86: Unfinished Business

Armand Blanc

     This was the worst Christmas ever. Everything is so empty!

     'Why are you sitting here doing nothing?' my inner voice asks me, and I don't know how to answer it. I contemplate why while I pour myself another glass of merlot.

      My eyes look at the reflection in the window of the newly-placed stairwell to the floor above. The previous owners of this old house let the upper level go to rot, and I've been paying to have it renovated. At first, I'd hoped to make it so that my future children could have a place to play on rainy days, but that was when I'd hoped for a future with Marie.

     Marie.

     She left! I still can't believe she didn't take me back after that ass Dawson cheated on her. I had absolutely nothing to do with that, and still, she treated me just like the other two.

     'You let her go too easily.'

     There was nothing I could've done to change her mind.

     'You didn't even try.'

     I was angry.

     I know that if I'd begged her to stay, she'd still have left. She never even had the decency to tell me she was leaving. I had to hear it from Andy. And I think he only told me in a last-ditch effort to keep her from leaving since he wants her for himself. If she'd stayed because of me, he could still have a chance to try and steal her from me.
     I stand up and walk around my sofa to place the glass on the table. I don't need it; I need to think.

     Well, Andy is touring with his new band, so even if he'd have gotten her back, he'd be leaving her alone all the time anyway. She's too good for that.

     She's not coming back. It's been too long. I need to act.

     I pull out my phone and book a hotel reservation on Sunlit Tides. Then, I check for a flight. I'll hire a private jet if that's what it takes.

     This has gone far enough; it's insane.

------------------------------------------------

Pamela

     I feel like I've been run over by a cement truck.

     My eyelids try to resist being opened, but I fight them anyway.

     "Baby?" I hear Simon ask in a somewhat-hoarse voice. He holds my hand, and I notice an IV in my other one.

     I'm in the hospital, I realize with a deep, horrified breath.

     "It's okay, baby. I'm here. You're going to be fine," my husband's loving voice croons to me, and my heart breaks because I know what his tone means.

     I don't try to stop the tears as the sobs pour out of me.

     The baby is gone. I lost it. He doesn't have to tell me. I know.

     Simon sits on the bed next to me and wipes my face with his free hand even though the tears keep flowing.

     "I'm sorry," I cry to him.

     "It's not your fault. How could it be your fault?" he gently asks. "Don't be ridiculous."

     Oh, but it is. The desperate look on Ashley's face -- even if it was Ashley -- I couldn't stand the sight of anyone suffering. I overdid it. I tried too hard, and it didn't work. That man is going to die because I couldn't save him. I tried so hard! I have never fought such a difficult tumor or anything like it. Doing so drained me worse than anything I've ever experienced. When I failed, she cried and cried. I tried to comfort her, but she reacted in anger, expelling me from the room and slamming the door closed in my face with a simple wave of her hand. It felt like something had hooked me behind my navel and pulled me backwards. I only had one night to rest in the hotel before I had to fly back home to be back in time for Christmas.

     Losing the baby could be a coincidence, but I highly doubt it.

     "Because I tried too hard," I tell him simply. He didn't like the idea of me going to help that traitorous bitch, but he admired my desire to help someone who asks for it. Ultimately, he let me make the decision. We'd decided to keep it from my brother and niece.

     "Baby, these things happen. It's not because of anything you did or didn't do," he says in a calm voice. I can tell he'd been crying before. It still shows in his eyes, but now, he's calm.

     "What kind of healer am I that I can't even keep myself from miscarrying?"

     "And how were you to do that unconscious?"

     "I should've done something before it started. I should've known that was no ordinary exhaustion."

     "Done something? With what strength?"

     Feeling useless, I hiccup out, "I don't know."

     He lets me cry for a few minutes before he says, "Listen to me. Yes, this is bad. This is awful, but for a while there, I thought I'd lose you. And I can't live like that. That's worse than awful, worse than anything." His lips lightly touch mine like he's afraid he'll break me if he kisses me too hard.

     I close my eyes in defeat, knowing I can't win this discussion. He was really scared. I can see it written all over his face. He aged overnight.

     "I'm sorry for scaring you," I whisper.

     His lower lip trembles for a split second while he forces a smile. Then he says, "Don't make a habit of it, okay?"

     I nod and close my eyes again, pretending to rest for his sake.

     Inside, I'm seething.

     This is Ashley's fault, and she will pay.