“Thank you, Dane. Seriously.”
I nodded. We were silent for a couple of minutes, the low hum of the plane soothing my frazzled nerves. I felt like some strange clock was ticking down—the time I had with Audra I supposed—and I had a narrow opportunity for . . . something. Only I couldn’t figure out what the fuck that might be.
We hit a small bump and Audra sucked in a breath. “Just a little rough air. It’ll probably get slightly choppy as we fly over the mountains. Totally expected, okay?”
She nodded just as we hit another small bump and then turned her head, leaning toward the window on her right where the Rocky Mountains were just beginning.
The wind kicked up a bit and so did the turbulence, but we’d left the rain clouds behind and a cold but clear morning stretched before us. I’d looked at the weather report the day before and was glad I’d picked today to fly. The following day was supposed to bring a snowstorm to Colorado and I wouldn’t have flown in those conditions. Too unpredictable, especially when traveling over a mountain range.
A few swirling snowflakes blew past the windshield and I took off my sunglasses as the sun dimmed, going behind the clouds. I lowered the altitude slightly to find some milder air and for a few minutes enjoyed a smooth ride, the sky a vivid blue, white fluffy clouds just covering the snowy mountain crests.
“It really is gorgeous up here,” Audra murmured.
I opened my mouth to respond when a huge flock of birds came from behind a cloud, my heart careening crazily and a yell falling from my lips as we collided. For a second I lost control of the plane as the awful sound of shrill bird screams on every side of us overwhelmed me. But as the birds that had been hit fell from the sky and the others continued on their path, the sound diminished. I righted the plane and released a huge gust of breath. “Holy fuck,” I muttered, taking a moment to check the plane’s readings and making sure we were still on course before looking at Audra, who was as white as a ghost. “Jesus, that’s never happened before. You okay?”
She bobbed her head, but she didn’t look okay. She looked like she wanted to vomit.
“Hey, Audra, look at me.” She did, although her eyes were wide and full of panic. “I got you, all right?” She nodded, just as the plane went deadly quiet and we dropped so suddenly, my stomach went up into my throat.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Then . . .
Audra cradled the small bundle, her heart a vast pit of cold, hollow despair. Tears burned her eyes and yet somehow, refused to fall. She was numb, empty.
Empty.
Her child was gone and yet still in her arms. She hadn’t known, not until now, that this kind of pain existed.
Outside the hospital room door, she heard Dane telling his family she didn’t want to see anyone.
“Oh, darling, I’m so sorry. I thought you two would at least have him for a few hours after he was born.” His mother’s voice.
“We did too,” Dane answered, his voice hushed and yet echoing so she heard each word. “The doctor seemed so sure he’d survive a couple more weeks of pregnancy. But his heart wasn’t strong enough.”
There were clucks of sympathy and a wave of misery rolled slowly through her as she gazed into the face of her perfect baby. He looked like he was sleeping. Just sleeping. Only he was so cold, and nothing she could do would ever warm him. Her mother’s heart wailed in grief at the inability to care for her baby, and yet the tears remained locked inside.
How did this happen?
She wanted to go back in time. To before that twenty-two week ultrasound, before the silence that descended on the room, the look of alarmed sadness on her doctor’s face, the explanation about his damaged heart that she’d barely taken in through the buzzing in her head. Still, they’d told them they’d be able to hold him after his birth, to look into his eyes for just a little while . . . It had sustained her—though in a grief-filled purgatory—all these long weeks as he’d grown and kicked inside of her, each movement a reminder that she would never get much more than this. And now . . . they hadn’t even gotten the few precious moments she’d counted on so desperately. She had gone into labor weeks early, and by the time they’d made it to the hospital, their baby boy was gone. None of this should be real.
She must have done something to deserve this. She ran her finger down Theo’s cold, silken cheek. “I’m so sorry,” she choked. “So sorry.” She rested her hand on his small chest, the place where his damaged heart should have been beating.
“She’s such a tiny thing, Dane,” she heard his grandmother comment. “Perhaps her body wasn’t strong enough to—”
“Shh,” Dane hushed, a note of sharp annoyance in the sound. “She’ll hear you. This is not her fault.”
Only maybe it was.
Not strong enough to what? Grow a perfect baby? Go full term?
Was this gripping agony somehow her fault?
Dane came into the room and Audra’s eyes moved slowly to his, red from sadness and lack of sleep. He gave her a small, tired smile, his gaze moving to the body of their son in her arms. She saw the tiny flash of relief in his expression, and a spike of pain ripped through her heart. When his eyes rose to hers, she looked away, out the window to the mountains in the distance, solid, unmoving. She focused on breathing, clutching her baby boy more tightly to her chest. “Thank you for keeping them out,” she murmured. Her voice sounded flat, unemotional.
Dane came to sit on the side of the bed. “Hey, Audra honey, remember how I told you Dalila and Dustin and I used to swim across the pond?”
She looked back at him, giving a small nod.