A Broken Us (London Lover Series Book 1) (21 page)

The fresh country air is a welcomed change as
Mr. Adamson picks me up at the same spot he picked me up before. His mustache
looks shorter today as he hugs me hello, and I can’t help but smile at his
butterscotch scent. The drive out to the country is quiet. Talking isn’t quite
as easy for me today, after Liam made my brain hurt, but thankfully the silence
seems comfortable, and Mr. Adamson doesn’t seem to mind.

Mrs. Adamson and Sheila are both standing in
the front yard, waiting for my arrival. Mrs. Adamson nearly jogs up to the door
to open it and pulls me into a hug. I fight back the tears at the
maternal-comforting feeling that comes over me.

“Finley, love! We are so happy to have you back
so soon!” she says, squinting slightly at my watery eyes, but choosing not to
address them, thankfully.

“Nice to see you again, Finley,” Sheila says,
walking over and hugging me. “We’re really excited to see what your company has
for ideas.”

“And we’re so happy we get to hear all about it
from you, and not some stuffy salesman,” Mr. Adamson says, coming up behind us.

They lead me inside to the dining room again. I
nervously set up the power point proposal I have on my laptop.

***

An hour later, they are signing on the line,
and I’m thrilled with my first sale, and the idea of Val’s company being an
integral part of their growth. I’m certain that
Faith’s Miracle Jewelry
is in good hands. They deserve this so
much.

“Finley, love. I want to show you my garden out
back before you leave. It’s my pride and joy, you know,” she says, brushing her
long white hair back behind her shoulders.

“Oh yes, my mother’s roses are well known in
town,” Sheila says. “People actually come out just to visit her garden.”

“Sounds great!” I say, and Mrs. Adamson leads
me out the back door.

“The roses don’t look the greatest this time of
year, but they aren’t completely gone yet,” she says, as we mosey around the
winding gravel paths, in their beautifully manicured backyard.

“They look beautiful,” I say. “I have trouble
keeping a plant alive at all, so this is all amazing to me.”

She looks at me, thoughtfully, and nods.

“May I be frank with you, Finley?” she asks.

Mrs. Adamson has an uncanny way of being direct
and honest, but I can’t help but love her for it. In fact, it’s what I love
most about her.

“Please,” I reply.

“You seem like you’re in pain today,” she says.
“Don’t get me wrong, you’re being wonderful and professional and kind, but my
heart hurts just looking at you, my darling.”

“I’m sorry, I…” I start, not knowing what to
say.

“Don’t ever be sorry for pain, love. Never be
sorry for pain,” she says, shaking her finger at me, sternly. “Pain is what
makes the good stuff good. It makes us appreciate the
wonderful,
Finley!” she says, guiding me around a bend to the next
area of mossy grass and trimmed shrubbery.

“What if the pain is what pushed the good
away?” I ask, because I just can’t help myself. I’m prepared to take advice
from anyone, former flings, and new clients. Hell, I’ll even ask Frank for
relationship tips if I have to.

She looks to be deep in thought. I’m not sure
she’s even going to reply until she smiles back at me expectantly.

“You know, Finley, there was a very dark time
in my life after my miscarriage, before we adopted Sheila. I don’t tell many
people this, but Mr. Adamson couldn’t get me out of bed for many days. You see,
I think women, in general…I for one, feel like our lives will never truly be
fulfilled unless we rear a child. Unless I experienced pregnancy and
childbirth. God made our bodies for continuing the human species, right? Adam
and Eve…the garden. If I couldn’t do that, then what kind of woman did that
make me? What was the point of me anymore? Why would anyone want me?”

I look at her with my jaw slightly dropped,
stunned by her words.

“It sounds foolish now. I’m old, so those are
ancient thoughts, I suppose. You young children don’t even need to have babies
and you’re happy. Look at Sheila. She’s not married, no children, and no desire
to have children. She says she’s perfectly content having her jewelry be her
baby, and that fills me with such pride. I’m proud of the fact that I raised my
girl to be so sure of her mind and know what she wants.”

“But what if I don’t know what I want,” I say.
Mrs. Adamson doesn’t know what I’m going through, but the way she’s speaking to
me right now, it feels like she does.

“That just makes you
you
,
Finley. That makes you special. And a work in progress,” she
says, tapping her finger softly on the tip of my nose. “A work in progress,
like a lot of our jewelry pieces!” she laughs. “But just you wait, when we
finish those pieces, they are going to be more stunning than we even could have
dreamed.”
  

 
Without thinking, I reach out and grab
her arm, stopping our pace.

“Thank you,” I say, with tears in my eyes. I
pull her to me and hug her tightly.

She hugs me back and brushes my hair off to the
side, the way only a mother can.

“
The most
beautiful work in progress I’ve ever seen
,” she says, pulling away from me
and stroking my hair around my face.

We walk around the garden a bit longer, giving
my eyes time to dry out and then she takes me back inside so Mr. Adamson can
deliver me back to the rail station. As I ride back to the city, I think about
everything she said. How I can stop being a work in progress and become happy
in my own skin again. I feel a shift happening inside of me. I just have to
figure out what I’m going to do about it.

When I get back to London, I’m just hopping off
the tube and walking the two blocks to our house when I see I have a voicemail.

I press
One
and hear my mother’s voice.

“Finley, it’s Mom. Cadence is in the hospital,
honey. There’s something wrong with the baby,” I hear her voice crack, and a
muffling of her phone.

I stop dead in my tracks on the sidewalk,
people swerve to get around me.

“I know you’re so far away, honey, but Cade
said you were saving for a ticket, so we’re hoping you can come early. She just
keeps saying she needs you here. She wants you, sweetie.”

Her voice is full-on crying now and I feel my
chest swell with panic.

I hang up and call my mom’s cell.

“Hello?” My dad’s gruff voice cuts over the
line.

“Dad, what’s going on?” I ask.

“Hey, kiddo. It’s…it’s not good, Finley,” he
says.

“Tell me, Dad!” I reply with urgency.

“I think it’s better you just get here. We’ll
be able to explain it all in person.”

“Is Cadence okay?” I say, my voice squealing
with a cry I’ve never heard before.

My dad sighs heavily, trying to compose
himself, “She’s fine, Finley. I promise.”

“What about Baby George?” I ask, a knot forming
in my throat.

“There’s some complications, Fin. Please honey,
we’d really rather talk to you in person. Can you do that for me, kid? Can you
do me that favor, please?”

He sounds desperate, so I agree. I hang up the
phone and run the rest of the way home.
  

Coldness prickles over my body as I frantically
throw clothes into a small carry-on luggage bag.

“What are you going to do? You don’t have a
ticket or anything yet, Fin,” Leslie says, standing awkwardly in the doorway.
“Do you know how expensive a short-notice ticket purchase will be?”

“I have to get home, Leslie! This isn’t even
negotiable. You should have heard my dad,” I start, unable to finish that
sentence. “I’ll just put it on my credit card. Cadence needs,” my voice cracks
and my chin trembles as a sob rushes out of my chest. “Her baby…” My voice
screeches out into that cracked scary sound again and I close my mouth, knowing
I can’t say anything more.

Frank enters my bedroom abruptly, “Give me your
handbag, Finley.”

I look at him questioningly, and watch him
trudge over to my bed and grab it without another word.

“I have to go soon, Frank,” I explain.

“I know, just give me five minutes, love,” he
contends, as he exits my room.

I have no clue what Frank is doing but I don’t
have time to think about it. I need to get my bathroom essentials packed.

“I wish I knew what to say, Finley,” says Les.
“Your poor sister. I just, I wish I could help you or something. Or I wish your
dad would have just told you what was going on.”

“There’s nothing to help with, Les. I just need
to get to Cadence right now. I’m praying it’s not a worst-case scenario and
they are just overreacting. Maybe the doctor will have it all figured out by
the time I get there,” I say, not really convincing myself.

I zip up my carry-on and make my way downstairs
with Leslie following closely behind. When I hit the bottom of the stairs,
Frank is in the foyer with his tablet in hand as he hangs up his cellphone.

“Okay, love. Your ticket is booked and paid for
and the cab is only two minutes away. I got you on the next flight out of
Heathrow in two hours; you’ll be home by tomorrow morning. Your ticket
confirmation should be in your email account, so you can just use your mobile
at the airport,” he rushes his words out in a businesslike manner.

I look at Frank, stunned. “Thanks, Frank. I’ll
pay you back,” I finish, taking my purse from him.

“Stuff that. You’re not paying me back a pound,
just promise you’ll come back to us, Fin-Bin. I mean, I hope your sister is
okay and everything. Of course I do, but…” he pauses, looking around the room,
awkwardly. “I’ve kind of grown somewhat attached to you, I’m afraid.” He looks
down sadly, with one hand on his small hip and the other scratching his frizzy
orange hair.

I sigh at the sweetness of his sentiment. He
looks up at me with tears in his eyes.

“Frank, what is it?” I reach over and pull him
into a strong hug.

Frank sniffs hard, “I’m not crying, I’m
just…oh, stuff it. I can’t handle all these emotions. You women have ruined
me.” He pulls back and looks between me and Leslie. “Seeing you rush off to go
be with your sister is just a lot for me to process. I’m such a girl now when
it comes to these types of issues.” He clears his throat, “I’m not trying to
make this about me. I’m sorry. I just,” he pauses. “I don’t have family like
you do. You guys are kind of it for me.”

I hug him again and Leslie comes over and wraps
her arms around both of us. We hold each other quietly until a honk comes from
outside the door.

“Give your sister hugs from all of us, and call
us as soon as you land,” Leslie says, with red eyes.

“I love you guys,” I reply, looking at both of
their tear-strewn faces.

Frank grabs my carry-on and follows me outside.
Leslie stays at the doorway, waving sadly at me, turning away to hide her
tears. I take one final look at the house that welcomed me when I needed it
most. The house with a purple door that now feels like home to me. The house
that, despite it all, I’m not ready to leave yet.

The flight home is torture. Complete and utter
agony. I wasn’t sure what I was going to find out when I got to the hospital.
While waiting to board the plane, I had called my mom, begging her to just tell
me everything and she adamantly refused. So for the whole twelve-hour flight,
my mind raced with all of the worst-case scenarios. If my mom won’t tell me the
details, then has the worst already happened?

Could something be wrong with the baby? Or
perhaps there is something wrong with Cadence? I’d read an article once about a
woman who got breast cancer while she was pregnant and refused treatment
because it would kill the baby. That would be Cadence. Being a mother was her
whole entire life. She’d gladly lay down her life to save the life of any one
of her three girls or the precious baby boy she was carrying. I can’t even
comprehend what that news would feel like, so I just tried to focus on the
plane ride.
 

Both of my parents are waiting for me outside
of the airport when I come outside. The familiar Midwest air is in no way
comforting when I lock eyes with them. They look older and tired. I’m not sure
if it’s from my time away or from the stress of the current situation.

My mom rushes over to hug me and begins shaking
into my shoulder.

I pull back, looking into her large, round aqua
eyes.

“Mom, what?” I ask, worried sick now.

Her hair is tied back into a messy ponytail at
the nape of her neck, and she looks like she hasn’t slept in days.
 

She shakes her head, regretfully, “It’s not
good, Finley. It’s not good.” She bursts into a sob, screwing up her face to
try and get her emotions under control.

“Jesus, Mom. Tell me!” I cry.

My dad comes over and places a comforting hand
on my mom’s shoulder while she continues to try and speak but can’t find the
words. She looks at my dad with a surrendering nod of her head and cries into
his shoulder.

“
Cadey
lost the baby,
Fin,” he says, in his deep baritone voice.

I pull my head back slowly, looking him
directly in the eyes. Flutters of life and people blur in my peripheral vision
as the gravity of the news settles in my brain. My dad didn’t just say that, he
didn’t. He continues to watch me somberly, his chin twitching under his dark
brown goatee.

“Cadence lost her baby?” Cadence lost her baby.
Her. Baby. I hunch over and cover my eyes and face with my hands as my face
crumples beneath them.

“No!” I cry, ripping my hands away from my face
and looking at my dad, accusingly. “Her little boy?” I question, a cry erupting
from my mouth again. Why did I have to say that? Why did I have to say little
boy? I just have to realize the situation in another way to fully comprehend
this news.

My dad’s steadfast strength crumbles at those
words and he blinks his red eyes several times in response to the tears coming
out of them. He nods his head slightly in confirmation.

I look over to my mom who has completely lost
it now. What the hell? Even though I had a twelve-hour plane ride to prepare
myself for this, I was in no way prepared for the baby to be gone. I just
thought someone was sick or there was a complication. Kansas City has a good
hospital. I was certain they would be able to fix whatever was wrong.

I drop my purse on the ground and turn from
them, walking a few steps away for some air. This can’t be happening. It can’t!
How could she lose the baby? Her little boy she’s been praying so hard for?
This was their last chance. Their last time. George said they could try one
more time for a boy, but if it didn’t happen he was ready to accept that his
lot in life was to be surrounded by beautiful women.

My sister is beautiful, too. Cadence is even
more stunning in her pregnant form. She was made to have babies. She and her
three girls are all blonde, unlike the rest of my brunette family. Like mother,
like daughter. Her three little girls were gorgeous, blonde, living,
thriving
proof of my sister being born
to reproduce.

As the image of my three nieces pops into my
head, I squat down on the sidewalk and cover my face to conceal the sobs that
are now erupting from my mouth.

“Oh my God! My M&Ms! How are they going to
handle this?”

 
My
mom squats down beside me and wraps her arms around my back, crying. How is my
family going to get through this? How is a tragedy like this possible? It isn’t
supposed to be hard for Cadence. I thought I had taken the entire bad juju away
from my family with all my fertility issues. No family should have to endure an
infertile daughter and a daughter who suffers a pregnancy loss this late into her
third trimester.

My dad bends over in front of me offering his
hand, “Let’s get in the car ladies, we don’t need all these damn people looking
at us right now.” He ushers us to the car and my mom slips into the backseat
with me, continuing to hold my arm close to her the whole way to the hospital.