Turning Thirty-Twelve (26 page)

I stood up and started pacing next to my son. “I know, but she’s hurting. She doesn’t know
what
she wants. When Mark comes back out, I’ll see if she’ll let you go back.”

“I just can’t seem to wrap my mind around it. I was going to be a father. Now I’m not.”

“Jackie?” I turned around to see Mark. His face now read of hurt, the anger seemingly evaporated. “What?”

“Kat won’t talk to me. She wants you.”

***

I peeked around the curtain.

Kathy was lying curled up on her side with her back to me. An IV was pumping next to her bed, humming softly every few seconds. She appeared so fragile—so young—in the green hospital gown. I was overwhelmed with sympathy. The poor girl had been through so much so very quickly.

I went to the bed and put my hand on her shoulder. “Kat?”

She rolled to her back. One look at me, and she started crying. “I lost the baby.”

“I know, honey. I’m so sorry.”

Sitting up, she reached for me.

I sat down on the bed next to her and hugged her close, stroking her hair as she cried against my shoulder. I could feel the tears rolling down my own cheeks.

After several minutes, she pulled away and leaned back against the pillow. “I couldn’t talk to my dad.”

“I understand, but you need to face him. You can’t hide from this forever. He’s just worried about you, Kat. So is Nate.”

She breathed a long, shuddering sigh. “I know. I just... They both hate me now.” She pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them.

“No,” I replied with a shake of my head, “they don’t. They both love you. We
all
love you. We’ll help you get through this.”

A doctor who appeared barely old enough to shave came into the cubicle, making me feel ancient. Doctors were supposed to be older than me, not younger—especially not
that
much younger. Plucking the chart from the end of Kat’s bed, he flipped it open before he started to make notes.

“How are you feeling now, Katherine?”

Kat shrugged. “Better, I guess. Kind of crampy, but the stuff they gave me helped some. Makes me sleepy though.”

The way-too-young-to-practice-medicine doctor smiled and made a few more notes on her chart. “We can adjust the dosage if the pain gets worse. I’ve got your test results.” He glanced over at me. “If you’d please excuse us for a minute.”

Kathy shook her head. “No. She can stay. She’s my mom.”

She’s my mom
.

My chin was quivering, and my eyes were pooling with fresh tears. I’d finally earned her trust, and I doubted she would ever know how much that meant to me.

But what had Kat’s trust cost me?

Don’t think like that, Jackie.

“The ultrasound shows you miscarried, but there are no products of conception remaining.” He stated all of that with an air of matter-of-fact that told me he assumed we knew exactly what he was talking about.

He was wrong.

“Want to put that in English, doctor?” I asked.

“It means she shouldn’t have any complications. She miscarried completely. I don’t think we’ll have to do a D and C.” He glanced back at Kat, who looked confused again.

At least this I understood. “That means you won’t need surgery, honey. That’s good news.”

Dr. Adolescent nodded. “But we want to keep you for a few hours to keep an eye on the bleeding.”

“Can I still have kids?” Kat asked, staring at her knees and blushing dark red.

I realized how embarrassing the situation must be for a girl her age. Over the years, I’d become desensitized to doctors discussing the private parts of my anatomy or seeing me naked. Hell, I could have an entire conversation with my gynecologist while I was trussed up in stirrups or with a radiologist, who was smashing one of my breasts entirely flat for a mammogram.

Kathy was still shy because she hadn’t experienced two births where everyone and their cousin were staring at your hoohah while you tried to squeeze out a baby who seemed to have a head the size of a bowling ball.

“This shouldn’t hurt your fertility,” he said. “Lots of first pregnancies are miscarried—especially in the first trimester.” He hung the chart back on the end of her bed, clicked his pen closed, and shoved it in his lab coat. “We’re going to admit you to a day ward for a couple of hours.” He glanced at the clock. “If everything looks good, then your mom can take you home in the morning.”

***

Mark and Nate were actually talking when I went back to the waiting room. I was so relieved to see them sitting together, I didn’t want to interrupt and break the spell. Mark patted Nate on the back, and I almost started crying again at the conciliatory gesture between my husband and my son.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t leave them alone to continue to work through their differences because I needed to talk to them both about Kat. I sighed and walked up to stand in front of them.

Mark stared up at me from where he sat. His anger had ebbed, and his features appeared less strained. This hadn’t been easy on him. It hadn’t been easy on
any
of us.

I wanted to reach out to him, but I felt coldness in his gaze that pinched all the way to my heart.

“How’s she doing?” he asked.

I gave him a hesitant smile.

He didn’t offer me one in return, but I tried not to read too much into that.

“She’s going to be fine,” I said. “The doctor wants her to stay for a little bit longer, then we can take her home. I think I’m going to take her back with us instead of taking her to the dorm. She really needs a few days of rest, and it would help if I could take care of her. I’ll email her teachers.”

“I’m going home too,” Nate said.

I shook my head.

So did Mark.

“No, you’re not,” I said firmly, hoping he wouldn’t fight me on this. I couldn’t let him walk away from his responsibilities, no matter how tempting it was to want to let him come back home and just be my little boy again.

Nate needed to grow up.

I needed to let him grow up.

Now was as good a time as any. “You have classes on Monday, and right now, I think Kat needs some alone time. There’ll be plenty of time for you two to talk this out later. Maybe even next weekend.”

He gave me a short stare down, trying to change my mind.

I stared back, letting him know that simply wasn’t going to happen.

Nate finally nodded. “Can I see her at least?”

“I think she’d like that.”

Nate hopped to his feet and headed through the big doors leading to the treatment area.

I sat down next to Mark and folded my hands in my lap. I desperately wanted to touch him—to pull him into my arms—but my radar told me that wouldn’t be a good move on my part. “I’m sorry you’re stuck here until we can take her home.”

“I’m going to have Nate take me to the dorm, and I’ll take Kat’s car home.”

“You’re leaving the hospital?” I wondered if I looked as incredulous as I sounded.

“I’m going home.”

I might as well have been sitting in the waiting room with a total stranger discussing a change in the weather or the ridiculous price of gasoline. For the first time since I’d met him, I was getting
nothing
from Mark Brennan. No affection, no attraction, no anger. No emotion whatsoever.

That scared the hell out of me.

I rushed to explain. “Kat was going to tell you tomorrow.”

My husband turned his head to stare at me, and a frightened shiver raced through me when I met his gaze. All I read in those dark eyes was contempt meant for me.

My stomach tied itself into nervous knots.

“I’ll just bet she was,” he said, sounding cynical.

“I swear. She was going to tell Nate tonight, and then they were driving home tomorrow to talk to you.”

He snorted a disbelieving laugh that pissed me off.

Where was the benefit of the doubt? Mad or not, I thought he owed me at least that much.

“You know, Mark... I remember once upon a time when you swore you had plans to talk to someone who cared about you very much, but she happened to find you before you could say anything. But when you told her you were going to call her, she believed you. She cut you some slack.”

“That’s not even the same thing.” Mark knit his brows in irritation and waved the notion away with the back of his hand.

My protective guards were popping up left and right, and I allowed my anger, hurt, and fatigue to take control of the reins. Unfortunately, Mark seemed to have a knack for pushing my buttons. The old sarcastic and defensive Jackie was coming back with a vengeance.

“Yes, it was,” I said, letting my annoyance be plain in my voice. “I guess it’s fine when
you
need time, but if Kat needed a couple of days to adjust, you get all pissy.”

“She’s
my
daughter. She should’ve come to me.”

“But she didn’t, did she? She came to me. She needed me. Not
you
.
Me
.”

Jackie, what in the hell are you doing?

“That was below the belt,” Mark replied. “You know, I really expected better from you.” He shook his head. “I expected better from you in a lot of ways I probably shouldn’t have.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You disappointed me, Jackie. You know, you haven’t even apologized.”

He was right. I shouldn’t have just said it, either. I should have shouted it.

I’m sorry, Mark. I didn’t mean to hurt you!

But I wasn’t sorry for the reason he thought I should be, and my pride wouldn’t let me back down a solitary inch. I’d protected Kat—just like I had promised her I would. It wasn’t my fault this whole thing had turned out to be such a nightmare. I couldn’t have anticipated any of this.

I was sorry for a lot of things, but not for helping Kat. And I damn well wasn’t going to apologize. Not for doing what I thought was best.

“You know,” I said. “I
am
sorry.”

He cocked his head, obviously thinking he’d won my concession.

I quickly set that notion straight. “I’m sorry Kathy and Nate have to go through all this. I’m sorry we lost our grandchild. But I’m
not
sorry for helping your daughter.”

“That’s
it?
That’s all you have to say to me?”

I nodded my stubborn head and dug in my heels. I knew what he wanted, but I wasn’t going to apologize for lying because I hadn’t. I just hadn’t told him everything.

There’s no difference,
my thoughts accused.
A lie is a lie, whether it is by omission or otherwise.

“It’s different,” I mumbled to myself.

Mark just stared at me with angry brown eyes.

He got to his feet. “Since no one in this family seems to need me, I’m calling a cab and getting Kat’s car. Then I’m going home. I need some time to think.”

“To think? What exactly do you need time to
think
about, Mark? Hmm?”

“Whether I can trust you anymore.”

He might as well have hit me. It would have hurt less.

I should’ve stopped him. I should’ve apologized. I should’ve told him how much I loved him. Instead, I simply watched Mark leave as I stood there with nothing but my pride to keep me company.

It was all suddenly too much. The days of tension waiting for Kat to confess, the fact that I’d lost my first grandchild, and my husband walking out on me were just too much. The weight of it all bore down on me, crippled me, and threatened to drive me to my knees.

I got to my feet and ran to the closest ladies room.

Away from prying eyes, I began to cry in long, ragged sobs. I allowed myself the luxury of weeping for several minutes, entirely grateful no one else came into the restroom to see me making a spectacle of myself. When the tears were spent, I stood there and hiccoughed while I splashed my face with cold water. Then I stared at myself in the mirror.

“What a fucking mess.”

My husband had just walked out on me. I pictured him going home, packing my bags, and setting them on the porch. He would most likely want me out of
his
house. At least we hadn’t closed on my old house yet. I could go there if Mark really wanted me gone.

He doesn’t want you to leave
.
He just needs a little time alone to adjust to all this.

How could I face the world on my own? How could I survive without Mark in my life? How could I survive knowing he had discarded me?

He didn’t discard you, you silly fool.

I stared at my reflection. I looked tired. I looked sad. I looked like I needed a good, stiff drink.

“Get it together, Jackie.” I splashed some more cold water on my face as I searched deep down for some calm and some courage. I could do this. I
had
to do this.

From somewhere inside me, I found enough strength to soldier on. I would be an Army brat to the bitter end. Kathy and Nate needed me. I would be there for them.

I just prayed the rest of our problems would work themselves out in time.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I finally got Kat tucked away in her bedroom before I slipped into my own.

Mark’s unmarked sedan was gone when we got home, replaced in the garage by Kathy’s beat-up Chevy. I would have figured he was called to work, but there had been no text message, and he hadn’t left a note. Mark was gone. Where, I didn’t know. For how long, I had no idea.

I’d really blown it this time. Not because I’d helped my stepdaughter. I was still sure I’d done right by Kat, and in a way, helping her through all this had helped me lay many of my own ghosts to rest. It was the aftermath, the revelation of her pregnancy and miscarriage that I hadn’t handled very well.

Very well?

I’d screwed the pooch on this one.

I should’ve swallowed my stubborn pride and apologized to my husband. I just hadn’t been able to force myself to do so. My inability stemmed from thinking everything that had ever gone wrong in my first forty-two years had been my fault. I’d already said, “I’m sorry,” more times than any other woman on the face of the planet. I’d said it to my mother. I’d said it to David.