Hidden Under Her Heart

by Rachelle Ayala

  Her heart swelled to the point of bursting. A band of pain ripped through it and spiked from her fingertips to her toes. “Oh, Lucas. Take care of Emma for me.”

  “Wait. What’s wrong?”

  She couldn’t reply. Her eyes silently pleaded for understanding, for kindness. Slowly, comprehension frosted his face, starting at the corners of his lips and creeping to the center of his eyebrows. “Unless…”

  “It’s true.”

  She dropped her face into her hands.

  The door clicked and he was gone.

  Chapter 35

  Lucas barreled through the hallway of the children’s hospital. No. It couldn’t be. Not Maryanne.

  What do you really know about her?

  She’s beautiful and kind.

  Beautiful exteriors hide ugly sins.

  Barry had to be lying. Blackmailed her into lying. That’s it.

  Wishful thinking. You saw it in her eyes. She didn’t trust you enough to tell you, did she? What else is she hiding?

  A large woman blocked his path. “Mr. Knight? Remember me? I’m Gayle, social services?”

  “Oh, hi,” he mumbled.

  “The baby needs a transfusion, and we need your signature.”

  “I, ah… I can’t sign.” He waved his hand, desperate to step outside for fresh air.

  “Can you get Miss Torres?”

  He loosened his collar. “What’s wrong with the baby?”

  A resident approached Gayle. He spoke to her in a low voice. They conferred over the screen of his tablet. Gayle whispered something to him, and he left, signaling he’d wait for an answer.

  “What is it?” Concern seized Lucas’ voice. “I’ll give blood. Show me what to do.”

  Gayle took his arm and led him to her office. “The resident said there’s a discrepancy with your blood type.”

  “Why? I mean, what’s the problem?”

  “You’re AB positive, and Emma is O positive. She’s not your daughter, is she?”

  Lucas wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “I wanted to support Maryanne, be there for her. I’m sorry I lied.”

  Gayle pursed her lips and shook her head. “We have a busy day, but I cannot discuss Emma’s condition with you further. I hope you understand.”

  Lucas turned and bumped into Tim and Sarah Tanaka at the door.

  “Hey, where are you going?” Tim called after him.

  “I have to go.” Lucas couldn’t look him in the eye. “Maryanne’s sick. She has a sore throat.”

  “Sorry to hear that.” Sarah clutched Tim’s arm. “Debby’s been asking after her. I don’t know how much she heard on the news, but we’ve kept the TV off.”

  “Of course those are lies,” Tim said. “But we’d rather Debby didn’t hear anything. She doesn’t know about the baby yet.”

  “Don’t worry,” Lucas said, his throat as tight as a straw. “I won’t say anything.”

  “Can you take Maryanne to our home and drive Debby to her swimming lessons?” Sarah asked. “I hope it’s not too much to ask.”

  Lucas clenched his fist and shoved it in his pants pocket. His temples throbbed. “I have to look after Zach, my training partner. His father’s arriving at the airport.”

  “Oh, the poor boy,” Sarah said, her eyebrows knit in empathy. “You do what you have to. Will we see you later?”

  He dug his toe into the carpet and looked at the corner of the doorway. “I’m leaving the Bay Area. I’m not seeing Maryanne anymore.”

  “You’re what?” both sets of voices exclaimed.

  A ringing sensation vibrated his head, and he thought he’d have a seizure. He walked away without answering.

  ~~~

  Lucas grabbed his suitcase off the luggage carousel and lugged it curbside. Snow flurries swirled around him, and he hailed a cab. He’d taken the first flight he could to New Jersey. Ma was right. It was time to go home, give up his foolishness and settle down. He’d get a job and go back to law school. Forget about triathlon and Maryanne. She’d lied to him. Made him think he saved her baby, helped her make the right decision. When all along, she was just like Daria. No, worse. At least Daria was upfront about it, whereas Maryanne hid behind a caring nurse’s demeanor.

  The taxi dropped him off in front of his parents’ home. Lucas paid the fare and dragged his suitcase to the front door. He rang the bell. “Ma, Dad, it’s me, Lucas.”

  The door swung open, and his mother rushed into his arms. “My sweet boy.”

  His father clapped a hand on his shoulder and took the suitcase. “Glad you’re back, son.”

  Lucas stepped in and followed them to the kitchen. His head ached, and he sagged into a chair, defeated.

  His mother poured him a cup of coffee. “What’s going on? Sandra said the baby’s blood type doesn’t match yours. Does that mean you’re cleared?”

  Lucas palmed his aching eyes. “Yes, the baby’s obviously not mine.”

  “Thank God!” his father exclaimed. “You should sue them for defamation of character.”

  “That’s right. Put that year of law school you had to work,” his mother said. “That woman put you through hell. Didn’t I tell you?”

  Lucas put both hands on the table. “Please, I’m tired. I’m quitting triathlon and going to get a job.”

  Ma put her arms around him. “Maybe you shouldn’t give up yet.”

  “My training partner’s maimed. He’s an amputee. How can I go on?”

  “Oh, baby,” Ma murmured and rubbed his back. “He might want you to go on.”

  Lucas closed his eyes. Her comforting scent, rose water and lavender, never failed to soothe him. He tucked his face on her shoulder. “What good does triathlon do? It’s not like I’ll ever save a life or help anyone.”

  “But you have,” Lucas’ father said. “When your mother and I saw you win Ironman, something changed in us. We decided that dreams are meant to come true if you try hard enough. I started exercising, and your mother stopped drinking.”

  Lucas stared at his mother. “How did you do that?”

  She lifted her chin. “I up and poured everything down the drain. Must have been a couple hundred dollars worth of liquor. After I wasted all that money, I never bought another bottle. We’ve both been exercising. Your dad’s EKG came back normal for the first time in years.”

  “I’m so happy for you.” He hugged her again and kissed her. “And Dad, I’m glad to be back.”

  Lucas’ cell phone rang. It was Sandra. “Just checking you made it, bro. You left that stupid glass pumpkin. Want me to throw it out?”

  She called to talk about Maryanne’s pumpkin? He scratched his beard. “No, give it back to her. The baby might want it someday.”

  “Okay, I will. So, you’re not coming back?”

  “What can I say?” He pushed the chair back and yawned. “When your dreams turn into a nightmare, it’s time to wake up.”

  “Sorry about that. Put Ma on?” Sandra sounded sympathetic for once in her life.

  Lucas passed the phone to his mother and dragged himself into his old bedroom. His Ironman trophy was prominently displayed on the night table. An autographed photo of Chris McCormack, two time Ironman World champion, smiled back at him. Various medals and trophies were stacked on a book case. Boyhood dreams and fantasies. He lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He should check on Emma’s condition. Gayle had looked worried earlier. What if something had happened to her? And Maryanne was in grief, all alone.

  Tears trailed on both sides of his face. He’d told her he’d never leave her, that he’d always be there for her and the baby. He hadn’t even said goodbye. A sour ache twisted through his stomach. How alone and abandoned she must feel. Some kind of boyfriend he turned out to be. He tried to sleep, but as his anger dissipated to despair, the dull ache of Maryanne tightened its fist around his heart.

  ~~~

  A week went by in a complete fog. Every morning, Lucas’ mother would sit at his bedside and pinch the te
ndons in his shoulders, dragging him out of bed. She’d march him to the foyer and point to his running shoes. She’d put on a jacket, and his father would bring their bikes. They’d herd him out the door and down the road. He had to run while they biked, one on each side of him.

  They’d chat about the neighbors, the weather, the upcoming hockey season. Ma would poke him with a broken bamboo fly rod. “Faster, faster.”

  Today was no different. The threesome huffed up Mountain Park Road. They crested the hilltop and wound down toward the Passaic River. Lucas’ breath frosted in his face. The sun peeked through the grey skies and reflected off the water. He knew the drill already. A hot shower, coffee and TV, endless hours of reruns and old movies, no news. Ma and Dad flew down the hill on their bikes. Lucas lengthened his stride, catching them on a flat stretch.

  “Almost ready for the shower?” Dad slapped Lucas’ back.

  “I think I’ll keep running today. Feeling better.”

  “Well, I’m bushed,” Dad shouted and turned toward the house.

  “Wait up.” Ma pedaled faster. “I’m not leaving your side until I find out what I want to know.”

  Lucas pumped his arms and sprinted toward the bridge, but Ma kept up with him, her front wheel at his side. He ran toward a cemetery. She hated graveyards, said they spooked her.

  Her bike tires made a whirring noise on the pavement behind him. He raced around the mausoleums and headed for the tombstones. She stayed with him. A stitch poked the side of his ribs, and he blew frosty air into his hands. His thigh muscles burned, and sweat dampened his forehead. Slowing down, he walked toward a dry fountain.

  Ma dismounted and parked her bike near a bench. She grabbed his arm. “Come on, son. Let’s walk around the rose bushes.”

  “There’s nothing to see, just stumps.” A light dusting of snow traced white outlines over the dark briers.

  “Yes, but the sap is down there, the life, waiting dormant.” She pulled him closer. “When you were a little boy and you skinned a knee or bumped your head, I could always make it better with a kiss. Remember that?”

  “Yes, Ma. You made everything better.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

  A solitary dried rose hung, beheaded from one of the bushes. She picked it and twirled it in his face. “Are you ready to give up your dreams?”

  The throbbing ache in his chest expanded. “I have no dreams.”

  “That’s your problem.” She stopped and stared in his face. “You’ve given up.”

  “Like you did, Ma? When you had me?” He winced. Why was he cutting her? None of this was her fault.

  “I had a baby. Responsibilities. I didn’t give up, but I couldn’t very well keep you and keep up Olympic level training.”

  He turned away from her and crossed his arms. It was obviously his fault. “If I was such a pest, why didn’t you give me up for adoption?”

  “You think it’s easy to give a baby away?” She resumed pacing at his side. “Of course, you’re a man. But when you have that baby growing inside of you, and you’re talking to him every day, he becomes your own little person. Someone who’ll never leave you, at least for the next eighteen years.”

  Lucas kicked at the frost over the woodchip mulch. “I cost you your gold medal. Ruined your life.”

  “You did no such thing.” She held onto his arm. “I’m trying to get you to understand what Maryanne is going through.”

  “I thought you hated her.”

  “No, I don’t hate her.” She pulled him along a cobblestone path toward a raised pavilion. “I hated what she put you through. But now, to see you give up? It’s worse. You want to talk about it? About her?”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. We’re too different. She’s white. I’m black. She’s everything you disapprove of. You always wanted me to date black women.”

  Ma sat on a marble bench and pulled him down next to her. “I want to set one thing straight, Lucas. I’m not racist. The only reason I wanted you to date black is so you won’t get hurt. You know, good enough to bed, but not to wed?”

  A chill settled over Lucas’ shoulder. He gazed at his mother’s face. She blinked and bit her lips, and the realization hit. “Is that what my biological father said to you?”

  She sighed and picked at her fingernails. “I didn’t want to marry him anyway. But back to you. What happened? Why did you leave?”

  A flock of crows cawed and landed on a leafless tree. Lucas blew a cloud of steam in front of his face. “She wasn’t who I thought she was.”

  Ma looked into the sky. “She was always what she was, whether you knew it or not.”

  Lucas jumped to his feet. “A baby killer. No better than Daria. Let’s go home. I’m freezing.”

  “Sure, let’s go.” She held onto his arm. “But you still love her.”

  He shrugged out of her grasp. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t look her in the eyes. I can’t be in the same room with her. She lied to me.”

  “Did she?” Ma’s voice was sharp. “Seriously, did she actually come out and tell you she never had an abortion?”

  “No, I just assumed.” He walked around the pavilion toward the gravestones. She followed him, and he hugged her. “I know you’re trying to make me feel better, but it’s not working. Why are we talking about this?”

  She rested her forehead on his shoulder. “You don’t truly know me either.”

  “Wh-what?” The cold air sucked through his throat and dried his lungs. He coughed and pushed out of her embrace. “What are you saying?”

  Ma wiped her glove over her eyes. “You weren’t my first pregnancy.”

  Her words sawed into his gut and spilled bile into his throat.

  “No, no. You’re lying.” He stomped the snow and turned away from her. “You didn’t.”

  She chased him. “Why would I lie about a thing like that?”

  “You taught me it was wrong. You called them murderers, baby killers. You rallied at the clinics.”

  “Yes, listen to me!” she screamed. “It’s because of what I’d done. All I cared about was achievement and fame. But when I got pregnant with you, I couldn’t do it again. That abortion changed me. It turned me from a self-centered, shallow girl to your mother.”

  He grabbed her wrist. “Who was the father? Did you tell him?”

  Tears glistened in her eyes. “It was Dad. We were teenagers. We’d been lied to by our teachers. They told us not to ruin our lives by being parents early. That we had to achieve, get out of the ghetto.”

  “But when I came along, I smashed your chances of an Olympic gold medal.” He pulled away, nauseated. His head felt light, and he bent over, hands on his knees. “Is that why you turned to the bottle?”

  “Oh no. It wasn’t you. The drinking was for the baby I lost. Dad and I broke up after I did it. So I went wild and partied, slept around. But when I decided to keep you, Dad came back to me. He vowed to raise you as his own son.”

  “But why? When he lost his first child?”

  “Because we both knew nothing could replace the emptiness, the loss—no medals, awards, money. Nothing’s worth killing our baby for. Nothing.” Her dark brown eyes implored him with what? To understand the unthinkable?

  “No!” Lucas surged from the bench and tore through the graveyard. His thighs burning, he pumped his arms and ran. Why did his mother tell him? Why? His feet pounded on the gravel, each thud hammering the nails deeper into his heart.

  Chapter 36

  The hospital bed tilted on its motorized track. Maryanne was raised to a partially sitting position. She kept her eyes shut a moment longer. How many days had she been here? If she opened her eyes, would she see Lucas? Would his eyes be tender with concern? Would he smile with that one sided dimple? Would he kiss his fingertip and tap her nose? She swallowed, aware of the breathing, the shuffling and the rustle of another human being. The aftershave was wrong, too flamboyant, flashy. Her father’s. Of course. He smelled like money. Which ambulance
was he chasing? It wasn’t exactly Bay Area Children’s Hospital’s fault she’d found a razor in the medicine cabinet and started slicing her wrists.

  “Maryanne,” her father said. “Are you awake?”

  A cross between a groan and a croak emitted from her dry-as-dust throat. Whatever medication the doctor prescribed took the edge off her hunger and pain, making her feel like a metamorphosing insect encased in a chrysalis of packing peanuts.

  “Maryanne, your mother is here.” Dad’s voice pierced through the clouds.

  She opened her eyes, alert now. “Mom? Mom?”

  A birdlike form with long, stringy black hair squeaked past her father. “Mar, you didn’t die.”

  She tried to lift her arms, but they seemed as heavy as sodden logs. “I-I don’t want to die. Why does everyone say that?”

  Dad pushed her hair from her face. “The hospital was negligent, letting you wander around the residents’ call rooms.”

  Her mother traced the bandages around Maryanne’s wrists. “Everything is okay, Mommy is here.”

  Maryanne sank back into the pillow. Everything was okay, or was there something else she’d done? The drug cloud resisted her, thickening their cloying embrace of her mind.

  “The baby’s fine. She’s breathing much better.” Her mother’s voice sliced through the momentary fog.

  Maryanne jerked forward. “Emma. Have you seen her?”

  “She’s darling, absolutely darling. As tiny as you were…” Her mother tugged her sleeve. “Gil, doesn’t Emma remind you of Mar?”

  “Mar was bigger, almost three pounds.”

  “I was? Dad? What are you talking about?” Maryanne shook her head, trying to clear the wooly cotton.

  “You were a preemie, and so adorable.” Her mother squeezed her fingers. “I miscarried every year until you came along, born at twenty-nine weeks. When Gil told me you had a baby, I took my medicine so I can see you.”