I hung up the phone, the sound of Lucas’ breathing still harsh in my ears. I reigned in my emotions, doing my best not to get upset. Getting worked up was the last thing I needed. Not after what I’d been through the last couple of weeks. Being diagnosed with preeclampsia hadn’t been as easy to control as I’d thought.

My regular visits to the doctor for monitoring, quitting my job at Walmart, getting as much rest as possible—I’d thought it was working until I’d blacked out from a seizure two weeks ago. Thank God it had been mild and didn’t cause much damage. I’d not been discharged from the hospital since then.

Using my better judgment, I’d decided to call Lucas today, but although he’d accepted the call, he hadn’t said anything. I knew he was there, though. I knew it as much as I knew I had been wrong to keep my pregnancy from him. I had struggled through my third trimester, not financially but with my health. Even my parents, who had called a temporary truce so they could both be with me, were not enough and I knew I needed him.

I was running scared. The seizure had frightened me and now, I faced the possibility that I might not survive this pregnancy. The doctors who stopped by to check on me often never made my condition seem fatal. They were friendly and pleasant, but their fetal monitoring and their insistence that they would take the baby preterm was all the information I needed.

So far, I’d been stubborn, wanting to achieve as many weeks as possible. I knew the chance of my baby surviving preterm labor at this stage of thirty-five weeks was very high. The doctor had explained that to me but I’d insisted. I couldn’t explain it enough for anyone to understand. My mother had pleaded with me to allow the doctors to take the baby. My dad had too. Both had stood as a united front, thinking they could persuade me to follow the doctor’s orders. I didn’t know how to explain to them I didn’t feel it was the right time for them to take the baby.

A three per cent chance existed of a woman getting eclampsia and yet there I was. If there was any chance my baby might develop difficulties because of a preemie birth, then I would wait. In the hospital these past two weeks, I’d done the darnedest thing and joined an online baby support group. I’d read so many stories, the majority of them positive, but then there were the triggers of babies who should have survived and didn’t. Before my pregnancy, I had no idea of the stress women went through giving birth—the anxiety, the heart swollen with love for a life she’d not met yet except for a kick of a foot here or a there.

“Are you okay, dear?”

I was wrenched from my thoughts by my dad’s voice as he walked into the hospital room. He looked tired and drained. I kept telling him and my mom they didn’t have to visit every day but they did anyway, taking turns like I was a child under vigil.

“As okay as I can be,” I answered, giving him a reassuring smile. My back ached and the baby sat awkwardly, bulging to one side of my stomach, but we were both alive and I was thankful for that.

“Do you need anything before I go?” he asked.

I shook my head. “I’ll be fine. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He nodded but instead of leaving, he approached the bed and enveloped me in a hug that nearly set off the waterworks. With an affectionate pat on my back, he left.

I sank back against the pillows when he left. Briefly, I contemplated calling Lucas back and this time, saying everything I had to say about the baby, why I lied, and how I felt about him. With a sigh, I placed the phone on the small bedside table and started flipping through the television stations. I stopped at the games channel and got carefully out of bed, moving slowly toward the private bathroom. I’d found if I moved slowly I didn’t get dizzy.

I took more than twice the amount of time I usually did to use the bathroom. My movements were sluggish, a combination of the medication I was on, the IV stand I had to drag along with me, and my bulging stomach which was stretched tight. Getting up from the toilet was an effort. Dizziness took hold of me and I closed my eyes, concentrating on my breathing until the wave passed.

After washing my hands, I started the slow trek across the room to the bed. I was almost there when a nurse walked in, followed by Lucas. I breathed a sigh of relief that I was close to the bed and able to pull myself up onto it amidst my shock. He was here. He’d come. But half an hour had barely passed since I called him. He couldn’t have gotten here that quickly. Unless he’d already been here or on his way.

“Miss Hoskins,” the nurse chided, hurrying over, and helped me to get my legs up on the bed. “You shouldn’t be out of bed. You had me worried when Mr. Caine reported you were missing.”

“I had to use the bathroom,” I said softly, averting my gaze from Mr. Caine.

“Please, Miss Hoskins, if you’d like assistance to use the bathroom, buzz one of the nurses. If you should have a seizure or a fainting spell on your way to the bathroom, you may end up with a concussion without anyone here knowing what’s wrong.”

“Okay, I will,” I replied meekly as she fussed at the pillows. I’d always pictured hospitals as a place where the doctors and nurses were eager to get rid of you and only attended your needs when urgent. My experience there was different. Maybe it was my condition, but they were attentive, concerned, and accommodating.

The nurse left with a warning I should use the buzzer the next time I needed assistance. Then I was left with Lucas still standing there, having not said a word up until now. I clutched the bedsheet about my waist until my knuckles were white.

“Why?”

I looked up at him then and saw the confusion on his face, but his question wasn’t clear. Why what? Why had I gotten pregnant? Why didn’t I tell him? Why was I in the hospital?

I shook my head and licked my lips nervously. “Why what?”

“Just answer whatever you think I’m asking you.” His voice was quiet with an emotion I couldn’t read. Was it anger?

“I didn’t tell you,” I started, “because I was afraid. Afraid of your reaction. Lucas, more than once, you’ve told me how a baby would ruin our lives. You’ve asked me to take the emergency conceptive pills twice. That made your position on the matter clear.”

“And did you?”

“Did I what?” I knew what he was asking but I wanted him to say it out loud.

“Did you…” He started to raise his voice before he reigned in his temper. “Did you take the pills like I asked you to or was this a ploy to deliberately get pregnant?”

“This is exactly why I didn’t tell you,” I pointed out tiredly. “I knew the first thing you would think is that I did this deliberately. I swear to you, Lucas, I didn’t get pregnant on purpose, but it was my fault. I took the pills too late.”

I was getting worked up and out of breath so I leaned back against the pillows and closed my eyes a bit to concentrate on my breathing again.

“Debra, are you okay?” he asked and I opened my eyes to find he’d approached the bed and peered at me with concern.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” he said gently. “Why won’t you allow the doctors to take the baby?”

Tears filled my eyes and I answered softly. “Because I didn’t want to have the baby without you.”

“Debra.” He reached for my hand which trembled in his. “I wish you’d told me. I waited for you for months to call and tell me the truth but you never did.”

“You knew?” I gasped. “But how?”

“Someone on campus realized you were pregnant and remembered your connection to me.”

I hung my head, staring at our hands. “I’m sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing by keeping it from you. My biggest fear was you thinking I did this to get your money.”

“The thought crossed my mind,” he admitted. “In fact, when you called me, I was already on my way here. I had to find out from you what you were thinking when you chose to hide this from me.”

I didn’t know how to respond so I didn’t say anything. His thumb rubbed against the back of my hand.

“Do you love me, Debra? Did you love me any at all?”

“Of course I did!” I cried, not waiting a heartbeat to respond. “I do love you. I didn’t want things to end this way. I wasn’t ready for a baby, as much as you aren’t, but it happened and I love both of you.”

“Will you let take them baby then?” he asked urgently. “You know at thirty-five weeks the baby should be fine.”

“I will now,” I replied.

“Good,” he said softly. “Because I can’t lose you, Debra.”

Joy exploded through me like fireworks on July the fourth. “You mean I haven’t lost you with all the lies I told you?”

He frowned at me hard. “When I told you I loved you before, I meant every word,” he said passionately, squeezing my hand. “I tried everything I could think of to get you out my head but I couldn’t. I love you more than you can imagine. And when your mother told me why you were here, the fear I felt for you outweighed the hurt.”

I began to cry, sobs making my body shudder. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Lucas.”

He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled me into his arms. I huddled into him, placing my head on his chest, and felt truly comforted for the first time since learning I was pregnant. The burden of the secrecy melted from me, freeing me of its unsurmountable weight.

“Shhh, don’t cry.” He kissed my forehead. “We’ll get through this and put it all behind us.”

“There’s one thing, Lucas.” I sighed against him. “Should-should anything happen to me, I want you to promise me you’ll take care of our baby, that you’ll love him.”

His body went rigid against mine. “Debra, don’t—”

I eased out his arms and took his face between my hands, feeling the roughness of his five o’ clock shadow. “Don’t think about it. Just promise me.”

His eyes were pained as he nodded. “You’re going to be fine,” he affirmed. “Do you want to move to a better hospital?”

I shook my head and smiled at him. “I’m fine here because you’re with me.”

I kissed his nose and his forehead before taking his lips in a sweet kiss. His lips covered mine in a familiar kiss I’d missed. And I knew this was what my body had waited for, holding on to make it right with him. As the darkness shrouded my vision, I clutched his arms, trying to stay alert, but my body shook violently against his until I could no longer feel him save for the beating of my heart.