Hidden Under Her Heart

by Rachelle Ayala

  “I had a choice. I chose to take out my knife.” An intense knot formed in his abdomen, radiating pain to his extremities. “If I had died, you would have mourned me, and you wouldn’t have killed my baby. You would have kept him to remember me by. So, in a way, I took two lives.”

  “No, I took the baby’s life, not you.” Her eyes swam in tears. “It’s the thing I’ve regretted the moment I decided to do it. But I went ahead anyway. I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

  He scooted around the corner of the booth and pulled her into his arms. “I do forgive you.”

  She tucked her face into his neck and sobbed. “I’ve long ago forgiven you for killing Rico, and I’ll never forget our baby. A part of me will always love you, but we have to let it go.”

  He stroked her hair and tilted her face back. What was broken could never be repaired. He kissed her lightly on the lips and wiped her tears with his thumb. “Thank you for letting me go. I’ve held onto this bitterness, and it’s poisoned everything. Shall I walk you home?”

  She shook her head. “It’s warm near the stove. I’ll call Juan to pick me up.”

  ~~~

  Maryanne ran toward the NICU and flashed her parent’s badge. Her fingers and toes on pinpricks, she followed Gayle to the ward. A medical team stood around Emma’s table. They startled visibly when Maryanne stepped closer. Her baby’s coloring was greyish, and she appeared limp with a bloated abdomen covered with reddish spots. The vital sign monitor showed activity, and the ventilator breathed for her.

  The attending physician, a woman she hadn’t met, stepped forward. “I’m Dr. Rosen.”

  Maryanne clapped her hand over her mouth. “What happened?”

  Dr. Rosen pointed to an x-ray. “We suspect necrotizing enterocolitis. It’s a serious condition where portions of her bowel has undergone tissue death. There is a risk of septic shock and acidosis. She stopped breathing right before Gayle called you, but we resuscitated her and inserted an NG tube to decompress the abdomen. The plain film shows areas of distended bowel, and we’ve called in a surgeon for consult.”

  Sharp lights flashed in Maryanne’s eyes, everything shockingly bright and overexposed. Her head felt dizzy, distant, and she fanned her chest. “What if she experiences gastric perforation. She could die.”

  “That’s why we’re monitoring it. We’re taking cultures, initiating broad spectrum antibiotics and taking away the feedings. Bowel diseases can progress rapidly.”

  “Emma, Emma,” she gasped. “You can’t die. You’re all I have.”

  Gayle patted Maryanne’s back. “It might be better for you to rest in my office. She’s not in immediate danger as I understand. I called you when she stopped breathing, and now she’s more stable.”

  “But the bowels could break at any moment.” Maryanne clutched the edges of the table. “She could go into septic shock and die. She already stopped breathing once.”

  “You know too much,” Gayle said. “You’re a nurse and you’re thinking the worst. Dr. Rosen, tell her what you recommend.”

  “We will continue medical management for another 24 hours. Surgery can cause more complications. We’ll monitor her closely.” Dr. Rosen delivered her speech. “Go with Gayle and we’ll call you if we need you.”

  Maryanne took a few deep breaths. “Yes. Of course. It does Emma no good to have me here.” She straightened her shoulders and shook the doctor’s hand.

  Once they exited the ward, Gayle said, “We have a parents’ room for you to stay, but you have to promise me you’re not going to do anything dangerous. Is there someone who can stay with you? I probably shouldn’t let you, since your father is suing.”

  “I-I promise I won’t hurt myself. Really, I don’t have anyone, but I promise. Please?” Maryanne clasped her hands in front of her chest.

  Gayle slipped behind her desk. “I could call your pastor.”

  “Who’s my pastor?” Maryanne shook her head, confused.

  Gayle appeared not to hear. She punched the keypad on her desk phone. “Mrs. Ortega? I’m Gayle from the Children’s Hospital. Remember you told me to call you if Miss Torres needed any help?”

  Oh, this is embarrassing. Maryanne sucked the inside of her cheeks. They were treating her like a baby.

  Gayle hung up the phone. “Good news. Mrs. Ortega says she’ll stay with you overnight. We’ll move another cot into the room for her.”

  Okay, calm down. Must get on her good side. Maryanne tipped a smile at Gayle’s direction. “You’re very kind. I’m sure we’ll be able to manage.”

  “Great,” Gayle said. “She’ll meet you in the break room as soon as she packs an overnight bag. I have another patient’s parents I have to counsel.”

  Maryanne thanked her and walked to the break room. She bought herself a plastic looking sandwich and a soda. She checked her cell phone. A message from Lucas sat on the screen. “Forgive me.”

  Her fingers tingled, and she caught her breath, glancing at the time. That had been a while ago, and he hadn’t tried calling again. She corralled the sprites of hope kicking up their heels. No, she had to concentrate on Emma Faith. Lucas Knight would put her in another tailspin with his judgmental self-righteousness. She stiffened her upper lip. No one would ever accuse her of being pathetic again. She had a daughter now. She didn’t need sorry excuses of the male persuasion. Then why was the pang in her heart pawing to be soothed? And why did the two words on her screen beckon her to text back?

  Chapter 38

  Lucas shook the water from his soaked umbrella before entering his parents’ house. He found them in the kitchen watching the news. He hugged his mother and rocked in her arms. “I’ve forgiven Daria, and I forgive you, too.”

  Ma held him tightly. “Thank you, son. It’s something I have to live with, take to my grave.”

  “But you’ve always loved me, even when I was an unwanted pregnancy.” Lucas’ voice was raspy. “And I love you too. I do. Both you and Dad. You’re the best parents, ever.”

  His father joined in the hug, and after his mother’s sobs subsided, he told them he was going back to California. “I need to go back for Maryanne and the baby. I booked an 8:00 pm nonstop.”

  “You love her, don’t you?” Ma caressed his cheek. “I have nothing against her if she makes you happy.”

  “Thanks.” He kissed her. “I have to go.”

  He went to his room and packed his suitcase. A few minutes later, he kissed his mother goodbye and walked with his father through the freezing rain to the carport. Dad rubbed his hands and turned on the car, cranking the defroster to high. “You must really care about her.”

  “It might be too late.” Lucas fastened the seatbelt. “I left her when she was most vulnerable. I don’t know if she’ll ever trust me again.”

  Dad clapped Lucas on the shoulder. “I let your mother down. She told you, didn’t she? But you were the catalyst for me to show her my commitment. And no matter what you think, you’re my son.”

  “And you’re my dad.” Lucas clasped his father’s hand. “Just like I’m going to be the father for that little girl. I’m never letting them down again.”

  Lucas’ father started the car. “I believe you, son. Let’s get you to the airport.”

  Fifty minutes later, Lucas was checked in and waiting in the airport lounge, preparing to board. He scrolled through his messages. Maryanne hadn’t returned his text message.

  Instead of finishing the text, he called her. She picked up on the second ring.

  “Hello?” Her voice was unsure.

  The words stuck in his throat. He tried clearing his throat. “Ah… Maryanne.”

  “Who’s there? Do we have a bad connection?”

  “It’s me, Lucas.” He coughed and rubbed his neck to loosen his throat. “Why were you texting me?”

  “Oh, just bored.” Her voice sounded forced. “I have to go. Expecting another call.”

  “I’m getting on an airplane to come back. I should never have left.” The palm
s of his hands tingled with painful shocks. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Listen, I’m in the middle of something.”

  “I’ll talk to you later.” Sweat popped onto his forehead and ringed his neck. “I want to make it up to you.”

  Sounds of sniffling came through the phone. “I have to be strong for Emma. I don’t need you to play pretend.”

  The line went dead. Lucas bent over with his elbows on his knees, feeling like he’d been gut-punched. What a selfish prick he’d been. His chest tightened with a stabbing pain. He looked at the flight status monitor. Twelve minutes before boarding. He called Pastor Ortega. Ten minutes later, he knew everything. Maryanne had attempted suicide, reneged on the adoption and now Emma’s life hung on the balance with a severe intestinal infection.

  ~~~

  Maryanne lay still on the cot and stared at the nightlight. The wall clock ticked, steady and relentless, marking the seconds of her baby’s life. Stella tossed in the cot next to her. Hospital staff had inspected every inch of the room for dangerous objects, confiscating even the stapler they found in the nightstand.

  She slipped her cell phone from the charger and pulled it under the blanket. It was after midnight, and she couldn’t sleep. She’d talked Stella’s ear off on the reasons why she shouldn’t let Lucas back into her life. They’d held hands and prayed in front of Emma’s bed and then again right before bedtime. Stella hadn’t tried to convince her either way about Lucas, and she agreed that Maryanne should be focused solely on Emma’s well-being. So why was she staring at her phone waiting for him to text her? What a pathetic lovebug she had always been. That’s why men stepped all over her. She swallowed the hard lump in her throat, but it would not dispel. Why couldn’t she be tough like Vera? If only it’d be as easy as Vera said. ‘X’ him out of her life. “Delete, delete, delete.”

  She couldn’t even delete his messages. But Emma deserved a more stable life, not to have a man pretend to be her father, come and go as the mood struck him. She hovered over his messages and started deleting them. You will not use my daughter as a substitute for the child you lost. I hate you for hurting me, and you will never get a chance to hurt her… if she survives.

  The minutes ticked by, and she tried to pray for Emma like Stella had done, but she felt empty. Stella had told her she needed to receive Jesus Christ as her personal Saviour, but right now, all she cared about was Emma.

  Lucas’ name lit up with an incoming text.

  Lucas: I promise you it’s not pretend.

  Maryanne: I can’t let you hurt Emma.

  Lucas: I know what happened. Where are you?

  Maryanne: At the hospital waiting.

  Lucas: I’m praying for her.

  Maryanne: Thanks.

  Lucas: Can I talk to you in the morning?

  Maryanne: No. I don’t need you.

  Her fingers trembled and she held her breath, but a sob slipped. The sheets in the cot next to her rustled.

  Lucas: I’m so sorry, please give me a chance.

  “Maryanne?” Stella sounded groggy. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. Did I disturb you?”

  The edge of her cot lowered and Stella patted her shoulder. “I can see the light under the sheets. Are you texting Lucas? Do you want to talk to him instead? I can step out.”

  “No, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

  “Hmm… okay.” The weight shifted and lifted off the cot. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

  The door opened and shut. Maryanne quickly placed the call. She’d tell him to leave her alone. But what if he agreed and hung up on her?

  “Maryanne, I’m so sorry. Forgive me?” His voice was rich like a cup of dark cocoa, full of emotion.

  She grasped at the lines she’d rehearsed with Vera. It had been easier to text them. Her mouth opened, but her vocal cords froze. Say ‘leave me alone. I don’t want you anymore. I will survive without your lying butt.’ Crap, she should have recorded Vera and played it back.

  “Maryanne? Say something.”

  “What?”

  “I forgive you the abortion.”

  Who did he think he was? God? She ended the call and turned off her cell. The tears flowed as she hugged her pillow. Nothing made any sense. Her arms ached with exhaustion, and she pretended to sleep. Why would he change his mind about the abortion?

  ~~~

  The tapping grew more persistent. Maryanne bolted upright and glanced at the digital clock. 6:23 am. She scrambled off the bed and opened the door. Lilly, Emma’s nurse, stood outside. Her eyebrows were drawn and her mouth solemn.

  “It’s Emma?”

  Lilly nodded as Stella joined Maryanne at the door. “She needs surgery immediately. It’s not a big leak, but she’ll need resection.”

  Maryanne pulled on some scrubs and a sweat jacket. She didn’t bother brushing her hair. “Tell me the details. Don’t spare me. I’m a nurse.”

  “She has peritonitis and bright red blood in her stool.” Lilly rattled on. “I checked a few minutes ago, and her abdomen is distended. Her limbs are blue. Blood pressure is 28 mmHg, highly unstable and her respiratory distress has worsened.”

  “She’s crashing!” Maryanne wailed. “Where is she? I have to see her.”

  Her pulse churned in her ears, and flashes of bright light zapped her visual field. The floor swayed and Maryanne fought to breathe. Stella steadied her. “You have to calm down.”

  “She’s dying. My baby’s dying.” Maryanne clawed her cheeks. “I don’t want to calm down.”

  “They’re prepping her for surgery right now,” Lilly said. “It’ll be at least three hours before they’re finished. Why don’t you go home, and we’ll call you when she’s finished?”

  Maryanne’s hands fluttered and her breath cycled rapidly. “I can’t go home. I want to be with my baby.”

  “You won’t be able to help her.” Stella tugged her into an embrace. “Sign the consent, and let them do their work.”

  She held her breath and released it slowly. The intern placed a clipboard in front of her, and she signed it. “Take care of her. You have my cell number.”

  “We will.” Lilly hugged her. “Try and relax.”

  “Ready?” Stella gestured toward the entrance. “Why don’t you use the bathroom. I’ll go back to the call room and grab your purse and phone. Be right back.”

  Maryanne stepped into the bathroom and collapsed on the padded bench. “God, if you could listen to me, please let Emma be healed. Please do it not because of me, I don’t deserve any happiness, but because Emma is innocent. I wish you could forgive me and save me. But I’ve done too much bad. I’m not a good person. But Emma is just a baby. What if she dies? What if it’s too late already? God, please hear my prayer. Don’t let Emma die because I’m a bad person.”

  Chapter 39

  Maryanne checked the volume on her cell phone ringer. Emma had been prepped and taken into the operating room. She looked out the side window as Stella drove toward Half Moon Bay. Stella was right. There really was nothing she could do hovering outside the hospital. The hazy fog lifted, and the sun got brighter as they wound past the greenhouses and garden shops. A line of cars were parked in front of the Christmas tree farm.

  She scrolled through her call log. Lucas had called not more than an hour ago. “Did you pick up a call from Lucas?” she asked Stella.

  “Yes, you were in the shower.” Stella adjusted the rear mirror. “I wish that truck wouldn’t follow so closely.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He’s praying for Emma, and he misses you.”

  Maryanne turned toward the window and leaned her head against the pillar. “Nothing matters right now but Emma.”

  “True, but how do you feel about Lucas?” Stella pulled to the side of the road and let a line of cars pass. “Okay, now I can relax.”

  “I thought he was different.” The familiar twisting pain traversed her chest. “I thought he was the one for me.”

  “Maybe he
still is.” The road widened into several lanes. They drove past a strip mall and entered the business district.

  Maryanne bit her lips and sighed. “No, he’s just a narrow minded hypocrite.”

  Stella came to a stoplight at Coast Highway 1 and turned left. “What makes you say that?”

  What should she say to a pastor’s wife? She’d never understand. Grew up a goody-two-shoes, married a man who preaches the Bible. She’d be on Lucas’ side.

  “Where are we going?” They had driven past the town, and the houses scattered in favor of ranches and farms. Windblown cypresses lined the highways. “Are you sure we’ll have cell coverage?”

  “Don’t worry, Highway 1 is covered. Isn’t it relaxing to drive? Enjoy the ocean views.”

  The road became lonelier, and they passed less traffic going the other direction. The sun peeked out, brightening the sky. They drove past San Gregorio State Beach, and the trees and cliffs gave way to the vast blue ocean. Rows and rows of white churn and foam rolled onto the beach below. A group of bicyclists raced down the slope toward an abandoned parking lot manned by a single outhouse and parking booth. A lone cypress tree stood at the side of the road, marking the turnoff.

  “Here we are.” Stella slowed the car and turned into the parking lot.

  Maryanne checked the bars on her phone. “What are we going to do here?”

  “Breathe some fresh air and take a walk.” Stella opened the door and stepped out.

  Might as well. Maryanne glanced at her phone again. Emma would be in the middle of the operation. So tiny and helpless. She shuddered with a residual sob.

  “Look what Joy left in the trunk.” Stella took out a mesh bag of sand toys.

  “You want us to build sand castles?”

  “Hey, anything to keep your mind off the operation. It’ll be fun.” She locked the car and walked toward the south side of the parking lot. “We can cut through here to the beach.”

  Somewhere out there was the spot she and Lucas had camped and the flat rock where they’d kissed while the sun set. She brushed the memory aside and followed Stella’s long strides.