“Skye’s pregnant, and if you think the proposal freaked her out, this was worse. Way worse.” I shake my head, marveling at the way Skye looks at herself versus the way I see her. “She thought she didn’t deserve me or this baby.”
Warren stares off into space, and I know he’s thinking about the same thing I am—the day so long ago we both almost lost her. It was the worst day of my life, and I don’t think it was much better for him.
“The choice she made is going to leave a mark no matter what, but it doesn’t mean she’s bad, Devin. We both know just how wonderful a girl Skye is. Unfortunately, abortions don’t just go away. It’s not necessarily the quick answer expected. It has its consequences, and she has to come to terms with those.”
He’s right. I know, but whatever demons Skye faces, we’ll face them…together.
Chapter Eighteen
The days after Helen’s stroke seem to blur together. Skye spends long hours at the hospital until her mom is finally released. That gives me plenty of time to get resumes out and get a job. The salary isn’t quite as high as I’d hoped, but then again, I’m sure my work experience wasn’t quite what they wanted, either, so both of us are going to have to settle.
Once Helen was back at home and situated, the real planning for the wedding begins, and while Skye tries to involve me, I usually give her an answer she doesn’t like. I mean, I’m not exactly into flowers, so how would I know what to suggest for the ceremony? Besides, it’s really more important for Skye to get the details right, and it provides a wonderful distraction to keep her from worrying over the baby.
I also kind of figure that while it’s normal to worry, I feel Skye is just a little more sensitive to what is going on inside her body than a lot of new mothers would be, and the former self-inadequacies I’d finally gotten her to express only seem to flare up that much worse, as though she’s waiting for horrible symptoms from the abortion to manifest themselves all these years later. I know it’s a possibility, but I doubt it will happen.
While I’ll never openly admit this to Skye, I’ve been sneaking peeks in the What to Expect When You’re Expecting she’s left lying around her mom’s house. I’ve made myself familiar with the complications during each month. There are things I can’t anticipate, no matter how much I want to.
The best time to spend with her is usually at lunch, and we’ve taken to meeting at a hole-in-the-wall hamburger joint because any of the fast food places only make her feel sick after the meal, and even as we sit in a corner booth, both of us are feeling the effects of the fact that the owner, a portly man named Mel who’s old enough to be my dad, has stupidly decided to give up on using the air conditioner—never mind that it’s the hottest Indian summer I remember. Both Skye and I are roasting in the mid-eighty temps, and although I figure I have the worst of it in my white dress shirt, silk tie, and navy jacket, I’m wrong. Skye’s face is flushed, and her lips are tight, one way I know she isn’t feeling so hot.
Concerned, I touch the top of her hand. “You okay over there?” I ask softly.
She nods absently. “Yeah, I just think I need to use the restroom. That’s when she eases towards the edge of the booth and starts walking away. She takes three steps, the last of which kind of drags—the first hint something is wrong. I sense it, but a little voice tells me I’m overreacting.
Then I see her falling. In horror, I watch as her head begins to fall toward a table, and I know she’s going to hit it. I’m frantically trying to escape the confines of the booth to get to her, but I’m never going to make it. There’s too much table and distance for me to clear.
“Skye!” I call. My voice sounds deep and dragging, as if time itself has slowed. Her body keeps falling. At the last minute, I see a woman swoop toward my fiancé and catch her enough to thwart the impact with the table. It doesn’t totally stop Skye from falling, but it does keep her from hurting herself.
By the time she’s lowering Skye to the floor, I’ve finally gotten free and rush over, my heart racing in panic. As she lies there, I feel the panic taking over. Skye’s face is flushed, and even though she’s pregnant, she’s not far enough along for anyone to make that leap.
“Is she with you?” the woman asks, her short brown hair falling into her eyes.
“Yes. She’s my fiancé.” I lean over and touch Skye’s face, my fingers stroking. “Skye, baby, you need to wake up.”
Despite my touch, she’s not responding. Sweat beads at her temples, and I don’t blame her much for that. I’m sweating, too. The air should be on.
“Any clue what’s wrong with her?” the woman asks, looking at both of us, which unnerves me.
“She’s pregnant, and it’s probably the heat.” My voice sounds steady, and I should be confident in this, but some part of me still feels the draw of panic reaching to claim me.
The woman brushes her hand across her face and nods in agreement. “I can see that. I’m burning up, too.”
A manager appears behind me. He’s tall, thin, and clearly worried—probably about a lawsuit, if you ask me. “What’s wrong?” That’s when he spots Skye lying there, her long, dark hair flowing around her face. “Should I call 911?”
Part of me wants to say yes, but I shake my head. “Just give me a chance to wake her up.” Without waiting for his response, I grab her arm. “Skye, can you hear me?”
At that, her eyelids flutter open slightly, and she turns her head toward me, probably guided by the sound of my voice. “Devin?” Her voice is weak, and she seems disoriented.
“Hey?” I paste a smile on my face, wondering if she’ll see right through it to the cold streak of fear cutting through me as I dab at a strand of hair curled against her forehead and matted there with sweat.
“What happened?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. One minute you were heading for the bathroom, and the next you ended up on the floor, out cold.”
“I don’t understand.” Her voice is weak, and the last thing I’m expecting is for her to rise up on her elbows and try to sit up.
“Whoa!” Settling my hand on her shoulder, I ease her back down. “I don’t think you’re ready for that, not unless you want to pass out again.”
She closes her eyes, and I can tell she’s weak, which only troubles me all the more. What the hell is going on? She gives a slight nod. “Maybe you’re right. I don’t feel so good. It’s so hot in here.”
The manager has folded his arms across his chest and keeps looking at us expectantly even though I haven’t a clue what he’s expecting. I force myself not to mutter something antagonistic, even though I’m sensing he would deserve it. Instead, I ask, “Could you get a couple of wet paper towels and a glass of ice water, please?”
“All right.” He strides off, and I turn back to Skye. Her eyes are open, but the gaze is glassy. The logical side of me suggests all of this has to do with the heat, but that does nothing to quell the panic rising inside. If anything happens to Skye, I’m not sure what I’ll do. Period. She really is the best and most beautiful part to me.
The woman who’s been kneeling with me senses that she should be elsewhere, and in my peripheral vision, I see her go. My gaze never strays from Skye’s face, and I’m relieved when I notice her eyes open wider, almost as if she’s fighting away the sluggishness and returning to an awareness of the world around her.
Her lips part slightly, and she gives me a weak smile that’s so beautiful I feel my heart start pounding even harder.
“What are you smiling at?”
Her hand reaches up and touches my face. “You’ve got that cute worried expression.”
Taking her hand in mine, I kiss it. “Well, I am worried.”
The manager returns with what I’ve requested, and I quickly take the wet paper towels and blot her face, trying to cool her off. After a couple of moments, I notice some of the glaze has left her eyes. “Are you ready to try sitting up?”
“Of course.”
I know Skye hates feeling li
ke an invalid, but that doesn’t stop me from slipping my arm around her back and helping her to a sitting position. I keep thinking about how close she came to hitting her head on the way down, and I’m not willing to take any chances.
Once I’ve got her sitting upright and I feel she’s stable enough, I reach out and take the glass of water the manager is still holding, hoping perhaps he’ll go back to harassing the kitchen staff or something that gets him out of our hair. I can tell by the way Skye keeps looking at me she doesn’t like all this attention. I don’t blame her. I’m not crazy about it, either.
Her hand trembles as she takes the glass, so I keep holding it as well. While cold water spilling all over her might both cool her off and totally snap her awake, I’d rather do it in a little less sudden way. She starts out sipping the water but keeps drinking until the glass is empty. I take it and hand it to the manager.
“Do you want more?”
She shakes her head. “No. I just want to get up. It’s not comfortable.”
“All right. Let’s see what we can do about that.” I ease myself to a standing position and gently support her as she scrambles to her feet, her reflexes a little slower than they should be. Perhaps I should release her once she’s on her feet, but instead we both stand there, looking into each other’s eyes, one of my hands resting on her back and the other gently grasping her arm.
“Wow. That was so not fun,” she whispers, feeling the weight of the other patrons’ eyes resting on us.
“You okay?” I ask, leading her back to our booth. “You’re still pale.”
“It’s hot in here.”
At the table, I look at our food. “Do you want any more of this?”
“No. I’d rather just get out of here.”
Glancing at the wall clock, I realize we have about thirty minutes before her appointment with Dr. Klein, but I don’t care. His office is bound to be cooler than this place, hands down. “Okay, why don’t we head over to the obstetrician’s office, then.”
“’Kay.” She leans against me as I walk to the register and pay. My arm stays tight around her even as we slip out into the bright sunlight, and even though I have to blink to avoid the glare, I notice immediately the cool breeze that toys with Skye’s hair and it’s like the temperature drops just by being out here instead of in there.
“Better?” I ask, leading her to the car.
“Definitely. It was like a sauna in there.”
I want to ask if she feels any differently, if something might have happened with the baby, but I know that’s not a good point to bring up. Skye worries about it incessantly. I think it has to do with the abortion. As such, there’s no point in calling attention to it and upsetting her. Besides, Dr. Klein will be able to tell us if something is wrong. I just need to be patient and keep my mouth shut until then.
In silence, we head to the Jeep, both lost in thought. While I know Skye is stable on her feet now, I’m not ready to let go of her. It’s like I’m supposed to be right beside her no matter what’s going on, and that’s the only place I feel completely at home, so I tuck her into the Jeep, slip into the driver’s seat, and head toward the doctor’s office.
We’re almost there when I feel Skye staring at me. Turning, I smile. “What are you thinking?”
“What if I lose this baby? Will you still love me?”
The pit of my stomach falls. There’re a lot of issues to address there, and no matter what answer I give her, she’s going to focus on what I don’t say. I know Skye. Instead of responding immediately, I wait until I can coast into the parking lot before turning to meet her gaze.
“Nice out, Skye, but it won’t work. I was in love with you long before you and I first made love, and since that day I’ve only loved you more.” My hand drifts over and touches her stomach. “I don’t think you’re going to lose this baby, but even if you did, I’d be here. You know I would.”
Her hair falls around her face, and it helps her hide, something Skye does intentionally when she doesn’t know what else to do. She nods to let me know she’s heard, and I get out, thinking she’ll follow. Instead, as I stand outside the Jeep, she sits there, staring out into space. Puzzled, I walk around and tug her door open.
“We should probably get you inside and out of this heat.”
She blinks a couple of times and nods, scooting out of the seat, averting her gaze. Her steps are slow, almost doddering, which confuses me. It’s almost like she doesn’t want to go in there. I start to open my mouth and ask about that until the truth dawns on me—she’s afraid she’s going to find out something bad about the baby.
Sensing that at any moment she’s going to dig her feet into the ground and stop altogether, I wrap my arm around her, not only to get her moving a little quicker but also to keep her calm.
“It’s going to be okay,” I say, leaning close.
“What if it’s not?” Her voice is breathless and weak.
“And what if it is?” I counter, kissing her forehead. She doesn’t answer because by this time we’ve arrived at the door of Dr. Klein’s office, and no matter how much faith I’ve got and she doesn’t, the truth is about to be staring us both in the face, and we need to be together when it does.
Knowing she’s probably not going to go in unless she has to, I tug open the door before gently pushing on the middle of her back to get her to go inside. She’s trying to resist, but she knows she doesn’t have a choice, no matter how badly she might want one.
As usual, there’s a handful of people, mostly pregnant women and their spouses, filling the chairs. Although Skye’s tummy is still kind of flat, her hand drifts to it, almost like she’s looking for a reason to be here when she so obviously doesn’t fit. I nod to the desk.
“Perhaps you should sign in.”
“All right.” She takes a deep breath, steps to the desk, and signs the sheet before grabbing a magazine and returning to sit beside me. Her trembling fingers flip open the glossy spread, and she feigns reading pretty well. In fact, I’m probably the only person who recognizes she’s hardly paying attention to the black print in front of her and she’s flipping pages too quickly for her to be reading anything.
As she sits with the magazine, one hand holds it spread open while the other flutters nervously about, brushing the hair from her eyes, tapping her thigh, brushing against her throat. She can’t sit still for all the nerves tearing through her, yet while she can’t manage the stillness, I can’t handle her constant motion. It makes me tired, so I do the only thing I know—I grab her hand and hold it, my fingers squeezing hers reassuringly.
Her gaze flickers towards me for a second, and I see the fear running rampant within. I wish the doctor would hurry up and call us back. Yeah, I know we just got here and we’re early for the appointment, but there are some things that defy patience.
Leaning back, I try to tell myself to think of the projects I’m heading up at work or the things that need to be done before the wedding and Skye moves in with me in the apartment I’ve rented—anything to keep my mind off the fears Skye can’t seem to forget.
“Skye Williams?” A nurse calls out to us from the doorway leading back to the examination rooms. Her short brown hair is pushed behind one ear to keep it away from her eyes. One hand holds open the open, and the other holds a clipboard with Skye’s medical history.
Gritting her teeth, Skye sets the magazine on the table next to her chair and forces herself to get up and meet me as we head toward the door. Once we pass through, the nurse lets the door close and stops at the scale Skye stands on.
“So how is our new mother-to-be?” the nurse ask cheerfully, watching the numbers on the scale. Skye’s gained two pounds since her last visit, and I’m smart enough to know that’s a good thing.
“Fine.” Skye pastes a fake smile on her face.
“She fainted a few minutes ago,” I correct, trying not to see the glare Skye’s intent on giving me.
The nurse scribbles the weight on the chart before
gesturing for us to enter the first room on the right. “And what was going on when that happened?” She waits for us to enter and closes the door for privacy.
“We were having lunch at a restaurant, and it was hot. So hot. The air conditioner wasn’t even running.”
“That’s not uncommon. Pregnant women are very susceptible to heat. I’ll make note of it and let Dr. Klein know.” She grabs the blood pressure cuff from the wall pocket and pats the examination table. “Why don’t you lie down here so we can make sure everything is all right?”
After Skye is lying on the gurney, she reaches out and wraps the cuff around Skye’s arm. Once the cuff is secure, she begins squeezing the bulb. A moment later, she shakes her head. “Well, it would appear your blood pressure is slightly elevated, but that might have something to do with the heat and stress. At any rate, Dr. Klein will be right with you.” She finishes the note she’s jotting in the file and slips out, closing the door behind her. Once she’s gone, I step closer to Skye so I can take one hand and effectively still her twitching fingers.
“There’s no point in stressing, Skye—and I’m sure everything is fine.”
“That’s easy for you to say.”
I squeeze her hand. “You think so? Really? Because from where I’m standing, everything that matters to me is lying right here.”
Tears fill her eyes, and I know if she could think of something to downplay my words, she would, but right now she’s just too terrified.
The door opens, admitting both the nurse and Dr. Klein. He looks at us and says, “Well, good afternoon, Ms. Williams. How are you feeling?” He turns his attention to the chart and begins reading.
“I’m okay.” She licks her lips and forces a smile she doesn’t feel.
“She passed out a little while ago,” I say, figuring I’d rather just call the elephant to the center of the room rather than keep pretending that nothing is going on. Dr. Klein frowns.
“All right. Let’s have a look.” He closes the chart and pulls out a measuring tape. “Could you lift your shirt just a little so we can get a clear look at your stomach, please?”