Summer's Last Breath (The Emerald Series)

by Kimberly James

  Urgent hands grabbed me and dragged me away from the peace I’d found in this place of no pain.

  No.

  Cold air hit my face, but I refused to breathe it. Noah’s voice echoed in my ear. I floated in his arms when all I wanted was to float away.

  “I've got you,“ he said, his voice strained. “It'll be all right.”

  How could everyone keep telling me that same lie? It wouldn’t be all right. Nothing would ever be right again.

  Gritty sand scratched the backs of my legs. Noah’s face loomed over me. I grasped for the nothingness, the place of no feeling, desperate to get back there, but Noah wouldn’t leave me alone. His mouth crashed down on mine and he breathed into me. His arms worked, the pressure of his hands on my chest unbearable.

  Stop it.

  I tried to knock his hands away, but my arms were too heavy. I choked and coughed, spitting briny water at the same time a series of sobs wracked my body. Noah pounded on my back, and as I quieted, as I regained my breath, the pounding turned to a gentle caress. Then his touch disappeared altogether. Not wanting to, I looked up into his face where he stood over me, his chest heaving, the look in his eyes one of incomprehension. Saltwater dripped from the ends of his hair, and his head shook back and forth.

  “What were you doing?” He crouched beside me and grabbed my arms, pulling me from the ground in a merciless grip. He shook me, his face full of anguish, the same anguish I couldn't escape.“What the hell were you doing?”

  “I don’t know,” I sobbed. “Noah… I don’t know.”

  He pulled me to him and held me so tightly I imagined I might break. “Don’t give up on me. I won’t let you give up.”

  I clung to him, his solidness giving way to his vulnerability when his shoulders started to shake and I couldn’t tell where my grief ended and his began. I cried into his neck, my fingers digging into the flesh of his shoulders. “He’s gone. He’s really gone.”

  Noah didn’t answer and we continued to hold on to each other until our emotions were spent and I was left shaking under the cool wind and the haunting thoughts of what I’d just done, of what might have happened if Noah hadn't come.

  Taking my hand, Noah guided me back to the house. I tried to walk, but I was so stiff with cold I stumbled, and he lifted me into his arms and carried me into the house.

  Everything felt different now. Jamie was gone. He wasn’t coming back. This wasn’t my house anymore. I didn’t belong here. My place in this world was in jeopardy without Jamie. I wasn't sure I could exist in this world without him.

  Noah took me straight to his room and into the bathroom. I trembled uncontrollably while he turned on the water in the shower, his movements burdened. I put my hand over the mound of my stomach, noticing how my fingers were purpled with cold.

  “I didn’t mean it,” I told him, chattering through the words. “I didn’t mean it.”

  I begged him to believe me. I'd never do anything to hurt mine and Jamie's baby.

  “I know." His eyes were solemn and his hands gentle as he helped me peel off my clothes and guided me under the spray of water as though I were incapable of taking care of myself. The hot water hit my cold skin like the spray of tiny needles and I turned my back to the sting.

  Noah closed the shower door and I watched his distorted image sit on the toilet, cradling his head in his hands. I closed my eyes, letting the water warm me.

  I didn’t mean it.

  Minutes later, I heard Noah leave and the door close behind him. I wanted to call him back. I didn't want to be alone with myself, this person I didn't know anymore. The water chased away the bite of cold, but it did little to alleviate the bite of shame. Shame that stayed with me as I toweled dry before wrapping the towel around me, and still I shook. My fingers curled around the edges of the sink, and I dared a glance in the mirror. The girl I saw was unrecognizable, her lips still tinged with blue, her eyes so lifeless. Ashamed.

  I didn’t mean it.

  And then I turned away because I couldn't look at that girl anymore.

  When I opened the bathroom door, I found Noah sitting on the end of his bed. He’d put on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and pulled his damp hair into a ponytail. His eyes honed in on mine so sharp I had to look away, afraid of the accusation I might see in them.

  The mattress gave when I sat beside him and for long minutes neither of us spoke. The steady rate of his breath soothed my still jumbled emotions. If he hadn’t come… I didn't want to think about what might have happened if he hadn't come.

  “Don’t tell anyone,” I said, shame making my words sound small and thin.

  “I won’t.” He reached for my hand and curled his fingers around mine. "I miss him too."

  Something in his voice prompted me to look up, and it was as if I were back in the bathroom staring at a stranger in the mirror, as though losing Jamie had turned us into different people.

  Hopelessness spiraled its way up from deep inside me and made its way into my throat, stealing my voice. I had no comfort to offer him. There wasn't a silver lining to Jamie being dead. There wasn't any hope to cling to.

  And then she moved. My eyes closed and a wave of pure relief washed over me, and I realized this was what I'd been waiting for ever since Noah had pulled me out of the Gulf. I'd needed to feel her move.

  I lifted Noah's hand and guided it to my stomach. She kicked again and I watched with teary eyes as Noah's face registered shock then wonder.

  "That's her?" he asked, staring at my hand over his.

  "Yes. That's Lyla." The water had been so cold. I'd been so cold. I'd thought in the shower—no, I wouldn't think about it anymore. She was moving. She was safe. Noah had saved us.

  I smiled, though I was sure it wasn't much of one.

  "I felt her for the first time that day. I was sitting in class and it was just a flutter, but I couldn't wait to get home to tell Jamie."

  Noah was staring at me with this odd intensity, keeping his warm hand on my stomach. I had no idea what was going on behind those eyes.

  “I think we should get married.”

  Whatever I’d been expecting him to say, it wasn’t that.

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “Yes, I do. Jamie would want me to take care of you.”

  I loved Noah so much at that moment. And if I'd thought there were a chance I could love him in a different way…

  "It might sound like a good idea now but I'd end up hating you because you're not Jamie, and you'd end up hating me because I'm not someone else, someone you love."

  "I do love you. You know I do."

  "I love you too, Noah, but not like that. You know it's not like that with us. If I even thought it could be…"

  His sweet offer broke my heart and that was unexpected too. I hadn’t known it was possible for my heart to break more. It felt like it was in so many pieces already. Every time I breathed I thought I could hear those pieces rattling in my chest.

  “I’m not going to marry you, but it was really sweet of you to ask.” I laid my head on his shoulder and I closed my eyes, knowing I’d be lost without him.

  “He really is gone, isn’t he?”

  Still he wouldn’t answer.

  It wasn't until later, when I was back in Jamie's room, with the sound of the surf rolling through the window that I reached for his pearl. Sometimes if I held to it I could fall asleep for a few hours.

  And then I remembered. It was gone. Lost in the Deep. Just like Jamie.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Noah and I never spoke of that night again. I put the incident behind me and concentrated on Lyla and taking care of myself. I tried to eat better. I tried to sleep. I made it a point to get some exercise every day, and the day finally came when I could think of Jamie and not cry, when I could look at his picture and not despair. That was something, I guess. It was what he would have wanted.

  The volleyball team threw me a baby shower. The afternoon was filled with smiles offered at the appro
priate times. I might be able to think about Jamie and not cry. I might be able to remember the deep timbre of his voice as he'd whispered to me in the night and not break down completely. I might remember the feel of his arms around me, the way his smile quickened my heart, but I feared my smile would never touch my heart again. I didn't think a broken heart could smile anyway.

  Any laughter on my part was was faked. I opened presents with fingers that shook—diapers and Pooh Bear bath towels and frilly dresses that I could never imagine Lyla wearing. It should have been fun. I should have been happy, but I was two short months away from having a baby and Jamie was dead. That was another reason I'd banished that night from my mind. It was the night I realized Jamie was gone. The night my fingers finally slipped off of the cliff's edge and I let go.

  I looked around Ally's living room, at the faces of my friends who were trying their best to be upbeat and normal when at seventeen nothing seemed normal anymore. I laid the last of the presents on the floor. I should say something. I'd barely spoken a word. "Thanks, everyone. This means a lot to me."

  Pretending was exhausting. Pretending I didn't hurt anymore. Pretending to have moved on when every minute I expected to wake up from this nightmare. I expected Jamie to appear and tell me it all been a mistake, a cruel joke.

  Ally and her mom helped carry the gifts and load them into the trunk of my mom's car. I hugged Ally's neck. I thanked Mrs. Reynolds for hosting the shower. I wondered how long the days and events of my life would continue to pass as though I were a spectator, sitting in the highest seat farthest away from the action, as if I were floating through life in a haze.

  “Hey sweetie, you okay?" my mom asked when she was settled behind the wheel of her car.

  “Yeah.” It was the easy answer. It was a complete lie and she knew it. I laid my head on the headrest. “Can I come live with you when the baby comes?”

  “Of course you can." She reached over and squeezed my hand. "If that’s what you want.”

  “I can’t stay in Jamie's house, and I don’t want to go home with Dad. I need something different. Somewhere different."

  "We'll fix up a nursery in the guest bedroom."

  "You won't mind having a baby around?"

  "Of course not. I think the three of us girls can have a really good life together."

  "Will I have a life?"

  "Yes. You will. And when Lyla comes she's going to fill your life with so much love and joy you're going to wonder how you found any of those things without her. That's how I felt when you were born, and I imagine I'll feel it all over again when Lyla finally gets here."

  I covered my face with my hands, not wanting to hope. Hope hurt. Hope led to disappointment.

  "One day it won't hurt so much. I promise."

  So everyone kept telling me.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Sometime during the night the cramps woke me.

  I bolted up in bed, biting my lip against the cry that wanted to escape. The room was dark and I reached for the lamp as another pain shot through my abdomen.

  “Noah!” My heart pounded and sweat prickled my forehead.

  No. This couldn’t be happening. It was too soon.

  “Noah!”

  He burst through the bedroom door, hair rumpled and dressed only in his boxers.

  “Jesus, Erin. What—" He took one look at me and the garish stain on the sheets and his eyes widened in terror.

  “Noah, something’s wrong. Oh God.” I clutched at my writhing stomach. The blood had soaked right through my shorts, puddling on the bed underneath me. So much of it. My hands shook. Blood trailed down my fingers. I was sure my water had broken. Why else would the sheets be this wet? Hot tears streaked my cheeks.

  Noah scooped me from the bed, bedspread, sheets, and all, heedless of the blood and mess and carried me down the hallway.

  “Mom! Get the keys!” he yelled.

  “Noah, what’s going on?” Mrs. Jacobs ran from the other side of the house, pulling a shirt over her head, her face paling when she got a look at me. I turned my face into Noah’s chest and squeezed my eyes closed. Maybe if I didn’t look this wouldn’t be happening. Any second I would wake up.

  Wake up.

  “Keys. Now.” Noah kicked the door leading into the garage open. One arm reached out and he pulled open the door to the Bronco.

  “Don’t let go,” I begged when he made to set me down in the back seat.

  “I won’t.” His grip tightened and he climbed into the back seat, cradling me on his lap. “Mom. Drive.”

  I pressed my head into Noah's shoulder, clenching his arms as another pain ripped through me.

  “Shh…” he whispered through my whimper, his arms holding tight.

  “C… call my mom and dad.” I wanted my mother.

  “I will, honey,” Mrs. Jacobs said from behind the wheel. Her voice droned into the phone she held to her ear.

  I wanted Jamie, but he wasn't here. Noah was here and I clung to him, feeling his lips in my hair, his soothing voice in my ear as Mrs. Jacobs sped us to the hospital.

  Somehow I registered that Noah was still only in boxers, but he didn't seem to care. He sprang from the Bronco after his mom pulled under the overhang to the entrance of the emergency room. I thought he might burst through the doors as he waited for them to open, me still clutched in his arms, his voice booming in the waiting area, yelling for help.

  “Don’t leave me,” I said again, knowing I was asking too much. He shouldn't even be in the hospital, but I couldn't bear for him to leave me, at least until my parents arrived.

  “I won't leave you. This will be all right," he said when the nurse rushed forward with a wheelchair, and he was forced to set me down.

  I wanted to believe him, but it was hard to believe anything. Nothing had been all right since the day my dad had told me Jamie wasn’t coming back.

  * * *

  I had known before I opened my eyes my baby was gone. I had known before I saw my mom standing by the window of my hospital room that she didn't make it. I didn’t need my mom to tell me. I didn’t need her to turn and set her despairing eyes on me to know. The weight of the truth hung in the room. I felt Lyla's absence with every breath I took. I was empty. I was hollow. I’d lost everything.

  “Mom,” I said, my throat scratchy and raw from grief. From screaming. From crying.

  “Hey, sweetheart.” She came over and sat in the chair beside my bed and took my hand. “How are you feeling?”

  I shook my head slowly. I wasn’t sure I knew. I’d felt nothing but terror since I’d woken up and screamed Noah’s name. The hours after he'd carried me into the hospital were a haze of pain and continued heartbreak. How was I still alive? How was I even still breathing? The rattling in my chest was never going to go away. “She’s gone, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, honey. I’m so sorry.”

  My eyes burned with tears that never fell and looking at my hands I weakly asked, “Why?”

  Why was Jamie gone? Why take the only thing I had left of him? Why not take me too? What happened to my happy life?

  “They’re not sure.” She stroked my hair. “There are tests available to find out more if you choose to do that but that’s not something you need to worry about right now. You need to rest.”

  “She wasn’t…. she looked okay, didn’t she?” I’d been so out of it once it was over, they’d taken her away and I’d collapsed, exhausted and emotionally depleted.

  “Yes,” she said around a bittersweet smile. “Ten fingers, ten toes. Perfect.”

  But not perfect. She'd been dead. She'd never taken her first breath. And then I felt ashamed that I would have even asked such a question. Somewhere in the back of my mind I’d let other people’s fears shape my own. Fearing maybe she was something less than human, a freak of nature.

  "She was all I had left of him."

  "No, honey that's not true. You have your memories of him. You have the love he had for you. I know it doesn't feel like
it right now, but you'll find comfort in those things eventually."

  "Is dad here?"

  "Yes. So is Noah. He and Lara will want to see you when you're up for it."

  "She'll hate me now," I said unable to squash the guilt, the overwhelming sense of failure assaulting me. I was strong. I was healthy. Why had my body failed? I must have done something wrong. Didn't I love her enough? Did I love him too much?

  "No, she won't. She's concerned for you."

  "I don't want to see them yet." I might not ever be ready to face her disappointment. And Noah. God, I didn't deserve someone as good as Noah in my life.

  "You don't have to do anything but rest and feel better."

  “Can I see her? Can I hold Lyla?"

  “Oh honey, are you sure you want to?”

  “Yes.” I swallowed, and my mom poured me a cup of water from the pitcher that sat by my bed. The cool water didn't ease the scratchiness in my throat. I'd screamed. I remembered that. I remembered the looks on the faces of the doctor and the nurses when I'd finally pushed my baby from my body. I remembered my mom squeezing my hand. The tears coursing down her cheeks.

  Once she took the cup from me and set it down, I met her gaze. “I didn’t get to tell Jamie goodbye.”

  I thought it would take longer for them to bring her to me. I thought I'd have more time to prepare, but it seemed only minutes after my mom left to inform the nurses I wanted to see my baby that she was back. Soon after she returned, a nurse came into the room, holding a bundle in her arms. The nurse placed that tiny bundle in my hands, and it was like holding an angel. I thought of the sea star and the day Jamie and I had returned it to the Deep. Lyla was like that sea star; a piece of magic, a miracle I couldn't keep.

  “She’s beautiful,” my mom whispered.

  And she was. Perfect and so small I could have held her in one hand.

  I gazed into the face of my baby girl and what was left of my heart shattered, and then blessedly I didn’t feel anything at all.