want to go hole myself up with you somewhere.”
“I think that’s fine. Everyone will understand. Plus, this is the most you’ve been up and about since we came home.” He helped me stand. “Hey everyone,” he spoke louder, capturing the attention of the others. “Cami and I just want to say how much we love you all and we appreciate all the things you’ve done for us this past little while. Thanks for being with us, today. But my pretty girl is feeling worn out, both physically and emotionally, so I’m going to take her back to our room.”
“Cami, sweetheart,” my mom said, hugging me. “I guess your dad and I will head home if you’re going to bed. The service was beautiful. If you need me, I’m just a phone call away.”
“Thanks, Mom. I appreciate it.” She kissed my cheek and moved to hug Dylan.
“Love you, Pumpkin,” Dad said, giving me a giant hug. He kissed my head. “You’ve grown up too fast for my taste, but I’m so proud to see the woman you’ve become. Keep your chin up. Things will get better.”
“Love you, Dad.”
Waving to the others, we headed toward the doorway leading out into the soaring hallway.
“Let me know if either of you need anything,” Connie called after us.
“We will,” Dylan replied. “Thanks.” When we reached the staircase, I paused, taking a deep breath as I gathered the energy I needed. Before I could take a step, Dylan quickly, and carefully, swept me into his arms and began climbing.
I shook my head, rolling my eyes.
“What?” he asked.
“My legs work just fine. I can walk up the stairs by myself.”
“I don’t want you to strain yourself. Besides, as you’ve so aptly pointed out before, I enjoy carrying you off to bed.” He winked at me and it made my heavy heart feel a bit lighter.
Entering the bedroom, he deposited me on the bed, before going back to shut and lock the door so we wouldn’t be disturbed. “Would you like one of those new pairs of pajamas my mom and Sheridan got you?” he asked, disappearing into the large walk in closet.
“Yeah, that sounds nice.” I kicked off my shoes and reached for the zipper on the back of my dress, but the action pulled my stomach and I winced.
“Here, let me get that,” Dylan said, reappearing, and he hurried over to unzip it for me.
“I feel like a dang invalid,” I said. “It’s irritating.”
He kissed my neck. “Don’t feel bad. I like helping you.” Unsnapping my bra, he took it from me and handed me the loose pajama top, his eyes trailed over my body, pausing at the bandages on my stomach. “How’s everything feeling? Why don’t you lie down an
d let me check your dressings for you. They may need to be changed, again.”
I chuckled, doing what he asked. “They’re probably fine. I think the paramedic in you just likes to play with bandages, as often as you seem to want to change them.”
He didn’t share my humor. “I don’t want to risk anything getting clogged up or infected around your incisions. Plus, I like to make sure everything still looks okay. It’s important for you to stay as healthy as possible. You’re body has been through a lot. That’s why I keep telling you to rest and take it easy.”
“I can’t lie in bed all the time. Even the doctor said to get up and walk around more each day.
“Exactly—walk—not plan or attend a funeral or visit with and entertain all the guests afterward.” He laid out the supplies to change my dressing, sliding his hands into a pair of latex gloves. “And between all that walking needs to be resting, and lots of it.”
I was too tired to argue with him, choosing, instead, to let him inspect and bandage me up, again.
“Looks good,” he finally pronounced, pulling off the gloves. “Would you like your pajama pants, or do you just want the shirt for now?”
“I’ll take the pants, too.” Setting them beside me, he grabbed the old dressings, disposing of them before putting the other supplies back in the basket on the shelf. Turning back the covers, he waited for me to climb in and then covered me. “Are you going to join me?” I asked as he loosened his black silk tie, pulling it free. He began unbuttoning his dark gray shirt, slowly revealing his sculpted body beneath and I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
“That’s my plan, if it’s okay with you.”
“Yes, I just want to snuggle.” I wanted to wrap up in his arms and not think about anything; but I knew there was no escaping the thoughts rumbling around in my head. He shrugged out of his shirt, tossing it on the bed before unbuckling his belt and letting his suit pants hit the floor and stepping out of them. Sitting on the end of the bed, he kicked off his shoes, before going for his black socks.