Missing Hart (19 page)

My depression took an abrupt turn the night that I finally clued into the fact that I was pregnant. I was in bed staring out the window when it dawned on me that I hadn’t gotten my period since three weeks before the night we made love without anything between us. The next morning I got up and broke land speed records to get to the drugstore to buy pregnancy tests. I snuck back into the house after everyone had left for work and lined all five tests on the counter, praying as I waited for the results. I was ecstatic as each and every one showed up positive.

Finally, a reason to get out of bed and go on with life had presented itself to me. He hated me now, but knowing that I was going to have a piece of the two of us to love and adore forever changed my entire mindset. I knew that once he understood that I really did love him and he realized that we were going to have a baby, he would forgive me. He had to. And, even if he couldn’t forgive me right away, I would have a piece of him to love.

I went online and found an OBGYN and made an appointment, then spent hours doing research on the Internet about what I needed to do to stay healthy. My misery didn’t matter anymore because our baby was the most important thing in the world.

My family was stunned but ecstatic that I started eating like a normal person again. I walked two miles every day, ate fruits and vegetables and did everything I could to be as healthy as humanly possible. Each night before I went to sleep I laid in bed and rubbed my stomach gently as I silently talked to our baby. My whole life had changed for the better the second that I realized that I was going to be a mother, and there wasn’t any part of me that didn’t embrace the change in my life. I had always dreamt of being a mother but with my fears of intimacy, I never thought that I’d carry a child of my own. Knowing that something Dillon and I had created was growing inside of me was an experience that I never thought I would have.

I knew that I was going to have to tell my family about my pregnancy, knew that they’d be less than thrilled at first, but I had no plans of telling them until I told Dillon. I had decided to wait until after my high school graduation to approach him, and since that was now only two weeks away I was happily planning my arrival on his doorstep.

My doctor’s appointment was a moment of pure joy as it was confirmed that I was pregnant. I knew the exact day of conception, so I already knew what my approximate due date would be. The best part of the appointment was hearing my little angel’s heartbeat. I’d never been one to believe in miracles before, but hearing the sounds of life coming from inside of me and knowing that the baby was a piece of Dillon and me, was nothing less than miraculous.

The day of my high school graduation was one of my happiest. I wasn’t a high school girl anymore, and I knew that would count for a lot in Dillon’s eyes.

The rage I felt every single time I thought about what a fucking idiot I had been for years, first for Marissa and then for Dominique, was staggering. After a lifetime of caring about women, now I hated them all. No woman was honest, each and every one of them lied and presented the façade they wanted you to see to pull you in. If I had more balls than heart, I’d never have been taken for such a goddamn fool.

As far as I was concerned the only exception to that rule my sister. She was the only woman in the entire world that I could trust and rely on when push came to shove, and I planned to keep it that way.

My new motto is: fuck and forget. I didn’t give a shit that it made me sound like a heartless bastard because the fact was that I didn’t want to have a heart and being a bastard was something I was going to embrace. It took me six weeks to work up the ability to sleep with anyone else, but now I was on a roll. Casual and pathetic every damn time, but it was all I had left to give.

My entire outlook on life had changed completely, and I just didn’t give a shit. Being cold and uninterested had women flocking to me in droves to put up with my bullshit. They weren’t allowed in my house and after I finished fucking them, I left their beds like my heels were on fire. More often than not I called them by her name as I was coming and I never once apologized for it. Still, they would ask for my phone number, which only proved to me how fickle women are. They all pretended to want the nice guy, but the truth is that the nice guy always got played for a fucking chump. I was living proof of that.

I’d be a joyless fucking robot it weren’t for my sister. For her, I will always be the nice guy, but she will be my only exception. She had read the suicide letter that Marissa had left behind for her, and she swore that it helped. She tried to talk me into reading mine, but I had buried it at the bottom of a drawer and had no intentions of reading it, ever. All it was going to be was more bullshit and I’d had enough of that to last a lifetime.

Dominique had tried repeatedly to make contact, but I rebuffed all of her attempts. Her unopened letters sat in the same drawer that Marissa’s finally missive resided in, and I had no intention of reading those, either.

The nights were the worst for me, and I hated going to sleep. Every single night without fail I dreamt of her, and every night I woke up bathed in sweat calling her name. The pathetic and sappy asshole that I had been still secretly wanted her in the worst way, but the armor plating that I was erecting around myself fought against that need. At the six-week mark I’d fallen into a state of despair when I had to let go of my pathetic fantasy that we’d created a baby that last night we had been together. I knew without a doubt that if she were pregnant, she would have come running over with bells on to tell me in the hopes that I’d forgive her. The saddest thing was that I would have.

I hated myself for being so weak that it hurt me that she wasn’t pregnant. What she had done was unforgivable and I needed to stay far away from her, needed no part of her lies. She was part of my past now, and I didn’t want her in any part of my present or my future.

Her calls and texts and letters had stopped, and it bothered the hell out of me. On one hand it only proved that I had been right about how fickle girls were, but on the other hand, it hurt like hell that she had given up on me. That led to me really thinking about her for the first time in months, and it was like a tsunami of emotion washing over me.

Rick and I both had been invited to the graduation ceremony to see dedication of the garden. I had declined, but now I felt like I needed to go check on her. I could be in and out without her ever seeing me, and getting a look at her in person would tell me if she was as miserable as I was.

Graduation day dawned bright and beautiful. My inner sap was back in full effect and I was a shaky mess, nervous as hell about seeing her for the first time in all these months. It felt terrible to hope that she was miserable so that I would have a reason to talk to her again, but it didn’t stop me from hoping.

I knew the area of the campus that revolved around the pavilion well enough now that I was able to watch the ceremony from a spot where no one would see me. The graduation seemed like it was never going to end, but I perked up when I heard first her sister’s name and then hers.

Whatever fantasy I’d had about her being depressed was blown to shit the second I saw her walk up onto the stage to collect her diploma. She was practically glowing and I couldn’t recall ever having seen her looking more full of life.

I realized that I never should have come to see her, should never have thought for even one second that she would still be mourning the death of our relationship. I’d been right all along-she was nothing but a fickle teenager.

Any leftover part of my heart that wasn’t encased in ice already quickly turned to stone in that moment.

Graduation was finally, blessedly over. I was overjoyed to officially be a high school graduate because now I could tell Dillon about our baby.

My family had converged on our favorite steakhouse on Ventura Boulevard for a celebration dinner. The restaurant was within two blocks of Dillon’s house, which was oddly comforting. I have to admit that dinner with the family was one of the best times I could remember having in months. I knew that they were going to be shocked and upset at first about my pregnancy, but I also knew that once they got used to the idea they would be supportive. Without a doubt I knew that as soon as the baby was born, they would fall in head over heels in love.

I’d driven my own car to dinner because I was going straight to Dillon’s to tell him the news. I was nervous about getting the words out, but I also felt secure in the knowledge that once he realized that we were going to have a baby, he would be happy.

My family seemed surprised that I was “going out with friends” after dinner, but they were so relieved to see me happy that they encouraged me to go. After a dozen hugs and a hundred rounds of congratulations we all went on our way. Since I had to use the bathroom, I was the last out of the restaurant. I got a little frazzled once I got out to the sidewalk and couldn’t find my car, panicking at the thought that it had been stolen. I started laughing at myself when I remembered that my Buick was gone and my shiny new Lexus was safely parked at the curb just a few doors down from the restaurant. Opening the passenger door I put my purse and leftover dinner on the seat before I started to walk around the car to the driver’s side.

As I settled into the driver’s seat, some sixth sense had me looking through the window at the passing traffic just in time to see Dillon’s truck driving by, going in the opposite direction of his house. Realizing that I’d have to catch up with him if I wanted to tell him about the baby tonight I turned the engine on and pulled out into traffic to follow him. Rubbing protectively at my stomach I said, “We’re going to go tell daddy all about you little one.”

I drove behind him for a few blocks before he stopped, and I was frustrated and annoyed when he pulled into the only parking space in front of a bar. Going down to the next light I made a U-turn and parked on the other side of the street. I checked my mirrors and looked at the oncoming traffic before getting out from the car.

I was so close to him that I could taste it, and I couldn’t wait to tell him. The sound of cars honking was the only warning I got that someone had just made an illegal turn and was coming right for me. I tried to jump out of the way, but I never really had a chance.

The bright light in my eye and the sounds of beeping greeted me as I regained consciousness. There were people I didn’t know standing around me, all of them in scrubs or medical jackets. A handsome man with a kind face shushed everyone before turning his attention back to me.

“You’re in the hospital,” he explained, “because you were hit by a car. You’ve been out for several hours. Do you understand?”

I went to answer but panicked when I realized there was something in my throat.

“Shh, shh, don’t panic,” he said. “Everything is alright. We had to put a breathing tube in for the procedure as a precaution. Now that you’re awake and alert, we can take it out. Can you stay calm enough for us to do that now? I’ll warn you that it isn’t pleasant.”

I nodded my head in answer, my eyes pleading with him to remove it.

“Okay sweetie, just hold on one minute and the nurses will have that removed. Just keep breathing in and out through your nose.”

The removal process was overwhelming and I struggled not to panic, breathing past the choking sensation. A nurse held up a straw and helped me take a few sips of water, urging me to drink slowly.

The doctor came back a few minutes later with a chart in front of him. After excusing the nurses, he sat down in the chair next to my hospital bed.

“You had no identification on you, nor did you have a cell phone. Can you tell me your name?”

I nodded and croaked out, “Dominique Hart.”

He jotted it down on his chart before looking up at me and taking my hand.

“Dominique, I’m Dr. Tyler and I’m in charge of your case because you came in through the emergency room and presented as a trauma patient. I’m sorry to have to tell you this but you lost your baby. One of our best doctors performed a D&C and everything looks fine now. You also have a broken ankle, two broken fingers and a broken collarbone. You were very, very lucky, all things considered. If the driver had been going any faster, it could have been fatal.”

I started to cry as he spoke, completely heartbroken. It had been fatal to my baby, and that was all that mattered.

“You need family or friends here to support you,” he said. “Can you tell me who to call?”

There was only one person who could possibly support me enough to help me feel any better about losing our baby, but now I had no reason to talk to him ever again. I was going to have to let the doctor call my family, but I needed him to promise me something first.

“Dr. Tyler,” I whispered, “My family didn’t know about the baby and now there is no reason for them to be told. I’m of age and I know I have rights. Can you promise me that they won’t be told that I was pregnant?”

Shaking his head sadly he answered, “If you don’t want that to be divulged, then it won’t be. You need support though Miss Hart, and you shouldn’t try to deal with this all alone. If you were one of my daughters, I’d want to be told so that I could help you. I’m certain that your family would feel the same way.”

Reaching out and taking his hand again I croaked, “They support me enough without having to deal with this too. You promise you won’t tell?”

Eyes bleak, he nodded his head. “I won’t say a word about the pregnancy but I do need to call them to let them know that you need them. Can you tell me who to call?”

I gave him Dante’s contact information figuring that it would be easier for Dante to deal with telling Mama San than it would be to have her called first. They were all going to be insane with worry, but Dante would hopefully stay calm enough to keep her from losing it emotionally.

I was surprised when Dr. Tyler leaned forward and looked at me as though his heart was hurting just as much as mine was. “If you won’t talk to your family, you can talk to me and I won’t say a word. It isn’t healthy to keep things inside. You lost your baby today and I can see that’s tearing you up inside. Do you need a hug?”