Shadows of the Past (24 page)

I try to grab the phone, but she anticipates the movement, holding it behind her back.
 

"No, Emily, don't. You can't say anything to him. Promise me!" She doesn't respond, and I don't get another chance to make a grab for the phone because she escapes, locking herself in her room so I can't reach her.

Thank God I already called the cab. When the cabbie calls up a few moments later, I lug my two bags to the front door. Emily unlocks the bathroom door and comes over.
 

“Don’t go.”

"Everything is going to be fine, I promise."
 

She begins to cry, “Please wait, and think about this for one more day. This is a rash decision.”

“But it isn't, Em. It's one I've been thinking about for a while now. It's time for me to move on.” This is tearing my heart out. I screwed up. I wasn’t supposed to get attached to people. I wasn’t supposed to care about anyone. It’s all I can do to walk away from her. I rush out the door and down the stairs, leaving her standing in our doorway, not looking back because I'm afraid I'll change my mind.

The cab driver helps me put my bags in the trunk, and just as I start to climb into the backseat, someone grabs my arm. Thinking it's Emily, I sigh.
 

"Come on, Em. You know why I have to leave."

"No, actually, I don't." My head snaps to meet icy blue eyes and a face I didn't think I'd ever see again. Damn it, Emily.
 

Jerking my arm out of his grasp, I narrow my eyes at him.
 

"What are you doing here, Oliver?" I want to be angry with him, to be upset that he's here, but to my horror, tears fill my eyes, and I turn my head away, hoping he doesn't notice them.

"Hopefully talking some bloody sense into you." While I'm struggling to keep my emotions in check, he's not even trying. His anger is almost palpable as he pushes me into the cab behind me.
 

"Drive until I tell you to stop," he tells the cabbie, "but don't you dare stop at the airport."
 

"Oliver, you can't stop me from leaving. I need to go."

His blue eyes are like ice when he looks over at me. He's so upset his voice breaks when he says, "This is your home. You belong here, with me."
 

I shake my head. “This isn't my home. I don't have one anymore.”
 

Frustrated, he grips my chin to make me look at him.
 

"Do you honestly think you'll be happy? That fleeing will make things better? It won't. Ignoring everything, ignoring me, won't make you feel better. It won't make you happy."

"You don't get it!" I shout. "You're right, leaving won't immediately make everything better, but I have to do something. I can't sit here anymore and wait for something or someone to fix me. I need to fix myself, and I need to be alone to do it." I need to make him understand, this isn't about him, this isn't even about what happened between us.

Trying unsuccessfully to remove his hand so I can look somewhere other than into his eyes, I feel mine fill with tears. His eyes soften, and so does his voice.
 

"Baby, I don't want to fix you. There's nothing wrong with you. Why can't you see that I just want to love you? I want to take care of you, wake up with you every morning and go to bed with you every night. You don't have to do everything alone. Damn it, Kayla, let me in! Stop running from me and be with me." His eyes bore into me, and I can see that he means everything he says.
 

It scares me like nothing else ever has. It scares me because I want the same things. I want to wake up with him every day. I want to let him in, but I don't know how. I can't do it.

"I'm sorry, Oliver. I wish I could. God, you don't know how much I wish I could do just that. You just don't understand what it's like." He deserves the words, he should know that I love him, but if I tell him that, he'll never let me go. He'll keep trying to convince me to stay.
 

Oliver grabs me by the shoulders and turns me so I'm looking straight at him.
 

"I don't understand? How can I understand anything when you don't talk to me?" His voice is rife with pain and I hate myself for hurting him more. "All I know is that you believe in ghosts, hate cemeteries, and someone hurt you so badly you won't let anyone else get close to you."

I turn my head away to gaze out the window as Oliver presses something small into my hand. I look down, seeing a small USB device, before looking back up at him in confusion.
 

"It's a thumb drive," he explains. "I had an IT guy I know extract the pictures on your old phone and load them onto this for you."

"You got my phone out of the lake?" He nods. “You went in the lake?”

“I’d do anything for you.”

A dull roar fills my ears. He got my pictures back. I stare at the thumb drive in awe.
 

“Did you look at my pictures?” The thought of him seeing all my pain laid bare like that makes me want to cry. I’ve haven't shared those with anyone since I left home.

“I only saw the first picture, and I realized why you were so upset when Barkley knocked your phone into the lake. You could have told me.”
 

I smash my lips together and stare straight ahead. He saw me holding my girls. The bottoms of my eyelids come up as I try not to cry.

“There's something else.”

“What?” I glance over at him. Oliver holds up his hand and drops a flash of silver. It dangles from his fingers and I begin to sob. “My locket. Where did you get that?”

“Barkley ate it. The vet removed it and I wasn’t sure what to do with it. I had no idea it was yours until the IT guy showed me the pictures on your phone. The photo in your locket was on the phone. This is yours.” He holds it out and drops it into my palm.

“Barkley must have swallowed it when he knocked you down. I’m so sorry.” When I continue to stare at him, silent, he shrugs his shoulders. "There's no way I would betray you that way, Kayla. I want to know you, but I want you to tell me your secrets, and not go behind your back to discover them myself."
 

"I didn't ask you to do this.” I’m numb, shocked. I feel like I have emotional whiplash. I want to tell him what happened to my girls. He probably thinks I left them somewhere. He has no idea what really happened, but the words are stuck in my throat. I can’t tell him.

Oliver sighs, "I know you didn't. Hasn't anyone ever just done something nice for you?"

"No. In my experience, people only do things to get things in return." I glare up at him, desperate to push him away. "What do you want?"

"I don't want anything you don't want to give me you stubborn girl. The only thing I want from you is your trust."

"Please, I'm begging you, just let me go." My words are barely a whisper. The knot in my throat is cutting off my ability to talk. I'm so close to losing it, to dropping every wall I've erected around myself—the thought terrifies me.

His jaw tightens as he clenches his teeth. Dropping his hand from my chin, he looks away from me this time, but not fast enough that I don't see the hurt and the anger whirling in his eyes.
 

"Fine. You want me to let you go? To let you do everything all by yourself? Okay. You win. I'm done putting everything on the line while you do nothing. I'm done pushing myself on you, trying to make you see that you love me. Maybe you're just not capable of it right now, but I deserve more than what you're offering."

My breath catches, but I can't say anything. He's right. He deserves everything. He asks the cab driver to pull over, and I look over at him in shock.
 

"What are you doing?"

"You want me to let you go. That's what I'm doing."
 

The car stops at the curb, and he opens the door to get out. Once he's standing on the sidewalk, he bends to look at me one last time. "Goodbye, Kayla."

CHAPTER 42

The cab door slams shut, and I'm left alone. I can see him walking down the street, his head down and his shoulders slumped. What am I doing? Am I really going to just let him go? To let him leave, knowing I'll never see him again?
 

The cab starts to pull away, and the driver asks, "Am I taking you to Heathrow Airport again, then?"

I finally know what I need to do. Why wasn't it clear before? God, I've been so stupid.
 

"No, please...stop the cab."
 

He pulls back to the curb, and I shove the door open and get out. Just before I do, I ask him to wait. The driver nods.
 

"I'll wait, but the meter is running." I don't even care. Let the meter run. I need to find him.
 

When I step back onto the sidewalk, I look in the direction Oliver walked, but I don't see him. I begin to panic as I hurry in that direction, my steps falling faster and faster.
 

"I thought you were leaving." His voice comes from behind me, and I spin around to see him standing under an awning. My heart nearly explodes in relief.

I rush over to where he's standing.
 

"You were right. I was running away." Tears are falling unchecked down my cheeks, but I don't care. I need to tell him everything. "Trusting people doesn't come easily for me. I need to tell you why."
 

He doesn't say anything. Thankfully, Oliver just lets me get everything out. It's a good thing. Now that I'm finally talking, I don't think I can stop.

"When I was nineteen, I got pregnant." His eyes remain unreadable, locked on mine. "When the father found out, he dropped me. Told me he wasn't cut out for parenthood, that he wasn't ready to be a father." I laugh mirthlessly. "Like I was ready at nineteen to be a mother? Anyway, instead of one baby, I got two. Twins. I went from being a nineteen-year-old college freshman to a woman who was going to be a mother of two overnight. But, I was happy. I had my mom and my sister; I had support. My father was long gone, but good riddance."

"My father abused my mother daily for years, as far back as I can remember. He was a mean drunk. My mother put up with it when she should have shown him the door.
 

“As my sister and I got older, he started taking his anger out on us as well. One night, he smacked my sister Shannon across the face for talking back. That was my mom's wake up call. She finally got the courage to leave him, and we never heard from him again.”

He watches me as I pour my heart out. I wring my fingers as I speak.
 

“My mom and Shannon were so supportive when they found out about the babies. I expected disappointment or at least for Mom to ask me to put them up for adoption, but instead, she told me she'd do whatever she could to help me.

"Oliver, we struggled. I was a college student with a part-time job, my sister was the same, and my mom was waitressing in a diner. We didn't have money to spare. I didn't have health insurance, and healthcare in the US is nothing like it is here. I applied for assistance with paying for the doctor visits. It was so embarrassing. I had to see a doctor who would accept the state insurance. I had to attend special appointments to qualify for assistance with food and formula, too, appointments where they pushed breastfeeding on me like me choosing not to do it would hurt my babies. Becoming a mother so young was hard, but the judgment I received from places that were supposed to help me, that was even worse."

Oliver melts as I speak. There’s more to this story, the worst part is coming. My lower lips trembles and he pulls me into his arms, wrapping them securely around my waist and letting me cuddle into his chest.
 

Tears streak down my face. "I did everything right. I went to the classes, I kept every doctor's appointment, and I followed every bit of advice the doctor gave me. But, it still wasn't enough. I went into labor a week after my twentieth birthday, and I was terrified. The pain was so bad I didn't think I would make it through, but it’d be worth it in the end—I’d get to meet my girls.”

I swallow a sob and continue, “But then, everything changed. Nurses were running in and out of my room, paging frantically for another doctor, and all three of us were left in the dark."

“Kayla, my God. What happened?” He strokes my hair, holding me tight.

Voice shaking, I manage to get the rest of the story out. "The doctor came in, and he started barking orders, telling the nurses to use an internal monitor instead of the one that was lying on my stomach. I knew something was wrong, but no one would tell me what. Finally, after a flurry of activity, the doctor told me that they were no longer able to find a heartbeat. I went through labor. Both babies were delivered, but I never heard their cries. I had heard the silence before I realized what it meant.

“After a few moments, they told me what happened. My placenta had detached and they didn't know. My babies couldn't get oxygen, and then they were gone. That morning, I could feel them kicking inside me, and by that night, they were gone."

His arms tighten around me. "Oh baby," he whispers. "I'm so sorry."
 

I clutch his shirt in my hand, keeping him close to me as I sob.
 

"Come on, baby, let me take you to my flat."
 

"No, I can't." I shake my head back and forth against him. "I need to get this out now, like ripping off a band-aid."

Oliver strokes my hair as he agrees. "Okay. Finish it so I can take you away from here."

"There was no rhyme or reason for what happened. How can I be mad when there's no one to blame? The doctor and nurses all assured me it wasn't something I did, that I didn't cause any of it, but do you know how much harder that made it? There was no one for me to be mad at but God.
 

“And then I got to hold them. It was such a surreal experience. It was the first time I'd ever witnessed death, and I didn't handle it well. They told me I could have as much time as I needed, that they would come as soon as I called. I got to trace their little features, to hug them tightly and tell them I loved them. The hospital brought in a photographer to take pictures of both the babies, and of me holding each of them so I'd have a physical way to hold onto them.”