“I got you, babe. It’s okay. Breathe, all right?”
“I’m…trying.” It took every ounce of focus to get those two words out fluently.
“I love you. I’ll be with you, no matter what. It’s going to be okay.”
“’Kay.” One syllable, such a lie. It wasn’t going to be okay.
I set the phone aside and focused on driving, focused on keeping my breathing slow and deep.
Arriving at the hospital, I found Jim and Rachel Hawthorne sitting side by side, and across from them Mr. and Mrs. Calloway, Robert and Theresa. Why were they here?
Rachel saw me first, then rushed over and wrapped me in a hug. She pulled away, and must have seen the fear in my eyes. “It’s not that, Becca. It’s not…she didn’t…she didn’t do anything to herself. Not like your…like Ben.” I hiccuped in relief. “She’s going to be okay.”
“Wha-what happened? Why is your doorwall broken?”
“Come sit over here,” Rachel said, gently but firmly ushering me to a chair. My flip-flops squeaked on the tile; the plastic chair was hard and cold under my legs. Rachel took my hands in hers, and I knew whatever had happened was going to be awful to hear.
“Just t-t-tell me.”
“She had a miscarriage last night.”
I didn’t respond, didn’t react. I’d heard her wrong, clearly. “She…what? She had a what?”
Rachel sniffed, and Jim Hawthorne reached over from her other side to rest his hand on her shoulder. “She was pregnant,” Rachel said. “She was out running, and she…she lost the baby. She lost a lot of blood, too much blood. She’s going to be okay, but if Colton hadn’t found her when he did, she might have…oh, god…”
Shock hit me so hard I would have fallen over had I not been sitting down. “Colton? Colton Calloway?”
Why would Colton have found her? He lived in New York…and then the penny dropped.
“Wait…he-he’s the father?” I asked.
“Yes.” Rachel nodded, her fine blonde hair bouncing and glinting in the harsh fluorescent lighting.
Robert and Theresa sat on the row of chairs opposite us, their faces showing concern, confusion, worry, fear. I glanced at them; I didn’t know them at all. Robert Calloway was a congressman, so he spent a lot of time in Washington, D.C. I didn’t know what Theresa did, but she was gone a lot, too. Even as kids we rarely spent time at the Calloway house. When Nell and I had played with Kyle as young children, it was always at Nell’s house, so Robert and Theresa were basically strangers to me. Robert was tall, broad-chested with a bit of roundness to his belly, strongly built and rugged of feature, dark salt-and-pepper hair and bright blue eyes, where Colton had gotten his from, clearly. Theresa was more like Kyle, lean, trim, classically beautiful features and dark brown eyes like Kyle’s had been.
“Colton and Nell…” I began, hoping the rest would be filled in.
“Ran into each other in New York, I guess,” Rachel said. “I don’t really know much more than that. It all happened so fast. Nell came back yesterday morning, early. She must’ve caught a red-eye out of New York, because she was walking through our door by seven in the morning. She looked…tired. Not sleepy, I mean…emotionally exhausted. Burnt out, worried. She said she just wanted to come home for a bit, and that everything was fine. I didn’t believe her, because I know Nell. I know when she’s hiding something. I watched her hide everything for so long…but she wouldn’t talk to me. She spent most of yesterday in her room, playing her guitar. Then—late, like nine o’clock or so—she came down and said she was going for a run. She’d only been gone for maybe twenty minutes when our front door slammed open. It startled me so bad I dropped a glass. It was Colton. He was…he was acting crazy. Upset, demanding to know where Nell had gone, like he’d been looking for her. I told him she’d gone running out to the Ennis farm, and he took off after her. Then he…he came back…carrying her. God, she was…so bloody. He had blood running down his shirt from her. It was all coming from between her legs. I knew…I knew. I had two miscarriages before I had Nell. Mine were…they weren’t as bad as Nell’s. God…my baby girl.” Rachel shuddered and turned away from me into her husband’s arms.
Was that going to happen to me? That was my first thought when Rachel finished her story.
“Can I…can I s-s-see her?” I asked.
“You’ll have to ask a nurse,” Jim answered. “I don’t know if she’s awake yet.”
The nurse behind the desk informed me that Nell was awake, and I could see her if Nell permitted it. I followed the long hallway, watching the room numbers count up closer to 141. A crowd of people surrounded a doorway, clustered and silent. They were around Nell’s room, I realized. As I got closer, I heard why.
A guitar played, and a deep, rich male voice sang. I couldn’t make out the words yet, but the tune was haunting, like a raw and ragged lullaby, simple chords repeated in a soul-searing refrain. I pressed into the crowd of nurses and doctors and patients until I could see into the room. Colton sat beside Nell’s bed, a guitar in his hands, head turned to one side, eyes squeezed tight, neck muscles tensing as he sang, massive biceps rippling as he strummed and picked the simple melody. His voice was so hypnotic, so full of raw grief, that the potency of his song was a palpable force washing over my skin as I listened.
“…Did you dream?
Did you have a soul?
Who could you have been?
You’ve never known my arms,
You’ve never known your mother’s arms,
My child, child, child.
I’ll dream for you,
I’ll breathe for you,
I’ll question God for you,
I’ll shake my fists and scream and cry for you.
This song is for you,
It’s all I’ve got.
It doesn’t give you a name.
It doesn’t give you a face.
But it’s all I’ve got to give.
All my love is in these words I sing,
In each haunted note from my guitar,
My child, child, child.
You’re not gone,
Because you never were.
But that doesn’t mean
You passed unloved.
It doesn’t mean you’re forgotten,
Unborn child, child, child.
I bury you
With this song.
I mourn you
With this song.”