Her second-trimester ultrasound was in a few weeks. They were both looking forward to it. They’d decided not to find out if they were having a boy or a girl, though Jeff insisted it was a girl.
She rubbed her belly. As long as the baby was healthy, that was all she cared about. She frowned. Had long had it been since she felt movement? Should she lie down and see if she could feel something?
A quick glance at the kitchen clock told her Jeff would be home soon. He worked only half days on Saturday and said he’d stop weekend work altogether once the baby came. She decided to make a few sandwiches so they’d be ready when he got home. Food would probably wake the baby up and get it moving around. That would make her feel better. Plus, she had something she’d wanted to discuss with Jeff, and sitting down to lunch with him would give her a chance to do it. She could lie down later in the afternoon.
He walked into the house right as she finished the sandwiches. As always, she was his first stop. He met her with a sexy smile, hooked a finger through the metal loop in her collar, and captured her lips in a kiss.
“You made lunch,” he said when he pulled back. “Any particular reason?”
Normally he did all the cooking, especially since certain smells had made her queasy in her first trimester. Plus, she didn’t cook.
“It’s just sandwiches.”
He raised an eyebrow.
Damn man. It was like he could read her mind. “Yes, Sir. There’s something I’d like to discuss.” Hopefully, the ‘Sir’ would give him an idea of what.
They’d had sex since finding out she was pregnant, but he’d been so gentle, he treated her like she was fragile glass. On top of that, they hadn’t been in the playroom at all since the positive test turned up.
She saw the desire flash in his eyes and knew he missed it just as much as she did.
“Well, now, Angel, why don’t you set the table while I change and we can talk over lunch.”
His use of her nickname made her heart race and her knees tremble. “Yes, Sir.”
He kissed her hard and quick before walking to the bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. He didn’t look at the closed door to the playroom, but surely he was thinking about it as he passed.
That’s when the first sharp pain pierced her belly. She had turned to grab the plates from the countertop, and instead she had to grip it to steady herself. But it passed, and she moved to pick them up when the second hit. It hurt so badly, they slipped from her hands. The plates fell to the ground and shattered. She doubled over, not caring about the broken glass, just wanting the pain to end.
“Dena?” Jeff called from the bedroom. “Everything okay?”
“I’m fine. Just dropped a dish,” she called back, hoping she sounded convincing. “Just fine,” she added in a whisper.
For what seemed like forever, she stood, hunched over and breathing deeply through the pain. When it subsided, she timidly walked to the kitchen table and sat down.
Everything’s okay, she told herself. Just twisted the wrong way. She’d just sit here for a minute; then she’d get the broom and clean the floor. And Jeff would be hungry; she needed to get the sandwiches.Just the thought of food made her feel queasy, but this queasy was different from before. Before it hadn’t made her heart race and her body feel clammy all over. A wave of nausea swept over her, and she jumped up and ran down the hall, hoping she would make it in time.
“Are you okay?” Jeff asked as she pushed by him in the hall.
She couldn’t talk, couldn’t open her mouth. Almost there. Almost there, she repeated in her head.
Finally making it to the bathroom, she jerked the door open, slammed it behind her, and reached the toilet just in time.
“Dena!” Jeff pounded on the door. “What’s wrong? Let me in!”
He couldn’t see her like this. She took some toilet paper and wiped her mouth. “No. Go away.”
The pain hit her stomach again. She groaned and rocked back and forth, hoping that would help make it subside.
The pounding on the door continued. “I swear to God, Dena, open this door or I’ll bust it down!”
She crawled to the door and opened it. Jeff rushed in, took one look at her, and fell to his knees.
“What do I do? Where does it hurt?” His hands ran over her body, looking for a way to fix everything, to make everything better.
Hot tears filled her eyes. Oh, Jeff. I’m sorry.
There was no fixing this.
The grief was overwhelming. Jeff felt it dragging him under, and he was unable to stop it. Every so often, he would float to the top and see Dena drowning in her own sea of sorrow, but he wasn’t strong enough to reach her. Much less rescue her.
It was his fault, he knew, for not being excited about the baby in the first place. If he’d only embraced Dena’s pregnancy from the start instead of being uncertain and worried. Maybe then he wouldn’t be mourning his firstborn child. Their daughter. His perfect little girl who had never opened her eyes in this world before passing into the next.
The doctors hadn’t been able to find exactly what had happened. They even said there was nothing in the way of them trying to conceive again in a few months. He wasn’t sure either one of them would be ready then, if ever.
Well-meaning friends came by the cabin to pay their respects, tell them how sorry they felt, how it was for the best, and to bring casseroles. He was caught between laughing over the number of casseroles in their freezer, crying over the outpouring of sympathy, or yelling in anger, demanding to know how it could ever be for the best.
Dena barely spoke, choosing to answer most questions in as few words as possible. He didn’t know how to reach her, and how could he pull her from her abyss when he couldn’t find a way out of his own? Day after day, he felt her slip further and further away.
When she suggested she move out for a while, just to get her bearings, he agreed. She’d been living with him for years. Maybe she needed to be away for a bit. He thought if they each could grieve alone and without worrying about the other, maybe they would heal faster. They could find their own peace and come together stronger.
But looking back, he could see his agreement for what it was: the worst decision he’d ever made. Without her, the cabin echoed with loneliness and despair met him at every corner. Days after she left, he shut the door to the nursery, telling himself he’d wait until she came back so they could deal with the room together.