The Baby (The Boss #5)

by Abigail Barnette

  “Who’ll tell her?” he asked me. “Do you think one of us will have to?”

  “I will,” Valerie volunteered, wiping her eyes with the tissue crumpled in her fingers. She wasn’t crying so much as constantly leaking tears. It was hard to know what to say to her, when she seemed to be holding it together so well.

  “Can I do anything for you?” I asked Neil, putting my hand on his shoulder. The stupid wooden armrests between the chairs prevented me from taking him in my arms, but he didn’t seem as though he wanted to be touched, anyway.

  He shook his head. “No, just the clothes. You’ve thought of everything.” He was trying to be encouraging to me, even when our life was falling to pieces.

  We waited in silence, except for when Laurence would offer to get us coffee or something from the vending machines. We always declined, though he did get Valerie a cup of tea, and she drank it.

  I liked Laurence. He seemed like he took good care of Valerie.

  Penny arrived faster than I could have expected her, about forty-five minutes later. I saw her and Ian—Ian?—get off the elevator together. She spotted me through the waiting room windows, and I got up to meet her in the hallway.

  “What’s going on?” Ian asked, looking past me to Valerie and Neil in the waiting room. He carried my black garment bag, the legs of a pair of Neil’s jeans hanging below the hem.

  “There was an accident.” My throat stuck together on a sob. “Michael’s dead. Emma’s in surgery.”

  “Oh, no. Oh, Sophie, I’m so sorry.” Penny put her arms out and hugged me.

  “I’m going to speak to Neil,” Ian said, nodding toward the waiting room and slightly lifting the garment bag. “Drop these off.”

  Of course, he would be doing more than just handing off a change of clothes. Ian was one of the most covertly caring people I’d ever met. He probably felt just as helpless as I did.

  When he’d gone, I turned to Penny. “So…what is he doing here?”

  “He was driving me,” she said, her brow crumpling. “We can talk about it later.”

  I was tempted to insist we talk about it, now. It seemed like it would be a good distraction. Then, I realized how futile it would be to try to distract myself from this.

  This wasn’t just a passing moment I needed to turn away from. This was going to be a part of us for the rest of our lives. Neil and I would have to be there for Emma and watch as she went through all the horrible days and months and probably even years that would follow.

  I thought of how I would feel if Neil were taken from me without warning. The lonely, incomplete feeling broke me down, and Penny put her arms around me. I cried, and she cried, and when Ian returned, he stood back awkwardly until we parted.

  “Is there anything else we can get you?” he asked with the helpless look of a man who needed something to do. He could get in line behind me.

  I shook my head. “No. I don’t think so. Go home. I can update you tomorrow.”

  “Okay.” Penny gave me one more hug, and Ian stepped up to give me one, as well. They walked to the elevators together, and I watched them go.

  There was a small bathroom in the waiting room. Neil and I took turns getting changed, and I hung his tux and my dress on the padded hangers Penny had brought. There was a reason that girl was my assistant.

  An hour and a half had passed since we’d arrived at the hospital. I flipped back and forth from a timidly optimistic “no news is good news” stance and a panicked, “what if something horrible has happened and they forgot to tell us.” I tried to believe the former was the case.

  All of us seemed isolated in our own worry. We didn’t ask each other how we felt. We didn’t talk, at all.

  I’d lost track of the time when the doctor appeared in the doorway.

  Neil jolted out of his solitary thoughts and stood, taking a deep breath, his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. His brow furrowed and he tucked his chin to his chest before he looked up.

  Valerie stayed where she was, her eyes wide, lips slightly parted, as though she wanted to ask what we were all waiting to hear.

  The doctor was young, and tired. A surgical cap covered his dark hair. He looked at each of us in turn, then back to Valerie. “I’m sorry.”

  I swore I heard the clock on the wall tick in the total silence that fell. It didn’t last long enough for me to hear the next one. A long, shuddering, “No!” poured from Valerie’s mouth, and she curled in on herself, her forehead against her knees as her body wracked with agonized sobs.

  “Emma suffered blunt force trauma to her chest,” the doctor went on, as sympathetically as anyone could describe something so horrific. “We weren’t able to stabilize her during surgery. We did try everything we could, but the damage to her heart was…too extensive. I’m sorry, but she died.”

  Died? Not, “passed away?” Not, “we lost her”? That raw, painful word, “died”?

  “No.” Neil took a step back, shaking his head. “There must be something you can do.”

  “I’m very sorry, sir. We tried everything—”

  “Try again!” Neil shouted. “There has to be something.”

  My stomach dropped. He would have to realize, and soon, that there was no bargaining. There was nothing he could control that would undo this. We couldn’t buy Emma back. We couldn’t undo her death. This was final.

  “I wish there was something, but there just is not,” the doctor said, patient and sympathetic in the face of a shouting family member who didn’t know they were grieving, yet. “I’ll have a nurse notify you when you can see her.”

  I turned to Neil. Why wasn’t he wailing, like Valerie? She clung to Laurence, the pain pouring from her with every anguished sob. But Neil just stood there, blank. As blank as I felt.

  It wasn’t real, yet.

  I saw it in him, the moment all the doctor’s words sank in, really sank in. A light went off in his eyes, as though he’d died, too. He staggered backwards. He looked to the clock, the door, the coffee machine. Anywhere but at the people in the room who shared this hellish new reality. Tears welled up; when they fell, his face crumpled, and he went down hard, first on one knee. He slumped sideways, leaning against the row of chairs we’d just been sitting in. I dropped to his side and pulled him into my arms. He held me, his fingers digging into my back. His head rested against my chest, and he sobbed. He’d cried when his mother had died; this was a thousand times worse. The sounds he made were pure, desperate pain, and they only grew louder and longer the more he cried.

  I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t shush him. I couldn’t tell him everything would be all right. Because it wasn’t. It never would be again.

  Emma was dead. Our Emma. Who’d been so wonderfully bitchy when we’d first met. Who’d trusted me enough to become my friend while her father had struggled with his cancer. Who’d wanted a baby more than anything, a baby who now slumbered at home, waiting for her mother and father to return.

  “I can’t breathe,” Neil gasped against my chest. “My god, Sophie, I feel like I’m going to die.”

  At any other time, I would be alarmed. But not now. Now, it seemed like a natural way for him to feel. “I know, baby. I know.”

  I didn’t know. I had no clue how he must have been feeling.

  “Look at me. Look at me,” I ordered him gently. Before you drop dead of shock, look at me. When he did, I laid my palm on the side of his face. “I’ve got you. Okay? I’ve got you.”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Elwood?” a female voice asked, and I looked up to see a nurse in pale lilac scrubs, her dark hair in a French braid, standing just inside the waiting room door.

  “Mr. Elwood and Ms. Stern,” Laurence correctly her gently, nodding toward Valerie. I was glad he’d done it. She didn’t need that thrown in her face, even if she did have a new person in her life.

  “I’m so sorry,” the nurse apologized. “If you’d like to see your daughter now, you can come with me.”

  Neil got to his feet, and Laur
ence offered him a tissue. Neil wiped his streaming eyes and nose and seemed to pull himself together. It was an act; without it, he wouldn’t be able to stand upright.

  I held his arm as we followed the nurse to a room down the hall, but when we reached the door, I let him go. “I don’t know if I should. She was so…private.”

  “You were there when she was having Olivia,” Valerie said through her tears. “And Neil needs you.”

  I didn’t want to see Emma, but Valerie was right. There was no way I could leave Neil to do this alone.

  “I need to warn you that she does have some injuries from the accident,” the nurse said gently. “Her arms and face were bruised. She also has an incision on her chest. You won’t be able to see it, but you might see the bandage under her gown.”

  “Was she…” Neil closed his eyes briefly, struggling through the question. “Was she in pain?”

  “She was in very good hands with the EMTs,” the nurse said, but it wasn’t the answer any of us were looking for. I wanted to know if Emma ever woke up. If she knew Michael had died. If she’d worried what would happen to her daughter. I wanted to know that she hadn’t had time for fear.

  Oh, god, what would happen to Olivia?

  My stomach roiled as we entered the room, which felt strangely empty despite the knowledge that Emma lay inside. The only light came from a wall-mounted lamp behind the head of the bed; I saw it through the thin fabric curtain that blocked the view from the door. The bed was made, and at the end of it, I saw the slight tent created by Emma’s feet. Even though I knew she was dead, even though I braced myself, when we stepped past that curtain, I expected her to be sitting up, glaring at us and telling us how ridiculous we were all being.

  But she wasn’t.

  “Oh, no,” Valerie wailed beside us, and she lurched for the chair at the bedside.

  They’d laid Emma out flat on her back and dressed her in a hospital gown like the one she’d refused to wear after Olivia’s birth. A blanket was folded across her chest, and her arms lay at her side. Bruises mottled her face and arms, and one of her wrists seemed bent at an odd angle.

  Neil made a hopeless noise and went to her, tentatively placing one hand on her head and stroking her hair back as though he were soothing her through a nightmare. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, his gaze fixed on the cut at her hairline. Her bottom lip was split and swollen. All I could think was that someone should get her some ice.

  She was Emma, but she wasn’t. She couldn’t open her eyes and be Emma, anymore. I stared at her chest, willing it to move with breath, fantasizing that her eyes would open and she would be fine.

  Valerie took Emma’s hand in hers and gently lifted it to her mouth to kiss her palm.

  “My sweet girl,” Neil murmured against her hair, and he broke down again, weeping and trembling with his head on the pillow beside hers.

  This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t in the plan. Emma and I had talked about going to the movies next week, just the two of us. We’d even joked about how easy it would be to get Neil to babysit.

  Olivia. She came to mind, again and again. How would Olivia possibly understand where her mother and father had gone? And where would she go? With Michael’s parents? Would we ever see her after this? Should I even be thinking of such a thing, when Emma was laying there, present and gone, at the same time?

  I wanted to hug her. I couldn’t. Emma had barely tolerated my hugs when she was alive, and she certainly wouldn’t want my pity hug now that she was dead. But I had to do something. I had to say something to her. I had to acknowledge her.

  I stepped up beside Neil and put my arm around his shoulders, and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I love you,” I whispered to her.

  I should have said it while she was alive.

  * * * *

  Neil and Valerie stayed with Emma for a long time. Laurence contacted the funeral home at Neil’s request. I knew he’d asked Laurence because he didn’t want to burden me, but my practical nature kicked in. There were things that had to be done. I didn’t know if Emma and Michael had a will or even if they had a lawyer, so I couldn’t help there, but I definitely could notify people.

  I dialed Ian, first. Neil wouldn’t mind me taking the lead on this one. Ian answered the phone, sounding sleepy and sleepless all at once. “Everything’s okay, yeah?”

  “No. Everything is…” My throat closed up. I couldn’t breathe, because if I breathed, I would be able to say the words.

  “Ah, Christ,” Ian said softly.

  I pressed my hand to my chest, certain it had sunken in to touch my spine. Because I suspected she would be with him, I asked, “Can I just talk to Penny, please?”

  “Sure thing.” His mumbled, “Wake up, Doll,” was muffled by something. There was a rustling, and Penny answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Penny, um.” My lower lip trembled. I was so glad she couldn’t see me through the phone. “Neil’s daughter Emma? She…died.”

  “Oh, no,” Penny said in a gentle hush. “Is there anything you need me to do?”

  Now and then, I forget that Penny is an employee, not a friend. Now that she was dating Ian—I assumed they were back together, since they’d shown up at the hospital together—the line was further blurred. Of course she would assume I was calling as her boss. “No. There’s nothing I need. I just couldn’t tell Ian.”

  “Sophie, I’m so sorry. I’ll clear your schedule all week, if you need me to,” she promised.

  “I’ll think about that tomorrow,” I told her, and we said goodbye.

  I called Mom, but the call went to voicemail like I thought it would. I told her it was important and to call me back. Holli and Deja, I could tell in the morning.

  Neil’s brothers and sister, however…

  I weighed the importance of waiting to find out if Neil wanted to make the call himself against the likelihood that Neil would be emotionally capable of thinking of such things at all. I didn’t want to step on his toes, but I didn’t know if any of this would make the papers. They couldn’t find out that way.

  They all went the same way. I apologized for calling at such an early hour. Then, I blurted, “There’s been an accident, and Emma and Michael were killed,” because there was no way to gently ease into something like that, and it somehow got easier when I could robotically repeat the same thing over and over. The reactions were mixed; Fiona dropped the phone. Runólf’s wife, Kristine, just said a sad little, “Oh, no,” and promised she would tell her husband as soon as he woke. Geir wept openly and begged for details. They all asked when the funeral would be—something I hadn’t even considered, yet—and how Neil was handling things. Did we need anything? And, the most heartbreaking, had Olivia been hurt?

  By the time I was finished, there wasn’t an ounce of anything left inside me. I was just a vessel for bad news. I couldn’t cry, or even feel sad, really. All I felt was worried, because Neil was still in that room with his dead daughter, and I couldn’t fix anything.

  My phone rang, and Tony’s cell number lit up the screen.

  “H-hello?” My stomach jumped up to my throat. Nope, it was just bile. I swallowed back my heartburn.

  Mom’s voice came on the line. “I saw you called, but my phone is dead.”

  I winced at the word choice. “Uh huh.”

  “Is everything okay?” she asked, the weight of caution in her tone.

  I nodded. I don’t know why I do that on the phone. “No. Emma and Michael got into a car accident. They died.”

  “What?” Mom asked, though I knew she’d heard me and wouldn’t make me tell her, again. “When did it happen?”

  “They were on their way to the benefit.” This conversation was going about the same as all the other ones. Was it ghoulish of me to be relieved for the routine?

  “Olivia wasn’t with them, was she?”

  “No. She was at home. Is at home, actually. I don’t know if we should do something about that or…” I blew out a lon
g breath. If Mom had been here, maybe I would have hugged her and cried. But she wasn’t here, and there was really no reason to cry when someone else was going to need to cry to me later. My stamina was running out, and I couldn’t exhaust myself before we even got back to the apartment. “I just wanted to let you know. I don’t want to ruin your weekend. Stay there, but if something changes…”

  “Honey, of course we’re not going to stay here!” Mom exclaimed. In the background, I heard Tony’s voice. “Look, we’ll head back first thing in the morning, okay? Or maybe the afternoon.”

  “No, no, just stay there.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Call me in the morning, okay?”

  “Sure,” she agreed with obvious reluctance. “Are you okay?”

  I lowered my voice and looked nervously down the hall. “No. I don’t know how Neil is going to deal with any of this. He’s such a wreck.”

  “I can only imagine.” The thing was, Mom really could imagine it. Emma and I were the same age. Neil losing his daughter was like Mom losing me. She was already so paranoid about everything she probably wouldn’t sleep at all tonight.

  “I’ll call you in the morning, okay?” We said our I-love-yous and hung up. Then, there was nothing to do but wait.

  A passing nurse gave me a sympathetic glance and headed into the door where Neil, Valerie, and Laurence were still with Emma. I followed her in, expecting her to tell us we all had to leave, that we’d been there too long. Instead, she told them that the funeral home had arrived.

  Neil signed some paperwork to release Emma’s body. The nurse left, and Laurence put his hand on Valerie’s shoulder.

  “They’re going to have to take her,” he said softly, rubbing his thumb across her arm.

  Valerie nodded but broke down sobbing, again. She still held Emma’s hand; she hadn’t let go since we’d first come in.

  I wished I could be as comforting to Neil as Laurence was to Valerie. I didn’t have whatever brain chemical causes a person to not be awkward in the face of tragedy. I just stood there like an idiot while Neil rose from his chair and leaned down to give Emma one last kiss on the cheek. He closed his eyes and whispered to her, something I couldn’t hear.