"It's just water," he said with a smile. "I even put it in a glass for you."
She reached out, her hand still still trembling as she took the glass from his hand. "Thanks," she managed, her lips forming the word even though her voice was little more than a whisper. She hadn't meant to fall apart like that - especially not in front of him. It was nothing short of miraculous that he hadn't bolted, but for some reason Jonathan Randall still stood in front of her, his eyes filled with something that she'd swear bordered on compassion. "You don't have to stay, you know," she finally managed after a small swallow. "This isn't your problem. You warned me."
"I've been warned a few times myself," he said quietly as he gently moved onto the bed beside her. "Trust me, I'm the last person that's going to tell you I told you so. You'd have been crazy to take my advice. I'm not exactly the poster child for a successful situation, am I?" He felt his shoulders relax a bit when he thought he saw a fraction of a genuine smile on her face.
"Still. I can't help but think that I …"
"What?" He could see her hesitation, her reluctance to say something. "Listen, whatever it is you're afraid to say, don't be. I'm sure I've said worse. Hell, I've probably done worse. You can say whatever it is. I'm not gonna think any less of you."
"Maybe you should." Her voice sounded distant, resigned. She looked into his eyes, desperate to find the commonality she'd seen there before. "I think a whole hell of a lot less of me right now. I keep trying to do something right. I keep trying to make things better, but I can't and maybe that's because I'm not better. I'm not right. I'm broken. I'm twisted and …"
"No, you're not. That's all those voices in your head talking. That's your family and all those people that want to change you and fix you and turn you into whatever version of you they think you should be. That's not you."
"Maybe I need to be fixed or maybe everyone should just stop trying. Maybe I should stop trying. Maybe it's a waste of time and …"
"Hey." He turned towards her, his hands now resting on her shoulders. "I think you're pretty great. I don't think you need to be fixed or changed or anything else. I think you've just having a rough time of it right now and you …"
"No offense, Johnny, but your judgment leaves a little bit to be desired."
"That might be true," he shrugged, "but I'm a pretty good guy to have in your corner and you do have me. For what it's worth, I'm here and I don't have to go anywhere. I can stay right here with you."
"I'm sure you have better things to do with your day than sit here and play nurse to me."
"Funny, I can't think of one." He held her gaze as he watched the thoughts move behind her eyes.
After a moment of stilted silence, she finally spoke. "I appreciate the offer. I really do, but I think it might do me some good to just be by myself right now."
"You don't really sound like you need to be alone right now, D. I mean, you know what you need, but we don't have to talk or anything. I can just be here in case …"
"I just … I don't want anyone here." She felt the sob rising and tried desperately to choke out the words through the emotion in her voice. "It's not you. I just need to figure this out."
He shifted on the bed and moved to stand. "Alright," he sighed. Leaving her didn't feel good but staying when she asked him to go didn't seem right either. "I'll go since you asked me to if you promise to call me if you need anything."
"I will. I'll call you if …"
"Dinah?" Edmund's voice boomed in through the still closed door. "Dinah, you decent?"
She was already on her feet before he had a chance to say anything. "Please," she hissed, desperation evident in her eyes. "Go in there." She gestured to the bathroom. "He can't know you're here."
"Maybe he should," he whispered. "He's going to be upset and even though this is not in any way your fault, Edmund isn't exactly the most logical person on the planet and …"
"Jonathan, please …" Her eyes screamed as she stared at him. "You said you wanted to help me. This is how you can help." She gently pushed him back into the bathroom and closed the door softly. Her fist shook as she placed it on her stomach, her breath catching as she moved towards the door.
"Hi," she muttered, "Sorry it took so long. I was just washing up."
"It's alright. I was about to let myself in. I was worried that you still might not be feeling well which, from the looks of it …" He glanced around the room where the glass of seltzer still sat on the bedside table. "You're still not yourself are you?"
"Edmund." She forced a smile and silently willed herself to perk up. "If you think about it, the fact that I'm not feeling well is probably a good thing. You'd be hard pressed to find a woman that would tell you she felt fantastic with all these hormones surging through her."
"I suppose." He moved further into the room, allowing himself time to ponder the situation more deeply. "I still think it might be a good idea to call the clinic, just to be sure that what you're feeling isn't out of the ordinary or …"
"I just don't think that's a very good idea." Her legs felt like rubber as she stood and she casually reached for the chair next to her, gripping its back as support in order to stand. "With our" She paused and searched for the right word, "unconventional situation, it's probably best that we not draw any more attention to this than we need to."
She was right. This complication wasn't one he'd considered, but the last thing he wanted was to become a problem at the clinic. They didn't need any special scrutiny. They needed to blend in - at least until the pregnancy was confirmed and then nothing could be done to change anything. He and Cassie would have their miracle and all would be right.
"I suppose you have a point," he sighed. "But we could take you to another clinic - somewhere outside of town maybe just to be sure."
"I promise if I feel like that's something we need to do, I'll let you know. Right now, I know what I need and it's just some rest and relaxation." She watched him as he drew in a deep breath. "You really don't need to worry so much. Everything will work out."
"I'm sorry," he huffed. "I don't mean to be so spastic about everything, but this is my first time dealing with all of this and I just don't want anything to go wrong."
"I don't want anything to go wrong either." She fought hard not to wince as she said the words. "But I need you to trust me on this. This isn't my first time being …" Her voice failed her, as she felt the familiar burning behind her eyes.
"Right," Edmund said softly. "You mentioned that before. And this is how you felt before when you were … when you were pregnant?"
There was a light in his eyes when he spoke to her, a hope that she recognized. No matter what he'd done. No matter what mistakes he'd made. A child could change anyone. She couldn't take that light away - not yet, not when she'd not made peace with losing it yet herself.
"I don't know, Edmund. It's hard to say. The last times I wasn't on these shots and honestly I feel a little bit loopy right now, but these hormones are like being on a roller coaster ride and to be honest with you all I really want to do right now is crawl under these covers and take a long nap."
"Right. Right. Of course you do. Well, I don't want to disturb you." He gestured to the bag on the table. "I picked up a few staples for you. Some chips and fruit and some of that tea that you like. If you need anything else or want anything else, if you'll let me know I'll make sure that …"
"I know," she sighed. "I know you will."
"Alright then. I guess I'll let you get some rest. I'll see myself out."
She nodded as she watched him disappear, a sick feeling in her stomach returning as she waited to hear the sound of the door behind her opening.
"You didn't tell him," Jonathan said quietly. "Why?"
"I couldn't. Not yet. He'll find out soon enough. We'll go for the pregnancy test and he'll just think the IVF didn't work and that'll be that. It's better that way."
"If you say so." He watched as she shuffled back over to the bed and crawled back under the covers. Carefully, he sat on the edge and reached out and gently stroked her face, the wet streams a clear indication of newly fallen tears.
"What I said earlier still goes, Jonathan. I really need to be by myself right now. Please just go."
"Alright," he whispered. "I'll check on you later."
"You don't have to." Her throat felt tight as she tried to sound stronger than she felt.
"I will," he said simply. "Get some rest."
She managed to hold back the onslaught of tears until she heard the door close when finally, she let them fall.
The calendar may have ushered in Spring, but the cool wind was a sure sign that winter wasn't ready to bow out just yet. "I should have worn a heavier jacket," she huffed. If only her wardrobe was her only sin, the only transgression committed here. Her steps quickened as she wound her way through the stones. Some were familiar and others were sadly new. Her eyes filled with tears as she imagined the pain that each and every one had brought into the lives of those that loved them.
It was hard to come here - but not because it brought it all back. It never left. Not a day went by when she didn't think about Laura, but being here - it was something about the stone, about the dates, about the fact the carved numbers that drove home the fact that her precious baby girl had never taken a breath - That the day she was born was also the day she died. It was all so incredibly unfair.
"I'm sorry I've been gone so long, sweet girl," she whispered as she brushed a few stray leaves away. "You know that I think of you every single day so even though I don't visit as much, you're always in my heart and in my thoughts and I want you to know that I want to make you proud. I want to do all the things that I promised you we'd do together. If you'd lived Laura, life would be so different and I'm so sorry that I wasn't strong enough to save you. I'm sorry that you never got a chance to be better than I was, better than I am. I hope you're up there with your sister. I hope the two of you are taking care of each other. I know your Grandpa Henry is spoiling you both. I wish I had had a chance to do that. Sometimes I wonder if it would have been better if I had gone with you. I think about it sometimes."
"Dinah?"
She jumped at the sound of the voice behind her and stiffened as she felt his hand on her shoulder.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to interrupt but I was worried. I stopped by your place to check on you and you weren't there and I've been driving around looking for you and I thought maybe you might have gone to the church but you weren't in there and then I happened to see the car and …" He stopped talking and looked down at the stone. "I wasn't trying to eavesdrop or anything, but …"
"It's okay. There's no reason you shouldn't know. This is my daughter. This is the only introduction I can give you because I couldn't manage to bring her into the world either. I'd introduce you to my other daughter, but her grave is in Europe, so I can't exactly manage that right now, but if you're ever looking to take a trip then …" The words flew from her mouth in a manic spurt of emotion until the chill in the air forced a shaky breath.
"I …" His fingers raked through this hair slowly as he glanced between her and the stone once more. "I don't know what to say," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."
"Yeah. Everyone is. Everyone's always really sorry that I can't do the thing that is supposed to be the most natural thing in the world. I mean honestly, Jonathan, do you know how many babies are born every day? Do you know how many women have children they didn't plan on? Some that they didn't even want? And all in the world that I want is to have a baby, to have a family and for some reason it's like that's too much to ask. And maybe it is. Maybe after everything I've done in my life and all the pain I've caused, I don't deserve the happiness that having a child would bring."
"I don't believe that, D. I think that life is just … It's just not fair sometimes and why things work out for some people and don't work out for others, I don't get it. I think you deserve to be happy. I think you deserve to have whatever it is that you want and I don't think you're broken or empty. I think you're in pain and I think you're confused and I think you need to just try to remember what it feels like to be in your skin. You don't need to be someone's incubator."
"Don't say that. Don't talk about it like that."
"That's what it was though, D. You weren't going to be a mother to that baby. You were a means to an end and if what you want is a family, you're not going to get it that way."
"So how do I get it? What do I do? How do I get rid of this feeling because right now, I just want to crawl right in there with her. I just want it to be done."
The agony he saw in her eyes was something he'd felt himself many times. The desire to simply stop existing wasn't a foreign concept to him. He knew what that hopelessness could lead to, the destruction it could cause, and he'd do anything to save her the further pain that could bring about. "I have an idea," he said as he gently wiped the tears from her cheek. "I need you to trust me. I think I know exactly what you need right now."