Pulled(32)
Author: A.L. Jackson

I nodded, and he gripped my hand tighter. He stared at his feet for a few moments before finally looking at me.

“Eva…she lived for two days.”

I gasped, struggling to get air in my lungs. She had lived?

“What?” I rasped out.

He licked his lips and swallowed hard. “She was so beautiful, sweetheart.” His face was so sad, but there was a light in his eyes when he spoke of her. “So small.

God, Melanie, you can’t imagine how small she was. So perfect.” He talked about her with a reverence and love I’d never seen before, and I smiled as he described her, my tiny baby girl.

“Did you hold her?” I bit back the sob that threatened. He nodded, rubbing my arm. “A few times, but not for long. I would have held her all day if they had let me, but the nurses wanted her to be in her bed as much as possible.” I realized where he’d been all those times when I’d felt his absence. He was taking care of our baby girl.

“Thank you,” I whispered through my tears as I held him close to me. “Thank you for taking care of us.” I kissed his dry chapped lips, unable to imagine the pain he must have felt over the last—days? I wasn’t sure how long it had been. There was still so much I didn’t know.

I pulled away, my hands on his chest. “Are you hurt?” I asked, for the first time able to focus on more than just his eyes. He had a huge bruise on the side of his face and a row of stitches above his eyebrow. But he was dressed in normal clothes and sitting beside my bed, it obvious his worst injury was a broken heart.

He shook his head. “No, I’m fine. A couple of cracked ribs,” he said as he pointed to the stitches on his brow, “and this.”

Cracked ribs? “Does it hurt?”

“Honestly, Melanie, I really haven’t even thought about it. It’s not a big deal.” I knew he was making light of it, so I let it go.

“How badly was I injured?” I asked, scared of his answer. I hurt—everywhere.

He took a deep breath in, slowly blowing the air out through his pursed lips as he ran his free hand nervously through his hair.

“You were on the ventilator for three days. They kept you on it until the swelling went down around your brain,” Daniel grimaced as he described the reason I’d been out for so long. I followed his gaze down my body.

“Your right leg is badly broken. You’re going to need some pretty intense physical therapy when you get out of here, but Dad says you’ll heal fine. You have a lot of bruises and cuts all over…,” he said as his voice trailed off. He broke eye contact as he looked at his feet. I could tell he was hiding something from me.

“Daniel, everything,” I demanded. Unease raced through me when I saw his face again filled with agony, his jaw held tight in an attempt to hide the obvious trembling. I was terrified at what would cause him this reaction, but I pressed him. “Everything.”

He closed his eyes, his beautiful face weary and broken. “Baby.” He tried to keep his voice soft, but it came out cracked. “You were bleeding.” He paused, waiting for my reaction. I blinked at him, not understanding what about that could cause him so much pain. He cleared his throat, swallowing. “What I mean is…” He stalled.

I nearly screamed as I forced out the words,

“Daniel, please, just tell me.”

“Melanie.” He gathered up my hand in both of his. “When they did the cesarean there was too much bleeding…”

He didn’t have to say the words because I knew by the expression on his face what he was trying to tell me. I couldn’t have more children. Never could I give Daniel the family he wanted.

I gasped against the pain, clutching my chest as I tried to breathe, a full panic attack taking over my body. I was devastated. We lost our baby girl, and now we couldn’t have another—well, not we. Me.

Would Daniel still want me?

He shushed me, rubbed the back of my neck, and rocked me. I looked at his face, filled with his love and compassion for me, and I had to believe that he would always want me. In one day, all of our dreams had been shattered, but we still had each other, and we would make it. My tears finally subsided, and I began to accept what life had dealt us. It was going to take a very long time to heal from it, but Daniel and I would do it together.

A constant stream of people came and went over the next few of hours.

After the latest round of nurses left, Julia walked into the room, Patrick following close behind. Her voice was soft, always motherly. “Hey, beautiful girl.” She came near and leaned over me, kissing me ever so softy on my forehead. I loved her so much.

“How are you feeling?”

How was I feeling? I honestly didn’t know. I smiled weakly and didn’t answer because I couldn’t.

Anything I said would have been a lie.

“Can we get anything for you?” Patrick had the same concerned look on his face as he always did, his kindness always evident.

“Um, no. But thanks, Patrick.” I smiled at him, and reached for his hand, and Julia placed hers over both of ours.

“Did…did you get to meet her?” I hoped they did.

I looked at their broken faces, and my heart broke a little more. This loss of Eva wasn’t just Daniel’s and mine; it was also theirs. They lost their granddaughter, the one they’d planned for, taken care of, loved.

Julia whimpered, her eyes bloodshot and her forehead wrinkled with lines that had never been there before. “Oh, Melanie, honey. She was so beautiful, just like you. She had your mouth.” She smiled through her tears as she told me everything she remembered about Eva. It was heartbreaking and wonderful at the same time.

I wanted to know my daughter. But I knew I already did.

Even though I had never seen her face, I felt her. I knew her soul, and it would always be a part of me. Patrick stood in silence behind Daniel, his face weary but his love and support unwavering.

We all turned when we heard the door creak open to expose a flash of brown, frizzy hair.

Mom.

Chapter 12

March 2000

Mom was here. Of course she was. Guilt overcame me. This was how my parents found out about Eva. Slow and hesitant, Mom walked into the room. She had black, heavy bags under her brown eyes that were so red it was hard to tell their normal color. She had always been thin, but her cheeks were sunken in, the skin sagging. Her hair was up in a messy bun, pieces falling out and sticking to her face where her tears had dried. For the first time she looked old. She stood at the foot of my bed, nervously straightening her shirt against her stomach.