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CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A month had passed since I lost the baby, and I was curled up in bed with the blankets pulled up to my chin. I was so exhausted, unable to sleep for days, and prayed I could turn my mind off for five minutes just to get some rest.
But every time I closed my eyes, that day replayed as if I was living it all over. The smell of the man's breath, the feeling of metal pressed against my flesh, and the fear that had taken hold of my body when I saw Jack rush into the building plagued me in my nightmares every night.
The day I woke in the hospital to learn that I'd lost our son, I also found out that Jack had been shot. The flash of red I had seen before passing out in the bank had been blood running down Jack's arm. He had undergone surgery at the same time as me, his going much quicker, but he'd healed with only a small scar – on the outside anyway.
He blamed himself for the entire incident: being unable to hide his emotions and reacting to the shooter when he'd said I was his wife. I had told Jack repeatedly that the man had known before Jack entered the building that they'd seen me watching him, but Jack wouldn't remove the fault from himself.
We had grown distant over that month. I wouldn't let him touch me, and he wouldn't talk about what had happened. Our parents and friends had stopped by, but for the first week, I refused to see any of them. Rosemary had finally forced herself past Jack and made it to our room, only to find me crying my eyes out, as I'd done most days.
Something else I learned while still in the hospital was Bobby had died at the hands of Jack. Both had fired their guns – Jack getting hit in the arm and Bobby in the chest – but the man had so much adrenaline pumping through him that he'd been able to grab me and throw me against the door frame. Once Jack tackled and pinned him to the ground, Bobby succumbed to his wound and bled out before they could get him to the ambulance. Tim, the only robber who survived, was in jail awaiting his trial, most likely to be locked up for many years.
A month after the incident, Jack was cleared to return to work. Unwilling to at first, I had urged him to go back simply because his presence was more than I could handle at the time. I'd just wanted to be alone.
A couple of hours after he left and the kids were at school, I finally pulled myself out of bed. Keesha was by my side as I stood in the doorway of what was supposed to be our son's room, as I started crying again. Not knowing the sex, we decided to keep it gender-neutral, and there were several shades of yellow and green patches on the wall where we had been testing colors.
I entered the room and ran my hand along the edge of the crib, imagining our baby sleeping inside. I gripped the rails and doubled over, screaming at the top of my lungs. Keesha rushed to my side, whining and pushing against my leg. I collapsed to the floor and wrapped my arms around her neck as she nervously moved onto my lap. I heard footsteps running up the stairs, and thinking I was home alone, I fearfully crawled along the floor and squeezed into the corner between the dresser and the wall. My trembling hands were over my mouth, trying to keep my cries stifled, but Keesha was jumping up and down in front of me, giving away my hiding place.
"Beth?" Jack's voice called out to me, and a flood of relief washed through me, sending me into yet another wave of tears. "Beth, what's wrong?" he asked, dropping to the floor before me.
"You're supposed to be at work, and I...I heard footsteps. I thought...someone had...broken into the house."
"Oh, Baby, no. I tried to go back to work, but I wasn't ready." He reached out to touch me, but I pulled away, as I had done since we'd gotten home from the hospital. "Beth," he said and dropped back onto his heels. "What is it? Why can't I touch you?"
"Where's my baby?"
"Beth, you know what happened."
"But...where's my baby? Where is he?"
"I don't know."
"Where is he?"
"The hospital took care of things."
"Where's my baby?!" I screamed. Jack almost fell back, looking at me with fear in his eyes. It wasn't that he was afraid of me...but for me. I drew my knees up to my chest and dropped my head, hiding within myself in the corner of the nursery. I felt Jack's hands on me, and I flinched.
"Beth, please," Jack begged. The pleading in his voice normally would have broken my heart, but I was not in the right place to hear it.
I didn't move. I didn't respond. I just wanted Jack to go away. I wanted to see my baby, to hold him, speak to him. I wanted this constant fear to leave me. I wanted the feeling of the man's hands on me, and the gun pressed to my head to stop.
"Beth," he tried again as he gently touched my arm.
"Don't!" I shouted and sat up straight, pulling my arms to my chest.
Jack stood and looked down at me, then left without a word. I remained on the floor in the corner of the room that would stay empty for another...who knew how many months. Keesha was still there, pushing her nose beneath my hand, trying everything to get me to pet her, but I didn't even do that. My heart ached, my stomach churned, my head pounded, and I wanted the world around me to stop moving on with their lives as if nothing had happened. It wasn't fair. My life had stopped...again, but everyone else's was still going on as usual.
I had no idea how much time had passed, but I couldn't move. My knees were drawn up, my arms wrapped around them, and my head down when I heard someone coming again. I hated myself for yelling at Jack, but I needed space.
"Elizabeth." My mother's voice surprised me, and I felt her hands on my legs. "Elizabeth, come here, please."
I lifted my head and stared at my mother with bloodshot and swollen eyes. "Mom."
"Oh, Beth. Come here," she said again and sat on the floor, pulling me toward her. I laid my head on her lap, curled up on the floor, and she combed her fingers through my hair. "Sweetheart, what's going on?"
"I want my baby."
"He's gone, honey. He's gone."
"I know," I said. "I know."
"What else is going on? There's something else."
I moved to my back and looked up into my mother's face. Tears fell from the corner of my eyes and rolled across my temple. "I can still feel the gun against my head."
"Beth, sweetie, did you tell Jack this?"
I shook my head.
"Honey, he thinks you hate him. He blames himself and thinks you do, too."
"I don't blame him."
"You need to tell him."
"I have...repeatedly."
"Then why are you pushing him away?"
I rolled to my side again and tucked my hands beneath my cheek. "I don't know."
My mom combed her fingers through my hair again, much like she did when I'd lost our first baby. But this experience was much different. Maybe because I carried him in my womb longer or because we found out he was a boy, I'm not sure, but it was so much harder this time. I was certain I wasn't blaming Jack; at least, I didn't think I was, but I had done something to make my husband believe that I held him responsible for the death of our child. And at the same time, I had not tried hard enough to let him know it wasn't his fault.
"Do you blame him for any of it?"
"No, Mom, honestly, I don't. He didn't do anything wrong. I'm just...I don't know. I'm mad. I'm scared. I can't sleep."
"He's heartbroken, Beth. He lost a son, too."
"I know."
"He's scared, too, honey. He called me here today, you know?"
"He did?"
"Yes. He said if he can't help you, he'll find out who can, and he started with me. He loves you so much."
"I know he does." The guilt began to ravage me as I thought back through the past month. I had pushed him away so many times and told him to leave me alone. I would feel the same way if he'd done the same to me. I sat up and wiped my cheeks repeatedly, trying to remove all the moisture. "Can you send Jack in?"
"Of course," she said and stood. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."
"Okay."
My head was down, my forehead against my knees when I felt a hand on my arm. I slowly looked up into the eyes of my husband. The fearful, regretful, nervous expression that stared back at me was all my fault.
"Hi, Baby."
That's all it took. The sound of his voice calling me Baby at a time I was finally willing to hear it tore at me, and I erupted in tears again as I fell into Jack's embrace. The heaving and shaking of his sobs matched mine as we remained in each other's arms until the final tear was shed. Jack lifted my chin as his lips met mine. They felt so wonderful and warm...and safe. I hadn't felt them in a month and hadn't realized how much I missed his kiss until that moment.
"I'm so sorry," Jack said.
"No. I am."
"You have done nothing wrong," he said as he sat down with his back against the wall, draping his arm over me.
"I did. I made you think I blamed you. I do not blame you for anything."
"But if I hadn't rushed in..."
"Then things could have ended even worse. Bobby could have started shooting the hostages."
"But he saw my face when he called you my wife."
"He saw my face when you were still outside. He knew, Jack. He already knew. There was nothing you could have done to change that. If I had stopped searching for you outside, he would have never seen me. He would have never held the gun to my head for you to see, and none of that would have happened."
Jack wrapped both arms around me as we remained on the floor of the empty nursery. "It's neither of our faults. He was a horrible man and had no good intentions planned for that day, no matter what happened."
I simply nodded, closed my eyes, and soaked in the warmth of his love that emanated from his embrace. I had missed that feeling and didn't want him to let go. When he lifted his hand to my face, I flinched slightly when I felt his fingers on my skin.
"Beth, why do you keep doing that?" he asked, pulling his hand away.
"I can still feel the gun," I answered as I looked into his eyes. I could see the hurt surface again as he shook his head slightly, and his gaze moved about the room.
I took his hand, pressed his palm to my cheek, and held it there. With my eyes closed, I focused on the contact of his skin against mine, trying to dissolve the ever-looming presence of the gun. Then I felt his lips on mine again, and everything around me fell away. It was what I had needed, and Jack seemed to know it. I moved onto his lap and put my arms around his neck as his arms encircled my waist, and our lips found their home with each other. It was amazing how much healing happened in that brief moment on the floor. The chain that Bobby had wrapped around my heart by the loss of my child and fear had been undone and fell away. A weight was lifted from me as the warmth of Jack's mouth against mine melted away the anger that had taken residence in me. I could feel the old me returning just as quickly as it had gone into hiding. I buried my face in his neck as he firmly held me and tenderly rocked me back and forth.
Jack began to hum the tune I frequently heard as he held the kids. I had always thought it sounded familiar, but this time, I knew it did. "What song is that?" I asked as his breath floated across my ear.
"The First Time I Ever Saw Your Face."
Yes. That's what it was. I remembered hearing my dad sing that to my mom as they danced in the kitchen when I was a kid. I hadn't been able to put the two together until that moment, and it gave me such peace as I thought back on that memory. Jack continued to hum as I watched the vision of my parents dancing, and it slowly morphed into silhouettes of Jack and me in our own kitchen. The suffocating fear seemed to crumble away as the melody encircled me like another set of arms. I had never felt anything like it, as I literally felt the hurt, anger, and guilt dissolve away. It was like watching a bath bomb fizz and bubble in the warm bath until nothing was left.
I pulled back and looked Jack in the face, my eyes locking with his, and he must have been quite ecstatic with what he saw looking back because he cupped my cheeks and kissed me passionately.
"It's so good to have you back," he finally said when he stopped for a breath.
"It's good to be back," I agreed.
"Is everything okay in here?" my mom asked from behind the closed door.
"Yes, Mom. Come in," I replied.
She stepped inside, and I could see relief flash in her gaze. I got to my feet with assistance from Jack and crossed the room to hug her.
She cupped my cheeks, and with her thumbs, she wiped them dry. "You're going to be just fine, sweetheart," she said. "Just fine."
"Yes, I think I will," I agreed and hugged her again.
...
When the kids arrived home from school, Jack and I were in the kitchen preparing a snack for them. As soon as they saw me, they rushed in and wrapped their arms around me.
"Mom, you're up," Max said as he tightened his arms around my neck.
"Yes, sweetheart. I'm sorry I haven't really been around lately."
"We understand," Alex said as she moved her arms around me again.
The day Jack and I came home from the hospital, I retreated to our bedroom and refused to come out. He was left with the task of telling the kids about their little brother. I could hear them from down the hall as he broke the news as gently as he could, and Max and Alex were both in tears. They had been full of "whys" and "hows" as he tried to explain things in a way they could understand. I stood in the doorway, the door opened just enough to hear, as the guilt ripped at my gut with having left this horrific job for Jack to handle alone. But at the time, I had nothing in me to help him. I was empty, void of any strength to deal with the aftermath of what had happened.
As I knelt in the kitchen with Max and Alex's arms around me, I wept with joy from the feeling of the loving embrace of my children. They had come into the bedroom from time to time, trying to talk to me, wanting to lay down with me. I let them a few times for a short while until I felt the tears building up again. Not wanting them to see me continuously cry, I would tell them I needed to sleep, and they left the room.
This was what I should have been doing. Out of bed and in the kitchen, preparing meals for my family, living life, and not letting it drag me down. The love of my husband and children was like a medicine, healing my heart and soul, pulling me from the prison that fear and desolation had locked me in.
...
A couple of weeks later, it was Max's tenth birthday. We celebrated with a huge party, inviting all the family and several of his friends from school. He was entering the double digits, and I was making up for being absent for a month. The kids had so much fun playing games, opening an abundance of gifts, and taking turns with a swing at the pinata Jack had hung in the garage. Max was a giant fan of Spiderman, so his pinata was the character hanging upside down, and the cake was an abstract nighttime cityscape with Spiderman's head on top. It was a hit with all of the boys in the group, and they chattered a mile a minute as they looked it over.
At the end of the day, when everyone had gone home, the kids, Jack, and I sat down to watch Max's favorite Spiderman movie. I was nestled against Jack, his arm around me, and Max and Alex were at our feet, leaning against our legs with a huge bowl of popcorn on the floor between them. I felt Jack kiss the top of my head as his arms tightened around me. We were back to the old us, and it was wonderful.
I still had moments of sadness over the loss of our son, as did Jack. I caught him in the garage only a few days earlier, his hands resting on the workbench, his head down, and the wood of the bench stained by his tears. I knew what he was feeling as I felt it often, too, and nothing needed to be said. I wrapped my arms around him, my cheek pressed to his back, and he moved a hand to cover mine. This had become a new part of our norm, supporting each other through our sorrow simply with an embrace.
I thought of this as we watched the movie with the kids, and as Peter Parker began to cry over the loss of his uncle, a few tears rolled down my cheek, and Jack wiped them away. This small, tender gesture warmed my heart, and I tipped my head against his shoulder. I never wondered if Jack loved me. I never had to question how he truly felt. His actions spoke louder than words, and he showed me every single day exactly how he loved and appreciated me. And I strived to do the same.
...
As time continued to move forward, I thought back frequently to Jack's birthday six months prior. We had made love that morning, and as I lay in his arms, I asked him what he wanted for his birthday.
"If you could have anything in the world, what would it be?"
"A baby with you," he simply answered.
So, we had planned to expand our family after the wedding, only to be pleasantly surprised that my body decided to start ahead of time for us. So, when we lost our son, I felt as if I had really let Jack down, among other things.
Thinking back to that conversation once more, I decided to approach Jack with the subject again.
"Let's start our family."
Jack was in the garage working on the Jeep, leaning over the engine, and as he quickly straightened, he caught his head on the bottom side of the hood. With his hand covering the the bump, he turned to face me.
"What?"
"We both want a baby. I don't want to wait any longer."
"Are you sure you're ready? It's only been two months."
"I want a child with you."
Jack pulled the rag from his back pocket and began to wipe his hands the best he could. With grease still darkening his palms, he cupped my face and covered my lips with his.
"Right now," I said as I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the door.
"Are you sure it's alright?"
Stopping, I spun around to face him. "It's been two months since we've been together, and I don't want to wait any longer. I feel fine, and I'm healed." I grabbed the front of his dirty grey T-shirt and pulled him toward me. "I want you, and I want to have your baby."
Jack needed no other coaxing, and he had me in his arms and moving toward the door before I knew what was happening. He hurried up the steps, through our bedroom, and into the bathroom, where he shed his dirty clothes and stepped into the shower, pulling me in with him.
This was the final step to our healing, finally being together again. It felt like an eternity had passed since we'd made love last, and it was even more amazing than usual. He carried me to the bed with only a towel around me, and after lowering me onto the mattress, he pulled the towel away and tossed it to the floor. As he lay alongside me, Jack tenderly brushed his fingers along my abdomen, tracing circles where the baby bump used to be, where hopefully another one would be soon. Pressing his palm to my skin, he slipped his hand beneath the sheet that draped across my bottom half and to the area that was already burning with desire and began another round of activities of what I deemed him an expert in.
...
A very excited Alex woke on her tenth birthday and rushed into our bedroom. It was a Tuesday, and Jack had worked a late shift the night before, and having not gotten to bed until 2 in the morning, he was sound asleep when his daughter pounced on him.
"Alex," he called out when her elbow made contact with his stomach.
"Sorry, Dad."
"What's the urgency?" he asked as he pulled himself up, rubbing his abdomen and not realizing what day it was yet.
"I'm ten today," she exclaimed with a hint of disappointment in her voice.
"Yes, Daddy," I started. "She's double digits now like Max."
"Well, that is definitely something to get excited about," Jack stated, wrapping his arms around his daughter. "Happy birthday, Bug."
"Bug? You haven't called me that in a long time," she said with a grin.
"I guess I haven't, and I suppose you're too old now for a nickname like Bug."
"No, I'm not," she giggled.
"What's going on?" Max asked as he entered, rubbing his eyes.
"Alex is ten today," Jack said.
"It's about time," Max teased as he climbed on the bed to join us. He lay down in front of me, and I put my arm around him. "Happy birthday, Lex." Max had recently started calling his sister by that name, wanting something special, and she instantly loved it.
"Thanks, loser," she said and punched his arm – her latest nickname for him.
Smiling, I shook my head and laid back on my pillow. Jack and the kids began discussing Alex's upcoming birthday party, which would be a big one much like Max's, and she was running through her list of friends she had invited.
"Will you dance with my friends and me?" I heard Alex ask Jack. I lifted my head and watched Jack as he answered her.
"Me? Why would you want to dance with an old guy?" he teased.
"You dance really good."
"Oh, I do?"
"Well, yes, Dad. You're the best dancer out of all the dads."
"How can I say no to that?"
"You can't," she grinned, knowing her dad would do almost anything she asked.
...
The remainder of the week was filled with work, school, and party planning. Alex thought it would be fun if everyone dressed in fancy clothes, so Friday evening was spent at the mall searching for the perfect dress for her special day.
Saturday morning found Alex and me in front of the mirror of my bathroom as I curled her hair and applied a small amount of makeup. Having been the first time she'd ever worn any, Alex thought she looked so grown up and ran to show her dad. When I joined them in the kitchen, Jack wasn't there, and I found him in the garage wiping away a few tears.
"What's wrong?" I asked him as I put my arms around his waist.
"She's growing up so fast. It just caught me off guard."
"I know exactly how you feel," I said before tenderly kissing him.
"Ugh, let's get this day over with," he stated as he wiped his eyes. Taking my hand, we walked into the house together to finish preparing the food.
Eight girls and three boys tore through the house toward the sunroom, each dressed in their Sunday best, each high on sugar from the cake and many desserts and candies Alex had requested. Apples to Apples Junior board game was set up for them, and they circled the coffee table to begin playing. Giggles and screeches filled the air as they took turns explaining their cards in an attempt to get the designated judge to choose theirs.
Jack's parents were sitting with mine in the living room, joined by Lee, Rosemary, Julie, and a few other family members, visiting about a multitude of subjects.
Jack and I were cleaning up the kitchen when he spun me to face him, took my hand, placed his other arm around my waist, and began dancing to a song playing softly in the background. My cheek was pressed to his chest as he rested his head on mine, and with our eyes closed, we slowly moved about the kitchen.
"See, I told you he's the best dancer."
Quiet giggles could be heard over the music as Jack, and I turned to find the eyes of eight girls staring at us.
"Come here," Jack said as he held his hand out for his daughter.
Alex excitedly rushed to her father and stood on his toes as Jack maneuvered her across the floor. Giving each girl a turn, three songs had played through before he was finished, then they hurried back to their game, laughing and prattling on, holding each other as they dropped to the floor around the table.
"I do believe you just made every one of those girls' day," I told him as I crossed the room to finish our dance.
With his arm returned to my waist, my hand raised in the air with his, he spun us across the kitchen and dipped me beside the sink. "Did I just make your day?" he asked with that glint in his eye.
"Almost," I winked.
...
As May began, spring gently rolled in, leaving our front yard littered with white petals from our dogwood trees. I sat on the front porch on a Saturday and watched the kids running through them with Keesha close on their heels. With life back to normal, and Jack and I back to work, we looked forward to these special times spent with Max and Alex.
Jack had a shift that day and would be home soon, and my eyes constantly drifted to the street each time I heard a vehicle approaching. Just as the kids started toward the house to go inside, the Jeep pulled into the drive, and Alex and Max raced to the garage to greet their dad. When I walked in, Jack was already out and hugging each of them as if he'd been gone all week. The kids loved their dad and were overly excited to see him each time he returned home. I'm not going to lie; my heart skipped a beat each time I saw that red Jeep turn off the street.
They had made cookies that morning and were anxious to get him inside for him to taste their creations. Stopping them by holding up his hand, he quickly crossed the cool concrete to give me a hug and kiss before joining them.
"Hello, Baby," he said as he cupped my face.
"Hey, Sergeant."
"Okay, kids, let's go check out these cookies." Taking my hand, he led me to the door, stepped aside to allow me to enter first, then followed closely behind with his hand on my back.
I held a cookie in my hand as Jack taste-tested several others. I stared at it, wanting to take a bite, but my stomach suddenly felt like it was turning inside out. I dropped the cookie onto the counter and ran to the nearest bathroom. Jack was quickly by my side, holding my hair back as he always had. As I stood and wiped my mouth, we locked eyes, both wide.
"Um..." Jack stood, unable to finish his sentence, as I dropped my hands to my stomach. "Could you be already?" he finally asked.
"I suppose I could be."
"What do we do?" I could see the excitement building in his gaze as he continued to stare at me.
"Go to the store and buy a test."
"Right now?"
"If you want to know right now," I giggled.
Jack pulled his keys from his pocket and ran from the bathroom. "I'll be right back, kids. I have to run to the store."
Fifteen minutes later, Jack rushed into the house, breathless, and took hold of my hand. "Mom and I will be right back," he stated as he pulled me toward the stairs.
"Okay, Dad," Max replied from his chair at the counter. He and Alex were still nibbling on cookies with large glasses of milk in front of them.
As soon as we were in the bathroom, Jack emptied the contents of the bag into the sink, and three different tests fell out.
"Three?"
"Just wanted to make certain," he answered with his boyish grin.
And there we were, standing in front of the sink once again, staring at three white sticks and waiting for an answer to our future.