I let them sew up the gash in my neck and was never so afraid in all my life. What if Brooke didn’t want to marry me now? What if she wanted to leave me or wanted an abortion? I didn’t know the answers to those questions yet, but I knew she wasn’t ready to get married right now. Or be pregnant again.
I’d done the same thing that Patten had done to her.
If you try to force her into a corner, she will run from you as far and as fast as she can, and she won’t look back, either. Fuck. Her grandmother’s words hit me brutally hard right at that moment.
Would she be able to forgive me? Would she see this as the same entrapment she
’d gotten from Patten? Could she even still love me after this fucking nightmare was behind us? Would it ever be behind us?
Question after question played in my head like a song on repeat. And I knew no fucking answers to any of them.
I asked them to point me in the direction of the hospital’s chapel. It had been a long time for me since I’d set foot inside a sanctuary of worship. Didn’t matter, though, because it all came back to me. Catholic roots spread deep.
I fell to my knees and prayed.
And the fear of losing the most important person in my life and even our innocent child before I’d have the chance to know him or her absolutely slayed me down to the most humble soul on earth to ever plead for mercy.
SOFT fingers worked their way through my hair. I knew those fingers, and I recognized their familiar pattern of rubbing and gently tugging on sections at a time. My girl had told me before how much she liked having her hands buried in my hair . . .
“Caaa-leb?”
My eyelids snapped open. “Baby! Oh, my God, how are you?” I jolted awake instantly and feasted my eyes on her. She looked terrible lying in that hospital bed. Pale and weak and worried—and so perfectly beautiful to me, I knew nothing would ever compare for as long as I lived.
“Am I pregnant? I m-mean, was I? Am I st-still?” Her face twisted into a mask of fear as she began to cry.
“Oh, God. Yes, you are. The doc guessed you’re about seven weeks along.”
She let out a moaning wail and cried even harder. “I was so afraid I wouldn’t be when I w-w-woke u-up.”
Pure, unadulterated, blessed relief rolled through my body as I leaned over her and held her the best I could in the circumstances. She wants our baby.
“Shh, don’t worry. Our baby is fine, because its mother is so brave. You protected our child from being hurt. It was your right side where she cut you . . .” I lost it. I just lost my ability to hold it together for a second longer, and sobbed like a bitch. “I l-love you so m-much. I’m so f-fuckin’ sorry for everything that’s happened to you because of me. I—I am s-s-so s-sorry, Brooke.”
It took me a while to come up for air from my emotional breakdown. It was her hands in my hair that grounded me enough to resurface. That she was comforting me at a time like this when she was the one who’d been hurt meant more to me than any words could ever express.
“Caleb?”
“Yes?”
“Do something for me?” she asked in a low voice.
“Anything. Whatever you want, baby. What can I do for you?” I pulled back so we could see each other.
“I need you . . . to tell me . . . your greatest wish. If you could have whatever you wish for right now, what would it be?” She lifted her hand with the IV still stuck in her vein and cupped my cheek. “Be truthful and tell me what you want most in the world.”
And the surprises just keep on coming.
Not at all what I expected her to say. I understood clearly that this was not the time to fuck around by hedging or lying. Brooke was dead serious about me giving her the straight-up truth right now. She asked me to tell her what I wanted . . . and so I did.
“I want to marry you the minute you are well enough to do it. I want you to have my name and my ring on your finger, with the legal documentation to back it up. Then I want to take you away to a place that’s beautiful and warm and private for about a month. I want it to be somewhere very special, where we do nothing but make love, eat, sleep, talk about our future, plan for the birth of our precious baby, and any other fuckin’ thing we want to do.”
“Then let’s do that,” she said softly.
Brooke
December
We married in Stone Church, one week later on the second of December. Only Nan and Herman were there to witness our moment. Herman, in fact, married us. As mayor, he had obtained the proper credentials years ago and on occasion officiated the joining of two people together in matrimony.