Island Haven

by Amy Knupp

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  MERCEDES SWORE OUT LOUD as she jabbed her cell phone to end the call.

  “What’s wrong, sweetie?” Gram said from her bed behind her. They’d just gotten her settled after a Scrabble doubleheader at the kitchen table.

  “It’s Gemma.” Mercedes rushed from the window she’d been gazing out as she’d listened to Gemma, to Gram’s bathroom. She counted out Gram’s nighttime pills even though she wasn’t due to take them for another three hours. “She’s having abdominal pains. I’m worried they might be contractions.”

  “She’s not full-term yet, is she?”

  “Not even close. She has two months left. Maybe a little more than that.”

  She set the pills on the nightstand and made sure the TV remote was there, as well. “Do you need the bedpan?”

  “Not right now. Charlie’s here, isn’t she?”

  “Charlie!” Mercedes took out a clean nightgown for Gram and laid it on the dresser as her sister strolled in.

  “What’s up? We’re on for our show, right?” Charlie asked their grandma.

  “I have to take Gemma to the hospital,” Mercedes said. “I might be gone for a while—”

  “We’ll be fine.” Charlie sat down in the chair on Gram’s left side and reached over to the bowl of candy corn on the bed tray.

  “You don’t have anywhere to go?” Mercedes asked, hurrying in and out of the bathroom, setting on the dresser Gram’s toothbrush, toothpaste, water cup, washcloth and anything else she might need.

  “I’ll be here all night. Go. Everything’s fine.”

  Mercedes surveyed the dresser, trying to think of anything she might have missed. “Everything Gram’ll need is right here,” she said. “Her pills are over there.” She pointed at the nightstand. “Ten o’clock for those—”

  “Mercedes.” Charlie rose and walked over to the dresser, looking at everything. “Really? I’ve been here for almost three weeks now. I know the drill.”

  “Just trying to make it easier for you.”

  “Gram and I will be fine. Now, go.”

  Mercedes looked at Gram.

  “She’s right, Sadie. We can handle it without you.”

  “Call me if you need anything,” Mercedes said, addressing both of them. She realized she was worrying too much, but after the other night… She reminded herself that guilt was making her act irrationally, then bent down and kissed Gram before jogging out to her car.

  When she turned into the apartment parking lot, she automatically scanned it for Scott’s car. Still not here. Gemma didn’t know where he was.

  Mercedes pulled up at the foot of the stairs and left her CRV parked there illegally. She didn’t bother to knock on the apartment door when she got there. “Gemma?” she called out as she entered.

  The lack of response freaked her out. The living room and kitchen were empty, so she ran to Gemma’s room.

  Gemma was sitting on her bed doubled over. “It hurts,” she said as Mercedes went to her.

  “Where does it hurt? Still in your back?”

  Squeezing her eyes shut against the pain, Gemma nodded. “And front.” She let out a loud breath and a curse. “Okay. Little better now.”

  “Can you walk?”

  The teenager took in a long, deep breath and straightened the rest of the way. She stood slowly, warily. Nodded.

  “Let’s go.”

  “Don’t I need a bag or something?” Gemma asked, her voice shaky.

  “That’s only when you go in to have the baby. You’re not having the baby tonight.” Maybe if she said it emphatically enough, she’d be right.

  Gemma nodded, looked around then picked up her purse from the bed.

  “That thing is so big, you might strain yourself carrying it,” Mercedes said. “I’ll take it.”

  “I’ve got it,” Gemma said. “I’m okay right now.”

  Not sparing time to argue, Mercedes took Gemma’s arm and ushered her to the door.

  They made it all the way to the hospital without another spell, which Mercedes considered a good sign. If they were contractions, they weren’t coming very close together. Immediately after they were ushered into a room in Labor and Delivery, a nurse came in to assess Gemma. As she worked, she asked questions.

  “How long have you been having pain?” the nurse asked Gemma.

  “Since…this morning sometime.”

  “What?” Mercedes had been trying to stay out of the way, but now she hurried back to the side of the bed. “Gemma. This morning?”

  “What time this morning, hon?” the nurse asked, counteracting Mercedes’s franticness with a calm, patient voice.

  “I don’t know. Not long after I got up. Maybe seven-thirty?”

  “Why didn’t you call me, Gemma?”

  The nurse made notes and then set aside the clipboard and washed her hands.

  “I thought it was just normal pregnancy discomfort,” Gemma said.

  “And you went ahead and went to work?”

  “I had to. It’s not like they can find another babysitter if I don’t show.”

  The nurse approached Gemma and started a physical exam. Mercedes stopped her scolding and took Gemma’s hand.

  “I think they’re going to have to find another babysitter, hon,” the nurse said. “You’ve started dilating.”

  “What does that mean?” Gemma asked, paling.

  Before the nurse could answer, Gemma’s grip on Mercedes’s hand intensified. Times one hundred. The nurse came around to her other side and calmly, softly talked her through the contraction.

  Mercedes continued to hold her hand, but her mind went into overdrive, trying to process the possibility that Gemma’s baby could come tonight. They weren’t ready yet. She hadn’t saved up enough money to support herself and her baby, hadn’t been able to buy anything for the baby, and Mercedes wasn’t sure Gemma was ready mentally yet, if she ever would be.

  And the baby…would it even survive at this point? She knew doctors could work miracles these days, but she didn’t know enough about fetal development to have any idea what they could expect.

  And money…what if she wasn’t insured by her mom’s policy? What if her baby needed weeks of hospitalization? How would she ever handle that?

  “Over?” the nurse asked, and Gemma exhaled and nodded.

  “I’m going to call in the doctor and get you something for the contractions. I want you to try to relax. No panicking,” the nurse said. She looked at Mercedes. “You neither.”

  Mercedes laughed nervously. Guiltily. She was freaking out more than Gemma and she should be the one keeping Gemma calm. “No panicking. Got it. She’s going to be okay?”

  “She’ll be fine and so will the baby.”

  “She’s having the baby?” Mercedes and Gemma exchanged a look of fear.

  “No, no. We should be able to get things stopped. I’ll be back with the doctor.”

  Gemma’s shoulders sagged with relief at the nurse’s answer. Mercedes spoke the words out loud—repeatedly. “Everything’s okay.”

  Just over an hour later, the medication had done its job. Most of the frenzy in the room had been reduced to silent worry on Mercedes’s part. She’d been doing her best to hide it from Gemma, but the longer she sat there, with the exhausted teenager drifting in and out of sleep, the more distraught she became.

  According to the doctor’s optimistic report, the baby seemed to be healthy. But one thing he’d said had stuck with Mercedes—Gemma would be restricted to bed rest, possibly for the rest of her pregnancy. How in the world would she make it on her own if she had to lie flat for the next two months and not work?

  Mercedes was sitting in the easy chair in the nearly dark room when she heard a soft knock on the closed door. She hopped up and hurried to the door, her bare feet soundless on the tile floor. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that the sight of Scott leaning against the wall surprised her, even though she’d left him a voice mail asking him to come. In her defense
, it seemed like half a lifetime ago.

  “You got my message.”

  “All three of them,” he said with a ghost of a smile. “How is she? What’s going on?”

  She stepped out into the hallway, pulled the door closed and updated him, spilling everything out in a long, run-on sentence.

  “So, she’s okay?” he asked when she paused.

  “Yes. For now.”

  “Mercedes, breathe.” He gently grasped her upper arm. “Let’s go with that ‘for now.’”

  Mercedes took his advice and inhaled, her eyes closed. He let go of her arm. She sagged against the other side of the doorjamb, fighting hard against the desire to lean into him instead. “You act like you counsel people through medical emergencies all the time or something.”

  “Usually only necessary when the patient takes a turn for the worse. Not when she’s doing ‘okay.’”

  She acknowledged that with a slight, noncommittal nod. “I wondered if you were working tonight.”

  “I was on the mainland picking up some equipment for my new job.”

  “You leave in how many days?”

  “Sixteen.”

  Another reinforcement of how pressing Gemma’s newest challenge was. Her mind immediately returned to searching for options.

  “Hello?” Scott said. “Are we going in or are you her watchdog?”

  “Sorry.”

  “You need to relax.” His voice, barely more than a whisper, had a soothing effect on her. “I’ll say hi to her and then I’m getting you out of here.”

  “No,” Mercedes said, straightening. “I’m not leaving.”

  “There’s nothing you can do here. She’ll sleep better if she knows you’re not squashed into a chair. That’s not comfortable for anyone.”

  Mercedes opened the door, stubbornly ignoring his rationale. Even if he might have a point.

  Gemma barely stirred when they came in. Scott stared at her stiffly for a couple of minutes, until Mercedes nudged him. “Let her know you’re here.”

  Earlier, Gemma had been sure he wouldn’t come, that he couldn’t care less that she was in the hospital. She didn’t often show that it mattered to her what Scott thought. Though he did his best not to get Gemma’s hopes up that they could be close, hearing that he’d gone to the doctor with her last week led Mercedes to believe he cared more than he let on.

  Scott sat on the side of her bed and cleared his throat. “Hey, Gem.”

  The girl opened her eyes. “You made it,” she said with a drowsy smile.

  “I made it. Just wanted to say hi and I’m glad you’re okay. We’re going to let you sleep now.”

  Gemma nodded and glanced at Mercedes, who’d returned to the easy chair on the other side. “Night.” She closed her eyes again, still smiling.

  Mercedes thought, not for the first time tonight, how young Gemma was. It was easy to forget because she didn’t act like most seventeen-year-old girls.

  They sat in silence for several minutes, ensuring that Gemma was out for the night. Scott eventually stood and went around the bed to Mercedes’s side.

  “Let’s go,” he whispered.

  Mercedes scanned the room, ignoring him.

  “Mercedes.” He touched her shoulder and she looked up at him. “She’s down for the count. Come on.”

  “I hate to leave her,” she whispered back.

  “She’s fine. You’re not staying.”

  She checked to see that Gemma hadn’t stirred, knowing he was right. Gemma just needed to sleep, and holding a vigil in her room wouldn’t do anyone any good.

  “You can come back first thing in the morning.”

  Wishing she could do something to help Gemma overall, she had sense enough to know there was nothing to be accomplished tonight. She nodded reluctantly, picked up her purse and stood.

  He put his arm around her shoulders and ushered her out into the hallway. He didn’t let go until they were outside on the sidewalk, heading to the parking lot. She didn’t want to like it but she did.

  “Come with me,” he said, his voice still hushed.

  “What? Where are you going?”

  “On a drive.”

  “I should get home.”

  “How come?”

  “Gram might need me.” She knew it wasn’t a valid excuse even as the words tumbled out of her mouth.

  “Your sister’s there, isn’t she?” he said. “She can handle anything that comes up.”

  Mercedes stopped walking. “Let me call them to make sure everything’s okay.”

  “If that’ll convince you to say yes, call away.”

  She pressed a button on her phone, remotely curious where he wanted to drive. And why. When she asked her sister if everything was okay, Charlie was insulted that Mercedes felt the need to check in.

  “We’re fine, Mercedes. She’s ready for her ten-o’clock pills. Relax.”

  “Okay, okay,” Mercedes said. “Just be sure to listen for Gram even after she falls asleep. Sometimes she—”

  Her sister cut her off and insisted she had everything under control.

  “Okay,” Mercedes relented, aware that Scott was listening intently. “Fine. I’ll be home later.”

  She ended the call and tried to come up with another reason not to go with him.

  “Come on,” Scott said. “I can tell by looking at you that you’re about to implode.”

  Defeated, she started walking again.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “You’ll see when we get there.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “IT’S MY FAULT SHE’S IN the hospital.”

  Mercedes blurted the words out after ten minutes of silence in Scott’s car.

  He’d driven north out of San Amaro proper. The old road stretched several miles through the part of the island that was too narrow for development. He’d hoped the peacefulness out here would help her calm down—her agitation had been tangible from the moment he’d arrived at the hospital. To think that was after the worst of Gemma’s ordeal was over. She wasn’t doing anyone any good in her state.

  “What?” He darted a glance of disbelief her way, but it was too dark to see much now that no streetlights illuminated the road. “How do you figure?”

  “I’m the one who got her the second job.”

  He pulled the car over along the side of the otherwise deserted road and the two right wheels hit sand. “That’s not even rational, Mercedes,” he said, turning off the engine.

  “It’s completely rational. She’s been working nonstop for the past week, pushing herself too hard. Not sleeping enough.”

  “Listen to what you’re saying. She has been working too hard. She has been pushing herself. Gemma made those decisions, not you.”

  “She’s desperate and seventeen.”

  “Yes. All you did was try to help her. The preterm labor is nobody’s fault.”

  She threw her head back against the headrest, drummed her fingers on the armrest of the door. “You’re probably right, I guess. I can’t help feeling responsible, though.”

  He shook his head in amazement. Mercedes was the best thing that could have happened to Gemma and here she was, beating herself up. “You’ve done nothing but good things for her. Helped her get jobs so she can save money for her baby, given her rides, taken her out for food, strong-armed me to give her a place to stay…”

  Mercedes finally looked at him and he thought he could see the beginnings of a smile tugging at her lips. “We didn’t strong-arm you. Much.”

  “I’m sure tonight was upsetting, but she’s okay now. You need to look ahead instead of back.”

  “That’s just as stressful. What is she going to do, Scott?”

  He reached across the console and took her hand. “Do you ever try to just live in the present?”

  Mercedes frowned at him. “Do you?”

  He chuckled. “Some days that’s easier than others.” Like now. This moment was decent. Just him and Mercedes and a neve
r-ending stretch of sand and water. If he could just get her to shut out her worries, for her own sake. “There’s not a thing we can do for Gemma tonight, is there?”

  Mercedes thought about it for several seconds—stubbornly looking for a way to contradict him, if the set of her jaw was any indication. “I suppose not.”

  “Okay, then.” He reached across her and dug through the glove compartment for a flashlight. “Come on.”

  “Where are we?” She looked around as if just noticing they weren’t in the city anymore.

  “Middle of nowhere.” He got out and walked around the car. Opened her door and took his shoes off then threw them in the backseat. “Leave your shoes here and come on.” He held out his hand. She slid her flip-flops off easily and accepted his help but let go as they started walking toward the shore.

  “I never pegged you for the romantic-walk-on-the-beach type,” Mercedes said.

  “You’d be correct.”

  They climbed over the dunes, around the dark patches of sea grass. The rustle of the grass in the light breeze was drowned out by the perpetual roar of the waves.

  “Okay, you’re not romantic, so are you a serial killer leading me to my death?”

  He responded with a halfhearted chuckle and flipped on the flashlight. As they made their way along the waterline, he swept the sand in front of them with the light, searching.

  Mercedes looked from him to the light beam and back.

  “There!” He hurried forward, tracking a ghost crab as it sped across the sand as if leading them ahead.

  “A crab?” Mercedes followed him, sounding unsure.

  “Ghost crabs. Scared of them?”

  “You brought me all the way out here for creepy crawlies?” she asked, sounding intrigued and unsure at once.

  “You’ve never been ghost-crab hunting?”

  The one he’d spotted scurried into the water, out of sight.

  “No. Sheltered life. I grew up in Austin. No sand.”

  “I used to do it when I was a kid, but back then I caught them and put them in a bucket to see how many I could catch in a night.”

  “Do people eat them?” she asked, frowning and scanning the illuminated sand in front of them with some trepidation.