by Sarina Bowen
“I need to do a pelvic exam, Courtney. Do you want him to wait outside?” the doctor asked.
Courtney shook her head no and gripped his hand tighter as more tears slid down her cheeks. He pulled a couple of tissues out of a box on the counter and handed them to her. The doctor pulled another blanket out of a drawer at the end of the table and draped it across Courtney’s stomach and thighs and then placed her feet in stirrups.
Leaning close to Courtney’s face, he rested his forehead on her cheek. “We’ll get through this. I’m here.”
Again Courtney surprised him by turning to him, seeking comfort. He gently cupped her face in his hand and held her as best as he could. After a hushed conversation between the nurse and the doctor, the nurse turned the ultrasound monitor away from them.
“I’m so sorry, Courtney. I cannot detect a heartbeat and your cervix is dilated. The ultrasound shows that you…miscarried,” the doctor said quietly. “I’ll give you a few minutes and then I’ll be back in to talk to you.”
After the doctor left the room, the nurse laid her hand on Courtney’s shoulder. As hard as it was, he forced himself to look at Courtney. When her tear-filled blue eyes met his, she let out a cry, and the next thing he knew he was half holding her as she sobbed into his shoulder. The nurse quietly slipped out, leaving them alone.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. The little guy was supposed to be the size of Courtney’s finger. He had a crib now, and his room was painted. They had gone to classes to learn about his development. What had gone wrong?
“I did everything I was supposed to. How could this happen?” she whispered between sobs. “I failed him….”
“No, you didn’t. Sometimes things just happen and there is no bad guy, no one to blame. This is one of those things that is no one’s fault. There’s nothing you could have done. It’s okay to be sad about it. I am and I didn’t even know him as well as you did. You can cry. I’m here,” he said into her hair.
“Your friend is right,” the doctor said as she reentered the room. “It’s not as uncommon as you might think to miscarry, especially during a first pregnancy at your age. Unfortunately, in your case, you’ll need to go to the hospital to have a procedure done. Do you have someone to take you? Or I can call for a transport ambulance.”
“I’ll take her,” Ian said, holding Courtney’s head in the crook of his arm and attempting to keep it together himself.
“When you’re ready, pull around to the back of the building, and we’ll help get her out to your car. Take her to the emergency room. I’ve called ahead and they are expecting her. I have three more patients to see and then I will be there, okay, Courtney? The hospital will get you prepped for the procedure while I finish up here.” Courtney nodded and the doctor continued, “They’ll put you to sleep, and when you wake up most of the bleeding and cramping should be over. I’ll send the nurse in to help you.”
Courtney finally released her hold on him so he handed the box of tissues to her. Though he hated leaving her alone when she was so upset he followed another nurse down the hall to a side exit so he would know which door to pull around to.
The door closed behind him and he looked up at the sky in a silent plea for strength. Why had this happened to someone who had already been through so much in her life? Sure he’d had a rough life, too, but he was used to it. He was a fighter. Courtney was fragile. And she deserved the happiness the little guy would have given her.
He couldn’t believe the little guy was gone…just like that. Gone.
It wasn’t like Courtney had offered to let him hang around on a regular basis to experience the whole thing…her stomach getting bigger, the baby kicking and moving or even the birth, but his heart felt heavy just the same.
After getting in the car, he left a voicemail for Jess and then drove around to the side entrance.
Crazy as it was, once he’d found out that Courtney was in this thing alone, a part of him had felt responsible for the little guy. He wasn’t exactly a family man or Mr. Responsibility, by any means, but his budding friendship with Courtney had made him hope he would get to be in this kid’s life, too.
Ronnie had a teenage stepdaughter, and he was involved in her life. Seth’s stepson, Zach, was awesome and Ian adored him. Honestly, Ian was a little jealous of both Seth and Ronnie. They had kids, a family—even Rusty had a sister out West he visited from time to time. Ian had an alcoholic mother and a father who had been MIA for most of his life.
Some weird part of him had wanted Courtney to let him act as a fill-in father, once she got to know him better. He’d gone to fetal-development classes, fed Courtney his dinner and a couple of rounds of ice cream, put together a crib and painted a nursery—he’d been trying to prove himself.
It had been a stupid idea, anyway, and now an impossible one.
The nurse instructed him to drive carefully after she helped Courtney into the car. Halfway to the hospital, he took her hand in his and she let him. She cried off and on for the entire trip, and though he knew he couldn’t fix the pain she was feeling it didn’t stop him from wishing he could do something for her.
Once Courtney was settled in an exam room, a nurse started an IV and Courtney eventually relaxed and fell asleep. By the time they came to move her to the room where they would do the procedure, Dr. Franklin had shown up. Knowing that there was nothing more he could do, he released Courtney’s hand and tucked it under the blanket before standing up.
“Will you be around to take her home and stay with her this evening? The procedure will take about half an hour or so and then she’ll be in recovery for another hour or two afterward.”
“Yeah. I’ll make sure she gets home and stay with her. At least until her friend Jess gets off work,” he replied.
“She can take over-the-counter pain relievers as needed,” Dr. Franklin said hesitantly. “I’m sorry. We didn’t have time for introductions before. You are?”
“I’m Ian, a friend of Courtney’s.” He held his hand out to Dr. Franklin. She smiled and shook his hand but the hesitation in her eyes asked what her words didn’t. “I’ve only known Courtney a couple of weeks, but she let me go to fetal-development classes with her, and I fed her ice cream, and painted the little guy’s room…the nursery, I mean.”
The doctor nodded. “The physical pain won’t last long, but the emotional pain is often much worse. She’ll need lots of support to get through this.” She smiled and then walked away.
The conversation he’d had with Jess about Courtney’s past came to mind. Whatever issues she seemed to have with men somehow didn’t extend to him, and he preferred it that way. He would apply those same rules to the devastation she was going through right now and be as good a friend to her as he could be.
An hour later, a nurse led him back to the recovery area. She gave him a bunch of papers about what to expect during the recovery process and then left them alone. Courtney looked tired and sad. He just wanted to hold her, but instead she lay there with her head turned away from him, and he sat next to her in silence.
By the time he got her home and settled in, the silence was killing him. Knowing she would likely be asleep when Jess arrived, he knew it was now or never.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Courtney. I can’t pretend to know how you feel. As sad as I am about losing him, I know it’s even worse for you. You have my number. If you need anything, anything at all—please call me,” he said as he tucked her into bed after giving her a pain pill.
“I don’t even know if he was a boy,” she said quietly and then rolled away from him.
After he was pretty sure she had fallen asleep, he left her room and headed downstairs to wait for Jess. Searching the paperwork from the hospital he found Dr. Franklin’s business card with her cell phone number on the back. He dialed the number without a thought.
“Dr. Franklin? This is Ian Hamilton, Courtney Wells’s friend from today. I just wondered if you knew if…if the baby was a boy or a girl?” he choked out, no
longer caring how stupid he probably sounded.
“Unfortunately the fetus wasn’t viable. It had stopped developing,” she said. “So, I’m sorry, but no, I cannot definitively tell you the gender.”
“I just always called him a boy and I thought maybe…”
“These questions are normal and very likely all the things you are feeling, thinking and wondering are similar to what Courtney is feeling. I’ve known her for years, and she can be pretty closed off. So, as her friend, if she’s willing to talk to you about it, I would ask that you listen. Sometimes sharing with other people is hard for her. I imagine that because of her profession she thinks others expect her to handle emotions, life, better than someone who doesn’t have a degree in feelings.”
After hanging up with the doctor he sat down on the couch to wait for Jess. He was tired. The emotional roller coaster today had left him completely drained. When Jess arrived he gave her a rundown of the events of the day and when he finished, he was surprised when Jess hugged him.
“What was that for?” he asked.
“For being just what she needed today.” She smiled at him before lightly punching him on the arm. “I have to work again tomorrow, and I don’t think she should be alone right now. My apartment doesn’t really need to be cleaned again, so how about if I pimp you out to my friend instead?”
Seeing his puzzled look, Jess continued, “The fact that she went through all that with you—right there—speaks volumes. The disappointment I can see all over your face tells me that you are much more suited for helping her right now than I am.”
“What in the hell are you talking about? You have slipped over the line into full-blown crazy, haven’t you? I’m a guy! How do you figure I’d be better at helping her right now?” he asked in disbelief.
“I don’t want kids, at least not biologically, and definitely not anytime soon. You love kids and do well with them, and they love you in return. Courtney bonded with you over this pregnancy because you were just as excited about it as she was. I never had her level of enthusiasm about pregnancy, childbirth, infants…” Jess explained. “I can’t even pretend to know what she’s going through right now, but you…you’re experiencing it yourself. Maybe not the same way as she is, but I can see it really bothers you. Stick around and keep an eye on her. Help her get back on her feet instead of cleaning my apartment. Same great rates.”
Jess looked legitimately uncomfortable with the idea of trying to help Courtney through her grief. Ian had never lost a child, but he had experienced painful loss—a loss of his innocence when he was thrust into life, into adulthood, well before he should have been.
Having been raised by adoring, insanely rich parents, Jess probably couldn’t relate as well as he could to the kind of devastation and loss that Courtney was feeling. Jess’s admission to that fact came in the form of imploring blue eyes that normally made him laugh but now had him sliding down the slope of concession. Courtney would need someone…and he wanted to be the one to listen.
“We’re not tight enough yet that she’d be okay with waking up to me in her house. At least stay the night. I’ll be over bright and early in the morning so you can get to work on time,” he finally agreed.
When Ian’s alarm went off the next morning, he felt like he hadn’t slept at all. Memories—and doubts—ate him alive. Painting the nursery for the little guy…had it been too much activity for Courtney? Was the miscarriage the result of something he had done? Upsetting her so badly when she’d interviewed him, maybe? The rational side of him knew Dr. Franklin was right, sometimes it just wasn’t meant to be, but the uncertainty of why it had happened still bothered him.
After showering and getting dressed he headed into the kitchen to indulge in one of the few unhealthy habits he’d picked up from Rusty—drinking coffee. Unable to afford rent by himself after Seth and Ronnie moved out of the apartment they’d shared, Ian had been staying in Rusty’s spare bedroom. Rusty drank coffee all day long. Perhaps it was the aroma or the little boost of energy it gave him, but Ian was following in Rusty’s footsteps.
He froze at the sight of Rusty standing in the dark, staring out the little window over the sink. Feeling around for the light switch, Ian felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up when he heard Rusty whisper, “Don’t move another inch, Sergeant.”
Ian’s blood froze. His body was transported to another time, in another country, when those words had saved his life. Though he realized Rusty was probably messing with him and didn’t grasp how those words might still affect him, it didn’t stop the anger that went through him. Yeah, he’d fucked up that day but that was a long time ago.
“Not funny and not cool, sarge,” he said and flipped on the light.
As his eyes adjusted, Ian caught a quick glimpse of Rusty’s face before the older man turned away. Fear and guilt were etched in his features, leaving deeper grooves than wrinkles ever could.
What was that all about? Some chicken-shit part of Ian just couldn’t ask. It was still hard for him to think about…. So instead he crossed the room, away from Rusty, and started the coffee.
“You done with all this fighting bullshit then? Ronnie and Seth said you skipped out on your workout with them again last evening,” Rusty finally said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
Had Rusty been sleepwalking? He acted like he hadn’t just said something incredibly wrong.
Deciding to ignore Rusty’s strange behavior, Ian said, “It’s not that. I know I promised I’d call the next time but…Courtney lost her baby yesterday.”
Rusty’s hand rested between Ian’s shoulder blades. “I’m real sorry to hear that, man. You do what you need to do, and I’ll worry about Ronnie and Seth.”
“Jess wants me to help Courtney for a few days until she’s back on her feet but…”
“But what?”
“But I’m not sure what I can do to help, or that I’ll really be any help at all. The only things I have are these big ears that are good for listening, but she’s a psychologist. She probably has other psychologist friends she could talk to. I’ve got nothing to offer someone like her,” Ian replied.
“What about your medicine bag?” Rusty asked.
There were few secrets between him, Seth, Ronnie and Rusty. Grouping grown men together in situations where they faced life and death every day meant that nothing any of them owned, or no interest any of them had or no issue any of them were going through, was sacred.
Growing up, there were few good influences in his childhood, but an older neighbor in the apartment above where Ian and his mother stayed had been one of them. That old Vietnam vet had been the only consistent person in Ian’s life from an early age all the way through high school.
A wealth of knowledge, a ready boot in his ass when necessary and a safe haven when one was needed were all the old man had to offer, but it had been enough to keep an overgrown kid out of jail and out of trouble. Mr. Yazzi had an old medicine bag that held handwritten recipes, notes, vials of herbs, oils and scents to treat anything from physical pain to mental instability to emotional health. The bag had been passed down for generations, and Mr. Yazzi’s lessons on how to use the contents were the only real education Ian received as a child. It was an heirloom, mysterious and cool to a teenage kid. It should have been in a museum, but instead it was with a non-relative who wasn’t even of Native American descent.
After Mr. Yazzi passed away, Ian had tried to find any living descendants to give the bag to. He’d come up empty-handed. Having spent hours poring over the recipes—looking at pictures of the different plants, trees, flowers and bushes that made up the necessary ingredients—and making the different potions, teas, oils and rubs, Ian had finally accepted that he was meant to have the bag. It was the only thing of value he owned. He’d stored it in a safe-deposit box when he’d been in the army, but the knowledge was engraved in his mind. It was part of who he was now.
The guys in his unit, including Rusty, Ronnie and Seth, often poked fun
at him about his medicine bag, but it hadn’t taken long for his knowledge to be in demand. Headaches, muscle aches, burns and blisters brought soldier after soldier to Ian for help. Maybe Rusty was right. He didn’t have much to offer Courtney, but he did have the medicine bag.
Swapping his mug for a to-go cup, Ian poured himself some coffee, smiled at Rusty, grabbed the bag out of his closet and headed to Courtney’s house.
Chapter Five
Courtney had cried herself to sleep the night before and now lay awake facing the wall. As much as she wanted to deny that yesterday had happened, the uncomfortable cramping she still experienced from time to time told her otherwise. She should get up and take the antibiotics that April had prescribed, and maybe take something for the pain, but she couldn’t will herself to move. The cramping was like a physical manifestation of her emotional suffering.
When she heard a light knock on her bedroom door, she knew she should get up and let Jess know she was okay so as not to cause more worry but instead she simply said, “Come in.”
“I have some breakfast, your medicine and some tea,” she heard Ian say as he opened her bedroom door. He held a tray in one hand and he looked…lost. He slowly made his way into her bedroom and set the tray on her dresser. Picking up the pills in one hand and the coffee mug full of tea in the other, he carried them over and set them on her nightstand. He then went back for a bowl and sat down next to her. He waited as she slowly situated herself, and then he handed her the oatmeal.
It was hard to look at him. He radiated the same disappointment she was feeling over the miscarriage. Where she was normally good at talking to people about their very painful topics, when it came to her own life and her own experiences, she was tongue-tied. So she took the bowl and began eating the oatmeal without actually tasting it.
“Jess had to work today, so I thought I would hang out for a while,” he finally offered as an explanation for being in her house—in her bedroom.
