Branching Out (16 page)

“Then congratulations to you, too. But watch out; they can grow up to be a handful,” the proud father said with a laugh as he continued past Ryan.

Ryan turned to leave, but his steps fell short. Instead, he slumped into the wall to steady himself, not knowing if he had the strength to find his wife.

C
HAPTER
23

W
hen Shelby's eyes fluttered open, she realized she was lying down in the backseat of a moving car, but in that initial moment she couldn't remember why. She could no longer see the bright flashes of highway lights and passing headlights reflected in the car windows. In fact, the only light in the car now was the faint green glow from the front dashboard. Wherever they were now, it was coal black and devoid of even a trace of moonlight.

The car hit a bump in the road, causing her head to bounce on the cracked leather seating. It was enough of a jolt to bring it all back to mind. The baby, Ryan, the hospital.

“Where are we?” she called out over the sound of the radio before closing her eyes again. It was easier to keep her eyes closed and her body curled up on the seat.

“What's that?” a man's voice replied from the front seat. Through the radio static, she could make out a Bee Gees song, though she couldn't remember the chorus.

What was his name again?
Shelby wondered, but the answer didn't come.

“Where are we?” she repeated.

“You've been asleep for a while, lady. We're just outside of Fond du Lac.”

When Shelby opened her eyes again, the road seemed rougher than it had earlier. As her mind cleared, she couldn't think of a place along the drive where he would have veered off of the highway and onto a rural road. Shelby lifted her head up to get a better view but fell back onto the seat. The pain was too great.

She felt the car pull quickly to the right, bump along some rough spots on the road, and then come to a stop.
Why are we stopping?

“What are you doing?” she asked, but the driver didn't reply. Instead, she heard the sound of his door opening and felt a bitterly cold stream of air enter the car. She pulled her coat closer around her body and forced herself, once again, to sit up. A sharp pinch shot through her side, causing her to gasp and grab it. Her entire body ached, as if she had been bruised internally and externally. She fumbled in her coat pocket until she found the prescription bottle she was looking for. As she removed the safety cap and shook out one pill into the palm of her bandaged hand, she looked out of the steamed windows, trying to find the driver.

The cold air continued to filter in through his open door. Something wasn't right.
What is he doing?

“Sir?” she called out, fainter this time, as she felt light-headed again. The pain intensified, Shelby placed the pill on her tongue and forced herself to swallow it down a dry throat.
Did he say his name is Danny?
If she hadn't been so exhausted, her protective instincts would have kicked in. She didn't know where she was, parked in the dark on the side of the road on a snowy winter night with a complete stranger. She blinked her eyes to stay awake, but it was too much.

The sound of the back door opening and the feel of the cold night air woke her again with a start. The driver, a big man with thick hands, was reaching for her body in the backseat. Panic set in like an alarm and without thinking she pulled her leg up and quickly gave a kick to his groin.

“Jesus Christ, lady, what the hell?” he shouted, falling to on his knee to the floor of the car.

“Don't you dare touch me,” she hissed, ready to strike again with her other boot despite the pain it caused her.

He quickly raised his hands to calm her down. “Listen. No one wants to hurt you. You need help. I'm only here to help.”

“Get me to Bayfield. Please. That's all the help I need.”

“I just pulled over to take a leak. When I came back to the cab, you didn't look so good.”

“Let's go.”
Just get back behind the wheel and drive. We have to be getting closer.

“You're very pale.”

“I'm fine.”

“Were you a patient at that hospital? Is that why you were in such a hurry to leave in the middle of the night?”

“Please.” Then, remembering his name, she added, “Manny.”

He placed his hands on the backseat, pushed himself up from the floor, and stood at the open passenger door.

He looked down at his hands and, this time, it was Manny's complexion that went pale. “My God. Ms. Chambers, you're bleeding!”

She struggled to keep her head up and her eyes open.
If only I could disappear
.

The last thing she remembered was the feeling of Manny's hands reaching for her, and him calling out her name.

Before everything went black.

C
HAPTER
24

O
nce Ryan left the hospital after Shelby's disappearance, his parents joined him at his apartment to offer their support. They hadn't been there long before the police called.

“Mr. Chambers, this is Lieutenant Ochoa from the Fond du Lac police department. I'm pleased to tell you that we have located your wife,” she informed him over the phone, using a voice that offered a reassuring balance of professionalism and empathy. “She was admitted to Regency Community Hospital here in Eau Claire.”

“Fond du Lac? I don't understand. How on earth did she get all the way there?”

“An officer on the scene is gathering that information as we speak. What I can tell you now is that she was brought into the emergency room by a man named Emanuel Pratt. Do you know him?”

“Never heard of him,” Ryan said, his mind immediately flashing to the worst-case scenario. “My God, she wasn't—”

“At this time, we don't believe she has been assaulted or harmed in any way,” the lieutenant assured him. “It appears your wife hired Pratt as her driver and once they arrived in the area he realized she was in very poor condition. Physicians are examining her, but it appears she is suffering from complications that have resulted from her recent delivery.”

“What is it, William?” his father asked. Ryan hadn't noticed that his parents were now standing at his side, watching his face intently and waiting for news.

He covered the mouthpiece on the phone and whispered, “She's back at the hospital.”

“Well, let's go!” William Senior said with urgency, motioning to Charlotte to grab her purse and coat.

“Not here, Dad. She's in Fond du Lac.”

Charlotte dropped her purse back on the kitchen counter and William Senior's expression went from concern to disbelief. Neither one of them said a word, but they didn't need to. Ryan knew. Something inside of his wife had snapped and it terrified him.

After Ryan ended the call with Lieutenant Ochoa, he set down his phone, placed both hands on the kitchen counter, and leaned in with his head down.
How did we get here? How on earth could this have happened?
He was trying to process it, to think through his next steps, when his father interrupted his thoughts.

“I know you're hurting right now, Ryan, and I don't mean to sound insensitive,” his father said with some reluctance, “but we have to consider what the media is going to say about all of this. I mean, a young mother racing out of the hospital in the middle of the night? Abandoning you and leaving you—leaving you alone to grieve and take care of everything on your own after the death of your child?”

“I know, Dad.”

“You know this will become fodder for the press,” his father added.

“No one should have to go through this alone. It's terrible enough that we lost little Charlie. But Eau Claire? Think of what people are going to say,” Ryan's mother said tearfully, taking a tissue out of her purse to dry her eyes.

“We need a plan,” William Sr. said.

“William, this isn't the time or place to talk about the public ramifications of Shelby's actions,” his mother said, placing her hand on her husband's forearm. “We need to take care of family first.”

“You're being naïve, Charlotte, if you don't think this is going to come out quickly. Ryan needs to go to Shelby, make sure she's well, and we need to come up with a logical explanation for all of this. Make a public statement before someone from the hospital, or that cabdriver, starts talking. We need to nip this in the bud.”

“I don't really give a damn about what people say,” Ryan said, raising his head and looking directly at his father. “Right now, all I can think of is Shelby. I need you to help me here so I can go take care of my wife.” And with that, he left his parents alone in the kitchen while he quickly gathered a few belongings in an overnight bag and hurried out of the apartment.

C
HAPTER
25

W
hen Shelby opened her eyes, she found herself back in the hospital, tethered once more to an IV drip and a beeping heart rate monitor. Once her eyes adjusted to the darkness in the room, she realized she was somewhere new. Gone were the floral prints, pastel colors, and gliding rocking chairs intended for nursing mothers in the Chicago hospital. Instead, this room was simple and uncluttered, devoid of anything maternal and warm.

At least that's what she thought, until she heard the sound of a body shifting in a chair. She turned to see the person sitting in the shadowed corner of the room and simply said, “It's you.”

 

“Go ahead. Say it.” Shelby believed that, this time, she deserved whatever harsh words her mother had to offer.

“What do you expect me to say?” Jackie Meyers replied flatly.

“I can imagine there are any number of accusations you can throw my way,” Shelby said. “Why don't you just get it over with? Tell me again how much of a disappointment I am and then leave. You're so good at it, Mother.”

Jackie said nothing. Instead, she stood up and pushed the chair across the floor until it was at Shelby's bedside. “How are you feeling?” Jackie asked, taking her seat again. “Are you in pain?”

“Where am I?”

“We're in Eau Claire. But the better question is,
why
are you here instead of Chicago, where you belong?”

“Is Gran here?” Shelby asked, sitting up abruptly and then buckling over in pain. She cried out and then said with urgency, “I need to see her.”

“No. She thought it best that I come.”

“Why?” Shelby asked, her eyebrows pinched together as she fought off the piercing pain in her abdomen. “I don't understand why you would come instead of her.”

“I know you're in bad shape, Shelby, but Jesus. You don't have to be so rude.”

Shelby shook her head and sighed.

“I was nearby,” Jackie said. “Chad has a sister who lives in Sheboygan. We just happened to be there, visiting for a few days. Kind of a holiday thing. Mother called me because she knew I could get to you faster.”

Chad. Wonderful
, Shelby thought, not ready to give her mother credit for coming to her aid. She needed her grandmother desperately. She would know what to do. She would know how to fix everything that Shelby had ruined.

“So really, how are you?” Jackie asked again, softer this time.

Looking into her mother's eyes, Shelby wished now more than ever that she felt comfortable enough to hold her mother and cry—to share all of her fears, failures, and grief. Instead, she turned her head away and closed her eyes tightly, fighting away the tears.

When Shelby didn't answer, her mother asked, “Do you realize what has happened? Are you aware of your actions?”

“I'm tired,” Shelby said with a weak voice. “I'd like to be alone, if you don't mind.”

There was another pause as Jackie continued to stare at Shelby and Shelby avoided her gaze.

“Does Ryan know where you are?”

Shelby tried to roll onto her side, away from her mother, but pain ripped through her middle and forced her onto her back once again.

“We should call him,” Jackie stated, appearing to be taking charge, which was a rare sight. “Where's your phone?”

Shelby laid her arm over her eyes.
What have I done?

Jackie stood up from her chair and took it upon herself to go through the few belongings Shelby had hanging up in the hospital room closet until she returned to the bed with Shelby's phone in hand.

“You're nearly out of battery, but you have more than a dozen phone calls and even more texts. All from your husband,” Jackie said. “We'll need to charge this and use another phone to call him.”

Shelby nodded, feeling her chin tremble and that familiar dull ache in her jaw. She fought to hold back her tears. There were so many tears. Her mother must have noticed, because Shelby heard the sound of a phone being placed on a nearby table and then felt her mother's hand upon her shoulder. Although Jackie's touch was uncharacteristically gentle and her voice and words appeared sincere, Shelby was reluctant to open up to her own mother. While their relationship had improved greatly over the past two years, there was still too much pain below the surface.

“We don't have to call him just yet. The police contacted him shortly after you arrived. In fact, he was the one who called your grandmother. He knows you're safe,” Jackie said. “You scared all of us, you know, Ryan most of all.”

Shelby nodded. Nothing she could say could make up for her actions.

Jackie walked back around the bed and sat down in the chair. “Seeing you here in the hospital really takes me back. You know, to the time when you were born.”

Shelby burrowed her head into her pillow and pulled the blanket over her shoulders, not interested in hearing once again how she was an unwanted baby. “I'm going to go back to sleep.”

Jackie ignored Shelby and kept talking. “I don't think I ever told you about my pregnancy with you, did I?” Jackie paused before continuing, clearing her throat and adjusting in her chair.

“Too many times,” said Shelby.

“Actually, no. I'm sure I haven't.”

“It's okay, Mom. You can tell Gran that you've come to see me. You've been very helpful,” Shelby said from behind the covers. “I'm just fine being on my own for a while.”

“I know,” Jackie replied. “In fact, I know exactly how you feel. When you were born, I thought my life had come to an end. My guess is that you're feeling that, too.”

Shelby turned her head abruptly, wanting to sit up and face her mother but instead having to lie still and wince against the pain. “You do
not
know how I'm feeling. You couldn't possibly,” she said, incensed at the comparison. “I am nothing like you.”

“Which is harder to deal with—the grief? Or the guilt?”

Shelby stared straight ahead, the tears welling up, her bottom lip aching from holding back a cry. Yes, she felt guilt. Heavy, heartbreaking. And yes, like her mother said, Shelby thought her life had come to an end. There was no way to undo the damage she had done.

Jackie reached for Shelby's hand, and this time, whether because she was broken and exhausted or because she needed her mother's comfort—even if it was insincere or fleeting—Shelby didn't pull away.

“I was much younger than you. A kid, really—only nineteen. But you knew that,” Jackie started. “But, unlike you, I had no clear idea of my future. Hell, let's be honest, I'm still a fly-by-night woman. I've never really made a plan for my life, just kinda took it one day at a time, go with the flow, you know what I mean.

“It was fall and I was so happy to be back on campus. California was a dream compared to northern Wisconsin. At least that's what I thought back then. I had wanted to get as far away from my parents and the farm as I could. I know that you loved growing up there, but I saw our home as absolute isolation. Not an oasis, like you do. I felt trapped on the orchard and I never wanted to have to go back and work the family land. I was the type of teenager who lived for fashion, celebrity magazines, the latest movies, and Casey Kasem's
American Top Forty
on the radio every weekend. California was a dream. I thought it represented everything that was beautiful and glitzy—and it was the total opposite of my life in a small Wisconsin town.”

Jackie dropped Shelby's hand and stood up once more. “It's too dark in here, don't you think?” She walked to the window and opened the blinds. The morning sun filtered into the room and Shelby had to squint her eyes at the bright assault.

“When I was in high school, I used to know a guy named Stewart; he went by Stuckey, although I'm not sure why,” Jackie continued. “He ran with a group of guys, not the best kids in the area, and I suppose you could say he was their leader. They used to cut school, drink beer out in their cars after school; they were disrespectful to teachers in school—I'm sure you know the type.”

Jackie walked across the room to pour a glass of water with the pitcher that a nurse had left for them. “Water?” she offered Shelby.

She nodded and accepted the glass. Jackie helped to prop her up comfortably on the pillows while she continued to share her story. “You have to understand that this was a time in my life when I wasn't making the best decisions. The more your grandparents told me to stay away from Stuckey and his group, the more I was drawn to them. I was bored up on the farm, I felt isolated, and I was desperate for adventure. Excitement. I thought Stuckey was wild and bold and there was something intriguing about him. I was fascinated by him, and I was also completely naïve about how much trouble they were capable of getting into.”

“This guy was your boyfriend at the time?”

“Of sorts. He went with a couple of girls during our senior year of high school. I was one of them. I didn't have the best judgment—or self-esteem. It wasn't the high school experience I had always thought I'd have.”

“Why are you telling me all of this? What does that guy have to do with Chad?” Shelby asked as she set down her glass on the bedside stand.

“I'm getting to it,” Jackie said. “Chad ran in Stuckey's crowd, too. But he was different. While the other guys were getting into trouble, Chad was always the one who held back. He tried to encourage the group to ease up and he always seemed uncomfortable, but those were the boys he had grown up with. They were his friends, or so he thought.”

“Now I understand why Gran and Grandpa told me repeatedly how important it is to choose good friends. Sorry, but they used you as an example of what
not
to do,” Shelby said.

“I know. I'm glad they did. I've regretted those choices all of my life,” Jackie said. “You see, I developed a terrible reputation simply through my association with Stuckey. Even though I was a pretty good kid on the inside, I'm sure I looked like trouble on the outside. Rumors started, most of them lies. People thought I was promiscuous and I didn't fight it. By the time I turned eighteen, most people were ready to see me leave, including my own parents. I was too young to see myself differently.”

“So you left.”

“I did. By some miracle I managed to get into college in California, and I couldn't wait to go. I thought I'd be able to make a clean break. Start over again, you know? New people, clean slate. Once I graduated from college, I knew I wouldn't ever go back home.”

“What happened with Chad?”

“I was home over summer break from college when I met up with Stuckey again. He never left Bayfield, and he never went to college. Stuckey ended up working for his father, doing odds and ends around town. Mostly construction work, handyman projects, that sort of thing. I was lonely. No one was calling the house; no one around town really wanted to see me. So when Stuckey asked me to join him and the guys as a party down at the beach, I agreed.

“I don't want to get into the details, but I will tell you that I drank too much and one thing led to another. Stuckey was getting too rough with me. I wanted to leave, but he wouldn't allow it. He took me to his car. It was one of the worst nights of my life.”

“I'm so sorry,” Shelby said, realizing that her conception was worse than she had ever imagined. No wonder her mother never wanted her to know about her father.

“Afterward, he bragged about it to his friends and I never met up with him again,” Jackie said. “When I found out I was pregnant at nineteen, I let people think whatever they wanted. It was a different time back then, and Bayfield was and still is a small town where everyone seems to know everyone else's business. No one would have believed it if I told them I was raped.”

“You didn't even tell Gran?”

Jackie shook her head.

Seeing the sadness in her mother's eyes, as difficult as it was to hear Jackie's story, Shelby was grateful to finally have a better understanding of her mother's actions. “So when I was born and you wanted to give me up—”

“At the time, I wasn't thinking about you,” Jackie said. She smoothed out the blanket on Shelby's bed. “I was only thinking about myself. I didn't want to be connected to that time in my life. Fortunately, your grandparents had a better sense of things than I did.”

“And that's when I came to live with them.”

“Yes. I was running away from the constant ridicule and judgment I thought I would receive. So I stayed as far away as I could. I wanted a fresh start for myself and for you, and parents who would love you without judgment. When Mom and Dad insisted on taking you in, I agreed. I made that decision partially out of fear that I'd only mess things up more—but, to be honest, I hoped that one day you would become the source of pride for them that I never was. I held on to that hope for all of those years.”

“I still don't understand, then, why Chad would come to our wedding and insist that he's my father. When, clearly, he isn't,” Shelby said. “That part of the story still doesn't make sense.”

“Chad always knew the truth of what happened between me and Stuckey. He was there that night, at the beach party. He knew what was happening, but he didn't do anything to help me. I found out later that he had carried that guilt with him all of his life.” Jackie pointed to the four flower arrangements that were placed on a cabinet near the window. “Those are all from him, you know.”

“Really?”

“He thought you must have gone through hell and back. When you woke up this morning, he wanted to make sure you had something beautiful to look at.”