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I looked at our entwined hands. “Smoke, I have to tell you something…”
“I already know,” he said softly. “I heard what Jazz said…about the blood on your thighs.”
“Oh.” My heart leapt into my throat. “I thought you’d passed out.”
“I came to just as they’d put me on the gurney. Just long enough to hear.”
“They told me—the doctor told me… Smoke, the baby wasn’t yours.”
His hand tightened on mine. “I’m sorry for your loss, cupcake.”
I swallowed and nodded. Neither of us said anything more, we just continued to sit in shared silence. Smoke couldn’t put his arms around me, but I felt them anyway.
* * *
I was back in my hospital room, replaying my conversation with Smoke over and over in my head. There were things I wanted to say. Things I wanted to ask.
But it hadn’t been the time.
The time for all that would be later. Later, when we were recovering outside the hospital.
Later, when I had time to feel through the mountain of pain I had to deal with.
The hospital door opened and Sharon came in. “You up for some visitors, sugar?”
Not really.
“Sure,” I said. “Who is it?”
My parents strode into the room and my jaw nearly dropped open.
“Mom, Dad? What are you doing here?” I asked in surprise.
“What are we doing here?” my mother repeated. “Tavy called us. We hopped on the first flight we could.”
Sharon moved toward the door. “I’ll leave you three alone for a bit. Holler if you need anything.”
“Thanks, Sharon,” my dad said.
The door closed and I was alone with my parents, who were supposed to be in Idaho.
“Tavy called you?” My gaze bounced from my father’s weathered face to my mother’s strangely line-free complexion.
“She called us from the hospital,” Mom explained. “She gave us no details—she said she didn’t know what happened, just that you were in the hospital and that we needed to get down here right away.”
“Is she—did you see her?” I asked.
“Of course. She’s in the waiting room. She doesn’t even look like she’s been home to shower,” Mom replied.
I burst into tears and hastily covered my face with my hands.
My parents brought chairs to my bedside and took their seats. Mom reached out and set her hand on my leg which only made me cry harder.
Only when I was hiccoughing and my eyes were swollen did the tears finally abate.
My parent’s watched me with tacit patience and understanding.
I opened my mouth and slowly told them what happened.
