Fatherhood Fever!

No response to that, either.

There was nothing left to say.

Matt quietly collected his travel bag which was kept packed with essentials for business trips, slung a couple of clean shirts over his arm, determinedly denied himself one last look at the woman he’d married with such impetuous faith in their future together, and walked out of the bedroom. He couldn’t bear to be near her anymore. She was too painful a reminder of what was beyond his reach.

In the living room he picked up his keys and wallet from the telephone table. He was at the door before it occurred to him it might not be a good idea to leave Peta alone in what he could only think of as a traumatised state, even though it seemed to have become her refuge from realities she didn’t want to deal with. He shied away from the thought she might be suicidal. He was the problem. Remove the problem, let her feel free of it and the pressure on her would ease.

Still...concern for her drove him back to the telephone table. He rang Megan. The two sisters were close. If anyone could do anything for Peta, it would be Megan.

She answered the call.

“It’s Matt.” He heaved a sigh to ease the constriction in his chest. “I’d appreciate it if you’d call Peta in half an hour or so. Check that she’s all right.”

“Why? Aren’t you there?” she asked sharply.

“I’m about to leave, Megan. She doesn’t want me with her.”

“Matt, please...hold on.”

The plea echoed the words she’d spoken when he’d danced with her at the wedding reception... You will hold on to her...no matter what?

He shook his head over the blind confidence he’d carried this far. Megan must have known what shaky ground he’d embarked on with Peta...known and worried about it, hoping for the best. If the miscarriage hadn’t happened...but it had...and the ground had crumbled... irreparably.

“There isn’t anything to hold on to, Megan,” he said, acutely aware of the hollow ache inside him.

“Can’t you...” The half-spoken plea fell into a deep sigh. “I’m sorry, Matt. I guess it’s gone too far,” she added sadly. “I did try to pull her out of it.”

“I know. Thank you. If you’d check on her...”

“Yes, I’ll do that. Don’t worry. And Matt, for what it’s worth, I think you’re the best guy she could ever have got.”

His mouth twisted in irony. “Not good enough where it really counted. ’Bye, Megan. I’ll be in touch.”

He left the apartment and drove off into the night with no clear idea of where to go. The future was a blank to him...a huge black blank...his wife, the family they had planned, their home...all gone. Matt had never felt so lost and alone, not even when his father had died.

He thought of the baby whom nature had ordained shouldn’t live...his and Peta’s baby...perhaps as wrongly formed as their marriage...though it would have been loved—was loved—by both of them. A dream that wasn’t to be.

But it had only been part of the dream for him. He’d loved the extra closeness it had brought with Peta...the way her eyes had shone with happiness, including him in their warm glow, the impulsive affection she’d shown when he’d suggested plans that pleased her, even her pleasure in the flowers he’d sent.

He’d come to believe she did feel he was special... her husband in every sense...and they were building towards what his parents had once shared...a deep and abiding love for each other...

An understanding of what his mother had felt when his father had died flooded through him. The loss...the pain...the gut-wrenching bereft feeling. He shouldn’t have criticised her for losing interest in life. He hadn’t had the experience to measure her grief. All those years together. He’d only had a taste of it, yet...

Tears welled into his eyes and blurred his vision. Grown men don’t cry, he told himself, furiously blinking the wetness away. He pulled the car to the side of the road and parked, struggling to regain the composure to drive on. Suddenly it didn’t seem to matter.

He wept.

The bleeding went on.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

THE telephone wouldn’t stop buzzing. It nagged and nagged until she was finally driven to reach out and pick up the receiver on the bedside table.

“Peta?”

She dragged in a deep breath. An effort was needed to stop the pestering. “Megan, I don’t want to talk. I’ve taken a sleeping tablet and I’d like to sleep. Please...”

“Just one tablet?”