“I’ll check on that for you,” said Tessa, in a casual tone that didn’t fool Brooke. Tessa’s gaze darted back and forth across the computer screen. “All I can see here is that you had a live birth. But here are your doctor’s orders. Let’s see… it looks like she wants to keep you on fluids.”
“Where is my baby?” Brooke said, with a little more force.
Tessa’s eyebrows arched high as she tapped on the computer keyboard. “Your temperature is above a hundred. I’ll need to contact the doctor.”
“Why won’t someone tell me the truth?” Brooke sobbed, wincing at the pain in her side. “What happened to my baby?”
Wide-eyed, Tessa backed out the door. “I don’t know. I’ll be right back.”
The room fell silent, but for the click of the second hand on the wall clock. Brooke followed its path around the circle of numbers, from twelve around to six and back, only to repeat the same thing over and over again. As meaningless as her life.
Brooke knew the answer long before anyone walked through the door to give her the bad news about the baby. The only question was why Brooke had survived the crash. If her baby had to die, it would’ve been better if they’d gone together. She welcomed the pain of her sliced and stitched belly. Focused on it. Anything was better than the agony of losing the baby.
The door rattled and swung open, and she steeled herself for the blow. But instead of Tessa’s stricken face, a huge bouquet of flowers appeared to float into the room of their own volition. Was this how the hospital broke bad news to a patient? Her tears flowed, wetting her pillow.
The flowers deposited themselves on her bedside table, and Cole’s face peeked from behind them.
“How are you feeling?”
His wobbly smile further confirmed her deduction. She let out a moan, unable to slow the flood of tears.
He moved beside her, his hand cupping her face. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! It’s all my fault!”
She could barely breathe, much less speak.
“Are you hurting?” he asked.
She shook her head no, the tenderness of his touch tearing at her already-broken heart. Though well intentioned, his kindness and sympathy was a mockery to the love she’d practically begged him for.
“If I could, I’d take your place.”
His expression was so earnest, she believed him. She gave him a nod.
“Can you ever forgive me?”
His face mirrored her agony. He’d had no actual fault, but she could tell he would only be satisfied when she spoke his pardon. Her peace had been forever stolen, but she held the power to grant his. She gave it. How could she not? She still loved this man who’d admitted he would never return the feeling. He’d been there for her when she was at her lowest, and treated her with respect. She owed him for that, if nothing else.
“I forgive you,” she whispered.
“I love you,” he said.
“You don’t have to do this.” Her eyes shut tight. “I don’t expect anything from you. Nothing’s changed between us.”
“Everything’s changed. Because I’m admitting what I felt all along.”
“Don’t, Cole. Don’t tell me you love me now.” She peered through her wet lashes. “What you’re feeling is guilt, because you think you’re to blame and you aren’t. And you’re feeling pity because the baby is gone, but that’s not your fault, either.”
“What do you mean?” His hand grabbed her arm and shook until her eyes flew open. “What do you mean, the baby’s gone?”
“She’s dead,” Brooke sobbed. “But I still want to see her. I deserve to see my baby.”
Cole’s face went flour white, and he stumbled backward. Then he turned and raced out of the room.
Alone again, Brooke lay awash in pain, wishing she’d asked for medication. Perhaps she could escape into a narcotic-induced coma, where her thoughts couldn’t invade. Women lost babies every day. How did they endure? How did they find the strength to get out of bed and go on with their lives?
She gradually became aware of voices shouting in the distance. As the clamor drew closer, she recognized Cole’s shouts among the others.
“I can’t understand how something like this could happen!”
“It was a simple misunderstanding, Mr. Miller,” a man answered. “No one told her the baby was dead!”
“She’s been awake for over an hour!” he yelled. “Over an hour! You promised you would personally bring the baby to her the minute she was fully awake. You told me holding the baby would help her heal. You gave me this whole spiel about the uterus contracting and hormones and trauma and whatnot. You swore you’d do it immediately!”
A wail broke out… a tiny newborn cry. Brooke’s heart leapt out of her chest.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Miller, but Brooke isn’t the only patient in this hospital. I was called into surgery before I got a chance.”
The wail got louder. Her baby was alive! Right outside her room.
“Then someone else should’ve taken care of it,” Cole growled. “Your nurse said her hands were tied because of your stupid orders.”
“What are you doing?” the man protested. “That’s against protocol. You can’t take the baby out of there. You don’t have a hospital tag.”
“I’m her father.” Cole’s tone was as hard as granite. “I’m picking my daughter up, and I’m carrying her into the room so my wife can hold her. Call security if you want to.”
The baby’s cries calmed as Cole’s deep voice shushed her. The door opened, and Cole came inside, his eyes shining as he held the baby, swaddled like a tiny burrito and wearing a soft pink cap.
Brooke’s pain moved to the background when the baby nestled in the crook of her arm.
