Always and Forever (14 page)

As Patrick drove back to Rockaway, his mood changed from angry to sad, and he hit the steering wheel with the palm of his hand to counteract the feeling. A few minutes later, his phone
rang.

“Paddy, thank God I caught you.” Dylan’s voice was shaky. Almost panicky. He was in Seattle to do some research on his book and was due back tomorrow. “I’m hours away and can’t get a flight out.”

“Hold on.” Swerving onto a side street, Pat stopped the car because he knew something was really wrong with his brother. “What do you need, Dyl?”

“Rachel just called me. She’s having
cramps. Some spotting. I can’t get home because of the fog that set in out here. And she’s alone because Hogan’s spending time with his mother.”

“I’ll go right over to your house.” Turning the car around, Pat got back on the road.

“There’ve been miscarriages in her family history. That’s why we didn’t tell anybody about the pregnancy.”

“I know, you said that before.” He gentled his
tone. “I’ll help her in any way I can.”

“You don’t like her…”

“I promise I’ll treat her as if she was my own wife. Let me get over there and see what’s goin’ on.”

“I’ll call and tell her.”

Pat’s heartbeat escalated at the grim news. It was true that he was having trouble warming up to Rachel—although that was getting better—but no one deserved this kind of heartbreak. He knew that
firsthand. He thought about phoning Brie to meet him at Rachel’s, but their nanny was off today and someone had to watch the kids. They didn’t leave Isabella alone with the boys.

But they could do it in a pinch. Still, he didn’t call.

Pat reached the condo Dylan, Hogan and Rachel now shared, and he found a parking space about a block away. He jogged down the street, praying.
Please don’t
let this happen to them.
When he reached the building, he pressed the bell labeled Scott/O’Neil.

The front door buzzed open. She stood waiting for him at the doorway of their condo in the back of the building. Her face was white, her eyes smudged underneath. She seemed frail in a simple blouse and slacks. “Dylan shouldn’t have called you.” Her voice was raw.

“Hush now, lass. We’re family.”

Stepping aside, she let him in. Immediately, he took her hand and led her to the couch to sit. Her skin was ice cold, which worried him. “Tell me what’s happened.”

“Pat, I don’t know you well. It’s rather intimate.”

“I should know.”

Haltingly, she gave him the sketch of what Dylan had said. “I called my family, even Mike, my sister’s husband, but no one’s answering.”

“I’m your
family, too.”

Tears trickled down her cheeks. Without hesitation, he tugged her close and held her. She was more bony and slender than she looked. “We should call your doctor.”

“I…” She hiccupped. “I already did. She said spotting’s normal.”

He ran a hand down her hair. “But cramps aren’t.”

Drawing back, she looked up at him. Her eyes were filled with fear. “How do you know?”

“Brie had a miscarriage between Sean and Kathleen.”

“How far along was she?”

“About eight weeks.”

“Same as me.”

He tipped up her chin. “But she had spotting with Kathleen, too. So there’s a fifty/fifty chance nothing’s wrong.”

“We heard the heartbeat. That’s good, isn’t it?”

“It is.” He nodded to the bedroom. “Wanna stretch out in your bed?”

“The doctor said to rest.
To check the blood flow periodically.”

Blood flow was different than spotting. Suddenly, Patrick had a very bad feeling about this. Before she settled in bed, she went into the bathroom. When she came out, she gave him a half smile. “It hasn’t stopped. But it’s not any worse.”

“Good.” He drew back the covers—a bright yellow spread and taupe sheets.

Once she was situated, she looked
over at him. “Pat, please don’t leave me alone.”

“I have no intention of leaving you alone, Rach.” He squeezed her hand, let go and pulled up a fancy chair she had in the bedroom. “I’m gonna sit here and tell you stories about Dylan when he was a boy.”

“A lot of that was in the box of pictures Bailey gave me.”

“Ah, not these stories. They stayed among us men.”

He’d just finished
recounting how, when Dylan was two and Pat was four and his mother put them down for naps, Pat used to get up and sneak into the nursery. He’d climb in the crib, and they’d play with fire trucks. She laughed, then said, “Oh,” and clutched her stomach.

“Worse?”

She only nodded and closed her eyes.

“Don’t you want to call the doctor again?”

“Not yet. She specifically said to wait
awhile. Keep talking.”

He told her about how Dylan had broken his leg. He hadn’t tripped on a log, as their Ma thought. He and Pat had jumped off a neighbor’s garage roof, and Pat had landed well. Dylan hadn’t. The stories seemed to distract her.

After a few more, she said, “I’d better check.” She climbed out of bed, went into the bathroom, then came out clutching her stomach. “There’s
more. The doctor said if it got worse, to this point, to call her again. Can you do it, Pat?”

“Of course.” He helped her back into bed, then called the answering service, which promised the doctor would phone them.

The last tale was about Dylan’s Junior Prom date and how Pat had helped him buy condoms. He finished just as the phone rang. Pat scooped it up from the night table and handed
it to Rachel.

Weakly, she said, “Hello? Marsha?” A pause. “Yes. Bright red.” Rachel’s face went white. “Okay, yes, sure.” She clicked off.

“We have to go to the hospital, Patrick. Marsha will meet us there.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do.” He eased her out of bed, and she gathered some things. She promised to wait on the stoop until he pulled the car up and helped her down the stairs.
He got her settled in the front seat of the car.

“It’s bad. I know.” Her words were cold.

He took her hand again. “We’ll deal with that, Rach, together.”

Two hours later, Patrick sat in an ER cubicle and watched Rachel cry. Hunched over, the blue hospital gown accented her frailty. The situation was so sad, he wanted to bawl himself. Instead he gripped her hand and
murmured, “I know, I know. It’s awful.”

He remembered saying those exact words to Brie when she’d suffered the same loss. But they’d had two kids then and had gone on to have two more. Rachel, from what she said about her family history, might never have another child. Since family meant so much to him, he couldn’t imagine her grief.

Brie. He’d thought of her during this whole thing, and
broke down and called her when he knew Rachel had miscarried. Her phone was off; he left a message for her to get back to him ASAP, but she hadn’t.

Eventually, Rachel’s sobs wound down to weeping, then sniffling. He handed her a handkerchief from his pocket. She murmured, “We were going to have a girl, Pat.”

“Oh, honey.”

A long pause. “Don’t tell me everything’s going to be okay.”

“I won’t. You can cry all you want.”

She dabbed at her eyes, blew her nose. “You know, I wasn’t even sure I wanted a child. Dylan probably didn’t care because he has Hogan. But now I wanted her, Pat. I really did.” Her voice choked up.

“I believe you.”

She looked around at the white walls, the bed and single, straight chair. The room smelled of disinfectant. “How long do I have
to stay here?”

“Overnight, they said. Because of your family history, Marsha wants to make sure there’s no complications. She said she’d be back in later tonight.”

“Is…is Dylan coming?” Tears welled again. “He’ll be so upset, Pat. You have to be there for him.”

“The fog lifted and he’s catching a red-eye at midnight. He’ll be here by morning.”

Rachel straightened a bit. “I have
to be strong, for him.”

“Fine, be strong then. Until he gets here, you can be anything you want.”

“Thank you.”

Her eyes started to close. He’d wondered when she’d sleep. They’d gotten the horrific news of the miscarriage, then later the doctor had performed a D&C. Pat had to leave her for that, but he could tell when he came back in that she’d cried through the whole thing. Blessed
oblivion was what she needed now.

When he was sure she was asleep, he pulled out his phone. Shit, the battery was dead. It must have run out of juice after he’d talked to Dylan and given him the bad news.

Somber nurses had stopped in throughout the early evening, and when one came through the door again, he whispered, “I need to make some calls. My cell is dead.”

Smiling sympathetically—she
probably thought he was the dad—she took her phone from her pocket and gave it to him. “Make as many as you want. You can go out in the hall. I’ll stay with her.”

On his way to the door, he looked over at Rachel and thought of Brie and the stupid, stupid things they were doing. He punched in her number first.

Dylan had to be strong for Rachel. He had to be. As the cab
pulled up to the hospital, he got out, promising himself he’d pull through for her. In minutes he was at the doorway to her room. It was dark and quiet inside. He took a few steps forward and saw Rachel, slight and fragile, in the bed, on her side, facing Patrick. His brother had pulled up the lounger close to the bed and now was stretched out and asleep.

He gasped, the totality of what had
happened socking him in the gut. He slapped a hand over his mouth to stop the emotion. But he couldn’t. He turned quickly, went out into the hall. Once there, he leaned against the wall and let the sadness wash over him.

“Dylan?”

The voice was Pat’s, and when Dylan looked up, he saw his brother next to him. The earlier emotion clogged his throat again.

Pat studied Dylan, then grasped
his arm. “Come on.” He dragged him down the corridor. The hospital hadn’t awakened yet, so there was only an isolated orderly in the hall or a janitor. A phone rang and mumbling came from the nurse’s station.

The bathroom was empty when they entered it. “I can’t…I wish…” Dylan closed his eyes.

“Come here, buddy.” Pat enveloped him in strong, sturdy arms, and Dylan gripped him. “It’s okay.
Let go.”

And Dylan came apart.

He didn’t know how long he cried, but he calmed eventually, the familiar, solid weight of his brother soothing him. Finally, he managed to draw back. Pat pulled out some paper towels from the dispenser, and Dylan mopped his face with them. He took a deep breath. “This is hard. I wasn’t here. I couldn’t help. It hit me when I saw her that she wasn’t pregnant
anymore.” His voice broke on the last word.

“It’s a tough one.”

“How is she?”

“Sad. She wants to be strong for you.”

“She doesn’t have to be.”

“You’ll do better together. I think once you’re with her, things will be easier to deal with for both of you.”

Dylan leaned against the yellow-tiled wall, felt the cold of it seep into his head. “I didn’t even know if I wanted another
kid. But I came to want this one. So did Hogan.” He drew in a breath. “He’ll be sad, too, when he comes back from his mother’s.”

Silence for a few minutes gave Dylan time to regroup. Then he pushed off the wall. “I can never repay you for being here with her.”

“
Repay
isn’t in the O’Neils vocabulary.”

He nodded. “Does anybody else know?”

Pat shook his head. “I thought I’d wait till
you got here to decide how you wanted to do that.”

“It’s a lot to ask, but will you call them?”

“Of course.”

“What did Brie say?”

A shadow came over Pat’s face. “I couldn’t get in touch with her. I’ll try again soon.” He clapped Dylan on the back. “Want to go see Rachel now?”

Dylan nodded and they left together, walking slowly down the hall. Dylan felt better after his catharsis
and having Pat next to him. When they entered the room, Rachel opened her eyes. Light filtered in through the blinds and he could read her bleak expression. “Dylan?” Her voice sounded ravaged.

He strode to the bed, sat on the mattress and drew her into his arms. She started to cry—deep, wrenching sobs that cut Dylan’s heart to ribbons. “It’s so horrible.”

“I know.” He buried his face in
her hair. “I feel the same way."

There was nothing to do but hold each other close.

Patrick headed back to Rockaway. He’d tried to call Brie twice more from Dylan’s phone, and she still hadn’t answered. Checking his watch, he hoped she was home, maybe asleep. For the first time since last night, he recognized how odd her not answering was. Even when they weren’t in sync,
they were available to each other. They promised they always would be.

“Fuck,” he said when he pulled into the driveway and put up the garage door. Brie’s car was gone, and Irene’s was parked off to the side. Frustration, and now some anger, niggled at him. He found Irene seated at the kitchen table. The morning was cool so a soft breeze filtered in through the three open windows across from
her. Isabella sat in her chair, eating with her hands what looked like mashed bananas. When she saw him, she said, “Da-Da” and got so excited, she banged on the tray, sending the fruit everywhere, even into her feathery dark hair.

“Hey, princess.” He came close and kissed her head. “Hi, Irene.”

“Good morning.”

“Brie gone already?” He made the question as casual as he could.

“Yes.
She went right out when I got here at seven.”

“Did she leave a note saying where she’d be today?”

“I didn’t see one.”

“Huh.”

Irene studied him. The slight, dark-haired woman had been with them since Isabella was born and in some ways had become part of the family. She was widowed, with no children in the area. “Rough night?”

He explained to Irene where he’d been.

“Pat,
I’m so sorry. Brie didn’t mention it.”

“I couldn’t get hold of her last night—or early this morning—to tell her.”

“That’s odd.” Irene’s brow furrowed. “She did seem distracted and tense when she left.”

“I’ll try to call her again. Then I’m going to shower.” He crossed through the house and detoured into the den. They each had a desk in here, and he went to hers. The pictures of him
and the four kids made him smile. A vase of fresh lilacs filled the space with their flowery scent. His gaze snagged on the appointment book off to the side, open to today. It was totally blank. He checked yesterday’s. Carson. Forbes. Had she made it out to Long Island in the intervening four hours since Pat had stormed out of Carson’s backyard? He flipped the page to tomorrow: two other clients’
names, in addition to Forbes. She’d noted Cleary’s baseball game. Isabella to the doctor. Briefly, he wondered why she’d scheduled no work for today. Who the hell knew what was going on in that pretty little head of hers?