My Way Back to You (Harlequin Large Print Super Romance) (22 page)

“Meet you out front.” Emmy hurried to catch up with Janessa, probably with a few last words of wisdom to impart.

All the talk of boyfriends and husbands, and especially Emmy’s last analogy, had pushed Jeff to the front of Maggie’s mind, a place he was never too far from. Being with him made her feel as if she was wearing platform stilettos—surprisingly comfortable, dangerously high and sexy, but they put her in a constant state of terror that she’d lose her balance and fall.

As she opened the restroom door, a warmth gushed from her, and her first thought was she’d started her period. A split second later, it hit her she shouldn’t be having a period.

She rushed into the stall. “No. Please, please, please,” she whispered as panic squeezed her insides. The sight of blood in her panties caused the world to spin around her. She leaned against the door, holding onto the hook she’d normally use for her purse, trying to wrap her brain around a plan of action when it was yanking her in other directions.

It might be nothing. I’ve been on my feet too long today. Get to my car and call Dr. Donovan.

She donned a pad from the machine on the wall and pinched her cheeks to bring some color to her deathly pale complexion then went to meet Emmy.

“Wow.” Emmy was leaning on her car, and she glanced at her watch. “You must’ve met somebody and had a quickie.”

Maggie forced a smile. “It’s not Veterans Day yet.” Buckling into the passenger seat, she focused on calm breaths.

Emmy’s mouth was moving ninety-to-nothing about Janessa’s situation, and Maggie managed to get through the short distance by only adding an occasional “Uh-huh” or “I know” in response. She’d said her “See you tomorrow” by the time Emmy’s car pulled to a stop beside hers.

She opened the door and stepped out as a searing pain shot through her back. “Oh!” The next one gripped her from the front, doubling her over. She threw out a hand and caught herself on the seat on the way down.

“Maggie! What’s wrong?”

“Help me.” She ground out the words through the pain.

Emmy flew around the car and lifted her into the seat. “You having appendicitis? What is it? I’m taking you to the hospital.” She fumbled, trying to get the seat belt over Maggie’s hunched body. “Oh, to hell with this thing.”

Still slumped in nauseating pain, Maggie pointed to her purse as Emmy got back in the car. “Get my phone and call Dr. Donovan. Tell her I think I’m having a mis-miscarriage.” A sob accompanied the word.

Emmy’s startled look spoke volumes, but she calmly did as she’d been instructed. Maggie recognized the pain, so similar to labor, and used the breathing techniques she’d learned when she was pregnant with Russ.

“Bleeding and cramping?” Emmy asked, her voice gentle as she held Maggie’s hand firmly. Maggie nodded, and Emmy made the confirmation back into the phone. “Okay,” she said before hanging up. “She’s meeting us at the hospital.”

Maggie tried to control her crying, knowing the tension only made things worse. But the whimpers kept escaping.

Emmy rubbed her back with one hand, trying to console her. “It’s going to be okay, Maggie Russell Wells Gunther Russell. Just hang on. Everything will be okay.”

Maggie shook her head. “It’s not going to be okay, Emmy. I’m losing Jeff’s baby.” A gut-wrenching spasm shook her body, loosening the sobs lodged in her throat.

She cried all the way to the emergency room.

* * *

“
D
AMN
!
”

Jeff reached for his phone with one hand and the remote with the other, keeping his eyes glued on the TV as the Charger quarterback made his run down the field with the ball and a Rams player in hot pursuit.

“Run!” His voice echoed back to him as he hit the mute button. Reluctantly, he paused the game. He’d waited too long for the Chargers to score in this game, and he wasn’t about to miss it now.

The piano arpeggio ring tone got louder as it made its second loop. At the last second, he looked at the caller ID and answered with a surprised smile.

“Mags!”

“Um...oh...no, Jeff. This isn’t Maggie. It’s EmmyLou Creighton. I’m using Maggie’s phone.”

“Hey, EmmyLou.” Emmy’s voice didn’t hold its usual energy. In fact, was it shaking? And why was she calling from Maggie’s phone? The thoughts shot through his brain in a split second and brought him out of his seat. “Is Mags okay?”

His heart stalled at the sniffle on the other end.

“Tell me, damn it! What’s happened to her?”

“She’s...she’s okay. She’s sleeping.”

The hand Jeff wiped down his face left a sweaty trail. If this was one of those high-school throwback best friend calls, Miss EmmyLou was about to—

“It’s the baby, Jeff. She...lost the baby.” Her voice ruptured on a sob as his knees gave way, and he landed back in the chair. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“She had a mis—” He’d heard correctly, and there was no use making her say it again. He ran a hand down the back of his head, massaging the muscles that had tightened into iron bands. “But Mags is okay?”

“Yeah. We’re at the hospital in Paducah. They did a D and C...or something like that...to, you know...make sure everything was...was cleaned out...so she wouldn’t get an infection. They’re keeping her here overnight.”

“And how is she...taking it?”

Emmy’s breath did a quick triple catch. “I’ve never seen her so upset. Much worse than when Zeke died.”

“I’m coming out there,” Jeff said, more to himself than to her.

“Rosemary and Eli are gone, and she didn’t want me to call Russ.” Emmy’s voice grew a little stronger. “And she’s probably gonna be pissed at me, but she was going to call you tomorrow, anyway.”

“You did the right thing, Emmy. I appreciate it.” Jeff pushed from the chair again and started to pace, thinking aloud and trying to keep his mind from sliding quickly into the mire of grief. “I’ll have to call Dad and get him to cover for me, and then I’ll find the quickest flight out.”

“Okay. Yeah...well...I really am sorry, Jeff. I didn’t know...she hadn’t told me.” He thought he detected a note of hurt in her tone.

“We were going to tell Russ together when he came home at Thanksgiving. We wanted him to be the first to know, so we were sitting on the news until then.”

“That’s y’all’s business,” she said quietly. “You don’t need to explain. I...uh...want to get back in there with her. I’m out in the hall right now, so...”

“Yeah.” He found himself nodding even though she couldn’t see him. “I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

“’Kay. Bye.”

Jeff’s pacing had carried him out onto the balcony. He did an about-face and strode back into the living room, thumb poised on the button to call his dad. But his hand began to tremble. The tremor moved up his arm into his torso and then spread throughout his whole body. The air compressed in his lungs, not moving in or out because the airways were closed by the muscles tightened around them. His hands found the back of the couch, and he leaned his weight against them, fighting for breath.

It released in a rush, bringing with it the upload of grief and pain that he’d kept suppressed during the telephone conversation.
The baby...gone.
He managed to keep his sobs silent—neighbors were close and everyone kept their balconies open—but the tears flowed. He didn’t try to hold them in. He needed to let them out now, so they didn’t show up as he explained the situation to his dad.

He gave himself the time he needed to get everything under control, and then he pressed the button on his phone.

His dad answered on the first ring. “Hey. What’s up?”

“I need to go to Kentucky for a few days, and I was wondering if you could cover for me?”

His dad loved when he could be in charge at the dealership again, so Jeff wasn’t prepared for the long pause. “Look, son. I don’t mind working, but if you and Maggie are trying to work up a case again for each other—”

“Mags just had a miscarriage, Dad.” His voice quivered, and he swallowed. “She was pregnant with my baby. That’s what she came out here to tell me last week. But I just got a call that she’s in the hospital. She lost the baby.”

“Oh, Jeff. I...I don’t know what to say. This is quite a shock.”

“I know. Maggie and I got together when we moved Russ, and she got pregnant...again. We were both happy about it. Were trying to work things out. But...now...I need to be with her, Dad.”

“Of course you do. Go. Stay as long as you need to.” Sorrow weighted his dad’s words.

“Thanks, Dad. You’ll tell Mom? And...and Chloe. I’ve already told her a little about Mags and I.” His heart squeezed in his chest.

“I’ll tell them. Call and let us know how Maggie’s doing.”

“I will.”

“And, Jeff...I’m sorry, son. That’s tough.”

“Yeah. Thanks. I’ll call you.”

They hung up without saying goodbye.

Jeff roamed the condo, breathing deeply to calm his nerves before he called the airlines. His aimless wandering took him to the bedroom balcony and fresh air. A particularly bright star drew his attention, and he raised a finger to “touch” it. “Goodbye, little one,” he whispered. “Your daddy will always love you.”

It twinkled in response.

Turning back into the bedroom, he called the airlines to book his flights, not stopping with Nashville, but making arrangements all the way to Paducah’s small Barkley Regional Airport.

Making arrangements to get there as quickly as possible.

Mags needed him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

A
CLEAN
BUT
discomforting antiseptic scent burned Maggie’s nostrils and the back of her throat as she woke up slowly to a room half-lit in blue. She was partially sitting up with the head of her bed raised to a forty-five-degree angle. A couple of seconds of edgy
Where am I?
wove through her mind before she remembered the hospital...
the baby.

The heavy weight of grief pressed on her shoulders and slumped them forward. As her head bowed, a dark figure to her right caught her eye.

She turned her head to find Emmy asleep in the chair beside her, looking horribly uncomfortable with her neck bent to an extreme.

“Emmy,” she whispered, and her friend’s lips moved, though her eyes didn’t open. Maggie’s mouth and throat felt like she’d been sucking on a green persimmon. It took effort to work up enough saliva to swallow. “Emmy,” she repeated. It came out louder but only as a hoarse croak.

Emmy’s eyes fluttered open, and she winced as she reached up to massage her neck. “Hey, you.” She stood, letting the blanket she’d thrown over her sink to the floor as she leaned on the bed rail. “I thought you’d sleep all night.”

“Could you get me some water?”

“Sure.” Emmy scurried to the cart pushed against the wall and poured a cup from the plastic pitcher. The clock above her head read 2:48 a.m. She stepped back to the side of the bed and handed Maggie the cup, eyes squinting with concern. “How you feeling?”

“Sad.” Maggie took a sip from the straw. The icy water filled her mouth, and she held it there for a few seconds, rehydrating the parched tissue before letting the liquid slide down her throat.

Emmy’s cool hand stroked the inside of Maggie’s arm with what should have been a comforting gesture.

Although Maggie felt no comfort...no consolation, she managed to make eye contact and utter weakly, “Thanks.” She took a few more sips and then set the cup on the nightstand within easy reach.

“You should go back to sleep.” Emmy’s gentle hand moved to Maggie’s forehead, brushing some hair away from her eyes. “Want me to let the bed down?”

Maggie shook her head. She wasn’t sure she could get back to sleep—a lot of things were pressing on her mind—but she would have a greater chance if she were alone.

“I’d rest better, I think, if I knew you were getting a good night’s sleep. Go on home, Emmy.”

Emmy gave a long blink, obviously fighting sleep. “I’m fine in the chair. You might need something.”

“All I needed was a drink, and you got me that.” She pointed to the cup. “If I need anything else, I’ll ask the nurse. But I’ll be fine. I’ll call you in the morning when I find out what time they’re releasing me, and you can take me back to my car.”

Emmy leaned heavily on the bed rail. “You shouldn’t drive tomorrow. You’ll still be groggy. We’ll leave your car...or...” She paused, her face tightening like it always did when she was debating whether or not to say something.

Nothing you say can help.

“We’ll figure out something,” she finished.

Maggie pushed the button to let the head of the bed down some, though not all the way. “I’ll be able to sleep now. Go home. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Emmy nodded and then covered her mouth as it stretched in a wide yawn. “Yeah. I need to sleep in a reclining position. Call me as soon as you know what time you’re getting out?”

“I will,” Maggie promised.

Emmy slipped into her sweater and adjusted the shoulder strap on her purse. Then she kissed two fingers and pointed them Maggie’s direction. “Love you,” she whispered. Her chin quivered on the words.

Maggie nodded, unable to speak. She closed her eyes and listened to the sound of Emmy’s high heels tapping their way down the otherwise silent hallway.

She would have to call Jeff as soon as possible, though that could wait until she got home. It was sure to be an emotional conversation, but at least she wouldn’t have to face him during it.

A heavy breath shuddered in her chest.

Our baby girl. Gone.

She rested her hand on her midsection, as she’d done so many times in the past three weeks since she’d learned she was pregnant.
You were right here.
She pressed a little, and a groan emerged as though it had been under pressure. “How can it be possible you’re not there anymore?” she whispered, verbalizing her anguish. She didn’t wipe away the tears, wanting to feel them...needing to feel anything except the emptiness in her tummy.

Grogginess overtook her, a blessed sensation she welcomed. But it seemed only a few minutes later that sounds filtered into her consciousness again. Talking and noise in the hallway. The
swish
of her door opening brought her to full consciousness. She squinted against the full sunlight of morning as a nurse’s aide carried a breakfast tray into her room.

“Good morning.” The cheerful young man nodded and placed the tray on the cart with her water pitcher. The chair beside her groaned as if giving up a weight, and a person appeared in her periphery.

She turned her head and let out a startled gasp. “Jeff!”

“Hey, Mags.” He leaned over the rail, filling her vision. Rumpled shirt. Scruffy whiskers—at least a day’s growth. Red-rimmed eyes. “Emmy called me last night,” he offered by way of explanation. His eyes scanned her face and then returned to hold her gaze, and she saw the reflection of her own sorrow.

“She was a girl,” she said softly, and watched a silent tear trace a path down his cheek.

* * *

H
E
’
D
NEVER
FELT
so helpless.

Maggie’s arms were around his neck, clutching him like a drowning person would a piece of driftwood. Her tears soaked through the shoulder of his shirt as her sobs shook them both, rattling the resolve to be strong that he’d built through the long night.

More than anything, he needed to hold her, needed to feel her heart beating against his. But his awkward posture as he leaned over the bed rail only allowed connection from the shoulders up, depriving him of that assurance of life he so desperately needed at the moment.

“I’m sorry.” She moaned the words, and he wasn’t sure if she was speaking to him or the baby.

He smoothed her hair and pressed his lips against her temples. “It’s okay.”

“It’s
not
okay.” Her muscles clenched with anguish. “It’ll never be okay.”

A nurse walked in, the question in her eyes evident. He shook his head, and she left, closing the door behind her.

“I fel—felt so good.” The top of Maggie’s head bumped his chin as she tried to speak between the sobs racking her breath. “I was try—trying to stay in shape. I—I must’ve done too much.”

“You didn’t do too much, Mags. These things just...just happen.” He loosened her arms so he could move back and look into her eyes. He cupped her wet face in his hands as her tears continued, drenching his fingers. “It’s nobody’s fault. No one’s to blame.”

She jerked away from him, turning her face to the opposite wall, squeezing her eyes—and mouth—closed. He took the moment to wipe his face on his sleeve.

He continued leaning on the rail, but she didn’t turn back. He reminded himself not to make demands—give her whatever she needed, which for the moment appeared to be silence.

He sat down and waited, biting his tongue as the silence became deafening.

In the early days, there’d
never
been silence.

Finally Mags rolled back and put the bed into a seated position, her breath softening into a normal rhythm. “You’ve been up all night.” Her tone was listless.

“I caught a red-eye to Nashville. Got there around three. The flight coming here left at five forty-five and was less than an hour.” He paused, but she didn’t respond. “Emmy met me and took me to get your car.”

She focused on the wall in front of the bed, never glancing his way. “You shouldn’t have come.” Her chest lifted and fell in a deep, resigned breath. “Nothing you can do here.”

Thank God for the internet. During the layover in Nashville, he’d had plenty of time to research the emotional impact of a miscarriage and recognized Maggie’s reactions as normal for many women.

“This is where I need to be,” he answered.

She looked at him, then...and he wished she hadn’t. Her swollen eyes, bloodshot and glittering with tears, and her skin bearing huge red blotches didn’t make him flinch—but the steeliness in her gaze did. She gave him a hard look—one he’d never seen from her. It was the look of a woman who has suffered much and has become practiced at quickly erecting a protective wall. He’d learned the look from Chloe—had seen her use it often, though never directed at him—and that’s what frightened him most.

He had no idea how to break through it.

“I don’t need you here.” The dullness in her voice had left as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a sharp edge, which sliced through his heart.

“Maybe not, but I’m here, anyway.”

“I don’t
want
you here,” she said more emphatically.

Jeff was caught in a snare. How did he handle this without coming across as overbearing? Maggie shouldn’t be alone right now no matter what she thought. And all she had right now was him, like it or not.

Emmy had gotten no sleep at all, while he’d at least dozed a couple of hours on the plane. Eli and Rosemary were away. And Russ was out of the question. Above all else, this was where he needed and wanted to be.

“I need to be here for me, Mags.” He met her gaze with an open heart. “I’m grieving for our daughter, too.”

Her armor fell away, and her face contorted in a pain so deep it gripped his heart and wrung it like a wet rag.

She erupted into tears once more, rendering him helpless yet again.

* * *

S
LEEP
WAS
M
AGGIE
’
S
only escape. Thankfully, it came easily and often throughout the weekend as the aftereffects of the anesthesia and the physical trauma metabolized slowly from her body. Perhaps she should’ve resisted it more, forced herself to face longer periods of consciousness. But facing longer periods of consciousness meant facing longer periods of Jeff—and
that
she couldn’t handle. She felt too much when he drew near. Her heart ached with sadness and loss, and guilt festered deep in her soul.

She much preferred the numbness.

Every time she woke, he was there, hovering, wanting to hold her, encouraging her to eat something he’d prepared. She was suffocating in his nearness, afraid if he held her too long, she might break completely apart.

By Monday midmorning, the stupor had left her. She resolved to get up and start moving—and get rid of Jeff. She showered and washed her hair, even put on some makeup so she didn’t look so ghastly. She’d had to start over twice as thoughts of the baby brought tears, which smeared her mascara. But eventually she looked normal enough to fool Jeff into believing she was better.

“Wow, look at you.” He propped the mop against the kitchen cabinet and came toward her with a tender smile that caused her eyes to sting. She blinked hard several times. “How you feeling?”

“I’m going to be okay.” That wasn’t a lie, although she wasn’t exactly sure when it would come to pass. Years from now, she
would
probably be okay.

He rubbed a damp hand down her arm. “Are you hungry? Can I get you something?”

“I think I can eat.” She was pretty sure he wouldn’t leave until she ate, so she would force something down and make certain it stayed there. “But you go ahead and finish what you’re doing. I can fix it myself.”

He nodded, obviously pleased with the progress she’d made so quickly.

She eyed the contents of the refrigerator—a chicken casserole, a large bowl of homemade beef vegetable soup, a sack from Starnes Barbecue in Paducah. Jeff had been busy. She ladled some of the soup into a bowl and stuck it in the microwave for a couple of minutes. “Do you want some?” She reached for another bowl, but he shook his head.

“I had an omelet for breakfast. It filled me up.”

She set the bowl on the table and got a spoon. Her stomach tightened as she lifted the spoon to her lips, but she forced the small amount down. It was delicious, with chunks of tender beef and barley—and it made her want to gag.

Jeff finished mopping and sat down at the place next to her. His hand reached out to cover her left one. Her right one, which held the spoon, trembled so violently she sloshed it back into the bowl. She pulled her hand from beneath his. “Don’t, Jeff. Please don’t touch me.”

He looked like she’d slapped him, and her heart throbbed. She stood up quickly and moved away to lean on the counter by the sink, needing space to breathe, fighting back tears.

“Don’t pull away, Mags. Please.” He came up behind her, laying his hands softly on her shoulders. “We’ll get through this together.”

“Stop it.” She twisted away from him and backed out of his reach. “No more. I’ve been through enough.” The numbness was gone. Every fiber in her body swelled with anger, frustration, pain and sorrow. “If I’d never let you back into my life, I wouldn’t be going through this now.”

“I’m sorry.” He held his arms out, and she rounded the table to put it between them.

“No. Don’t say that. I’m not blaming you, Jeff. I’m blaming my damn weakness for you!” Her voice rose louder, but she didn’t care. “I told you...I lose myself in you, and now, I’ve lost so much more than just myself. I. Can’t. Do. This.” Her hand curled tightly into a fist and beat her chest, punctuating the words that had to come out. “I can’t keep putting myself through the agony that comes every time we connect.” She stopped to catch her breath, and Jeff opened his mouth. “No!” She rammed a finger in his direction. “You don’t get a say-so in this.”

“Like hell I don’t.” Jeff’s hands clenched his hips in his not-backing-down stance. “You pussyfoot around the word as if you’re afraid of it. You call it a weakness for me. Damn it, Mags, you
love
me.
Love.
This is about two people who love each other. Who ought to be together. Ought to be married.”