The Shop on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #1)(68)

“So we’re going to have two cribs?”

“I could be having twins.”

Doug chuckled and it was the unrestrained laugh she’d fallen in love with all those years ago. He so rarely laughed like that anymore, and she knew beyond a doubt that her pregnancy explained his joy.

“Besides, I was thinking that if we can’t use the crib, maybe she could give it to Rick.” She hated to put an end to her husband’s fun-loving mood, but her brother would be presenting their parents with another grandchild a few weeks before Carol was due to deliver.

“Have you heard from him lately?” Doug asked.

“Not a word.”

“I take it he hasn’t mentioned anything to your parents?”

“Not that I can tell, but I don’t dare ask about it, either.”

“You’re right—it’s not your place.”

She sank back into her chair. “I hope Rick does the proper thing and marries this woman.”

Doug hesitated. “From what you told me, he’s already decided against that.”

“But there’s a baby involved.”

“I know that, but I also know Rick.”

Carol sighed. She wondered what her parents would say when they heard about the situation. Her mother was waiting impatiently for grandchildren. She’d be thrilled whether Rick was married to the woman or not, but she’d prefer it if Rick gave the child his name.

“I’m having cottage cheese for lunch,” she told Doug. He’d appreciate her sacrifice.

“I hope the baby likes it,” Doug teased.

“I hope so, too.”

They chatted for a few more minutes and then Carol went back to her sacrificial lunch.

She lost the baby later that afternoon.

Just when the dream had started to become a reality…Just when she’d given herself permission to believe…Just when she was so sure everything had gone according to plan.

At four in the afternoon the spotting started. The instant she saw the blood, she thought she’d faint. Severe cramping followed and there was no longer any doubt. She’d miscarried.

“No,” she whispered, clenching her fists at her sides. “Please no…please, oh please.” Her throat was thick with tears. She sat on the end of her bed and covered her eyes.

The routine should be standard by now. After phoning the doctor’s office, she collected her purse. She didn’t call Doug, couldn’t ruin the rest of his day. She’d give him the afternoon before she shattered his life with the news that there would be no baby for them.

When Dr. Ford examined her, he confirmed what she already knew. Her body had rejected the fetus. The baby was dead, expelled from her womb. Dr. Ford was sympathetic and concerned. After she’d dressed, he gently squeezed her arm.

“I’m sorry.”

Emotionless, Carol stared straight ahead.

“Would you like one of my staff to phone Doug for you?”

She shook her head.

“Is there anyone you’d like me to call?”

His words sounded slurred to Carol as her mind struggled to comprehend each one. She was drowning in a sea of pain. Functioning normally was impossible just then.

“I want my mother,” she whispered. Her body had rejected three pregnancies now, and there wouldn’t be another chance. This was the end for her and Doug. It was over.

“Can I have someone phone her?”

She looked up at him, wondering who he meant, and realized he was asking about her mother. Carol shook her head. “She lives in Oregon.”

Dr. Ford said a bit more, offered his condolences and after a few minutes left her. Carol slipped off the examination table, dressed and went out the door. She didn’t know where she was going, didn’t care. She started walking—a slow, shambling walk, without purpose—and before long found herself on the waterfront near the Seattle Aquarium. Tourists crowded the sidewalk and she felt like a boulder in a stream, disrupting the flow of traffic as men, women and children darted around her.

When she was finally too tired to move, she sat down on a bench. The tears came then. Hoarse, painful sobs from the depths of her soul. She’d failed again. Disappointed her husband, disappointed her parents and everyone who’d believed in her.

Her cell phone rang and why she should be so angry with it, Carol didn’t know. Without checking to see who might be calling her, she grabbed it from her purse and threw it into the street. She felt a sense of grim satisfaction as a city bus passed by and drove directly over it. All that was left was a flattened piece of plastic with wires protruding.

“Is everything all right, miss?” a young police officer stepped up to ask her.

“No,” she said, her face streaked with tears and her eyes dull with pain. “Nothing is right.” She understood then that someone must have seen her and thought she needed help. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything the policeman or anyone else could do for her.

“Should I call someone?”

“No, thank you.”

“You’re sure?”

She stood, needing to escape. “I appreciate your concern, but you can’t help me. No one can.” If she didn’t leave now, she might end up in Emergency or even the Psych ward. Escape became key, so she started walking again. Walking and walking and walking.