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The young woman turns around in the front seat. “Bleu didn’t mention she was expecting. But it’s best she didn’t. Torrence wouldn’t have stopped until he was certain he had beaten those babies out of her along with any chance to conceive more in the future.”
I look at this petite woman in the front seat of my car. The top of her blond head is barely visible over the seat from where I’m sitting in the floorboard.
“Who are you?” I demand.
“Lainie.” She hesitates before saying the rest. “Grieve. Before you ask, yes. I’m Torrence’s wife. But not by choice. He’s a monster who held me prisoner in that place for the last two months.”
Lainie bursts into tears. “Bleu said you would help me and you did. You’ll never know how grateful I am. Thank you so much.”
I’m not often shocked but Lainie Grieve has just managed to do so. And while I have many questions about what’s happening within The Order, it’s not my focus right now.
We arrive at the hospital’s emergency services entrance. “I have to walk away at this point,” Jamie says. “I can’t risk being seen with you. Some of the people from my medical program like asking too many questions.”
Jamie’s right. My face was all over the news after my arrest. Being seen with me will bring up issues he might not be able to explain away. “Of course.”
“Sterling. Go inside and fetch help.”
Jamie opens the door to get out. “Call as soon as you know anything.”
I remain next to my wife while we wait for help to arrive at the car.
I don’t know what has happened to Lainie, but I suspect her face isn’t the only thing damaged. “You need to be examined.”
She nods, tears cascading down her crumpled, bruised face. “My head hurts. So much.” Her whole body shakes, though from fear or pain, I don’t know.
“They’ll have to report your attack to the police. I don’t care what kind of statement you give as long as it doesn’t include me or The Fellowship.”
“I was assaulted by an unknown attacker. I didn’t see his face,” she says. I suspect this isn’t her first time to tell that story. “I’ll enter the hospital separately so they don’t make the connection.”
“That’s probably best.”
“Thank you for rescuing me from that monster.” Those are her last words before getting out and disappearing.
A swarm of medical personnel surround the car. They slide a board beneath Bleu’s body and transfer her limp form to a waiting gurney. “Sir, is this your wife?”
“Yes. She’s pregnant with twins. Six weeks.”
I see the looks exchanged when they note the extensive blood on her clothing. “We’re going to take good care of her. And your babies.”
* * *
My mum stays with me while Bleu’s gone for tests. First, they must ensure she has not sustained damage to her head, neck, or spine. Thankfully, they rule out any neurological problems but I’m still concerned. It’s been hours and she remains unconscious.
The doctor and nurses assure me they see no reason she won’t wake on her own soon but it’s unsettling to see her lying in what appears to be a comatose state.
The ultrasound is last and they won’t allow me to be present when it’s done. I have no idea if our babies survived. When I ask, the nurse tells me the doctor will be in to discuss the findings. I think they would’ve told me if everything was all right, so I assume he’ll be delivering bad news.
I need my mother’s advice. “The first thing Bleu’s going to ask when she wakes is if the babies are okay. How the hell am I going to tell her they’re not?”
Mum halts the crocheting project on her lap. “Bleeding isn’t supposed to occur during pregnancy so when it does, expectant parents panic. The amount of blood seems like much more than it actually is. I know because it happened when I was pregnant with your brother. I was certain I was miscarrying. As you know, I didn’t so you must believe that all is well with them until you know otherwise.”
My mum returns to crocheting. I think she’s doing it as a distraction. She’s only half-finished with the piece but I can clearly make out what it’s going to be—a baby blanket. Seeing it makes all of this surreal.
I’ve never lost children before. I only know one way to be ready for it. “I’m preparing myself for the worst.”
“There are plenty of situations where that’s an appropriate attitude but parenting isn’t one of them. You prepare for the best by hoping for it.”
Mum holds up her crocheting project. “I’m already done with the first blanket. This one should be finished by tomorrow. All I’ll need to do is add the pink or blue ribbons after we find out what they are.”
“I went back to the office right after we found out about the twins. I don’t even know what Bleu wants. Boys? Girls? A combo?”
“She’ll be happy with whatever you get.”
I left her at home alone. “This was my fault, Mum. Torrence took her because of me. We could lose our babies because of what I did.”
“You can’t think like that, son.”
“She has every right to blame me if they don’t make it.”
There’s a knock at the door, and then it opens. “Hello, Mr. Breckenridge.” Bleu’s obstetrician.
I’m numb as the doctor introduces himself. All I can think of is the news he’s about to give us. “There are concerns we need to discuss but I know your immediate question for me is the condition of the pregnancy. Let me start by saying that we detected two heartbeats on ultrasound.”
Oh, thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
My mum releases a sigh of relief. “I knew our babies would be okay. I told you, didn’t I?”
“As an OB/GYN, I’ll only address your wife’s health from an obstetrical and gynecological standpoint. I found significant bruising on her inner thighs. Because Mrs. Breckenridge remains unconscious and can’t tell us what happened, I had to follow protocol, which means examining her for sexual assault. I’m happy to report that I found no evidence supporting that.”
I didn’t allow myself to wonder about it because to do so meant it was a possibility.
“Moving on to the pregnancy. The babies look stable. But as you know, your wife has had a very significant bleeding episode. The trauma to her abdomen caused a marginal tear in the edge of the placenta. That means it has a slight separation from the womb. But the bleeding has stopped. We’ll keep her hydrated and on bed rest and see what happens.”
I wonder if “see what happens” is an official medical prognosis. “Do you think our babies will be all right?”
“All we can do is watch and wait.”
* * *
Bleu moans off and on but it’s more than two hours after the obstetrician’s visit before she finally stirs for the first time. “Bonny.”
I squeeze her hand and her eyelids flutter. She struggles to open her eyes because they’re so swollen. When she does, they’re slits. “Ahh. There’s my sweet Bonny’s baby blues.”
She blinks lazily. “Hi,” I say.
Her eyes flicker several more times, I think trying to focus on my face.
“Hi,” she whispers. Her simple one-word greeting is music to my ears.
“How do you feel?”
She closes her eyes. “Nauseated. I think I’m going to be sick.”
My mum moves faster than lightning with the little bucket they left for such a thing. “It’s all right if ye get sick.”
Mum points to the drawer where the linens are kept. “Wet a washcloth with cold water for her face.”
I scramble to the small sink in the tight washroom, wet the cloth, and hand it back to my mother, my own hands shaking. Mum places the wet cloth against Bleu’s forehead. “There, love. This’ll help ye feel better.”
A few seconds later, Bleu rises in the bed and moans loudly while dry heaving into the basin my mum is holding. Once. Twice. Three times.
Very few areas of her body are free of bruising. She must be in t
errible pain.
“Oh!” Bleu’s eyes grow large when she wretches the last time. “I just felt something come out down there.”
Mum pulls the covers back for a look. “It’s just a little blood. That’s all.”
“Why am I bleeding?” Bleu’s hand goes to her stomach. “Oh God. I lost the babies.”
Worry can’t be good for her or them. I need to reassure her everything is all right. “You had some bleeding but both babies are okay. They did an ultrasound and saw two heartbeats.”
“I’m going to fetch the nurse. She needs to know Bleu is awake so she can assess her and call the doctor.”
I bring Bleu’s hand to my mouth for a kiss. “This is all my fault, Bonny. I’m so sorry I didn’t protect you and our children.”
She’s sobbing, tears rolling from the corners of her eyes on to the pillow beneath her head. “I’m bleeding. Does that mean I’m going to lose them?”
“The doctor says they look stable.”
She strains to sit up and winces. “Oh my God. It hurts.”
“What hurts? Where?”
“Everywhere.”
I feel helpless. I can’t make this better for her.
“Mum went to get a nurse. We’ll ask her to get you something for pain.”
The nurse comes quickly but is taking forever to assess Bleu. “She’s in agony. Can you give her something and then do this?”
“I’m sorry. I can’t do that, Mr. Breckenridge, but I promise I’m hurrying.”
I’m not at all pleased by how long it takes Bleu to get medication but I can tell when it begins to work. She’s much more relaxed. “Feeling better?”
“A little, but this is going to hurt like hell for a while.”
“I’m so sorry.”
