“Very well,” the doctor says and he touches my arm. “In the meantime, we need to get you into a gown, and run some tests.”
“Does the bleeding mean I’m losing the baby?”
“Not always,” he assures me. “Let’s get those tests done and we’ll know more. When is your due date?”
“June.”
He grabs some kind of spinning calendar and says, “That puts you close to the 3-month mark. We’ll be able to check the heartbeat with some special equipment and do a pelvic exam. Have you had a sonogram?”
I shake my head. “No. No sonogram yet.”
“We’ll do one today. It’s painless and we’ll be able to tell a lot.” He glances at Liam. “I’ll be at the desk just outside when she’s ready.”
He steps out and pulls the curtain, and Liam leans in and kisses my forehead. “Maybe it’s just cramps,” I say hopefully.
“We’ll know soon,” he assures me, tugging my shirt over my head and then sliding the gown over my upper body. I still have on the oversized bra but I don’t care.
Next we remove my pants and when I see how much blood there is, as hard as I try to fight it, tears slip from my eyes. It’s too much blood to just be cramps. I know it is. Looking grim, Liam leans over me and grabs the intercom button, punching it and asking for help.
He swipes at my tears. “Hang in there, baby. We’re going to get through this.”
I cling to his hand for dear life, and looking into his eyes, I see his torment is mine, and while I wish him no pain ever, there is comfort in knowing he isn’t just present, but is as deeply wounded by what is happening as I am.
The nurse appears almost instantly and she places something underneath me and then buzzes the doctor. I grab Liam’s hand again and say, “You’re still not telling me it’s going to be okay.”
He caresses a lone tear from my cheek. “I’m supposed to be here for you even when it isn’t. I’m going to get the doctor.”
I nod and then I endure the pelvic exam but I stay hopeful when the cramps seem to have eased. “Well?” Liam asks before I can.
“Your cervix is dilated. That can be an indication of a miscarriage but let’s do the other testing first.”
I don’t have time to react to the news. A whirlwind of activity follows, through all of which I’m hurting, from heart monitoring to the sonogram, and the doctor and the nurse are incredibly hard to read. Finally, the doctor says, “As difficult as this is, with the level of bleeding, I’m certain that not only are you miscarrying, but I recommend a D & C to ensure you don’t hemorrhage excessively. We can wait until your doctor gets here, but if I can talk to her I’m fairly certain she’ll agree.”
The rest fades in and out. Something about miscarriages being nothing I did wrong. They can’t be explained. I can try again. By the time the doctor is gone, I’m curled on my side. Liam climbs on the bed and wraps himself around me. I explode into tears then, my body quaking with the intensity. And I am crying for more than my child. I’ve lost my brother all over again and have no idea how to get him back, or if he’s even still alive.
Twenty-four hours after the message in the bottle and the loss of both my child and my brother, it’s time to leave the hospital. I shower and dress in the black velour sweatsuit Liam had brought to me along with many of my new things he’d bought me in New York. Trying to feel human, I brush my hair to a silky blond mass and even force myself to apply a little makeup.
I emerge from the bathroom to find Liam standing in the room waiting on me. To my surprise he’s dressed in a black pinstriped suit with a crisp white shirt and white tie. His dark, thick hair is neatly groomed, his goatee trimmed to sexy perfection, and he’s simply breathtakingly handsome. So very male, when I am feeling like half a woman, but somehow, just having him here soothes the ache inside me.
“All right, Mrs. Stone, I just need you to sign some papers. How will you be paying?”
I blanch at the sound of the voice of a woman I hadn’t noticed was in the room. Holding a clipboard, she brushes her brown hair from her eyes, and presses her black-rimmed glasses up her nose and nods. “Hello, Mrs. Stone.”
I glance up at Liam and his eyes warm, taking on that possessive quality I have come to know so well and a part of me wondered if I’d ever see it again. Without looking away from me, he hands the woman a black American Express. “On my card.”
She clears her throat. “Would you like to see the total?”
“No,” Liam replies. “I do not want to see the total.”
“It’s quite large.”
He flicks her a look. “I’m good for it.”
“Oh, of course. Yes, Mr. Stone. I’ll be right back.”
I glance down at my arm where the hospital bracelet rests, to read the word ”Stone” and wonder how I had not noticed this until now. Liam steps to me, framing my face with his hands. “I wanted everyone in this town to know I’ve claimed you. You are mine and I protect what is mine.”
“But I don’t. I lost...everyone. I lost our baby.”
“Don’t do that to yourself. You didn’t do anything. It just wasn’t meant to be. We can try again.”
“Do you want to try again?”
“If you do.”
“I don’t know. What if I don’t want to and you do?”
“I just want you and us, baby. And when the time is right, and this hospital room isn’t that time, I’ll ask you to marry me properly and then take you pyramid hunting all over the world. You and me, baby. That’s what I want.”
I press to my toes and kiss him. “Thank you.”
He wraps his arms around me and I welcome the strength and tenderness that is this man. I need him as I have never needed anyone in my life. “I should be the one thanking you,” he murmurs, a rough, raspy quality to his voice.
“What are you thanking me for?”
“For being you, and it doesn’t matter what name anyone calls you. I love you.” His lips quirk. “But I like how Amy Stone sounds. I like it a lot.”
I surprise myself and smile, sliding my fingers in that wonderful dark hair of his. “I like it, too.”
A knock sounds on the door and Liam kisses me before calling for the cashier to enter. “All right,” she says. “Here’s your receipt and you’re all set to go.”
Liam turns to her and takes the paperwork and suddenly, the world outside this room crashes down on me. I’m fantasizing about playing house with Liam when nothing is solved. We don’t know who the stranger I’d seen with my mother is. We don’t know if Chad is alive or dead. We haven’t dealt with Sheridan.
The woman leaves and pulls the door shut behind her. I lean on the bed. “Now we face my Godzilla again and I’m pretty sure your sharks are in for the action, too.”
Liam steps in front of me. “There’s a treatment center in Germany for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I thought we’d fly there and make it a vacation.”
“No. I’m not running.”
“It’s not running. It’s about you getting well.”
“There are doctors in New York.”
He studies me a long moment, his expression hooded. “You want to go to New York?”
“It’s the closest thing I have to a home.”
His hand slips under my hair to my neck. “Baby, my home is your home. What is mine is yours.”
“I don’t want what is yours. I want you and I want a home. I want stability. I want to walk outside and not fear what is around every corner. I’m going to do what Chad said. I’m going to talk to Sheridan and I’m ending this.”
“I’m dealing with Sheridan.”
“No. Don’t do this again, Liam. Your taking over my life isn’t what I need.”