Chapter Eight

Woody took her home the next morning, and stayed with her the rest of the day…which they spent mainly just holding each other on the couch. In a normal death, society gives you permission to grieve…take some time off from work…get away from people and let grief take its natural course.

Miscarriage is different. There are no physical remains to grieve over….there's no wake, no visitation, no funeral service. There's no place to put a headstone to come back and place flowers on. There's nothing. So society expects you to go on with your life almost as if nothing happened. You've never held the baby…never nurtured the small life…never sat up with it all night. You've never been a parent. Not really. Nothing has happened.

But it did. Something did happen to Jordan and Woody. A life had grown inside of her for nearly five months. A life that had brought two people together. And now it was gone … a tiny daughter that both of them had wanted so much. So they cried together and held each other. Woody moved in with her, in an effort to help both of them cope. For a while it worked, as they tried to go on with their lives and let everything return to normal.

Normal. A state of mind that kept eluding them now. The miscarriage hung between them like the elephant in the living room that no one wanted to talk about. It was big and huge and they both tried to pretend it didn't happen.

But pretending didn't make it go away. Things kept growing more awkward between them until finally Woody moved back to his apartment. "I think we just need a little space and time," he told Jordan. "But I'm here if you need me. All you need to do is call."

"Same here," she had replied, watching him pack up his belongings in a duffel bag and head out. Her big, red door slammed shut behind him…locking him out of her apartment and she felt her out of his life. He had never said he loved her…he had just been with her because of the baby. This time, he had pushed her away. What more could she expect? She had her chance at happiness and had tried to reach out and grab it. She missed. Big time. She doubted she would ever have that chance again…to be with Woody, have his child.

Make love to him again.

Jordan returned to work with a vengeance, much to Garret's dismay. "You can take it easy," he told her.

"If I work, I don't think," she replied.

"How's Woody taking this?"

"About the same…I haven't really seen him much since…." Her voice faltered. "And Garret, for a while, I'd really appreciate it if I didn't have to go out on his calls. Please?"

Narrowing his eyes, Garret gave her a hard look. "Is he blaming you for the miscarriage?"

"No. It's just things are a little awkward between us now."

Awkward was putting it politely. While Woody had never said a word to her about it, Jordan couldn't help but wonder if he did, deep down under everything, blame her for losing the baby. He didn't voice it, but the looks he gave her at times made her wonder.

She felt so empty without the baby. She felt so lost without Woody. Her grief over the both of them was monumental. Her guilt, while not justified, was just as huge. The hours she put in at the morgue to try to fill her barren days coupled with the sleepless nights she was experiencing wrote themselves all over her face.

And Woody noticed it. He would have to be blind not to. The dark circles, lackluster eyes and sad smile. He saw it all. And he worried…just like he did when she was pregnant. But he wasn't sure what to do about it…was it his place to even worry about her anymore?

He wanted to talk to her. He needed to. But he never got the chance. She wasn't answering his homicide calls any longer. She wasn't answering his phone calls, either. He didn't dare try to catch her in the office again. Somehow that had never been too effective. So he waited and watched until she worked at the Pogue one Friday evening, coming in shortly before closing. She had her back to the bar, ringing up a sale. When she turned back around, he was sitting in front of her. "Hi," he said softly. "Haven't seen you in a while. I was worried. Thought I'd come see how you were."

"Okay…how are things with you?"

"Good." He ran a hand through his hair. "Look, can you talk for a minute?"

Jordan scoped out the bar. It seemed everything was taken care of…they could run it without her for a while. "Denise, I'm going to take a break…" she called out to the bartender. She came from behind the bar. He held out his hand and led her to a table in the back.

"Jordan…are you really okay? You look…tired."

She shut her eyes and nodded. "I am…or will be. I'm just working hard…trying to put everything behind me."

Woody felt his heart sink. He guess by everything, she meant him, too. "Is it working?" he asked, taking her hands in his.

The gentle gesture brought tears to her eyes. It seemed she cried over everything now… bodies, sappy TV shows, runs in her panty hose….they all were fodder for her hormones to act on. "It keeps my mind off of things," she said, clearing her throat and looking him in the eyes. "Are you okay, Woody?"

He took a deep breath before replying. "I don't know. I'm trying to be…but so much of my life was revolving around you and the baby…and now that it's all gone, I'm not sure quite what to do. I'm still trying to figure out what to do next."

"I know what you mean," she replied. There was a silence for several minutes. Not exactly uncomfortable, but neither of them were at ease with each other either. Woody began to feel like his world – or what he wanted to be his world – was slipping away from him. She was retreating behind her walls again…he had hurt her more than any words or gestures could ever repair. He had gotten her pregnant. She had embraced the idea of being a mother…and was even entertaining the idea of being with him…and then she lost the baby. For a woman that had been handed a world of hurt by the time she was ten, he knew the last event in her life may have been too much for her to deal with. She may retreat behind those emotional walls she was so good at erecting and never come back out. And he imagined seeing him all the time, even from a distance, didn't help. "Look, Jo, I need to go now. There's some place I need to be. But look…if you want to talk about …the miscarriage…or how you're feeling about it…call me. I mean, I understand better than anybody because I'm going through it, too." He got up to leave.

"Woody?" Jordan asked, looking up at him. She had to know. If she never talked to him again after tonight, she had to know. "Do you blame me for all ….this? Please tell me the truth. I need to know."

He bent down and kissed her forehead. "No. Not in anyway, Jordan, does any of the blame belong to you."