FEEDBACK: Yes, please. I respond to everything except flames. Constructive criticism is valued.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters. No profit is being made. It's all for fun.
NOTES: see part one
EXTRA NOTE: This chapter deals almost exclusively with spiritual matters. If you are uncomfortable with that, skip this chapter – the story is structured so that the remainder will still make sense. If you do read the chapter, please know that the opinions and feelings are mine and, while I do not ask that any reader agree with them, I would request that readers respect my right to them. Thanks.
Part Four: Despair
By the time Garret reached the hospital Jordan's condition had worsened. He had enough time to sign the forms required for emergency treatment. After that, he and Lily had more time than they knew what to do with, waiting for some word.
"She lost a lot of blood," Lily said. "A lot. I – I didn't know – I mean, there was so much…."
Garret put his arm around her and drew her head to his shoulder. "Try not to think about it."
"How can I not? I found her. And, my God, Garret, what if I hadn't gone over there?"
"Lily." His voice was stern, gruff, but loving and calming. "Stop it. You did go over there. You did find her. And this is Jordan. She'll make it."
When, at last, the doctor came to them, his face told them nothing. They both stood up. Lily clung to Garret's arm, terrified to hear whatever the man in front of them would tell them and terrified not to hear it. The doctor, who looked to Garret like he was in junior high, came directly to the point. "Dr. Cavanaugh is going to be fine."
"Oh thank God," Lily breathed. She felt Garret relax a fraction.
"She lost a great deal of blood and had to be transfused. She was bleeding internally, which complicated matters, but the problem wasn't serious and she'll make a full recovery. Luckily, we were able to do the D and C now so she won't have to undergo any more procedures while she's regaining her strength."
"Thank you, Dr. Robinson," Lily gushed. "Thank you so much."
"D and C?" Garret gave the man a hard look. "You said D and C."
The doctor nodded. "Yes. It's what we do in cases like this."
"I'm sorry – cases like what?" Macy's voice was challenging.
Now the doctor's face grew befuddled. "In cases of a miscarriage. Especially in the second trimester."
Next to her, Lily felt all of Garret's tension return as she smothered her own gasp of surprise.
When the doctor had left them, telling them they could visit Jordan during official visiting hours, but not to tire her, they both sunk back down to the couch. Lily tried to speak several times but found her tongue refused to obey her brain's commands. For his part, Garret sat like a statue. Finally, Lily managed to coordinate her tongue and lips. "Miscarriage? Second trimester? Did he say that?"
"Uh huh. He said that."
"Did you know?"
Garret looked at her. "No. She never said a word."
"Do you think – I mean, maybe she didn't want – God…. Why didn't she tell us?"
"Maybe she wasn't sure what she was going to do."
"Do you think she told J.D.?"
"Do you think the baby was his?" Macy hated himself the moment the words left his mouth. In the past he might have had cause to say that but he knew Jordan had changed.
"Garret!"
He held up a hand to negate her chiding. "I'm sorry. That was a terrible thing to say."
"It really was." Lily chastised him anyway.
"I have a feeling if she'd told him he'd have been on the next flight back to Boston."
"Do you?" Lily smiled sadly. "Me too."
"He loved her."
"Enough to let her go. Do you think he knew… that she still loves Woody?"
Macy snorted. "Of course he knew. Why do you think he let her go? He wanted what was best for her."
"Do you think that's Woody?" Lily's voice held honest curiosity.
Garret was silent for a long time. "I don't know."
XXXXX
Jordan's first realization was that she was thirsty. Her second was that something was sticking into her arm. Her third was memory. And she wanted to shut the door on all of it, drift back into the drug induced sleep she'd been in and stay there until nothing hurt anymore. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, willing away the world.
"Jordan? You awake?"
Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and turned her head to find Paul sitting at her bedside. Without being asked, he filled a cup of water for her from the pitcher standing on the bedside table. She shifted enough to accept it from him, drinking slowly, postponing the inevitable. She watched him over the rim of the glass as he tucked a worn leather bookmark between two leaves of the book he'd been reading. He closed the book and laid it next to the pitcher.
"Lily said you asked for me yesterday." He took the glass from her and refilled it, handing it back, letting her set the pace.
Jordan searched her flannel-wrapped memories and found that she had. She nodded, feeling the tears starting already.
"I would have come sooner, but she said the doctors wanted you to rest as much as possible."
She nodded, the tears she hated leaking from her eyes.
Paul took the water away again and wrapped her hand in his larger ones. She made a soft, choked sound in the back of her throat. For a moment, Paul thought of everything that might have been with this woman. But it never really had been a choice. He cocked his head at her. "Why did you ask for me? To help you talk to God? Confess?"
Her lips twitched in the effort of smiling, but his poor attempt at mirth fell short.
"I wanted to ask you something."
He heard the accusation in her strained voice and he dreaded what he suspected would come next. "I'll try to answer anything you ask, Jordan. If I can."
Her eyes darkened like a sky brewing with summer storm clouds. "Is God punishing me?"
Paul took a deep, steadying breath. "No, Jordan. God isn't punishing you."
"Well then, He's doing a damn good imitation of it!" Grief ravaged her voice. She swiped angrily at the tears, wincing as the I.V. needle dug into her arm.
"Jordan, listen-"
"No, Paul, you listen. Listen and then tell me God hasn't got it in for me." She breathed in, shaking, miserable. Paul waited. "You remember Woody Hoyt?"
He nodded. "The detective. The one who was more than just a little bit in love with you. And you with him."
"How did you…?"
"I have eyes, Jordan. And I know you pretty well." He could not stop himself from glancing to her abdomen. "Your baby – was it his?"
She shook her head. "You got the tense right when you said he was in love with me." She explained briefly about the shooting, her rushed, hushed declaration and the aftermath of it all, about the way everything fell apart. And about how Pollack came into her life.
"What did this man – Pollack – what did he say about the baby?"
Jordan eyed Paul for a few heartbeats. "I hadn't told him."
"You – Lily told me you were eighteen weeks along."
She nodded.
"Why didn't you tell him?"
She sighed. "The truth? At first, I wasn't going to have the baby. I had an appointment with my doctor and everything."
"Jordan-"
She shook her head. "I couldn't. I started thinking of my mom, of J.D.'s son, of – of – of a lot things." Her lips twitched as fresh tears began coursing down her face. "I realized I really wanted this baby. I finally felt like maybe I could do this, could be a parent, be accountable to someone else. I wanted to be accountable to someone else."
"Don't take this the wrong way, Jordan, but being accountable to your baby didn't include telling the father?"
"It's complicated, Paul."
"It always is." His voice was tender, but unyielding. He'd always been able to make her face up to the worst in herself. And the best.
"If I'd told him, he'd have been on the next plane to Boston. Or had me on the next one to Sydney."
"And that would have been a bad thing?"
"Eventually." She nodded.
"Why?"
She sniffed. "I didn't love him."
"You might have, in time."
She shook her head. "No. I might have been content with what he would have offered. Security. A family. A new start. I might even have been a little in love with him, but that deeper feeling? It wasn't ever going to be there."
"People have managed before, you know."
"I know. And maybe if it had been the same for him, maybe I could have tried it anyway."
"He loved you." Paul didn't make it a question.
Slowly, she nodded, thinking of the night she later knew she'd gotten pregnant, their last in the Reef. She'd lain in his arms, the boat rocking gently, the night peaceful around them. He'd thought her asleep. As he'd combed his fingers through the loose tangles in her dark curls, he'd murmured, "I do love you, Cavanaugh." Part of her, the part that cared about him but couldn't quite love him, had ached to lie to him, to reply in kind, but they'd never played games with each other and she'd had too much respect for that to start. And he'd told her on more than one occasion that she was a terrible liar. So she'd gone on feigning sleep, letting the gentle, lingering touch of his fingers and the soft warmth of his mouth "wake" her up. "He loved me," she agreed at last. "And he deserves more than someone who would only ever be content." She looked at Paul. "I was going to tell him later. I was."
The priest nodded. He knew Jordan wouldn't have kept her child and its father apart. "So why do you think God is punishing you?"
"Isn't it obvious?"
He shook his head, although he could have articulated her reasons for her.
"Paul, my whole life I've learned not to trust people, not to get too close – or only do it on my own terms. I finally – finally – let someone in, let Woody in and what happens? All those life lessons I ignored came back and bit me on the ass! And it wasn't even the shooting so much – it was everything after that. But then – then I run into this guy – this annoying, obnoxious, creepy reporter guy who turns out to be a bunch of things I thought he wasn't. And I think – I think – I had what you might actually call a grown-up relationship!"
Paul nodded reflectively, but let her continue.
"I find out I'm pregnant. I – I realize I want this baby. More than anything. I mean, tell me – didn't I finally get to those places everyone kept telling me I needed to get to? And what happens? I lose the baby. I can't win, Paul!"
Mutely, wary of the IV needle, he took her in his arms and let her sob. He rubbed her back with one hand. Silently, he prayed for her. He prayed for the right words and that she could find the determination one more time to let herself trust. When she began to calm, he spoke. "Jordan, do you remember the verse that starts 'Now we see through a glass dimly?'"
She pulled away, resting against her pillows. "I know, I know, Paul. God has a plan for us and we just can't see what it is, but someday – when we're dead – we'll know and it will all make sense. Forgive me if 'someday' isn't enough for me right now."
He brushed a lock of hair from her face. "I know that hearing God has a plan for us doesn't help much, not when we're grieving, but I do believe it's true. And I believe we can hold on to that knowledge and it can help us make it through."
"What is the point, Paul? What is God's plan? Drive Jordan crazy like her mother?"
"Don't say that, Jordan! Of course that's not His plan. He wants you to use the tragedies in your life to find your path." He stopped, listening in his heart for the words he wanted. "Can you deny that some of that has already happened?"
Her perplexed look spurred him on. "You are so passionate about your work, Jordan. Don't you think some of that passion – that desire to find justice for the dead, to provide answers for their families – don't you think some of that comes from the knowledge that there was never justice for your own mother? That you have never had any real answers?"
She nodded slowly.
"There is a reason for all of this, Jordan. You may not see it today or tomorrow. In this life, you may never see it or it may strike you almost out of nowhere someday. I wish I could tell you that you'll understand it – or that I'll understand it and be able to tell you, but I can't say that. All I can say is that as hard as it is to see right now, God is not punishing you. He loves you."
"He has a funny way of showing it." She gave a shuddering sigh. "Maybe he's still mad at me for trying to seduce you away from the priesthood."
Paul smiled at her.
"I know. It was never a choice." The resignation in her voice was real.
"You want to know something?" He squeezed her hand. "There are times – many times – I've wondered why I felt called to the Church. I've spent long hours praying about God's plan for my life and maybe I understand a little bit of it more now."
"And that would be?"
"To be here for you, to hold you and grieve with you, to try to convince you that God does love you."
"Great." She drew the word out. "You became a priest almost twenty years ago as part of God's master plan so you could tell me all about God's master plan?"
He smiled again. "Something like that."
She shook her head.
"Think about it, Jordan. Just think about it."
Her face grew serious again. "I doubt I'll think about much else."
Paul stood up. "I hate to leave, but I'm due at the shelter in about half an hour."
She nodded. "Go. I'll be – I'll be okay."
"You call me if you need anything."
She gave him a grave nod and promised to do so. She also thanked him and the sincerity in her voice pleased him. He could still feel the turmoil within her, but the wildness of the grief, the anger of it had subsided. He knew her well enough to know that it would be back, but for the moment, while the ache pierced her soul, it did not threaten to consume her in despair.
He stopped at the door. "I'll say a mass for – him? Her?"
"Her," Jordan replied softly. "Thank you."
"Baby Girl Cavanaugh."
"Kathleen Marie Cavanaugh," she told him. "Kathleen Marie."
He nodded. "She is with God, Jordan."
"I wanted her here. With me."
Paul gazed at the floor for a moment. "I know," was all he could say in the end.
After he was gone, Jordan lay and stared out her window as dusk fell on Boston. Three days ago she had been pregnant. She had seen sonograms, heard her daughter's heartbeat and at least imagined she'd felt the first fluttery stirrings of activity in her womb. She'd been thinking about moving to some place bigger – and safer. She'd been on the verge of admitting she needed to go shopping for maternity clothes even. She'd known she'd have to tell Garret soon and track down her father to tell him he was going to be a grandpa. Just like the moment she'd known she loved Woody and always would, the moment when she'd known if he died on that operating table that something in her she'd hardly acknowledged was there would die with him, the moment she had realized how much the baby meant to her had changed her life. Like Saul on the road to Damascus, her priest might have told her. But just like the moment Woody had cut her from his life, when she'd woken to knowing that she'd lost her child, the world had rocked on its axis, shaking her newfound certainty to the core. She wept as full dark descended.
And she prayed.
END Part Four