Part 18 (2/2)
Lifting her shoulders a little, she murmured, ”It happens sometimes, for no apparent reason. And when it's early, it's harder to feel the movements anyway-especially with a first baby, when you don't really know how it ought to feel-so it's easy not to notice for a long time. Then, when you do start to miss the movement, you think at first, 'Oh, the baby's just sleeping, and in awhile it'll wake up.' But it doesn't wake up, and finally you start worrying.”
She closed her eyes, but the memories became too chilling that way, and she opened them again. ”I walked around for weeks, not knowing-or, at least, not admitting it-until I went for my six-month prenatal visit, and the doctor couldn't find a heartbeat. He wanted to do a sonogram right then, and I made up an excuse about not having the time. I was afraid. I knew in my heart what had happened, but I wasn't ready to face it. I just couldn't accept that my baby was dead because . . . well, I'd spent most of my life taking care of my mother's babies, and those babies had grown up and were starting to have babies of their own, and . . . and it felt as if I had to have one of my own or . . . or, somehow, my existence wouldn't be justified.” With a tiny wave of one hand, she admitted, ”It wasn't a good reason. It wasn't rational. But that 's how it felt-like my life would be meaningless if I didn't have that baby.”
She sighed, a broken, quiet sound. ”A week after that doctor's visit, I started having contractions. Then I couldn't pretend anymore. Still, I waited until my water broke before I did anything about it.”
Swallowing her tears, she uttered a tiny, humorless laugh. ”It was stupid. I knew I was risking infection, but I guess all the information and training in the world don't guarantee a person will do the right thing when they're as emotionally upset as I was. Anyway, I eventually called an ambulance, because I couldn't drive, and about twenty minutes after I got to the hospital, I miscarried. The baby . . . it was a boy.”
Raising her watery gaze to the mirror over the dresser, she saw Sam standing an arm's length behind her. He was watching her with eyes that held a world of sadness, and she held his gaze as she continued.
”That should have been the end of it, but it wasn't. The antibiotics they pumped into me didn't keep me from getting an infection-a bad one. And after it was gone, I kept having problems. So my doctor sent me to a specialist, who did some tests, and, finally, they told me . . .” She drew a sharp breath. ”They told me the problems I was having were related to the infection. They recommended a hysterectomy. I said no, because I couldn't face that, either-the idea of never having a baby. Okay, they said, but I had to understand, there wasn't anything else they could do. I could expect my life, until menopause, to be about pain management. And they figured, before too long, I'd get pretty sick of that and come to see it their way. After all, I didn't need my uterus anymore, anyway, be-cause”-she hesitated, then finished in a rush -”because with all the scar tissue the infection had left in me, the chances were zero to none that . . . that I'd ever be able to get pregnant again.”
Watching in the mirror, she saw Sam's gaze rake over her back, then snap up to meet hers once more -crystal-clear eyes that couldn't hide the spark of hope that suddenly flared in them, a spark followed immediately by a look of intense urgency. It was exactly the look she'd expected to see.
”But, Katie,” he began, ”if it's scar tissue, maybe I-”
”No!” She jerked away when he reached for her, spinning to face him as she backed toward the doorway. Every nerve and muscle in her body was trembling, and her voice had a hysterical edge to it as she insisted, ”I don't want you to touch me.”
”But you could-”
”No!”
”Honey, at least let me-”
”Don't!”
Her back hit the door frame, and she shrank against it, her hands splaying wide across her belly as if to hide it from him. She had to tilt her head to look up at him as he stopped mere inches in front of her. ”I'm going to tell you what I told Rick Sommers to do with his money for an abortion. Keep it. I wanted him, not his money. And I want you-not your almighty gift.”
He stared at her for an instant with a look of baffled disbelief. Then he spoke almost desperately. ”Katie, please, don't do this. I know you're mad, and you've got a right to be. But if you let me-”
”I said don't touch me!”
His hands lifted to her shoulders. ”But, honey, I want to-”
”No!” And when he took a breath to argue further, she added quickly, ”If you ever put your hands on me again, Sam Reese-for any reason-you had better be ready to marry me.”
It was all she could think of to stop him, and it worked- like a fist in the gut. He looked at her in open-mouthed astonishment, and, an instant later, his hands fell to his sides.
Shaking inside and out, her arms wrapped tightly around her middle, she nodded. ”That's right. Marriage. As in building a good, normal life together. If you want children, I'll let you try to make it so we can. And if you don't, well, I've spent six years thinking I wouldn't ever have any, and I guess I can go on thinking it. But I'll tell you what I can't do.” She shook her head slowly. ”I can't let you fix it so I can have another man's children. Because after last night, the only babies I'm ever going to want are yours.”
The silence that followed her statement was total. They simply stared at each other, Kate feeling as if she'd been cut open and left to die, Sam looking as if he'd been drop-kicked into h.e.l.l. For several long minutes they watched the other suffer, and she read in his eyes all the things he couldn't put into words. The disbelief and the loneliness and the aching emptiness that longed to be filled. And the struggle-hope against fear-and, finally, the gut-wrenching ambivalence.
”Katie, I . . .” He shook his head. Then, with a softly muttered oath, he turned away, taking a few steps out of the doorway, into the main room, before turning to face her. And, again, he tried. ”I don't know-” But he broke off, his chest heaving with the rapid pace of his breathing.
He didn't know what to say, she thought, because he couldn't say what she wanted to hear. He cared. He cared a lot. But he didn't care enough. And somehow, that hurt worse than if he hadn't cared at all.
She started to say she was leaving, and he began to say something, too; but then, his breath caught, and his gaze flashed across the room toward the door. She'd heard it, too-a car door slamming. A second later, someone banged on the door.
”Forget it,” Sam growled. ”I'm not talking to anybody until we've finished this.”
”It is finished. Besides”-Kate shook her head when he started to protest-”I've got a patient up the road, in the hunter's lodge. I told her husband I'd be here.”
The pounding came again on the stout pine door, and he bit out an angry curse as he strode across the room to answer it.
She stayed where she was, wiping the tears off her face while he opened the door, but the sight of a wild-eyed Erik Nielsen sent her hurrying across the room.
”Kate!” Relief washed over Erik's youthful face when he saw her. ”I'm sorry to bother you, but-”
”It's not a bother.” She quickly introduced him to Sam, standing stone-faced and silent beside her, then asked, ”What's happened?”
Erik stepped through the doorway, and she could feel the panic vibrating from him. ”Something's wrong,” he said. ”I went in for dinner, and Lynn was crying and saying she needed you, and-”
”Is she bleeding?”
He shook his head. ”No, but everything-her clothes and the sheets-everything is drenched.” Running a hand through his blond hair, he rasped, ”She just keeps crying and saying it hurts and that she's scared she's going to die, and-”
”Erik, slow down.” Kate took his hands and gave them a squeeze. ”It sounds like Lynn is in labor, and women say some pretty crazy things when-”
”But she can't be in labor! She isn't due until-”
”I know, but the thing you've got to do is-”
”Won't the baby die if it's born now?”
Kate struggled for an instant with her own fear and raw nerves. Then, by act of sheer will, she shoved everything else aside and spoke as calmly as she could. ”Thirty-four weeks is early, but these days, babies born even earlier can be just fine. Lots of factors are involved, and we don't have time for me to explain them. We'll get Lynn to the hospital, and a neonatologist will be right there when the baby's born. But Erik” -her brow furrowed in warning-”no matter what happens, I want you to keep yourself together in front of Lynn. She's already scared enough. Is that clear?”
With a shudder of his big Nordic frame, the young man nodded, his shoulders slumping a little as some of the tension drained out of him.
Kate gave him what she hoped was a rea.s.suring smile. ”Okay. I'll follow you in my truck.”
But when she started out the door after him, Sam's arm blocked her way.
”Sam, I don't have time for-”
”What didn't you tell that kid?”
”I didn't tell him much of anything. You heard me-”
”You know what I mean.”
Her gaze flashed upward to his.
He cast a quick glance at Erik, climbing into his battered pickup, then looked back at her. ”Do you want me to come with you?”
She returned his troubled gaze steadily. ”I did my job alone before you got here, and I'm going to keep doing it after you're gone. So whether or not you take the time, in your hurry to leave, to maybe solve one more of my problems is up to you.”
And with that, she brushed past him, out the door.
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