An Act of Persuasion(94)

She watched him walk out of the bedroom and waited until she heard the sound of the downstairs door closing. The front door of the house he bought for her because he wanted to make sure if he died, she always had a home of her own.

That’s who she had pushed away. That’s who she’d forced out of her home. Because she hadn’t known until this very moment that she couldn’t cope with all of the things he wanted to give her.

A husband. A baby. A family. A life.

Her body started to shake and she reached out for the bed. Sitting on the edge she concentrated on taking slow, deep breaths and tried to gain control of her body.

You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.

The words came to her and she thought about what she’d survived before and how much more capable of surviving she was now. Weren’t those the exact words she’d thought when she was six, lost in a room with people all around her, bumping into her, not seeing her? Knowing instinctively that the person she needed most was gone.

After a few breaths the spots before her eyes faded and she decided it was safe to stand. She wouldn’t risk hurting herself or the baby and, as unsteady as she felt, she knew she had to be extra cautious.

But she needed a glass of water. Her mouth was beyond dry. Then she would try to sleep. Tomorrow would be soon enough to think about what she’d done and start the process of denying to herself why she had done it.

When she stood she felt a warm stickiness between her legs. Turning, she saw the stain of fresh blood on the mint-green duvet she and Ben had picked out together.

Panic immediately surfaced. What was happening? Was she in labor? But she didn’t hurt. Did her water break? Was that supposed to be bloody? She didn’t think so. And it was too soon. Only thirty-six weeks. She wasn’t ready.

Mentally digging deep she locked down the panic and started thinking logically. There was blood, not amniotic fluid. She was not in pain and it was too soon for labor. Something was wrong. Phone.

There was no phone upstairs. Either she or Ben always had a cell phone with them. Ben was gone. She’d sent him away. He’d taken the phone with him. Her phone was downstairs.

Thoughts started to coalesce.

Downstairs. Phone. 911.

Downstairs. Phone. 911.

It became a mantra. When she took a step forward, she could feel more blood rush. She couldn’t do this. The baby would fall out. Something was happening and it was coming too early. She couldn’t move. She needed to stay still.

Ben!

No. Ben was gone. She’d pushed him away.

Think. Downstairs. Phone. 911.

Wadding up the nightgown between her legs, she tried to press them together and walk at the same time. She reached the top of the stairs and stopped. She felt dizzy and wouldn’t risk walking down them until she knew she was under some control mentally.

This happened every time you gave blood at the hospital when Ben was getting his chemo treatment. Heck, you get dizzy on day two of your period if you don’t drink enough orange juice. There’s not that much blood. There’s not that much blood.

She could do this. It would be okay. She would get to the hospital and they could put her on bed rest and give her juice and then she would be fine and the baby would be fine.

The sound of the front door slamming startled her.

“This is horseshit! I don’t care what you say. I’m not leaving you. I’m never leaving you. We are going to figure this out so you better accept that and— Anna. Oh, my God!”

He came back. She’d pushed him away but then he came back. That was good. Because she really needed him right now.

How silly she’d been. Of course, he wouldn’t leave her. Ben would never leave her.

It was the last thing she thought before she fainted.





CHAPTER TWENTY



MARK STOPPED WHEN HE SAW BEN. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen Ben covered in the blood of a fallen comrade. But knowing whose blood it was made Mark tremble inside.

The call had been almost undecipherable. Mark had been jarred awake by the sound of a ringing phone. When he answered he was thinking that it might be Sophie on the other end. What if she was hurt? What if she needed him? He’d been unprepared for the hoarse, nearly raspy voice of Ben saying that Anna was in trouble.

Cautiously, Mark approached Ben who was currently bent over, his head in his hands as his elbows rested on his knees.

The closer Mark got the stronger the smell of Anna’s blood became.