Carry You Home (Carry Your Heart #2)

by K. Ryan

  On some level, I appreciated the doctor's no-nonsense, yet sympathetic approach and the way he referred to the baby as a him or her, but that didn't make the reality burn any less. Just as I was finally beginning to wrap my head around what I might actually have to do, I dared a glance at Caleb.

  He'd gone white as a sheet next to me and he rubbed his mouth with the hand that wasn't locked around mine. But it was his eyes that nearly me brought me back over the edge—mostly because the anguish and the devastation and the disbelief and the guilt mirrored everything I wouldn't let myself feel.

  "What's the other option?" Caleb murmured hoarsely.

  Dr. Reynolds pressed a quick, albeit grim, pained smile on his face. "We can do a procedure to remove all the remaining tissue."

  I winced at the word, tissue, and glanced at Caleb again, who still clung to my left hand like his life depended on it. His watery eyes softened and he pressed a kiss into my fingertips.

  "It's an invasive procedure, that's for sure," Dr. Reynolds went on. "But it would allow you to bypass having to go through a delivery. I know this is extremely difficult, but the best advice I can give you is to do what you feel you're most physically and emotionally able to handle. Every couple chooses a different course for their own reasons. Some people want to be able to hold their baby and others prefer to move through this stage as quickly as possible."

  My head shot up at the mention of being able to hold the baby and I sucked in a sharp breath as everything finally began to sink in. The doctor seemed to pick up on this almost instantaneously and he flashed me a quick, supportive smile.

  "If you choose to deliver, you'll have some time with your baby."

  Even as the doctor excused himself to give us a few moments to talk it over, I couldn't let myself think about everything a delivery would really entail. I just wanted to hold her and I wanted Caleb to hold her too—it was all we'd ever get with her.

  "Iz," Caleb called out hoarsely to me.

  I shifted my gaze away from my feet and slowly toward Caleb's pale, grief-stricken face. His face twisted in anguish when our eyes met and his cobalt eyes shone with unshed tears. With a free hand buried in my hair now, he drew me to his chest, squeezing his arm around my shoulders, and leaving me no other choice but to be comforted. Breathing him in helped a little. The familiar scent of musk and gasoline flooded my senses just enough to make me forget for a moment and that was almost enough.

  "Iz," he murmured in my hair. "Whatever you want, that's what we'll do, okay?"

  He wiped the few stray tears that slipped down my face as he lifted my chin up and pressed both hands against my cheeks. Watery, devastated blue eyes found me and I had to squeeze my own eyes shut to keep from weeping openly. There wasn't even a question of what I wanted to do. Even if I wasn't in the right mental state to be making these kind of decisions, my heart still knew what to do.

  Somehow, I managed to find my voice long enough to say the words I knew I'd never regret as long as I lived. "I want to hold her, Caleb. I want to see her."

  "Iz," he swallowed hard, his hands trembling around my face. "You don't have to—"

  "Don't you want to see her too?"

  Tears welled up in his eyes and his face twisted in pain. "Of course I do. I want to see her and hold her more than anything, but I don't want you to have to go through this either. I can't...I can't even wrap my head around it."

  I wasn't about to let him talk me out of what I knew, beneath all the numbness, all the heartache, and all the pain, was the right decision for both of us.

  "We have to see her, Caleb. We have to hold her."

  He nodded into my hair and kissed my forehead. "Okay."

  I didn't know how long he held me, but I was barely even able to register that human contact. Before long, a nurse pulled the curtain aside so the doctor could once again step through. He winced a little at the sight in front of him: a grieving couple clinging to each other for dear life. Probably just another day in the maternity ward for him, but for us? It felt like the floor opened up underneath us, threatening to swallow us whole and send us tumbling down into the throes of black despair.

  Dr. Reynolds waited patiently for our decision and when I couldn't find the words, Caleb squeezed my hand and nodded to me with tears in his eyes.

  "She's gonna do the delivery, doc."

  "Okay," he affirmed with a tight nod. "Is there anyone you'd like to call before labor progresses any further?"

  Caleb shifted his gaze back to me. "Iz, do you want me to call my—"

  "No," I whispered, looking to the doctor now. "I just want to get this over with. It'll be quick, right? I won't feel anything?"

  Dr. Reynolds shot me another sympathetic smile. "You should be able to push soon."

  He went on to explain how the delivery would go, but I'd tuned him out at that point. There was no stopping it anyway, so what was the point in delving into the gory details of how my baby would enter this world five months too soon?

  True to his word, the doctor worked fast and since my body was already too shocked to feel just about anything, the epidural came and went without much of a whimper. After that, I didn't feel anything from the waist down, not like I was really capable of feeling much anyway. Everything just sort of tingled like the feelings were there underneath the surface, but a solid wall kept them from bubbling over the top, where I'd have to finally face them.

  With Caleb clutching my left hand and a nurse attached to my right, Dr. Reynolds positioned himself at the end of the bed and once again lifted my legs into the stirrups. It all seemed to be happening in equal strokes of speed and slow motion and there just wasn't enough time for my emotions to play catch-up.

  "You can do this, Iz," Caleb whispered in my hair and kissed my forehead as the nurse leaned me forward just enough to get into pushing position.

  "Okay, Isabelle," Dr. Reynolds instructed gently. "You're ready. Just one push. That's all we need."

  I dipped my chin down in a nod, barely aware that Caleb had wrapped his free arm around my waist to help prop me up as much as possible, and I swallowed hard, readying myself for the dark abyss I was about to dive into headfirst. So I closed my eyes, squeezed Caleb's hand, and pushed.

  The doctor was right. One push and it was over. Well, the delivery was over. All the rest of it...

  I didn't know what I was waiting for. I didn't know what I was even listening for. There would be no baby crying, no nurse cooing over my beautiful newborn, no doctor checking any vitals, and no Caleb cutting the umbilical cord.

  There was just the quiet, persistent ticking of the machine next to me and Caleb's ragged breath in my ear as he held me close.

  But when the doctor held a towel out toward us, the wall keeping me upright crumbled onto the hospital floor.

  There she was.

  Beautiful and macabre all at the same time.

  Somewhere above me, I heard a strangled sob and turned away from my baby long enough to see Caleb, his eyes fixated on her with one hand covering his mouth as tears flowed freely down his cheeks. Then, my attention moved back to Dr. Reynolds, who leaned forward to gently slide her into my waiting palm.

  Her skin was glossy and tinged purple. She was curled into herself with one tiny hand and it almost looked like she was sucking on her thumb. Every part of her was misshapen and malformed somehow, but I didn't care. All I could see were fingers, toes, sweetly-closed eyes, a curved mouth, and a dainty little nose.

  She was beautiful. She was perfect. She was gone.

  She'd never take a breath. Never open her eyes. We'd never see her smile or hear her laugh. I'd never hear her call me Mommy. Never see her in Caleb's arms.

  This moment was all the three of us would ever have together.

  I reached out to run my index finger down her cheek and closed my eyes at the feel of her rubbery skin underneath my fingertips. Somewhere along the way, my shoulders began to shake and tears streamed down my cheeks.

  "Iz," Caleb whispered next
to me as he held out his hand. "Can I...?"

  I obliged him silently and slid her tiny, curled body into Caleb's waiting palm, where she looked even smaller than she had in mine. Another hoarse cry tangled in Caleb's throat as he curved his fingers around her tiny frame and touched his fingertip to her mouth. Tears flowed freely now as we took turns alternating between getting to know her and saying goodbye to her.

  It wasn't enough time, but the universe was a fickle bitch. Always giving and taking on a whim. Sooner or later, Dr. Reynolds returned with a nurse to take her away.

  "No..." I murmured and shook my head, fresh tears slipping down my cheeks. Caleb shifted next to me with our baby still in his palm, his gaze flicking up to me and back down to her again in anguish.

  The nurse looked to Dr. Reynolds nervously, who flashed me that ever-present sympathetic smile.

  "If you need more time," he told me gently. "We can come back—"

  "No," I whispered again just as suddenly.

  Even I knew prolonging this would only make it harder in the end. I couldn't keep her. I couldn't bring her home. They'd already respectfully given us ample time with her and now I gave myself one last moment that would just have to last me a lifetime.

  I leaned down and kissed my baby, who was so small she barely covered the length of Caleb's palm. Then I leaned into Caleb's arm for strength as he pressed his lips right where mine had been and carefully handed her back to the nurse.

  Someone said something about a sleeping sedative, I wasn't sure if it was one of the nurses or Dr. Reynolds, and Caleb murmured a quiet response. It didn't matter. I was in a dark tunnel now, digging deeper and staring numbly at my feet.

  There was no end in sight.

  There was just nothing now.

  . . .

  Caleb

  The entire hallway felt like it was spinning and for a moment, I wasn't really sure where I was as I stepped up to the nurses' desk. I felt like I was pushing through a clammy, dense fog with no hope of ever seeing daylight again. The moment that doctor shut off the monitor and stared back at us with that tired and sad expression, I'd fleetingly wondered if this was just all some horrifying nightmare, one Isabelle would shake me awake from and then everything would just go back to normal.

  After what I'd just witnessed, after what I'd just seen Isabelle do, after what I'd just held in my hand...there would be no waking up from this ever.

  The fog momentarily lifted as I rested my hands on the desk. Shortly after Isabelle fell asleep, I'd managed to have enough sense to call my mom before a nurse came in to tell me all the paperwork was ready. Whatever this paperwork was, it didn't really matter. I just needed something to do—to be of use somehow, instead of just helplessly, powerlessly clinging to Isabelle's hand.

  The nurse passed me a few forms with a sad smile on her face and I buried myself in the paperwork. It was all pretty no-nonsense, just some insurance forms, a medical release, and then I flipped to the last page.

  Certificate of life.

  Whatever was left of my heart splintered across the floor.

  My hands shook and I had to set the pen down. I squeezed my eyes shut and scrubbed both hands over my face. I didn't know if I could do it, but then I thought of Isabelle sitting in that hospital room, going through labor, getting stuck with that monstrous needle, and delivering our baby and I was pathetic.

  Pathetically paralyzed.

  That shit needed to stop now.

  And then I really looked at what was written on that page and shattered all over again.

  "Excuse me, nurse?" I asked and she was already walking around the side of the desk before I finished. "It says here that the baby was female," my voice cracked on the word was, "and I know Isabelle—"

  "Dr. Reynolds said the sex organs were visible," the nurse told me gently and placed a hand on my shoulder as she spoke. "The form is correct."

  Tears pricked my eyes yet again as I whispered, "She was right. She's always right."

  "Sir," the nurse started again. "If you need more time, the form can wait right now. Your wife will be asleep for awhile and you should rest too. Can I get you anything? We can get you some coffee or—"

  "No," I shook my head and swallowed hard. I wouldn't correct her because deep down, I knew this might be the only time I'd ever get to hear Isabelle referred to as my wife. "Thanks though."

  She nodded sadly, squeezed my shoulder, and then returned to her post behind the desk. It was just as well that when I finally picked the pen up again, I heard those tell-tale sounds of heels clicking against the floor. My mom was on her way.

  Just as I turned around to face her, my mom's warm, comforting arms enveloped me and pulled me close. I needed this and I didn't. Tears pricked my eyes yet again and I quickly shook free of her arms to compose myself. The last thing I needed to do was start crying again.

  "Caleb," my mom whispered in my ear, her voice fracturing with grief. "I'm so sorry. I just can't...I'm just so, so sorry."

  "I know," I tried to smile, to show I really was grateful she was here, but I couldn't summon any other emotion but raw misery. "Thanks for being here, Mom."

  "Where else would I be?" she told me through her tears. "Is she...?"

  "She's sleeping," I gestured with my head toward Isabelle's hospital room. "They gave her something to knock her out for awhile."

  "Good," my mom nodded tightly, her eyes flitting to Isabelle's door and back to me again. "She should rest. I just can't..." she shook her head again as more tears streamed down her face.

  Because I just couldn't handle any more outpouring of emotion right now, I turned back to the form sitting on the desk and picked up the pen again. My hands trembled as I brought the pen down to the page and began filling in the blanks the hospital needed. I could feel my mom's hand on my shoulder, silently supporting me so I could get through this, and that was exactly what I needed.

  I wrote the name Ava in the first name space and after a moment's hesitation, wrote the name Katherine in the middle name space.

  "That's a beautiful name," my mom murmured to me as she leaned into my shoulder.

  "Iz picked it out," I sucked in a deep breath and scrubbed my free hand across my eyes. "We never talked about middle names, but I think she'd be okay with Ava taking her mom's name too, right?"

  My mom's face twisted and she bit down on her bottom lip to keep from crying again. "I think it's perfect."

  "Right," I murmured, but I didn't really know who I was talking to right now. I was nodding, but I didn't know why. Nothing was right. I didn't know if it would ever be again.

  After I wrote our names in the mother and father lines, that was it. I was done. Emotionally and physically spent.

  "We got to hold her, Mom," I murmured hoarsely and I barely recognized the sound of my own voice as I gestured to my right hand, which had held the contents of all my hopes and dreams just less than a half hour ago. "She was so small, Mom. Her little head barely even came up to the end of my thumb and I..."

  I trailed off, unable to force myself to say anymore. There was no point in relaying the gory details. It was already devastating enough on its own and my mom's arms enveloped me tight like I was 5-years-old again.

  "I'm so, so sorry," she whispered in my ear. "What can I do? What do you need?"

  I just shook my head and pulled away, running both hands through my tangled hair for lack of anything better to do. "There's nothing you can do. I just need some air."

  "Okay," she nodded, eager to help, eager to come along, but that was the opposite of what I needed right now. "Let's go—"

  "Mom, I just need to be alone for a second, okay?"

  Her face fell and I scrambled to give her something to do.

  "Why don't you go sit with her? She's gonna be sleeping for a while, but I don't want her to be alone any longer than she has to be."

  That lifted some of the fog as my mom scurried off to let herself into Isabelle's room and I sighed heavily, scrubbing my face with my h
ands one more time before turning on my heel to head down the hallway.

  I made it all the way to the nearest men's room. That was it.

  Pushing through the door, I stalked around a moment, pacing the tiled floor and tearing my hands through my hair and I had a feeling the urge to hit something was just going to multiply as soon as the initial shock wore off. Because that's what I was really feeling right now: shock and complete disbelief. Fucking horror.

  All I could think about was how she was in some box in some room of this hospital now. I'd never see her again. Never hold her again. Never watch her grow. Never see her laugh or smile. There was nothing I'd wanted more than to be that tiny baby's dad.

  I pulled my hands through my hair and squeezed my eyes shut as the little control I had left faltered and tears tumbled down my cheeks.

  Then my mind sifted through everything that had rained down on Isabelle at breakneck speed: the ATF, the club's suspicions, the break-in, Becca, school, our fight. Just one blow right after the other, with each one lined up to take its turn with me delivering the final death blow in getting my stupid, arrogant ass arrested.

  All that stress...God, no wonder the baby didn't make it. The odds had been stacked against us before we'd really had a chance to get started.

  And at the end of the day, the common denominator was me.

  Every single thing that happened had my fingerprints all over it. If I'd never goaded Padilla, if I'd been smarter, if I'd listened, if I wasn't part of the club, maybe...

  And here I thought there'd be no blowback.

  This was the consequence. This was the price I'd had to pay for my short-sighted, devil-may-care, shoot-first-ask-questions-later attitude toward just about everything in my life.

  I could play the 'what if' game until I was blue in the face, but it still wouldn't change the fact that the only real reason Isabelle was lying in a hospital bed and our baby was lying dead in a box was because of me.

  At some point, my shoulders shook with sobs and my hands gripped the edge of the sink until my knuckles turned white as I finally gave in. I couldn't handle this shit. I didn't know how to handle this shit. What was we supposed to do now? How did we even begin to move on?