19. Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Nineteen
Caroline
Several weeks after Hayden returned to Bakersfield, his visits no longer felt like visits.
He still kept his hotel room and left at night, and nothing between them had been named or settled, yet he kept bringing groceries to Jemma’s kitchen, and his laptop took up one end of the table during calls.
He came to appointments when Caroline wanted him there, cooked, washed dishes, and knew her ankle would ache if she stood too long.
He no longer vanished into work without warning.
He said when a call would take a while, and when it ended, he came back.
At thirty-five weeks pregnant, Caroline had started to count on that.
His latest trip to New York had been brief. That morning, when he called from the airport, she was sitting at the kitchen table with one hand pressed against the dull ache in her lower back.
“I’m coming back,” he said. “Boarding the plane now.”
Her smile appeared before she could stop it. “You make it sound like you’ve escaped from prison.”
“I just spent two days in meetings. Prison would’ve involved fewer opinions.”
“But worse suits.”
“Obviously.” His voice softened. “How are you?”
“Big.”
“You were big when I left.”
“I’ve grown since then. Ask anyone.”
“Is your back bothering you?”
Caroline glanced down, though there was nothing to see except the curve of her stomach under an old shirt.
“A little,” she said. “I slept badly.”
“Anything else?”
“No. She’s moving. My ankle’s fine unless I turn too fast, and Mom has already ordered me not to climb, lift, reach, bend, or have an independent thought.”
“Your mother is a wise woman.”
“Don’t encourage her.”
He laughed, and she let herself listen to it.
She’d missed that sound in the cramped apartment.
She’d missed him making dinner with his sleeves rolled up, sitting next to her through terrible television, and looking up from his laptop whenever she entered the room.
She’d even saved Hank’s latest improvement to the imaginary RV park because she knew Hayden would appreciate it.
“Hank has added a putting green to his plans,” she said.
There was a pause. “To the land he doesn’t own?”
“Yes. Apparently, rich people won’t stay anywhere without golf. I didn’t ask how many holes. I was afraid he’d need an investor for each one.”
Hayden laughed again. Caroline’s smile stayed after the sound faded.
“I’ll see you soon,” he said.
“All right.”
“Call if your back gets worse. I’ll keep my phone on until I have to turn it off.”
“I know.”
That was the strange part. She did know.
After they ended the call, Caroline could picture Hayden walking through the apartment door and herself making room for him on the couch.
Other scenes came too: Hayden holding their baby, cooking while her mother fussed, and standing beside Caroline in a home that didn’t feel like a choice between love and peace.
They hadn’t reconciled, and she still didn’t know how his family, work, and New York life could fit around the woman she was.
But he’d returned every time he said he would and made space for himself without pushing her out of hers.
Caroline missed him. Admitting it to herself felt less frightening than it had before.
The ache in her back remained. She tried a pillow against the chair, then moved to the couch. Her mother and Jemma were at work, and Hank had gone out. The apartment seemed unusually quiet without anyone asking whether she needed something.
She opened one of the picture books from the baby shower and read the first page to her stomach.
“This one has a rabbit,” she told her daughter. “I’m warning you now, he makes some terrible choices.”
The baby shifted under her hand. Caroline smiled and turned the page.
Then her stomach tightened.
The book slipped sideways across her lap. The feeling wasn’t like the baby’s usual hard stretch under her ribs. Her whole stomach went firm, and the ache in her back sharpened. Caroline breathed through it until the pressure eased.
She stayed still.
“No,” she whispered. “We’re not doing that.”
There were supposed to be weeks left. At her last appointment, the doctor had said the placenta was still low and they would keep watching it. Caroline had treated that as one more thing for a list. Rest when told. Pay attention to bleeding. Go to every appointment. Nothing had sounded immediate.
She reached for her phone and checked the time anyway. The next tightening came before she had convinced herself the first one meant nothing. She gripped the couch cushion and tried to breathe slowly. When it passed, she stood with care and went to the bathroom.
The blood was bright against her underwear. For a second, Caroline couldn’t understand what she was seeing. Then all the air left her chest.
“No. No, no.”
Her hands shook so badly that she almost dropped the phone. She called her mother.
“Honey?” Her mother’s voice was sharp with worry. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m bleeding.” Caroline pressed her free hand under her stomach as if she could hold the baby safely in place. “My back hurts, and my stomach keeps getting hard. Mom, there’s blood.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know. Enough. I don’t know.”
“I’m calling an ambulance.”
“Can you come?”
“I’m coming. But the ambulance will get to you first. Unlock the door, then sit down. Don’t try to pack anything.”
“It’s too early.”
“I know. Let them help you. I’m calling now.”
Caroline unlocked the apartment door and returned to the couch. Every step felt wrong. She kept the phone in one hand and spread the other over the place where her daughter had moved that morning.
“Stay with me,” she whispered. “Daddy’s coming back. You have to wait for him.”
Another tightening gathered through her back and stomach. Caroline bent over as far as her body allowed and breathed. She tried to remember whether the baby had moved since the blood appeared. She thought she had. She couldn’t be sure.
The ambulance crew came through the unlocked door calling her name. Their quick questions forced her thoughts into an order she could manage.
Thirty-five weeks. Bleeding. Pain that came and went. Low placenta at the last appointment.
They helped her onto the stretcher. As they carried her out, Caroline held her phone against her chest and watched Jemma’s open door vanish from view.
The Bakersfield emergency department looked exactly as it had when she hurt her ankle, and that made everything worse. Harsh light showed the scuffed walls and people waiting on stretchers along one side of a corridor.
Someone checked her blood pressure and asked the same questions the ambulance crew had asked. A nurse listened for the baby’s heartbeat long enough to find it, quick and steady, and Caroline nearly cried with relief.
Then she waited.
“The obstetric team is coming,” a nurse told her.
“When?”
“As soon as they can.”
“I’m still bleeding.”
The nurse checked the pad under her, adjusted it, and said, “I know. We’re watching you.”
Caroline felt alone in the curtained space, with no answers beyond a few repeated words.
Her mother arrived still wearing her diner uniform. She hurried to the bed, took Caroline’s cold hand in both of hers, and looked at her face.
“I’m here.”
Caroline held on. “They keep saying someone is coming.”
“Then I’ll find out who.”
“The heartbeat was good last they checked.”
“That’s good.” Her mother brushed damp hair away from Caroline’s cheek. “That’s very good.”
Another tightening began. Caroline squeezed her mother’s hand and breathed through her teeth.
“That isn’t nothing,” her mother said when it ended.
“I know.”
Her phone lay next to her hip. Hayden might already be in the air. He’d told her to call if anything changed, but this was more than a change. The thought of telling him made the danger feel solid.
Her mother followed her gaze. “Call him.”
Caroline picked up the phone and typed a message instead.
Caroline: At the hospital. I’m bleeding. Something might be wrong with our baby.
She sent it before fear made her change her mind.
Her mother stopped a passing member of staff.
“My daughter is thirty-five weeks pregnant, bleeding, and having pain. We were told obstetrics was coming. Can you please tell us what’s happening?”
This time, someone returned with a wheelchair and took Caroline through another set of doors.
Staff drew blood, fastened monitoring bands around her stomach, and arranged an ultrasound.
The sound of her daughter’s heartbeat filled the treatment space in a quick rhythm.
Caroline watched the numbers because looking away felt dangerous, though she didn’t know what most of them meant.
People came and went. One person explained the blood draw. Another said the baby looked reassuring. When Caroline asked whether the placenta was bleeding, whether the pains were contractions, and whether she needed surgery, she was told to wait for the obstetrician.
Her mother kept asking. Caroline kept holding her hand.
Her phone rang less than half an hour after she sent the message. Hayden’s name covered the screen.
“Hayden?”
“Caroline.” He sounded breathless. Voices and movement surrounded him. “I just landed. I’m coming straight to the hospital. Tell me what’s happening.”
“They’re monitoring her. Her heartbeat is good, I think. They said it looks reassuring, and the bleeding might be slowing.”
“What did the doctor say?”
“I haven’t really spoken to her yet. They did an ultrasound.”
“Are you in pain?”
“It comes and goes. I’m all right.” Her voice broke on the last word.
“You don’t have to reassure me,” Hayden said. “This is the bleeding we were warned about, and you did exactly what you were told to do. I’m coming.”
Caroline closed her eyes. “Please hurry.”
“I will.”
The obstetrician arrived before he did. She explained that the placenta remained too low and that the bleeding could start again. The baby’s heart rate was reassuring, and the first rush of blood had eased, but the contractions and bleeding made waiting for the due date unsafe.