Page 4 of Break Me: Smith and Belle

“Why would I want that?” A strange urge to cry took hold of me.

“I’m not in the business of prying,” she said softly. “You went to the doctor and you came back with a prescription. I assumed you couldn’t nurse the baby and needed to take it. I didn’t feel it was my station to ask.”

“But you knew what it would do?” I asked, shocked.

“I thought you knew. When I found the box sitting in the kitchen and you told me you needed to take it…“ She trailed away. Gathering her courage, she lifted her shoulders and looked squarely at me. “I’m very sorry that this happened.”

“An honest mistake then,” Smith said, his face unreadable. I knew my husband well enough to see that part of him wanted to strangle her for the mistake—the part of him that wanted to protect me at all costs.

I took a sip of the tea, wrinkling my nose with displeasure at its taste.

“The pharmacist said it tastes like licorice,” Smith told me.

“It does.” I abandoned the cup back on the tray and sighed. “There’s no point to it, I’ve already dried up.”

“The pharmacist said…“

But I wasn’t listening to him. I was tired of pretending I could solve these problems with medication or herbs or hired help. Whatever was happening to me, it was beyond the scope of traditional care. I would do everything Smith suggested, but I wouldn’t delude myself as to what the results would be.

And I never allow my baby to suffer like that again. I could still hear her screams, the sound of them was branded on my soul. I had done that to her through my own negligence and through pride. I had no business keeping formula out of the house. How did I not foresee what would happen if I couldn’t nurse her?

Smith’s lecture on restarting my milk supply was interrupted by a knock on the door. He turned and called out a welcome.

Nora’s head appeared through a crack in the door. “She’s asleep. Poor angel was exhausted. She took the whole bottle, though.”

“Thank you,” Smith said shortly. He’d never liked her. I could sense it. I just didn’t understand why. I found myself wishing he liked her more. She would make a better mother than me.

“Please keep an eye on her?” Smith asked Nora. “Belle is going to take a bath.”

“Of course,” she said brightly, disappearing from view. Maybe her way of coping with trauma was to put on a happy face and add a spoonful of sugar. I couldn’t help but wonder where she found this unlimited supply of sunshine from, though. I was glad she was here to take care of Penny, since I continued to prove myself completely useless. But I didn’t think I could stomach her bright smile a minute longer.

It wasn’t that I didn’t like Nora. She was helpful to have around. But she was also a constant reminder that I’d utterly failed my own child.

“Your bath is ready, ma’am,” Mrs. Winters announced. She bowed slightly and headed toward the door. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

I didn’t resist as he led me to the bathroom. This was how it needed to be. Smith would direct my days and I would finally get better or I wouldn’t, but, at least, I wouldn’t put myself or anyone else in danger. He’d never allow it.

But as he undressed me, he kept his eyes trained away from me. His hands didn’t linger on my skin. When he helped me into the warm water, he turned to leave. I grabbed his hand.

“Don’t leave me,” I blurted out.

His throat slid as he pressed his lips into a flat line. He pulled the stool from my vanity, its metal feet scraping shrilly against the tile floor, and sat next to me. I tucked my legs against my chest and held them there. The chill I’d felt in my skin slowly disappeared, but the one that clung to my bones lingered.

Smith couldn’t even look at me. I couldn’t blame him for that. I tried to imagine what he must think of me now. A tear leaked from my eye and ran down my cheek. If he noticed, he didn’t seem to care. He didn’t move from the spot until I pulled the plug. He stood with a towel as the water began to circle the drain. Smith wrapped it around me before he helped me out of the tub.

He followed me into the bedroom, disappeared inside the closet, and came out holding a robe.

I shook my head, tears beginning to fall more freely now. “Smith,” I croaked. “I need you.”

I was in his arms instantly. He gazed down on me with a look of total adoration. I fought the urge to turn away. I didn’t deserve that look. Not after what I had done. Not after what I put him through.

“I need you,” I repeated, pressing my palms to his chest as if to prove to myself that he was really here with me. I no longer felt certain of anything.

“Beautiful,” he coaxed, “I’m right here. I’ll protect you.”

“I don’t want you to protect me,” I said, casting my eyes to the floor. I became increasingly interested in my toes. I wasn’t entirely sure where the embarrassment came from. Smith and I had never suffered from nerves where intimacy was concerned, but I wasn’t asking him for sex. Not this time.

“What are you saying?” he asked slowly.