Heart Like Mine (27 page)

The counselor got Kelli into the emergency room, where Kelli was already preregistered, then waited to leave until a nurse came and wheeled Kelli down the hall to her room. After helping her change into a hospital gown, the nurse wrapped what looked like an enormous belt around Kelli’s stomach and put an automatic blood pressure cuff on her right bicep. There were beeping machines next to her bed and with every pain that zipped through her body, Kelli’s fear began to worsen.

“Will you tell me when my parents get here?” she asked the nurse in a small voice. “Please?”

The nurse patted Kelli’s arm. “Sure thing, doll. I’m Francine, and I’ll be taking care of you.”

“Thank you,” Kelli said, realizing this was the first show of affection she had experienced in months, and it came from a complete stranger. The tears started to fall as another contraction wrapped its jaws around her and clamped down, hard. “Oh my god!” she cried out. “Please help me!
Please
.”

Francine held her hand tight. “Breathe, baby. You just have to remember to breathe. Short ones, like this.” She demonstrated, and Kelli tried to mimic her, but the pain was too much. She felt like she was being ripped in two.

On and on the contractions went, cycling through her body. After about two hours, Kelli vomited. “Can I have some water, please?” she asked Francine, who only gave her ice chips. Kelli kept her eyes on the door, positive her mother would walk
through it at any moment. But more time passed, five hours, and then eight, and still, her parents didn’t come.

“Why aren’t they here?” she sobbed, leaning against Francine’s chest. “I don’t understand how they can do this to me!”

“Shh, now,” Francine said. “You’re not the first girl from that school to go through this alone and you won’t be the last. Your parents have done the best they can, I’m sure, and being here right now just isn’t part of that. You’ll be fine, Kelli. Everything’s going to be fine.”

With sweat pouring off her body and racked by another contraction, Kelli didn’t believe her. She screamed for her mother; she wept as Rebecca tried to push her way out of her body. “Her heart rate’s down,” Francine told her. “And yours is going up, which is making us a little worried about a condition called preeclampsia, so I’m going to give you a shot of something called labetalol.” She quickly administered the shot as Kelli continued to cry. Francine patted her arm. “The doctor’ll be in any minute to deliver. The baby might have the cord around her neck, so we need to get her out, quick.”

Panic joined the blazing pain in Kelli’s body. “Don’t let anything happen to my baby,” she cried.

The doctor entered her room, clad in blue scrubs and wearing a mask over his face. He made her put her feet in the stirrups and checked if she was dilated enough to start pushing. “Get her out of me,” Kelli moaned. Her head felt fuzzy and disconnected; the world blurred around her. “Please. I can’t do this anymore.”

Francine stood next to her and wrapped an arm around Kelli’s shoulders. “You can, and you will,” she said. “Now, with the next contraction, we need you to push. Bear down, hard.”

Kelli cried, but she couldn’t tell if her eyes were stinging because of sweat or tears. When the next wave of pain washed over her, she took a deep breath and did as Francine had asked. Over
and over she pushed, feeling her daughter’s head move inside her, wanting nothing but relief from the extraordinary pressure, nothing but to get this baby into the world. “You’re almost there,” Francine said. “One more good push and her head will be out.”

“What about the cord?” Kelli sobbed. She felt dizzy and weak. She was certain she was going to die. “Can she breathe? Is she going to be okay?”

“She’ll be fine,” the doctor said. “Just push, now, and it will all be over. Make it a good one.”

Kelli groaned and sat up when the pain started again. She pushed with everything in her, holding on to the hope of finally being able to hold her baby in her arms. And then, with one huge rush of relief, the pressure stopped and there was the high, thin noise of her daughter’s cries. “Is she okay?” Kelli asked, trying to look down and see Rebecca’s face. She had to hold her. She had to look her baby girl in the eyes.

“You just lie back,” Francine said, giving her a pill to take with a small glass of water. “This will help you rest. The doctors need to see her now.”

Kelli took the pill and downed the glass of water in one gulp, watching as the doctor carried a tiny bundle in his hands over to the lit bassinet across the room. Straining, Kelli tried to sit up but didn’t have the energy. Against her will, her eyes began to flutter. She’d never felt this kind of fatigue. She let the sound of her baby’s cries be her lullaby and even though she fought it, Kelli closed her eyes and fell fast asleep.

*  *  *

“Kelli?” Her mother’s voice woke her. Kelli almost didn’t recognize it, it had been so long since she’d heard it.

“Mama?” Kelli said, groggy from sleep and the medication
the nurse had given her. “Where’s Rebecca? Where’s my baby?” She forced her eyes open and though her vision was blurry, she saw her mother standing next to her and her father at the foot of the bed. Kelli looked over to the bassinet, but it was empty. The light above it was turned off.

“Lie still,” her mother said. “You need your rest.”

Kelli struggled to sit up, trying to prop herself on her elbows, but the pain in her pelvis made her gasp and drop back to the mattress. “I don’t
want
to rest. Where is she? Please, Mama. Please. Bring her to me.”

Her father took a couple of steps and picked up a small stack of papers on the tray next to Kelli’s bed. “Here,” he said. “You need to sign these for the hospital.” He put a pen in her hand and Kelli signed on the pages where he told her to sign, thinking of nothing else but Rebecca. When she was done, he looked at Kelli’s mother with his lips puckered into a sour expression.

“Please,” Kelli said again. “I need to see my baby.”

Kelli’s mother looked at her father, who shook his head. They stared at each other a moment, glanced at the door, then Kelli’s mother finally gave a brief nod.

“What?” Kelli asked, looking back and forth between them. “Where is she?”

“She didn’t make it,” he said. “The child died.” He said it the same way he might have said the furnace broke or the sky was blue.

“
No!
” Kelli screamed, a wild, angry noise. The sound came from somewhere deep inside her body, dark and primal. “You’re
lying
! She was just
here
. I
saw
her.” Sobs overtook her and she clawed at her mother’s arms. “Please. No. Bring her to me. I need to see her.”

“It’s not a good idea to see her now,” her father said. “We’ll
gather your things and take you home later today. The doctor said your blood pressure came back down so you’re fine to travel. The school will send the rest of your clothes.”

“I don’t want to go home!” Kelli screamed. “I want Rebecca!”

“She’s gone,” her mother said, weeping. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing more we can do.”

Holiday traffic was light on Thanksgiving morning, and it didn’t take long to arrive at Sam and Wade’s house. They lived in a Frank Lloyd Wright–esque rambler on a bluff overlooking the Puget Sound. Wade was extremely successful in his financial advising career, and after they dated for a year or so, he had happily asked Sam to move in with him.

“They live in a glass house,” Max remarked as we walked up the front steps. Ava pushed past him to be the first at the door, causing her brother to stumble. “Hey!” he said, but she only shot him a dirty look.

“Please stop it, you two,” I said wearily, trying not to drop the store-bought tray of veggies and hummus dip I’d picked up last night. They’d already argued that morning over who got to carry their mother’s cake, which I resolved by telling them to take turns; Max carried it from our house to the car, and Ava carried it now.

“I didn’t
do
anything!” Max said. “It was
her
!”

I sighed, hoping their bickering wasn’t a sign about how the day was going to go. I decided to ignore it and attempted to change the subject. “I’d sure hate to have to clean all those windows. Wouldn’t you, Ava?”

“Who cares,” she muttered, but loud enough for me to hear.
I had to tense my jaw to keep from snapping at her like I had the night Max wet the bed. I wondered if I got under my mom’s skin the way Ava seemed to with me. I don’t remember doing it deliberately, so I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe right now, she couldn’t help it. With the weight of losing Kelli, she was dealing with pain I’d never faced.

“Well, look who’s here!” my mother exclaimed when she opened the front door. “Ava, Max, it’s good to see you!” They had met last spring, not long after I’d moved in with Victor, when we’d taken the kids up to Bellingham for the day.

The kids greeted her politely and we all shuffled inside. “I hear you made the dance team, Ava,” my mom said, taking the veggie tray from my hands. “That’s wonderful.”

“Thank you,” Ava mumbled, keeping her eyes to the floor as she set the cake on the small table by the front door.

My mom gave me a slightly worried look and I responded with the smallest of shrugs. “All right,” she said, “come join us in the kitchen when you get settled in.” She returned to the kitchen, and I took a moment to breathe in the rich aroma of roasting turkey and sage. I glanced around the living room, unable to imagine living in a space so devoid of any warmth. Every piece of furniture was sharply lined and square—even the couch appeared to have hard edges instead of welcoming cushions. Their tables were glass and shiny chrome; the art on the walls was Cubist.

Melody arrived as we were all taking off our coats and putting them in the hallway closet. I gave her a quick hug. “Where’s Spencer?” I asked.

“The doctor said as long as he promises not to try to lift anything, he can be at work. I guess he’s going to expedite the orders or something while Victor cooks?”

“But I wanted to sign his cast,” Max said with a small pout. “I was going to draw a picture on it for him!”

Ava put her arm around her brother’s shoulders. “It’s okay,” she said, sounding more like a mother than a sister as she comforted him. “We can do it at the restaurant another day, all right?”

Max nodded, then leaned against her and wrapped his skinny arms around her slender waist. It amazed me how quickly they could go from arguing to affection with each other; I wished I could predict which direction they’d turn.

Melody smiled at them. “Are you guys ready for dinner? I’m starving. How about you?”

Max nodded, but Ava said, “Not really. My stomach kind of hurts.”

“Do you feel sick, honey?” I asked. “I think I have some Tums in my purse.” I started to rummage through my black leather bag. She did look a little pale.

“Not that kind of sick. But do you have any Tylenol? My head kind of hurts, too.” She grasped her forehead with her free hand and winced. Maybe that’s why she was snotty—she didn’t feel well.

“Let me check,” I said. “If I don’t, I’m sure Sam and Wade do.”

As though on cue, Sam stepped out of the kitchen to welcome us. “Gracie!” he said. “Melody! And kidlets!” He smiled at the kids, who waved at him. “So great to finally meet you.”

“You too,” Ava said. At least she was being polite to him.

“I like your hair,” Max said solemnly. “It’s very fiery.”

“Well, thank you, Max,” Sam said with a laugh. He ran his fingers through his close-cropped red curls. “Okay. Sorry to greet and run, but I’d better go see if Wade needs anything. The man would be
lost
without me.” He grabbed the cake from the
table where Ava had set it down, then headed back into the kitchen.

“Come on,” I said as I pulled out the small bottle of Tylenol I had in my purse. “Let’s get you something to drink to wash this down with.” We followed my brother through the arched doorway and when we entered, I saw my mother seated at the breakfast bar, sipping at a glass of white wine while Wade and Sam stood at the counter, chopping vegetables.

“Hey, Grace,” Wade said, turning to look at us while continuing to work. “I’m Wade,” he said, smiling, to Max and Ava. They both waved again and gave him a small smile in return, still seeming a little uncomfortable. I couldn’t blame them, really. Having them there without Victor made me a little uncomfortable, too.

“I’m supervising,” my mom said. “Would you like to join me?”

“I will,” Melody said. She walked over and sat down on the other bar stool at the counter.

“In a minute.” I looked at Max and Ava, who were now hand in hand. “Is water good, Ava? Or maybe some Sprite to help settle your stomach?”

“Water, please,” Ava said, her manners toward me seeming to return. She really did look peaked—a little green around the edges. I hoped it wasn’t anything serious.

My mother furrowed her brow a bit and took a sip of her wine. “Everything okay?”

“She’s not feeling a hundred percent,” I said, reaching for a glass from the cupboard. I filled it from the dispenser in the front of the refrigerator, then handed it to Ava, along with a couple of Tylenols.

She released her brother’s hand and accepted them gratefully. “Thanks.”

“Want to help me put these potatoes in the water, Max?” Sam asked.

“Okay,” Max said, taking a couple of steps toward the counter.

“Do you want a glass of wine, Grace?” Wade asked.

“Maybe with dinner,” I said. For now, I poured myself a glass of water, too.

“I’m sorry that Victor couldn’t make it,” my mom said. Her tone was carefully measured.

“He’s sorry to miss it,” I said in an equally measured tone, not wanting to get in a big discussion about my relationship circumstances right before dinner, especially not in front of the kids. We’d talked earlier in the week, and I’d relayed a bit of the stress I was feeling getting used to having the kids with us full-time, so I knew she’d be carefully observing us today, gathering her own opinions.

“We are too,” Wade said, blowing me a kiss. “I’d hug you, doll,” he said, “but I’m covered in gravy.” He was a handsome man with slightly thinning blond hair, extremely fit and well dressed. Today, he wore a red apron over his loose-cut Levi’s and Ed Hardy T-shirt, and a pair of Buddy Holly–type glasses.