Chapter 14
He jumped up as soon as the door opened and felt his heart stop beating when he looked at the doctor’s weary expression.
“My wife. Please–”He held out a hand entreatingly, his expression bleak.
“We have managed to stop the bleeding.” Lucien had designated himself the spokesperson and the bearer of the relatively good news. They had worked feverishly for three hours to save mother and the fetuses, and he could feel the ache in every part of his body. Not to mention the acid taste of fear in his gut.
“But?”
Turning his head, he looked at his friend, whose expression was anything but friendly. Blake Anderson had rushed over as soon as his son had called with the news that Georgie was at the clinic again.
“She is not quite thirty-two weeks, so we are trying our best to keep those babies inside her until their lungs and other parts of their small bodies are more developed.” Lifting a hand, he dragged off his skull cap and passed his fingers through his salt and pepper hair. “Your wife is a fighter," he told the younger man.
“But right now, it’s touch and go.”
The icy fear felt like a sword thrusting inside his belly. He had come home when she called, rushed home, in fact at the panic in her voice when she told him she was bleeding.
“Oh God, I am losing our babies!”
“What the hell does that mean?”
Lucien shrugged uneasily. “She lost a lot of blood, and her pressure is very high. She is also suffering from gestational diabetes–”
“You son of a bitch! If she dies–”
“Beau!”
He backed down at the sound of his father’s shout and wheeled toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“I need some air. I feel as if I am suffocating.” With that, he stalked out of the room and slammed the door shut.
“I should go after him.” Blake stared at the door indecisively.
“I think he needs to be alone.” Lucien walked toward the refreshment table and poured himself a much-needed cup of coffee. It was edging toward ten in the night.
The summer was here, and he could smell the begonias and buttercups that had been planted by a very dedicated gardener just beneath the windows. July had come in with scorching heat and the promise of even more.
“Beau is not here now, so there is no need to soft pedal anything.”
Lucien turned to face him. “It’s touch and go," he repeated. “She is weak, and she could die.” He was blunt and knew Blake respected and appreciated the honesty. “I wish it was thirty-two weeks instead of twenty-eight, then we could deliver the babies by C-section. But we cannot risk that.
Taking them now will only end up being a disaster. What we can hope is that we keep her here for the duration and monitor her every minute.” He sipped the scalding coffee. “That’s the best I can give you, Blake.”
He nodded and sat back down, his entire body weary and defeated.
“We cannot lose her.”
“That’s not going to happen, not if I have anything to say about it. Carrying multiples is always a hell of a risk, but hers had multiplied mostly because she is so petite.
She gained weight rapidly, which is a good thing, but there was almost a placental eruption. We managed to fix that and had to do some fancy footwork to keep the babies where they are safe and should be.” He passed a hand over his face.
“Like I said, she is a fighter, but the odds are so damned high. We are watching her closely for twenty-four hours and Blake, I am not a religious man, but you should pray.”
“Fortunately, I am, and I will be doing that.”
*****
Beau wandered the halls until he found himself inside the neat and cozy little chapel. And he was alone, which was fortunate, because he needed solitude. He felt dazed, as if he was outside of his body and carelessly observing what was happening.
Things have been great for the past three months. No sign of the bleeding nausea, she had gotten very big and teasingly told him that if she was any bigger, she would not be able to move an inch.
He had jokingly replied that he would get a winch to cart her around. They had become complacent. The lack of illness and absence of symptoms had lured them into believing that it was just a regular pregnancy. They had even started entertaining again and the sex- he dropped down on a padded seat in the front pew and buried his face into his hands. The sex had been greater than ever, more intense, more passionate.
Two nights ago, he had warned that they were going to kill each other. The nurseries were finished, and they had chosen names. Caleb Daniel and Cain Blake. Middle names after both their dads. The girl would be called Brianna Rose. Monique was true to her word and the nurseries had been decorated lavishly.
He would come home in the evenings to find her wandering from one to the other, folding tiny clothes and rearranging enormous amounts of stuffed toys.
“They are going to be smothered with all of those," he had commented as he stepped in behind her and wrapped his arms around her swollen belly.
“I should give some of them away.”
“You think?”
Now it looked like they would have to give all of them away. And he felt sick to his stomach. He had made his decision clear. Saving his wife was top priority. She would hate him for it, possibly wouldn’t forgive him for years, but he would rather have her upset with him and being alive, than dead. He could not lose her.
Tears blurred his vision, and he felt the anger overriding everything. Anger at her. He should have put his foot down. He knew what they were getting into, and he should have stopped it. Why the hell couldn’t she have waited for them to have babies the normal way? What the hell was her hurry? And now he was on the brink of losing her.
“Like hell," he whispered hoarsely. Lifting his head, he stared at the crude cross and the wax figure representing the tortured Christ. “I am not going to apologize for swearing. I am pissed, do you hear me? I want my wife back. I want her here with me.
Please don’t take her. Damn you! I need her. Why give her to me and then take her away.” His face was upturned, and he was unaware that tears were streaming down his cheeks. “If you take her, you might as well take me too, because there is no life without her.”
*****
The next twenty-four hours felt like a lifetime. He had finally persuaded his dad to go home and take Cynthia with him. The poor woman had been trying to pry him from the waiting room without much success. Georgie’s sisters had gone home as well with the promise that he would call if there were any changes.
He was not budging. In case of anything, he wanted to be there with her. It had become a familiar scene. But this time, she did not look as if a strong wind would blow her away. Her stomach was swollen and there was meat on her bones. But she looked so still, so helpless and unlike his Georgie. But at least she was breathing.
Taking her hand in his, he studied the long and elegant fingers.
“You have piano fingers.”
She had looked at him as if he was addled.
“What do piano fingers look like?”
He had blushed a little at the question. “My mother played. And her fingers looked like yours.”
“I never knew that. Where is her piano?”
“At Dad’s place, in a room where he keeps some of her stuff. I couldn’t bear to look at anything to do with her for a long time.”
“I wish I had met her.”
“She would have loved you.” He smiled at that. “She would have admired your bluntness and the fact that you don’t put up with crap from me.”
“I am sure I would have loved her too. Because I love you and you look so much like her.”
Lifting her hand, he clasped them between his as if trying to infuse her with his life and warmth. He had spent half an hour in the chapel before coming into her room. A cot had been set up for him in the corner, but he was afraid to fall asleep, in case.
“No," he whispered hoarsely. “You are going to live, do you hear me, Georgie? You had better damn well live, if you know what’s good for you. You talked me into doing this and I agreed.” He kissed her hand feverishly. “I cannot do this without you. You know what my life was like before you. It was a royal mess, and you saved me.
Please don’t leave me. If you do, I am going straight into Miriam’s arms. I swear I will and pick up where we left off. I will move her into our home, our bed and–” e broke off and bowed his head over their joined hands.
“Oh darling, please don’t leave me.” His voice was ragged. “You promised me a lifetime and it’s too soon. Please stay with me, I beg you.”
*****
She spent two days in the medically induced coma and for those two days, Beau felt as if he was going crazy. He did not leave her side and barely ate anything. No number of threats from his father and the doctors could get him to budge. In the end, Blake had a meal catered right there in the room, one that he barely touched.
He was assured that her vital signs were improving and that the babies were holding their own, whatever the hell that meant. But his only concern was seeing her open her eyes. Having her talk to him.
He had talked so much, he was hoarse. Alternating between threats and entreaties, he had exhausted himself.
Waiting until the nurse assigned to her had left the room, he pulled up the chair and took her limp hand in his.
“I lost my mother and decided then and there that it was too painful to love someone so much that it felt as if you were being torn in two when they left you. I held a big part of me from ever getting fully involved. But with you, it was no choice. I never had a choice where you are concerned.”
He took a breath and stared at the unvarnished nails. One of the nurses had plaited her hair and the thick braid was resting on her left breast. She looked like a little girl, with no makeup on and her hair styled this way.
“There was never a choice with you,” he continued thickly. “I fell hard and for some reason, did not want to fight it. I couldn’t anyway. It just was. I would like you to wake up and look at me Georgie. I want to see those beautiful brown eyes staring at me, spitting fire when I say something offensive. I want us fighting, arguing and then making love.
Anything.” He bent his head over her hand. “Give me something darling. Please.” He had no idea he was crying until he saw the wetness on her hand. He was about to say something else when her fingers moved slowly.
Jerking his head up, he stared at her and wondered if it was his imagination.
“Georgie?” He held his breath as he watched to see if she would open her eyes.
“Darling? Can you hear me?”
Her lips moved, and he gripped her hand. “Baby, can you hear me?”
He went still as her eyelids flickered open slowly.
“I think even the dead can hear you.”
Those were simply the sweetest words he had ever heard, and he had to stop himself from jumping up and down.
The thickness in his throat was such that he could not speak for a full two seconds.
“It’s about time.” His voice was gruff, and he could feel the tears burning the back of his eyes.
Her hand squeezed his, her expression eloquent. “How long?”
“Two days, I have to get the doctors–”
“No. My babies?”
“They are fine.”
“I am sorry," she whispered, correctly interpreting his expression and realizing the worry she had caused him. “I was wrong and selfish. Oh darling, can you forgive me?”
“As long as you remain alive, then I am willing to forgive you just about anything.”
Extricating his hand from hers, he rose. “I really need to get the doctors.” Before she could stop him, he rushed from the room.
*****
“Where is my husband? Where is Beau?” she demanded when thirty minutes had lapsed, and he had not returned. She was prodded and poked and examined so thoroughly that she felt like she was a specimen on display at the museum. And she was tired and cranky and would like nothing better than to go home to her own bed.
But that was not going to happen. She was going to be a guest at the clinic, in this room for another three weeks. At least until they were able to deliver the babies. Which was her just punishment, and she was beginning to think that God was punishing her for taking matters into her own hands.
“He is taking a much-needed break. That young man has been running himself ragged, not eating, not sleeping. The doctors gave him a sedative and he is taking a nap in one of the rooms. He told us to wake him if anything goes wrong.” Nurse Doris Beadle was a buxom woman with a no-nonsense attitude and was very efficient. Georgie liked her.
“You are a very fortunate woman.”
She plucked at the sheets restlessly and wondered why her husband had not even come back into the room, if he was avoiding her. The very moment the thought entered her mind, she dismissed it, the guilt rearing its ugly head.
He had been here all the time, never leaving. When she opened her eyes, she had seen the anguish on his handsome face and recognized that she had put it there.
“I suppose you’re right," she mumbled disconsolately.
Nurse Beadle finished jotting down her notes and nodded in approval.
Pulling up the chair, she sat. “I am due for my coffee break just about now. Pulling a double is never easy, but all I have to go home to is a cat who is terribly spoiled and entitled.”
She pursed her lips. “Never got around to having a husband and kids.” Her light blue eyes bored into Georgie’s “You have a husband who took the time to go to the chapel to send up a prayer for you and afterward, he stuck right here at your bedside. We all threatened him—begged him to leave, but he would not budge. He stayed.”
Her eyes moistened and she felt as if she was being buffeted by waves. “I need him," she told the woman simply.
“And he needs to rest if he is going to be of any use to you and those babies you are carrying.” The woman’s expression softened. “All of the nurses here are in love with him, but he is in love with you. He is committed.”
She patted Georgie’s hand awkwardly. “Now, it’s on you to get some rest and keep a positive attitude. You are in a good place now and we are all rooting for you and those babies.” She rose and adjusted the tubing.
“Nurse Beadle?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks.”
“Just doing what I am paid to do," she said briskly, but a smile softened her stern lips.
“Get some rest.”
Georgie closed her eyes and tried to settle her mind so she could go to sleep, but it wasn’t happening.
She needed him, needed her husband. She wanted to feel his long, lean body against hers, his arms wrapped around her, reassuring her that she would get through this. Her hands drifted to her swollen belly and felt the reassuring movements there.
They were doing okay, after the trauma they had gone through when they had almost abruptly erupted from their home, they were safe and sound and cushioned. But now she was anxious. What’s going to happen next?
Her hands moved restlessly. She had wanted this badly and now, twice, she was in the clinic, being monitored. It was brought home to her that this was very risky. She had been bleeding and it had been bad.
She had thought of only herself when she went on this crusade to get pregnant. She never considered her husband and what he would go through if anything went wrong.
She had seen the exhaustion on his face, the grief stamped there and knew he had gone through a lot. She recalled snippets of conversations, while she was under. And his voice when he begged her to stay with him.
He was not only physically exhausted, but emotionally as well. He deserved the rest. And she was not going to be selfish. She had done this to him, to them and she was not certain it was such a good idea after all.
*****
He fought the sedative for as long as he could. His mind was not settled, because he had practically rushed from the room as soon as she woke up. After standing vigil at her bedside for two days, he tucked his tail between his legs and went running from her room.
Because he had been unable to deal with all the emotions swirling through his body. It was overwhelming. Pumping the pillows, he tried to find a better position, by rolling to his side. She was all right. She was up and her vital signs had improved.
But he could not help but wonder what next? They had four more weeks to go, and he was not certain he could stand the wait. She would be staying here of course and even if the doctors had not suggested it, he would have. It was better for her here.
If anything happens, medical personnel were present to take care of her. He was not equipped to do so and as much as he wanted to be in his home and in his bed with her wrapped around him, it was better for her to be here.
He was frightened. The very thought of losing her was playing havoc with his emotions.
But she was awake, and she was alive. They all were. He was going to be a father. The idea of that terrified him. He was not equipped to be a dad of one, much more than three. But time was running out.
In four weeks or less, their babies would be delivered, and he would have to step into a new role. One that he was not accustomed to. One that had been thrust on him. The thought sneaked in and wound its way insidiously into his mind almost without him realizing it and brought him up sharp.
It burned the edges of the sedative off and had his eyes opening wide. Where the hell had that come from? Of course, he wanted his babies. He was completely in love with the mother and these children were products of their – his mind floundered at that. Yes, it was his sperm, his little swimmers had produced them and of course it was her eggs.
But that was not the way you wanted it. The words echoed throughout his head and were so loud, he thought there was someone else in the room.
What the hell was going on? It must be the damn sedative that’s playing tricks with his mind. Of course, none of those matters, he told himself firmly. She had started the course, and he had gone along with all of it.
Yes, she had gone through hell and back, but she was here, and she was alive. Nothing else matters except that. Then why do you have this resentment churning inside your chest?
The insidious voice refused to be silent and was driving him crazy.
“Enough!” he muttered and closed his eyes and tried to do the same for his mind. But it took him a while to drift off to sleep as doubts and fears battered away at him. The last conscious thought was that he should have told her that he did not approve of her taking that particular route.