To Cherish and To Hold (Love of a Rockstar #1.5) (14 page)

My hands pushed my body off the couch when an icy hot pain sliced through my stomach. I crumpled backwards into the cushions. Another cramp muted my ability to speak. Squeezing my eyes shut, sweat beaded along my hairline.

“Marlene! Are you ok?” Camille’s voice sounded as if dryer sheets were muffling it.

The rubber band around my belly lessened, as did the fuzziness. I reopened my eyes and blinked back tears. Kneeling at my side, Camille’s expression was etched with concern.

“We need to go to the E.R.,” I breathed. “Something isn’t right.”

“Alright. Stay there. I’ll call your mother to come watch Nil.”

“And Luke—call Luke.”

She walked out the room with her cellphone pressed to her ear. My last pregnancy had very little complication, none in fact. A relative cakewalk, minus the nausea. I’d heard horror stories though and counted my lucky stars that Nil was born a healthy nine pounds. A naïve part of me thought that this pregnancy would be free of complications as well.

As I sat on the couch, breathing through another mind-altering cramp, anxiety gripped my heart. My palm flattened against the swell of my stomach. Hoping, praying for a flutter, a kick, anything to show life still lived inside me. Nothing.

A cry of despair broke free from lips. “Come on, baby. Please.” My palm pressed harder then frantically I moved it the side, higher, lower. “Come on.”

Seconds ticked by in agony while my pleas went unnoticed. Camille reentered the room with a sleep dazed Nil.

I jerked my chin up and spoke the four words I never wanted to utter. “I don’t feel anything.”

She tried to hide the panic that flashed across her face and put on a strong front instead. However, her actions spoke for themselves.

“I'll call 911,” Camille said. “You will get to the E.R. faster than if I drove you.”

“That’s true. You do drive like a grandma.”

She attempted a strained laugh.

In times of emotional turmoil, humor became my barrier against whatever I was feeling. And right now, I was feeling grief for a child that might or might not still be swimming inside me. The uncertainty sat heavy on my chest. If I didn’t laugh, I would cry, and that’s the last thing Nil needed to see. She sucked her thumb, a habit that only presented itself when she was stressed. Camille punched in the number for emergency services. After a brief summery of my symptoms, the operator promised to have an ambulance to the house within five minutes.

“Can you pack me a bag?” I nodded toward the hall closet. “There is a suitcase in there. I only need the basic, underwear, t-shirts, and jeans.”

“Pajamas?”

A golf ball sized lump formed in my throat. Pajamas meant that I would be sleeping overnight in a stuffy hospital that reeked of death. It also meant that whatever was wrong with me was serious enough to warrant extra care. Moments like this, I wished I believed in God.

My mouth disconnected from my brain. “Sure, that’s smart.”

As if a starting gun blew, the events around me sped up to a breakneck speed. Camille began to frantically throw things into a bag while Nil, unsure of what was happening, followed her actions. They sealed the zipper just as two paramedics knocked on the door. Fear swam in Nil’s blue eyes.

With great care, I lifted myself off the couch and waddled to the entrance. Before my hand turned the knob, Camille and I reached a silent agreement. At such a young age, Nil shouldn’t have to witness her mother getting carried away on a backboard.

“I’ll meet you at the hospital.” My mouth lifted as I glanced at Nil. “Don’t worry, sweet girl. Everything is going to be ok.

She gave a watery smile in return. Camille guided her to the back of the house, their voices growing faint. I opened the door as a cramp stole the breath from the lungs. My knees threatened to buckle. The paramedics rushed in and propped their arms underneath my shoulders.

“Lenny, go get the backboard,” the one with the brown hair ordered.

Call it pride or plain stubbornness, but I wanted to walk the mere five feet. “No, I’m fine.” The paramedics gave me a look as if I was crazy, which was entirely possible. “Just help me to the ambulance.”

“Lady, you can barely stand,” said the man who I presumed to be Lenny.

They backed down when my best murderous glare got turned on them.

Lenny spoke. “Ok, whatever you want.”

They practically carried me to the ambulance. Lenny climbed inside with me and helped me onto the stretcher. Soon after the doors slammed shut, a long mournful siren wailed. Soundlessly, my lips began to recite a love letter to my unborn child that started with one simple sentence:
Keep fighting little one, Mama has you.

“M
arlene?”

“Shh. She needs her sleep.”

A cool palm brushed my forehead. The smell of wood smoke wafted under my nose. I stirred and pried open my eyelids, which felt as if they had been rubbed with sand.

“Sweetie?”

My chin turned toward the sound of Luke’s voice. It was like a healing balm over my raw wounds. His beautiful face came into sight and I nearly broke down into tears of relief.

“You’re here,” I croaked.

He pressed his lips against my temple. “Of course I’m here. There is no other place I’d rather be.”

I soaked in the feeling of his touch until a cold dose of reality poured itself over my head. Our baby. Panic rose swiftly, building to dangerous heights. The monitor beeped in rapid succession and alerted Luke to my current state.

His blue eyes locked onto mine. “Everything is ok.”

“Is…” I swallowed. “Is our baby…?”

“Our baby is fine.”

“Fine?”

He stroked my wrist with his thumb. “Perfect. The doctor came by to talk to us, but you were asleep.”

Scrambling to an upright position, I almost tore the wire free from my veins. “Get her…”

“Him. His name is Dr. Adam.”

“Whatever. I don’t care if he is a she or a freaking llama. I want to know what happened.”

Earlier that morning, after the paramedics brought me to the hospital, they ran numerous tests that lasted until night fell. As soon as the nurses had set me free, I’d face planted into the lumpy bed. Nil had stayed behind with my mother but Camille had slept on a cot in my room equally as uncomfortable. Her actions showed that no matter what transpired between us, we would never stop being there for each other.

Luke alerted a passing nurse that we were ready to see Dr. Adma. As we waited, I bit my nails nervously.

Luke shifted in his seat. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. The cramps are gone—or at least I think they are. I haven’t felt them but I have only been up for less than five minutes.” Acutely aware that I was rambling, my mouth closed shut. Then reopened. “How did you get here so quick?”

“There are perks to having friends in high places.”

“What? Did you borrow somebody’s jet?”

“I didn’t borrow it. He was already en-route to Seattle and when he saw how important it was, he offered me a lift.”

Luke: humble as cherry pie. That should be his slogan. Nevertheless, the anonymous friend had my life long gratitude. He’d delivered Luke to me when I needed him the most.

Studying him closely, I noticed the black and blue smudges underneath his eyes. “Have you slept?”

“A little.”

“A little is code for no.”

He shrugged. “How could I?”

Poor Luke. He must have felt so helpless being a thousand miles away when he received that phone call from Camille. I couldn’t imagine what was going through his head. If I had to guess though, we probably launched into similar worst-case scenarios that didn’t end with a happy conclusion. Craving Luke’s warmth, my body scooted to the far edge of the twin bed.

“Come here and cuddle with me and the baby.”

He folded his six-foot frame to accommodate our tight quarters and stretched sideways, facing me. He laid one hand on my stomach, the other resting on my hip. The hospital sounds dimmed as if a bubble encased us. Luke’s blue eyes stripped me bare.

“I was so scared that we lost our child. It was as if somebody was slashing my insides with a knife. That kind of pain could only be associated with loss.”

“But it wasn’t. Our baby is still alive.”

It was hard to believe that until I had tangible proof. The baby, once a fighter, hadn’t moved since the incident. He or she was either a cruel jokester or something wasn’t right physically.

Luke squeezed my hip. “Hey, the doctor said….”

“Doctors are wrong all the time. They have reality TV shows about it for God’s sake.”

“You have to have faith, Marlene.”

“Faith isn’t what I need right now. I need to see my baby.”

The desperation in my voice caused Luke to gather me into his arms. Chest to chest, my heartbeat fell in sync with his. Strong and steady. Shutting my eyes, I clung to Luke like a life raft bobbing in the choppy open sea. His fingers lazily stroked my back.

“I love you. No matter what happens, remember that. I love you,” Luke said. “We will get through this together like we always do.”

“We are a unit.”

“Enforced with steel, wrapped in fire resistant coating and bullet proof. Nothing will destroy us.”

“I love you,” I whispered.

He cozied closer until you couldn’t tell where I began and he ended. In the hospital, time ceased to exist. Seconds bled into minutes as we lay together.

“Mr. and Mrs. Anderson?”

Over Luke’s shoulder, a man I presumed to be Dr. Adma stood in the doorway.

Luke untangled himself from our embrace and sat back in the chair.

Dr. Adma stepped into the room, holding a clipboard. Whatever was written on that piece of paper could untimely change our lives for the better or for the worse.

He flashed a friendly smile at me. “It’s nice to see you awake.”

“Thanks.”

While I wanted to skip over the pleasantries and get straight to the point, my mother had taught me better. Dr. Adma scanned my chart then looked back up.

“So, you had quite the scare last night, huh?”

“You can say that.”

More ruffing of papers ensued. My patience as thin as a string threatened to snap. Luke gathered my clenched fist into his lap.

Finally after what seemed like an unnecessary lengthy pause, Dr. Adma spoke. “You have a low grade kidney infection. We are going to keep you here in the hospital for the next twelve to twenty-four hours to monitor your reaction to the medication and ensure that you don’t go into pre-term labor.”

“How did she get a kidney infection?” Luke questioned.

“Usually it’s because of a bladder infection that goes untreated, but no worries, you are on the mend now, Mrs. Anderson.”

With such a full plate, my health had played second fiddle to my work. That mistake could have cost Luke and I our child. These next few months I’d need to slow my roll and pay closer attention to the signals my body sends.

“Is the medication safe for the baby?” I wondered.

Dr. Adma smiled. “Yes, completely safe.”

“And you are one hundred percent no damage has been done?”