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He paid the taxi driver, looked up at the house and moved faster.The curtains were sill drawn.The twist of anxiety tightened.Something was wrong.He unlocked the door and called out.Silence greeted him.A quick glance showed him the kitchen was tidy, empty.Adrenalin spiked and he strode up the stairs.
‘Cally?’
He’d never forget the sight of her in a heap in his bed.Never forget the agony in her eyes and the wrench in his heart as he saw her body suddenly tense with pain.
‘Cally?’Who knew if she heard him?He didn’t know if sound actually came out.He scooped her up and held her close, trying not to completely freak when he saw the stains on the sheet, when he felt the wet on his hands.
He didn’t remember thinking, just moved.‘It’s all right, honey.It’s going to be all right.’
‘It’s not all right, Blake.’
He clutched her closer, listening hard to hear her broken mutter.
‘It’s too late.It’s too late.’
Ignoring her, he bundled her into the car and broke every traffic rule getting her to the private hospital in record time.He’d do anything, anything right now, make any promise, spend however long in servitude to make things okay—to make their baby okay.
Twenty minutes later he stood in the sterile hospital bathroom and washed his hands.He’d been shut out of the room while the doctors took care of Cally.His head was spinning and he refused to accept what was happening.No, no, no and noagain.
But deep inside he knew, as Cally had known.It was too late.Their baby was no more.
Rage gripped him.He had tried, damn it.He had really tried this time.He had tried to do everything right.And still he had lost.
He’d never thought he could feel more pain, could feel more useless than he had when Paola had made her decision.Back then he’d been able to turn his hurt on Paola.This time there was no one, nowhere, to direct his anger other than on himself.
Guilt added to the self-loathing.He hadn’t been there for Cally.He hadn’t been able to help her.How long had she been lying in pain and misery anddanger?His guts twisted.In shock, he could hardly focus the thoughts swirling round in his head, couldn’t get rid of the image of her as she’d lain knotted up in his bed.How he wanted to escape this nightmare.
He slowly dried his shaking hands.Knew he was going to have to go to her.To say something.Do something.But he didn’t know what.He couldn’t bear the thought of looking into her eyes.Of seeing the depth of his pain reflected there.Of seeing it magnified.
He just didn’t know if he had the strength to handle it.
It felt like for ever since Cally had seen Blake.When she did, it was as if he were there but not there, as if he were still distanced somehow, as if she were looking at him through smeary Perspex and she couldn’t clear it out of the way.
He looked at her only briefly, then around the room, at the white of the walls.It was the first time she’d ever seen him at a loss.And that seemed worse than anything.
Finally, from the foot of her bed, he spoke.‘Have you got pain relief?’
For the physical pain?Yes.For the rest of the pain?There was nothing.
She spent the night at the hospital and the next day he drove her home to his house.A couple of hours—days—drifted by.Cally didn’t know where they went.Later she stood under the shower for hours and hours, staring into nothing.The noise of the streaming water filled her head and blocked out the screaming thoughts, the pain.Blake wandered in and out of her vision.She could see him; her once steadfast rock was now uncertain, unsure of what he should do.
Then one morning she woke up.Really woke up.He was curved behind her, as always, his arm tight around her, pulling her against him.Was he trying to keep her warm?It was impossible.She was so cold on the inside.And coldly she questioned—what the hell was she stilldoinghere?
She came right out of her introspection and was able to see part of the world.Able to see Blake clearly for the first time in days.His green eyes, muddier than usual, had shadows under them.His magnificent bone structure stood out, even more striking.She realised he’d lost weight.She realised he was hurting too.
She sat at the table on the deck, unable to appreciate the view to the sea.She had to let him go.The last thing she wanted was him sticking by her out of a misguided sense of responsibility and pity.That she couldn’t bear.
‘We shouldn’t have married.I’m sorry you had to go to so much trouble.’
He stared at her.Pale.Mute.
‘I sit here and I wonder.Did I bring this on myself with those doubts?Was it a self-fulfilling prophecy because I just couldn’t quite believe it?Why was I given this chance only to have it taken away?’She shook her head slightly.‘Maybe it was just that my instinct was right.It wasn’t meant to be.It was just a passing fancy.’A mirage, an oasis in her literally barren wasteland.
He sat silent, clearly stuck for something to say.She felt sorry—she’d meant to make it easier, and here she was making it harder by voicing the questions that constantly nagged her, the questions that had no answer.
She focused on him.She had to release him from this so he could find someone who could give him what he so desperately wanted.Deny it he might, but Blake McKay was made for marriage and babies.
‘Maybe we could get an annulment?Or just a divorce.Whichever is quickest and easiest.I’ll find out from the lawyer tomorrow.It shouldn’t take that long, should it?It’s only been a few weeks.’
