Never Giving Up (Never #3)

by Anie Michaels

  “How’d we get so lucky?” I whispered to him, hoping that the entire party isn’t witnessing our intimate moment.

  “I don’t question it, Ella. I’m just thankful for it.”

  Monday morning, bright and early, Porter and I walked into our lawyer’s office and were brought back to a conference room. There was a cart with coffee and muffins, which normally I’d be all over—hello, eight-month pregnant lady here—but this morning I was too nervous to put anything in my stomach. Porter could tell I was anxious, which sent him into a protective frenzy, nearly forbidding me to leave the house. I tried explaining to him that I wasn’t worried about the questions; I was more apprehensive about the process. I’d never been deposed before. It was all new to me and a little nerve wracking.

  After a few minutes, more men entered the room and took out folders, laptops, and an audio recorder which they placed in the middle of the table. Our lawyer introduced us to Jason Ramie’s legal team. I shook their hands, trying to keep myself from thinking terrible things about a man who would shoot a woman, trying to kill her, and tried to remind myself that more than likely they were appointed by the state to defend him. Deep breaths in and out. The legal system in our nation gave him the right to a fair trial. Even though it would have been easier had he just admitted to the crime, I was almost looking forward to testifying. I wanted everyone in that courtroom to hear what he’d done to me. That was a kind of justice I couldn’t get anywhere else. So a trial was fine by me.

  Everything was very formal and I didn’t get asked any questions I hadn’t answered before when being questioned by the police or my own lawyer. Porter’s hackles raised a few times when the lawyers asked about my relationship with Kyle, and I did my best to calm him with a soothing hand on his thigh, or linking my fingers with his. He was there as a support to me, but I didn’t mind offering him my support. In fact, I reveled in it.

  At one point, the defense attorneys asked me about the off-shore accounts Kyle had set up and whether or not I had any knowledge of them. I blinked at the question, but answered honestly with a no.

  “So, you really didn’t notice tens of thousands of dollars being syphoned out of your own business?” The man’s voice was accusatory and snide. I fumbled for words, not really sure how to answer him. Luckily my lawyer came to my rescue.

  “Mrs. Masters is not on trial here today, gentlemen. I suggest you change your line of questioning or we will end this deposition early.” The defense hardly looked phased by the threat from my lawyer, but moved on to what seemed to be safer questions about the shooting itself.

  When everything was finished and we headed home, I could feel the tension radiating off of Porter in the car. He held something back, kept something inside of him, most likely for my benefit, or so he thought.

  “Hey,” I said as I rubbed his thigh. “Are you all right?”

  “Not really,” he said, his eyes glued to the freeway ahead of him as we made our way back to Salem.

  “Wanna tell me what’s going on in your head?”

  He didn’t answer me right away, but I let him think his thoughts through, not in any hurry. “I almost jumped over the table at that defense lawyer. I wanted to punch him right in his assuming face.”

  “Whoa. Wait, what?” My head snapped to the side to look at him. His face was scrunched up in anger now. I obviously was not doing a great job of calming him down.

  “He was insinuating that you were involved in the embezzlement, Ella.”

  I thought back to his question and the more I thought about it, the angrier I got. In the moment I had been so surprised by the question I didn’t really process it fully, then they started asking a million other questions and I never gave it much more thought. Sure, Kyle had taken advantage of me and my trust and stolen money from me, but I hadn’t found out until he died. And even then, I really didn’t dig for information about it. It didn’t matter to me anymore. He was dead and the threat was gone. Was it the smartest decision not to investigate how he was able to steal so much money from me? Probably not, but at that moment in my life, I was in self-preservation mode. I was more concerned with not drowning in a pool of darkness having taken a human life, than trying to figure out the logistics of embezzlement. Not once had it occurred to me that someone might think I had been involved.

  “Why would I embezzle money out of my own business?” I was shocked by the accusation.

  “Tax evasion,” he answered quickly. He was obviously three steps ahead of my in the thought process.

  “Tax evasion?”

  “Yeah, the less revenue you bring in, the less you have to claim on your taxes and you could fall into a lower tax bracket.”

  “Wait, you don’t think . . .”

  “No, Ella. Don’t even ask that question.” He interrupted, not even letting me finish.

  “You have to know I couldn’t ever pull something like that off.”

  “Ella, there are many reasons why I know you weren’t involved in illegal affairs involving your business, but your capability isn’t one of them. You’re a very smart woman and just because you haven’t used your intelligence to commit crimes doesn’t mean you couldn’t.” He gave me a grin. I couldn’t quite figure out if he was giving me a compliment or not, but regardless I was glad his scowl had taken a break.

  “Well, capable or not, I still don’t know how he managed to steal the money.”

  “Do you want to know how?”

  I shrugged. “I didn’t, not in the past, but after today I think maybe I should find out. I don’t want anyone else to think these terrible things about me.” My mind raced, suddenly consumed with questions. How did he get the money from Poppy without me knowing? What did he do with the money? Where is all the money now? I felt a warm, strong hand on my thigh, this time he was trying to comfort me.

  “Don’t go slipping away from me again.”

  I gave him a little smile. “I’m not. I’m just thinking about it now, wondering how it all happened.”

  “We can hire an investigator. We can get those answers.”

  I nodded at him. “Ok. I think that would be best, don’t you?”

  “If it brings you more peace of mind than stress, then yes, I think it would be a good idea.”

  “Ok, let’s do it.” It seemed like even though Kyle was gone and buried, recently, he was being resurrected a little more every day. I took a few deep breaths in, trying to manage the panic before it had a chance to get out of hand. Panic, for me, was funny because half the anxiety came from the fear of the events, but the other half came from the fear of living my life this way for the rest of eternity. The panic was triggered by thinking about what had happened, but then it continued because I didn’t want to live my life this way.

  I knew high blood pressure was not good for the baby, and I could tell the stress was affecting the little person in my belly because I felt a foot poke out right by my ribcage. I took a few more calming breaths and rubbed my belly, trying my best to comfort the baby I couldn’t hold yet.

  “You ok? Baby ok?” He split his focus between the freeway and my face, giving me worried looks.

  “I’m fine, Babe. We’re fine, just a big kick. I’ve been sitting for too long.” I squirmed in my seat, trying to relieve some of the pressure off my tailbone.

  “Want me to drop you off at Dahlia? I could pick you up for dinner later.”

  “That would be great. Can I opt out of cooking tonight? Maybe we can go out?”

  “Of course,” he said, smiling at me, twining his fingers with mine. “I’d love to take my beautiful wife out for dinner.” His thumb traced small circles on the back of my hand and it caused goose bumps to rise up and down my arms.

  “Perfect. Any chance you want to give your beautiful wife a full-body massage after you take her to dinner?” Massages had become a frequent occurrence in our household at about six months. Sometimes they were very necessary. It was possible that sometimes I also played the pregnancy card to get frequent
massages when they weren’t completely necessary. Then there were the times when I just wanted to feel my husband’s hands running over my skin and this was my passive way of asking him to get me naked and touch me. I never fooled him though. He always knew when I was making a ploy for sex.

  “I’m sure that could be arranged,” he said, the words falling from his mouth in a slow and sexy timbre. He knew exactly what I was asking for and by the sound of it, was planning on delivering. My core clenched with just his words and the way he said them. I felt my face start to heat, sure I was turning red. “You getting hot, Babe? Need the AC turned up?” His sexy voice was now also playful.

  “Shut up,” I said, smiling as well. Then I reached forward and adjusted a vent to blow directly on me. I heard him snicker and looked over at him. He was trying so hard to keep in a big laugh and just seeing him happy made the events of the day seem insignificant. One moment of happy with Porter could make a terrible day fade into darkness. How lucky was I?

  Having a baby, even though you are constantly surrounded by women who’ve done it and heard about it for your entire life, is something you can never fully be prepared for. The birth of my precious baby will always be the shining moment of my life. Until I have another, the moment I held my baby for the first time will forever be the moment I cherish most. I love Porter more than I ever thought I could love anyone, but my love for my child couldn’t compare to my love for any other person. It was different. More. Completely encompassing. There was absolutely nothing like it. I couldn’t explain it—it was something one had to experience to fully understand. But even after what could be described as a ‘less than simple’ birth, the only thought I had was, I would do that a million times over again for this little baby in my arms. Gladly. I would do anything for my child.

  I woke up in the middle of the night, not unusual at all for me anymore. I groaned, a little perturbed to be disrupted as I slept, but then after waking up a little more fully, realized that it had finally happened. I peed the bed.

  “Shit,” I whisper-yelled, completely mortified. Over the duration of my pregnancy I gained a new appreciation for my pre-pregnant bladder, but this was ridiculous. “Gross, gross, gross,” I said as I hobbled out of bed, heading for the bathroom. I made it to the bathroom and started stripping my clothes off and heard Porter rustling around.

  “You ok, Babe?” His sleepy voice called out. I groaned inwardly, not wanting to admit to what had happened, completely mortified.

  “Yeah,” I whined. “Ew. Ew. Ew. Yuck . . .” I cried as I peeled my yoga pants down. “I’m so done with this whole pregnant thing,” I yelled out, frustrated. I looked up to see him standing in the doorway, legs crossed at the ankle, hands gripping the top of the door frame, shirtless. I glared at him. How dare he look like a GQ model while I stood there huge and gross.

  “You’re nearly done,” he said sweetly.

  “Ok, well, I just peed the bed, so unless you can ensure that won’t happen again, being nearly done isn’t good enough. Oh, and yesterday I couldn’t make it down the stairs at the beach house. I couldn’t see the stairs, Porter. My big-ass belly was in the way and I couldn’t see the stairs. I had to go down them sideways. SIDEWAYS. I can’t get up from the couch on my own, I can’t sleep on my stomach, I can’t eat a turkey sandwich, and I really want a turkey sandwich.” I was seething at this point and could feel my heart beating rapidly. I stopped and took a few deep breaths in and out. “I love this baby, Porter,” I said, looking him in the eyes. “I do. But I want it out, like, now.” He walked to me and wrapped his arms around me.

  “I can’t imagine what it feels like to be pregnant, but I can tell you that you’re doing a wonderful job. The baby will come when it’s time.” I groaned into his naked chest. After a moment, I pulled away and waddled into the shower. When I emerged, feeling clean again, I smiled at the fresh pajamas folded neatly on the counter. The gross ones were gone and I decided my husband needed some sort of award. I dried off, dressed, and then made my way back into the bedroom only to find Porter putting clean sheets on the bed.

  “You’re the best. I’m sorry you have to clean up after me.”

  “If I could take all the pain and uncomfortableness from you, I totally would. But if all I can do is change some sheets, you best believe I’m gonna be the best sheet changer there is.” I walked to him and wrapped my arms around his waist as he placed a kiss on the top of my head.

  “We’re going to laugh about this someday, right? Like, one day this will be funny and not mortifying?”

  “Honestly, Ella, I’m already laughing.” I smacked him on the stomach and then looked down at my legs.

  “Mother Fucker.” This shit was not funny. “I think I just peed again.” I shook my head, still looking down, confusion taking over. “This is weird. I didn’t even feel like I had to go.”

  Porter gave me a look that probably mirrored mine, confusion furrowing his brow. “This might be the weirdest question I’ll ever ask you, but, are you sure it was pee?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked him, but I knew what he meant. “I’m not due for two more weeks.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Due date or not, the baby comes when the baby wants to.” Even as he said the words I could feel more liquid oozing out of me. Not a lot, but enough that I could feel it and it made me squirm.

  “Let’s call the hospital.” I said the words and then I felt the nerves take over. I called the number for the labor and delivery wing and spoke with a very nice nurse. I explained the situation to her, much to my embarrassment.

  “Well,” she said sweetly, “if you’re feeling fluid coming from your vagina, and you don’t have to urinate, there is a good probability that your membrane has ruptured. What did the fluid smell like?”

  “Uh,” I stammered. “I didn’t smell it.” I tried to hide the disgust from my voice. Who goes around smelling the sheets they just soiled?

  “Well, amniotic fluid smells different than urine, so that’s one way you could rule out urination.”

  “I’ll go smell it,” Porter said, standing up from the bed.

  “You will not!” I yelled. There is no way that I would ever recover from my husband smelling my sheets. I just couldn’t. All the mystery would be gone. I could never, ever, feel sexy around him again if he smelled my sheets. “I’ll smell it.”

  “Amniotic fluid smells sweeter than you’d imagine and, funny enough, a little like semen.”

  Gross. “Ok, so what if it is amniotic fluid?”

  “You should start to experience contractions and we would want to see you in the hospital when your contractions were three to five minutes apart.”

  “I haven’t had any contractions.” I said, immediately worried I’m doing this whole labor thing wrong. I couldn’t even contract when I was supposed to.

  “It might take a few hours, but you should start contracting soon. It was more than likely contractions that ruptured your membranes. You just couldn’t feel them because they aren’t strong enough yet. You could be contracting right now. It’s just a matter of waiting until they’re strong enough to do some damage.” I cringed at her nurse jargon; I didn’t need any damage done to me. “However, it’s important that we deliver the baby within twenty-four hours of the membranes rupturing, so if you aren’t contracting within the next, oh say, ten hours, you should come in anyway.”

  “Then what happens?” I asked, horrified.

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Mrs. Masters. First, determine whether or not it was urine on your sheets and go from there. I’m looking at your chart and there’s no reason why you shouldn’t expect a totally normal delivery. Is this your first?”

  “Yes.” I said sadly, suddenly wishing I knew what I was doing.

  “It’ll be ok. I would bet money that you didn’t wet the bed. It sounds like you ruptured.” Again, I cringed. She needed some different verbiage. I hung up with the helpful nurse and went to smell the sheets. I lifted the offending linens to my no
se and gave then a hesitant sniff. I immediately and unconsciously felt my lips turn into a surprised pout.

  “Huh,” I said out loud to Porter who stood just outside the door. “She was right. It does smell like semen.” I smelled the sheets again to confirm my opinion and then stopped, realizing what I was doing.

  “Wait,” he said, a huge smile coming across his face. “It doesn’t smell like pee?”

  I shook my head and then, damn it, smelled the sheets again. I stopped mid-sniff and threw the sheets to the floor to discourage my nose from trying to smell them again. “No, it’s definitely not pee.” I saw the smile on his face and it took me a few more seconds to put all the puzzle pieces together. “Oh, shit,” I whispered as soon as I caught the wave he was already riding.

  “Babe, your water broke.”

  “Holy shit.”

  “Stop swearing. The baby can hear you,” he said with a warm smile, joking with me.

  “Oh my God.”

  He shrugged. “That’s a little better.”

  “Porter! Stop it! This is serious!” I squealed. I pointed down to the sheet. “That’s not pee!” Now he laughed, beautiful joy shimmering all over his face. I heard big belly laughs and saw his gorgeous smile. It was contagious. I started laughing too. At first, just small spattering laughter. Then it grew into the kind of laughter that made your eyes water, laughter that bent you in half and made you grab your stomach. My stomach was huge, but it still shook heavily with laughter. Then I laughed even harder as more fluid trailed down my legs. The whole situation was hilarious.

  But then all the hilarity ended when my stomach was ignited in hot fire as I experienced my first honest-to-goodness contraction.

  “Oh holy shit,” I said as I grabbed my belly, wincing in pain. Porter had no jokes about language as he flew to my side, instantly alarmed by my discomfort.