DAVID
It took longer than I expected at the store and I may have gone a little overboard with everything I bought. Did I need to buy a brand-new fire pit just for one night of s’mores for Claire? No. But I did anyway. Did I need to stop at three different stores to get everyone’s favorite dinner, snacks, and desserts? No. But I did anyway. Because I want this night to be special and nothing is too good for my girls.
But at this point, if I really want this night to be special, I need to get back to them before they fall asleep for good. Night fell while I was out and we’re quickly inching past Claire’s bedtime. After one last stop, I make the short trip back to her, my fingers drumming the steering wheel as I sing along to the radio.
I see it before I understand it. The glow of something down the street, at first barely visible through the houses and the trees that surround them and then, unmistakable. The flicker and twitch of shadows dancing with flames. The whirl of lights atop emergency vehicles. People standing in the street, watching the firefighters battle the flames while they record everything on their phones.
I stomp on the brake pedal and get out of the truck without closing the door. Run the rest of the way to the house. I’ll fight my way through the fire if I have to. I will not be too late this time, not like I was with Maggie. A policeman stops me, his hand on my chest while another man grabs my arm.
“You can’t go up there.”
I push past him, struggling out of his grasp. “My family is in there.”
More officers converge on me. “Sir, you can’t go any further.” More hands on my arms and chest, trying to stop me but I won’t let them, damn it. My girls need me and I will not let them down.
I whirl. The world smells of burning things. My nose tickles and runs and I wipe it with the back of my hand. “My family is in there.”
My heart stutters and my body goes cold. Michelle. Claire with her blond hair like Maggie’s. The baby. The family I didn’t think I could love, the people who now own my heart.
I can’t go through this again.
I can’t lose them.
Not like this.
Not again.
“Sir?”
An officer leans forward to catch my attention. He’s talking to me but I can’t hear him. Fire licks through the walls and windows of the house. The beams and supports are black and charred, visible through disintegrating siding like bones through rotting flesh. Water douses flames, and steam hisses and boils. People shout and the smell chokes me from here.
“My family is in there.” I push against the officers again. “You have to let me get to them.” I am a feral animal, running out of patience and ready to attack.
“We pulled a woman and girl out of the house. Is anyone else inside?”
“Where are they?” I strain to find them in the crowd. Fuck, my heart is pounding too fast. I can’t breathe. “Are they okay?”
“Is there anyone else in the house?”
“No, goddammit! Now please take me to see my girls.” My fists clench and my heart expands against my lungs and smoke stings my eyes. I swipe at them with the back of my hand and fight the need to plant my fist in this guy’s face.
“They’re en route to Grayson Memorial.”
My knees soften and the only thing keeping me upright is the sheer force of my will. The man keeps talking but I have no idea what he says. I turn on my heel and run back to my truck.
The demon voice of anxiety perches on my shoulders and whispers horrible things in my ears. Maggie in the tub, her hair streaming around her. White roses around her grave. The casket, so small as they lower it beneath the earth. Claire’s blond ponytail bouncing as she runs beside Pogo. The singed remains of the house, smoking and ruined. And Michelle, with our baby in her stomach. I imagine her crying. Screaming for help. Screaming for me as flames lick her body. And I wasn’t there.
The Maggie-sized hole in my heart tears even further, making space for Claire and Michelle and a baby not yet strong enough to see this world. Scar tissue ruptures and bleeds.
I can’t do this again.
My heart shatters and reforms, old wounds becoming new again and I stitch them back up and lock it all away. I can’t go through this again. I can’t.
I can’t.
* * *
The drive to Grayson Memorial ends before I realize it began. An hour passes in the blink of an eye. I push through the front doors and sprint to the desk. The woman in charge moves so slowly, so carelessly, I want to climb over the counter and find Michelle’s name on the screen myself.
“David?”
I turn towards the voice. Michelle’s friend Bailey races towards me, looking small and worried in her oversized scrubs. “I’ve been waiting for you. Come on, I’ll take you to her.”
“Are they okay?” I run my hand over my face. “No one will tell me anything.”
Bailey’s face closes down and she leads me through a set of double doors to an empty hallway. “I can lose my job for telling you anything because you’re not her husband.” She whispers to me as her gaze darts down the hallway.
“That’s bullshit.” I fist my hands in my hair. If people don’t start giving me answers, then I’m going to lose my mind.
Bailey lets out a breath. “In this case, I agree. Follow me. I’ll take you to her and explain everything I can when we get there.” She takes off down the hallway.
“What about Claire? Is she with Michelle?”
Bailey glances behind us and then whispers her answer. “Claire is unconscious. She’s intubated—”
Fuck this medical lingo. “What’s that mean?”
Bailey doesn’t flinch. “They’ve put a tube down her throat to keep it from swelling shut and to make sure she’s getting enough oxygen. The doctor ordered chest x-rays to determine the extent of the damage…”
Maggie’s blond hair streaming around her in the tub. Blue lips and fingers. Her eyes open and unseeing. Not enough oxygen. Stolen from me. Hole in my heart. And now Claire in danger of suffocating, too.
“What about Michelle?” The voice doesn’t sound like my own. Too dead. Too nothing. Too empty. The voice of a ghost echoing through familiar patterns.
Bailey slows to a stop. “She has second degree burns on her hands.” She pauses, biting her lip. “She’s bleeding.”
“What do you mean?”
Bailey meets my eyes. “Did you know she was pregnant?”
The world crashes down around me.
Something’s wrong.
Run.
A Maggie-sized hole.
I grip Bailey’s shoulders, suddenly too weak to stand. “Is she…”
I can’t finish the question.
“Take me to her,” I say instead.
Bailey nods. Takes my hand and leads me through the hospital.
Did you know she was pregnant?
Was pregnant?
Was?
I am a raw nerve. Ready to strike. Ready to fight. Ready to lash out with fists and teeth and words and rage until my world rights itself again. My hands shake. My feet move forward because I tell them to. I need darkness and solitude. I need blankets pulled up over my face. I need to sleep until I don’t wake up again. The voice of old demons whispering poison in my ear.
No. Fuck that. I need to see Michelle.
“Is the baby okay?” I ask the question but don’t want the answer.
Bailey stops in the middle of the hallway and waits as a doctor strolls past. “All we can do is wait. Doctor Weaver ordered tests to see if the pregnancy is still progressing. We’ll know more soon, but for now it’s important that she stays calm and we keep her resting.”
Ice slices through my veins. Anxiety paralyzes me. I want to go to her, to climb into that damn bed and hold her until she knows she’s safe, no matter what. I want to tell her I love her and that everything is going to be okay, but how can I walk in there, knowing that I might be losing another child? My baby is bleeding out of her because I wasn’t there when she needed me just like Maggie drowned in the tub because I wasn’t there, either.
“David?” Bailey looks up at me, her brow crinkled in worry. “Michelle needs you right now.”
I take a breath. Close my eyes. Draw oxygen deep into my lungs. Let it out slowly. I will not run away. Not this time. My insides might be bleeding, cut to shreds by the ragged pieces of my heart, but I will stand next to Michelle and carry her through whatever happens next.
I will not disintegrate. Not when she needs me. Not when there’s still hope. Not if it takes all that I have to give.
I give Bailey a nod and push through the door. Michelle’s face is pale and drawn. Circles stand out under her closed eyes, so deep her cheekbones look like razors, her eyes sunken in pits. Thick bandages wrap her hands like oversized mittens. Her lips are blue. Her hair hangs limp beside her, thick with sweat and heavy with ash. A tube snakes its way down her throat. An IV pumps fluid through her veins.
“Michelle?”
Her eyes blink open and she stares numbly through me.
Bailey appears beside me. “She won’t be able to speak.” She moves to Michelle. “You doing okay? Better now that David’s here?”
Michelle’s eyebrows draw together. She nods and then frowns, shaking her head. She looks so weak, so broken, so scared, it lights a fire in my belly. Infuses steel in my spine. I will not run from her. I cannot run from her. She needs me and I’m here and that truth is bigger than the both of us.
Her gaze focuses and tears well in her eyes. Her hands go to her stomach and questions dance across her face.
I put a hand on her arm. “Our baby is currently fine.”
Her face crumbles, her strength devoured by smoke and exhaustion.
I put a finger to her lips. “In this moment, right here, right now, my baby, our baby is still inside your belly and that’s all we know.”
A sob chokes her and she closes her eyes.
“Look, darlin’. The future is never certain. All that matters is right now. And right now?” I raise my eyebrows and cup her cheek. “You’re still carrying our baby.”
She opens her eyes. Her focus grows stronger, her gaze locked on mine.
“That’s right.” Bailey touches her shoulder. “And if that baby is half as strong as you are, then there’s no doubt everything is going to be okay.”
Michelle tries to make a sound and chokes as the tube gags her. Panic surges across her face and I know what she wants to ask. The fear in her expression is too familiar. I felt the same way the day I found Maggie.
“Bailey told me that Claire’s still unconscious. They put a tube down her throat just like you and are doing x-rays. We’ll know more soon, but right now you have to listen to me. Right now, she’s still got that little heart thumping and oxygen coming into her lungs. Until we know anything different, that’s the only truth that matters. Claire is alive.”
Michelle sinks into the pillows, small and exhausted. I sit with her until she falls into a fitful sleep. The treacherous voice of anxiety won’t stop its insidious whispering, but as long as Michelle needs me, I’m not fucking listening.