It's early morning when she wakes up alone in the big bed, almost in tears. A bad feeling immediately settles in her gut. Nathan is not here anymore.
This is her first morning alone in the apartment, Peyton and Lucas having been around the last few nights. All night, the dreams wove in and out, making her toss and turn. In the one that woke her up, Nathan didn't know her. She was in her wedding dress at a bus station, chasing after him endlessly, but she couldn't reach him. Just when she thought she'd caught up with him, he seemed to move farther away, like he was in a hurry to get somewhere. Frantic and frustrated, she screamed his name repeatedly, begging him to stop. He turned slowly to face her, looking so handsome in his wedding suit that the version of her in the dream wanted to run into his arms.
"I miss you," she croaked, edging closer to him.
He just stared blankly at her as if looking through glass and asked, "Who are you?"
The wretchedness she felt in the dream when he couldn't recognize her was so sharp and tormenting that it woke her up. It seemed to spread to the core of her.
Like she does every morning, she hopes that he's somewhere in the apartment, making coffee, in the shower or even playing those video games that drove her insane, but it's all quiet where she is. It's only her within those freshly-painted walls of the apartment.
After waking up with him virtually every morning, the permanent aloneness is something that will take getting used to. The best part of the morning had to be cozying up to him before they dragged themselves out of bed. He was warm, his arms snaking around her as she burrowed closer to him, both of them sneaking in a few more minutes of sleep. Or they would just fool around.
She turns over on the twisted sheets and puts her hand out, feeling the cold side of the bed. The space where he should be. She takes his pillow, the one he argued so hard for, embracing it tightly. His scent overpowers her senses. How can she get used to this loneliness? How can she get used to him being gone when he's in her thoughts all the time? This apartment is their home, his things are here, their life together is here. How can she ignore the jacket hanging on a hook behind the door? Looking at his gym bag by the recliner, can she pretend that he's just gone for a morning run? How can she not be regretful when she sees their packed suitcases in the corner of the room? How can she look at that framed photograph of him dunking a basket, hand stretched out, fingertips brushing the ball as it sinks into the net, and not want to burst into choking tears for that lifelong dream he'll never achieve? How does someone in love deal with all those things and move on?
Devastated, she cries some more before wiping her stinging eyes with a wad of tissue and throwing it on the floor to join all the other used tissues. She is full of bitterness and rage at everything. She wants to find that masked man and kill him, to kill him in the same violent way he killed Nathan. She wants to go back in time to stop it. She wants Nathan right here, right now.
She imagines that there's a crater-sized hole where her soul is, expanding little by little with each passing day, sucking the life out of her.
Thunder rumbles from a distance as she makes her way to the entrance of the hospital. The afternoon clouds have turned menacing, swollen with pending rain, and the weather matches her grey and gloomy mood.
The automatic doors slide open and she's greeted by the characteristic atmosphere of a hospital; the odour of chemicals and medicine, the bustling waiting room with sick patients, the hustling nurses and doctors tearing down corridors or expertly weaving in and out of curtained partitions and rooms.
She approaches the front desk, waiting for the frazzled-looking nurse behind it to finish barking into the phone. "Where can I find the obstetrics offices?" she asks quickly.
She's redirected to a new block of the hospital. It's quiet on that wing, mainly due to the fact that it's mostly made up of offices, not hospital rooms.
The walls of the third floor are painted green, and decorated with hanging black-and-white and colour photographs of sleeping and smiling infants. A flat-screen television fixed up on the wall is set to a twenty-four hour news channel and playing at low volume. The waiting room only has a handful of female patients scattered around, some pregnant and some not, flipping through magazines and scrolling through cell phones. It doesn't look that different from her regular doctor's office. At least, what was her regular gynaecologist's office before she closed down the practice and moved out of state last month.
She's suddenly a bundle of nerves as she clears her throat to get the nurse's attention. "Hi. I, um, I have an appointment with Dr. Faulkner."
"Name?"
"Haley Scott."
The nurse gives her a quick glance, something akin to recognition flashing across her face. "Haley Scott?"
Haley clears her throat again, uncomfortable from that moment of scrutiny. She can just imagine what the nurse is thinking, thoughts along the lines of, "The mayor's daughter-in-law. Poor girl."
"Yes. It's, um, my first time here."
The nurse sticks a printed form onto a clipboard and slides it towards her. "Fill this out and just have a seat until your name is called."
"Thank you."
She takes a chair in the corner of the room away from everyone else, slowly filling in answers to the questions slowly to pass the time. Her large, wide-spaced handwriting stands out against the small, printed words.
Status? Married.
Husband? Deceased.
Emergency contact? Not Nathan. She had already begun writing his name before she remembered that he can't be included in forms like this anymore.
One by one, the other patients are called until she's the only one left, staring down at the completed sheet. Maybe she should join a bereavement support group, one specifically for young, pregnant widows whose husbands have been killed viciously and mercilessly. There has to be something that can help her get through this grief, something to save her from the darkness that has a hold on her.
It takes her a moment to realize that her name is being called from across the room. Hastily, she's on her feet, holding out the clipboard and her insurance card to the nurse.
"Sorry."
"That's alright, honey. The doctor will see you now. You're in exam room four."
"Thanks."
Crossing her legs at the ankles, Haley sits perched on the examination table. She's changed into a paper gown and she's waiting nervously for the doctor.
She sat on this for three days before Peyton made her an appointment and forced her to promise that she'd come today. Peyton offered to accompany her, but she declined; she has to learn how to do difficult things by herself. Such as going back to school, where she'll have to clear out Nathan's school and gym lockers.
The white sterile room is warm enough to ward off the chilliness of the incoming storm, but not too warm to make it suffocating. On a long counter with storage cupboards over and below it, there's a small sink, an industrial-sized box of surgical gloves, and medical instruments arranged in neat rows on gleaming steel trays.
The décor is reproduction-related; there's an enormous pictorial poster on the progression of pregnancy, another on the female reproductive system, and a few more about contraceptive methods. It's hard to miss the colourful, life-size cross section foam model of a uterus and full-term foetus mounted on a base stand. Pamphlets in the little nooks of a wooden stand at the edge of the steel table advertise sexuality, adoption, abortion and motherhood. It's like health class, with an ultrasound machine.
All those things staring at her are making her feel scared and breathless. The father of her baby is dead and buried, she's alone in a strange doctor's office, and not far into the future, she's going to be a mother. While still in high school.
She had three days to think about it, but she didn't dwell too long on the concept of motherhood. But right now, seeing the display spelling out her reality, it is nothing short of overwhelming. She starts to breathe hard and deep to calm down. She can do this. Countless women have.
The door opens suddenly and it startles her so much that she lets out a small squeak. A mop of greying curls is bent over a chart, too busy to notice that her patient has a hand over her rapidly-heaving chest.
She's a tall woman, looking even taller with the flowing multihued dress that reaches her ankles. She finally looks up, holding her hand out to Haley with a toothpaste-commercial smile. Her previous doctor had the same white smile. "Hi, Haley. I'm Dr. Faulkner."
Haley nods, matching the doctor's strong handshake. "Hi."
Dr. Faulkner drops the chart on the counter and pulls out a pair of gloves from the box. "You're pregnant?"
"I am. I think I am. I took a test. Several, actually," Haley breathes out, fussily playing with a sleeve of the gown.
"When did you find out?"
"A few days ago. I thought I should come in for a check-up…" She runs a hand through her hair, unable to keep still.
"That's good. The first trimester is very delicate. We'll start with a routine examination and then do the ultrasound, okay?"
"Okay."
The doctor gives her that friendly bright-white smile and reaches for the black chair at the foot of the examination bed. "Just relax, lie down and put your feet up."
Following her directions, Haley rests back on the padded bed, trying to relax. The only thing that she's feeling is fear.
Having her feet in the stirrups is like a flash of the future in a few months. She envisions being in the same situation, being told to push, Nathan nowhere to encourage her. She's never felt so alone and she is scared stiff.
Her hand goes protectively over her stomach and she turns towards the window. The rain is pouring heavily, hitting the window like little pebbles. It reminds her of Nathan. Rain was special to them, and being caught up in it when they were together was a good omen for them. She doesn't have to think hard to remember the sound of pebbles against her window.
When they were dating, he'd toss them at her bedroom window to get her attention. Usually, she was still up doing homework but sometimes she'd find herself asleep on top of her comforter, face stuck to the pages of her books. She'd swing her legs over the side of the bed and lock her door quietly before opening the window. He'd climb up using the giant vines that crept up on the side of the house, slip into her room, and the first thing he would do was hug her. Even if they'd seen each other earlier, he'd hug her like they hadn't seen each other for a day. They would slink into her bed, laughing and talking in whispers so as not to wake her parents. They would cover anything under the sun in between kisses and caresses. They would talk about serious things like their relationships with their families, or random things like their favourite pizza toppings. There were no awkward silences, and sometimes they didn't have to say much to understand what the other was saying.
She misses talking to him, telling him about her day and hearing about his, touching his body and feeling his hands on hers, fighting over silly things and important things. She lost her favourite person in the world.
"Well, you are definitely pregnant," Dr. Faulkner says in her soft-spoken voice, tearing off the gloves and shutting off the lamp. "And you're about ten weeks along."
Haley eases her feet out of the stirrups, watching the doctor reach for the chart and pluck out a pen from her pocket. So it definitely happened that night at the stadium.
"Everything looks good. I'll start you on prenatal vitamins and I'd like you to return in four weeks."
She scribbles into the chart before placing it back on the table. She washes her hands in the small sink and then moves the ultrasound machine closer to the bed. Haley stretches out again as the doctor switches on the equipment.
"This will feel a little cold," she warns, squeezing out clear gel on Haley's abdomen.
She gasps slightly as the gel settles on her warm, naked flesh. It's cold and it tickles a little. The ultrasound sensor sweeps at the gel, sliding along her tummy.
"Take a deep breath and just relax," Dr. Faulkner smiles.
After a moment, the doctor leans closer to the screen, as if looking hard for something, her hand still moving the sensor around.
A cold shudder drips down Haley's spine, and she fears the worst. "What's wrong?"
There's a horrid, sickly feeling that is washing over her. No matter how much of a burden her heartache is, at this minute, she really wants that baby. She can't lose the baby, too, her only tie to Nathan.
"Early in pregnancy, it can be hard to find the heartbeat," the doctor explains.
Haley is terrified of what it could mean. Dr. Faulkner said that the first trimester was delicate; what if she screwed up already? What if her pain hurt the baby? What if the baby—
"There it is."
Dr. Faulkner reaches for a knob on the speaker and a faint thumping fills the silence in the room. The heartbeat is like music to Haley's ears, the strong beating sounding much closer than far away in her belly. She didn't realize that her stomach was in knots until she feels herself truly relax at the sound of the heartbeat.
Swallowing hard and blinking feverishly, she sits up on her elbows. "Is that…is that my baby?"
"That's your baby," the doctor grins.
It's incredible, filling her with wonder. Something so small suddenly feels like her lifeline. An unplanned-for baby, but her reason to keep going.
"See that flickering?" Dr. Faulkner says, pointing to a blur on the screen. "That's your baby's heart."
She starts to say something but Haley's gone. It's all so surreal to her. Her heart is trifling faster, as if in rhythm to the drum-like one of her baby. Before this moment, being pregnant was an abstract thought, but hearing that heartbeat, seeing the baby on the screen, has changed it all. She has something of Nathan's to remember him by.
"Don't say I never gave you anything."
"Very nice and steady. Would you like a picture?"
Fifteen minutes later, she's back in the car. She sighs and leans her head against the window. Through the rain-speckled windshield, she can see the front doors of the hospital slide open and shut when patients and hospital personnel stream in and out.
They are faceless as she watches with disinterest, but then her curiosity piques when her gaze locks on a young couple leaving hand in hand. The woman looks unhappy and the man is saying something to her as they walk to the curb. He looks agitated, stopping and saying something else, his hand still in hers, the other pointing back at the hospital. She smiles and then grins at him, responding to what he said. He laughs, frames her face in his hands, leans down to kiss her.
With another deep sigh, Haley closes her eyes, shutting the couple out, the ache of her loss leaving a tear trailing down her cheek. That could have been her and Nathan. She would have freaked out about being pregnant and he would have reassured her that they'd be okay.
Raising the photograph in her hand to her face, she looks intently at the splotchy image. Her fingers trace the dark smudge, not any bigger than her pinky. Broken like she is, can she do this alone? Can she raise a child by herself?
A habit she's picked up recently, she reaches for the silver chain around her neck, her forefinger slipping through the gold band attached to it. This is how Nathan wore his ring during games, dangling off the silver chain and tucked under his jersey. "Because you're right there in the court with me even when you're on the bleachers," he said.
Looking at the smudge, something flutters in her. Something she hasn't felt in days. Like a budding flower, that warm glow starts to spread over her heart, travelling through to her cold nerves, her lips curving up in a smile.
"I always will be with you."
This is her reason for living now. If she could change the past knowing what she knows now, she would do it without hesitation. She would insist that they go back to the first store, she would tell him that the airport isn't too far and she'll buy him ten bottles of expensive water.
Some things about the future she's unsure of; where she'll go to college, whether she'll stay in Tree Hill or move away. She's only seventeen, pregnant, and she still has two semesters to go before graduating high school.
As much as she wants to be in her hometown, she doesn't think she's strong enough to stay in it without Nathan. Everywhere she goes, she's reminded of him and what they were doing when they were there. As much as she loves her friends, sharing classes together and spending time with them, she can't stick around for months waiting for her diploma when she has a child who depends on her. There has to be another option. She can't be like everyone else, living through senior year with mall trips, long lunches and sleepovers.
But despite those uncertainties, one thing is certain: somehow, she'll make it okay for their baby. She can do this.
She takes out her cell phone, scrolling through the list for the number she's after. She stares at it for a moment, a number she's always had but never dialled. He picks up on the first ring.
"Hello, Mr. Scott? It's Haley. Can we meet today?"
The cemetery grounds are quiet as she makes her way down the gravestones. The scent of rain-soaked earth permeates the air and her flats swish against the wet grass. It's been a dry few months and even with the storm, it's not so sodden that muddy soil is sticking to her shoes.
The only person in sight is the caretaker, where he's raking leaves at the far end of the cemetery near the woods. She starts to slow down when she sees the freshly-filled grave, wreaths of wilting, week-old flowers resting over it. Atop are tokens that include a small basketball, some stuffed animals and plastic-coated photos of Nathan. Did people leave them there on the day of the funeral or did they come back? It doesn't matter much when they did because all she's seeing are signs that people cared about him. What would be horrible is for him to be forgotten when he'd lived an amazing life and then died so senselessly.
Balling up the strap of her purse, Haley nervously squeezes it like a stress ball. She kneels beside a patch of grass inches away from the wet earth, wiping at the droplets of rain on the temporary marker. Her gaze moves to the granite headstone waiting to be placed over the grave.
Her fingers trace the large letters of his name. Nathan Royal Scott. They move to the smaller ones below. Loved with a love beyond all feeling, missed with a grief beyond all tears.
"Hi, baby," she whispers softly, like it's one of those conversations they would have late at night.
She feels like she can breathe better being here alone, without the probing eyes of a crowd that witnessed her meltdown.
"I'm sorry I couldn't stay when they—"
She looks away, biting down on her quivering lip, the wind flitting past. Leaning back on her legs, she unzips her purse. She extracts a copy of the picture and stares at it for a moment. "I'm pregnant, Nathan."
The tears are already falling and she reaches to wipe the corners of her eyes. "I-I'm so sorry that you didn't get a chance to know. I'm so sorry…"
She cries for a minute, one hand on the headstone to steady her, the other clamped over her mouth. "I miss you like crazy and I-I wish that you were here every second of the day."
Her hand falls to her stomach, rubbing it gently. "If you can hear me, I promise you that I'm going to do everything I can to raise our baby right. I promise."
"Our love will never waver."
"I'm back at the apartment now."
She gives out a choked laugh, thinking of how thoughtful he was doing it just for her. "I can't believe you did all that. Did you have a secret bank account I didn't know about to buy all that stuff?"
The wind picks up slightly, blowing across her face, and she imagines that Nathan has sent her kisses from wherever he is.
"It's amazing and I love it. Thank you."
She looks at the picture again, debating tucking it away in a posy of purple and white daisies, the same purple flowers that were growing on the beach when they first got married over a year ago. She puts it back in her purse, smiling all the while.
"I'm going to visit you soon, okay? I love you so much."
With a kiss to the marble headstone, she stands up, breathing in the rain-scented air, a smile on her lips as her hand touches her belly briefly. "Always and forever. Right, babe?"
Just as she's guided the car around the curve of the quiet street, she sees a white Camry approaching from the opposite direction. It's similar to the one she saw at the funeral.
Like in slow motion, she looks over at the passing car to spot the driver but the windows are all up. Tinted, too. Maybe it's one of Deb's friends.
After a long doorbell ring and two hard knocks that go unanswered, Haley turns the brass doorknob and peeks her head into the massive house. "Deb? Hello?"
Classical music is playing at a high volume from speakers that seem to be set up all over the house. She stands in the foyer, shouting loudly, "Deb!"
The music stops after a second, everything now quiet.
"Deb?"
"In here!" she yells from the kitchen.
"Are you busy?" Haley calls back, shutting the door.
"No! Just have a seat! You want some tea?"
She sounds so upbeat and cheerful.
"Um, sure."
The enormity of the house never ceases to amaze her. The first time Nathan showed her the sauna, she thought he was pulling her leg. Where she came from, people didn't have saunas in their homes.
Feeling exhausted, she flops down on the corner of one of the plush couches and leans back. It's like years have passed since she felt quite well rested. "Is Cooper around?" she asks, rubbing at her temple.
"He left this morning but he'll be back later," Deb says, poking her head out the kitchen doorway for a second. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah."
Shifting uncomfortably in the chair, Haley reaches behind her back to drag out whatever is stabbing at her. Instead of pulling out a remote, she cradles a pill bottle in her hand. There are a few pills left and peering closer, she realizes that they're identical to the ones that Deb had an affinity for before going to rehab; the luminous green pills would give her erratic moods and a glazed or brighter look in her eyes, depending on whatever mood she was in.
"I'm out of regular tea so all I have is—"
Deb stops abruptly at the entrance to the living room, in her hands a tray with mugs of steaming liquid and a plate with cubes of cake. That deer-caught-in-headlights expression is gone instantly and she marches into the room, sliding the tray onto the coffee table.
"I only have chamomile," she says coolly.
Haley shows the bottle, looking at her closely. Her eyes are definitely sparkly. "Deb, what's going on?"
Deb reaches for the bottle but Haley pulls back her hand. "Where did you get them?"
"Hidden in the couch."
She laughs shortly, taking the armchair angled to the side of the couch. "Forgotten, not hidden."
"Forgotten this morning or five months ago?"
Deb stares at her, her face stony. "It's none of your business."
"It kind of is."
Her eyes narrow, deadly and cold. "No, it's not. You lost your right to nose around when you let my son get killed."
A spear of pain penetrates through Haley with stunning force, and she can feel all the blood draining from her face. Her temples are throbbing as she blinks back tears. Deb's biting tone makes her feel worse about Nathan than she already does.
She places the pill bottle on the table and Deb is quick to snatch it up. "You're my husband's mother and I care about you. If you need help, I—"
"Give me a call when your only child is dead," Deb spits angrily, popping two pills into her mouth and swallowing them down simultaneously without water like an expert. She makes her point.
Gritting her teeth, her mouth tight, Haley stands, slipping her purse over her shoulder. "Was that your drug dealer in the Toyota?"
Her mother-in-law rewards her with a hard snort. "They're my headache pills."
"I saw you. At the funeral. Was he bringing you your headache pills during your son's funeral?" Haley asks bitterly.
"Says the person who drove off halfway through the day," Deb bites back, her body rigid, eyes ablaze.
The air is heavy with tension as silence falls between them. The anger in Haley transforms into further anguish and she sighs with sadness. She refuses to feel guilty for not wanting to see her husband lowered into a grave.
"I didn't think that I would be telling you like this but what does it matter now? I'm pregnant."
Deb's head snaps up, her eyes widening slightly. She blinks, her gaze fixated elsewhere, and then nods mutely.
That suffocating silence hovers. Haley takes the moment to compose herself without screaming or letting tears drip down her cheeks.
"I swear that if you don't get it together, you will never see your grandchild. I won't have a junkie around my baby," she says quietly, trying to get her voice under control.
It's her burden to bear that they're all in this situation, and she owes it to Nathan and this baby to be a good mother.
She looks away, takes a deep breath and lets it out shakily. "I mean it, Deb. I'd love it if you were in this baby's life but not like this."
Zipping her purse open, she pulls out the extra copy of the sonogram picture and slides it across the table. "I owe it to my husband, your son, to raise our child the best I can. That does not include you being high when you're babysitting."
Deb's fingers are trembling as she reaches for the picture.
"If you want to be a part of this baby's upbringing, you know how to reach me."
She doesn't stop to see Deb's reaction, rushing out of the living room. She's approaching the door when Deb's soft cries start to echo down the hallway.
She stumbles out into the cool air, smacking right into her father-in-law on the stoop. He reaches his hands out to steady her, before pulling back like he's been scalded.
"Haley."
"H-hi, Mr. Scott."
"Are you leaving already?" he asks in confusion. "I thought you wanted to see me."
"Yes. I do."
Blinking feverishly against the tears, she pauses on the lower doorstep, turning to face him. "I'm pregnant, Mr. Scott."
He just stares at her before glancing momentarily at her stomach. And then he looks sideways over his shoulder, Deb's loud sobbing carrying through. "Is something wrong?"
"She's relapsed. I won't let her near my baby if she's still taking those pills." She wraps the strap of her purse around her wrist. "Maybe she'll listen to you."
He nods, hands clenched into fists, face turned slightly towards the open door. He was afraid something like this would happen.
Haley's then fleeing down the driveway to get to her car, wishing that somehow she could go back to that fateful day and change things for all of them. But she can't. And she has to accept that.
Her phone rings as she fumbles to get the car keys. It's an unknown caller.
"Hello?"
"Haley Scott?"
The female voice is unfamiliar to her.
"Yes, this is she."
"I'm calling from Tree Hill PD."
Her heart plunges hard, pounding riotously in her ears.
"We apprehended the perpetrator guilty of your husband's murder."