Page 194 of Bad Seed

“What if—what if something’s wrong?” I asked. “I don’t know if my health insurance has kicked in. I can’t afford those bills yet, Mr. Hart.”

“We’ll figure it out. Right now, you need a doctor. Come on.”

I had informed Mr. Hart of my physical condition on my first day of work and he had been very supportive. He applauded me for taking on the responsibility of being a single mother and offered to help in any way he could.

As my boss raced me down the highway, the cramping got worse. I held my stomach, fearing the worst as my mind began to swirl. If this was it, Drake had a right to know. If I was about to lose this child, Drake needed to know what was going on. Even with Mr. Hart at my side, I was scared and alone.

All I knew was that I had to tell Drake.

I had to tell him everything.

“Sir? Sir, what’s going on?” a nurse asked.

“Um—she’s a twenty-five-year-old female. One of my employees. She’s pregnant and experiencing some pain,” my boss said.

“Do you know how far along she is?” the nurse asked.

“About—seven weeks or—or so,” I said.

“Let’s get her in a wheelchair. Ma’am, if you could just sit back for me, we’ll get you into a room,” the nurse said.

“I need to call someone. Please. It’s urgent. I have to—have to call—um—”

I couldn’t get the words out. As they pushed me down the hallway, something warm was trickling between my legs, and the only thing I could think about was Drake.

“We need to get her a phone,” Mr. Hart said. “Now.”

My hand was trembling as I dialed Drake's number. The nurses were hooking me up to I.V.’s and preparing me for ultrasounds. There were monitors beeping and lights flashing and the room was so cold. My feet were numb and my hips were aching and my stomach was rolling and I felt like I was going to vomit.

I dialed the phone and Drake picked up on the second ring.

“Delia?” he practically shouted into the phone, sounding surprised.

“Drake --,” my voice broke.

“Delia? Delia, what’s wrong?” he sounded panicked now.

“I’m in the hospital Drake, can you please come?”

I barely remembered the rest of the conversation as the activity around me increased. I dropped the phone from my hand and listened to it clatter on the floor. The nurses had shoved my boss out of the room and wrapped me in heated blankets. I couldn’t stop shivering. I felt the room spinning. My vision was blurring, and my legs were freezing and there were so many monitors trying to lull me to sleep.

It was so hard to keep my eyes open.

I laid on the hospital table as nurses gathered around me. The doctor examined me and noted his findings in my chart. I felt so lost. So alone.

My eyes flew open as a ruckus grew outside my door. A voice was yelling, and people were shrieking. I heard footsteps trampling as my hospital door burst open. Tears were running down the side of my face as I felt someone’s hand slip into mine, and the moment I felt those calluses rub against my skin I knew who it was.

Drake.

“What the hell’s wrong with you, woman?” he said, into my ear.

I was so relieved to hear his voice that I giggled.

“What the hell were you thinking, not telling me about this? What the hell am I gonna do with you?”

I turned my face toward him and saw how red he was, inflamed with anger as tears of worry pooled in his eyes. His skin had a healthy glow and his lips were fuller than I remembered.

Sobriety looked good on him.

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