Chapter Thirty-Four
At this point in my life I was becoming painfully aware of the many things I didn’t know. Some big, like how upset was Peter going to be when he found out that we would be forever linked by a child? Then there were small things, like why did these fancy hotel luncheons always serve dry chicken with lumpy sauce drizzled over it in various colors depending on the venue? Today’s could be described as a vomit-inducing yellow. I had to push my chair back as far as I could before I lost it. There were some things I did know, and one of those was when I grew up, I wanted to be like Sam.
Amid the hundreds of people in attendance and the unbelievable schmoozing, Sam laughed and listened. She had this uncanny ability to make people feel like they were the only person in the room. She graciously asked questions about everyone around her, never talking about herself, though people wanted to know everything they could about her. Then, when it was showtime she exuded confidence when she got up to introduce me, even though I knew she was nervous. She looked like a million bucks in a flirty red dress that Gelaire had probably picked out for her.
Sam walked up to the stage that was really a raised platform, smiling, no longer as unsure of herself as she had been last year at this time when I forced her into the limelight. I remembered debating about whether I should post her blog on Autumn Moone’s website. But I had watched her and Neil for months at Sunday dinners and I knew something was wrong. I could see her struggle and the defeat in her eyes, but I had no idea what to do or say. I wasn’t even sure if she liked me. At the time, I was afraid she felt like her mother, but did a better job of hiding it.
If I could go back, I would have said something to her. Even if it was only that I noticed her. I supposed that was one of the reasons I posted her blog. I wanted her to know she was noticed and how much I admired her, but I didn’t know how to tell her in person. Now, watching her, it was amazing to see how noticing a person changed them. And how she did the same for so many women around the world. She gave them a voice. She noticed them. And, wow, did love and self-care look good on her. She was going to look great in all the pictures being snapped, and on the several local news channels that were set up capturing it all. I was informed by the publicist I would be talking to them afterward. One more torturous event to add to the day.
Sam stood tall and proud at the podium. “It’s an honor to be here today to introduce one of my favorite people. Everywhere I go, lately, people ask me, ‘How is it possible that you didn’t know you were related to Autumn Moone?’ The answer is easy. I’m not related to Autumn Moone. Although she is amazing, and I must admit I’ve had to replace my icemaker because of her books—lots of ice-down-the-chest moments, am I right?”
The crowd laughed loud and deeply. Even I joined in.
“All joking aside, the woman I want to introduce today is someone you don’t know, but I’ve been lucky enough to call her not only sister, but friend. I could go on and on and wax poetic about all her accomplishments and awards, but you can read about those. Behind the exquisite words and stories and heart-pounding moments she has weaved for us all to experience, exists a beautiful old soul who is a force to be reckoned with. In my darkest moments, she gave me courage to see myself for who I was, not who the world or my ex-husband saw me for.”
I had to wipe my eyes furiously.
“It is a true gift to see somebody for who they are; it is a treasure if you can help them to see it too. In a few moments you will get to see and hear the treasure that is Delanie Decker, not the media’s tale of who Autumn Moone is.”
Sam was brilliant. I never loved her more.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure to introduce to you Delanie Decker.”
The crowd was on their feet clapping more for her than me, I was sure. It was my cue to stand. Easier said than done. Nausea was my constant companion and when I stood up, even as slow as it was, stars filled my eyes. I had to hold onto my chair for a few seconds until I could see properly to walk the short distance to the stage. For the first time today, I was glad we were sitting at the VIP table at the head of the room. Flashing lights began to fill my eyes from the hundreds of phones snapping pictures of me.
Sam waited for me by the podium and was quick to hug me when I reached her. “You okay? It looked like you had a moment down there,” she whispered in my ear.
“I think I’ll survive. Thank you for all the lies you just told about me,” I teased.
She laughed and squeezed me tighter. “You got this.”
I hoped she was right. I gripped the podium and looked out over the hundreds of eyes and faces staring back at me that filled the entire ballroom. I took shallow breaths, trying to stave off the feeling that I was in a tilt-a-whirl. I think I remembered to smile and thank Sam for the beautiful introduction. I even got as far as looking down at my notes on my phone that told me who else I should thank before I began. On the list were the conference organizers, my publisher, Joan, Peter. No, not Peter. Peter. Where was he? He was supposed to be here with me. We were supposed to be doing this all together.
The room started to spin. I gripped the podium tighter.
“I would also like to thank . . .”
First the stars came, then the blackness. I didn’t feel like I was falling, more like the floor was rising to meet me. I may have heard a scream or two, or perhaps that was the ringing in my ears. All I knew was when I came to, I was surrounded by a dozen people, some I recognized, others I couldn’t make out, but they were all worried about me.
I became fully cognizant when someone I didn’t know said, “Did you call the paramedics?”
I tried to sit up but thought the better of it when I became aware that my head wasn’t feeling all that great. “I don’t need an ambulance,” I muttered.
Joan, Fiona, Sam, and even Lucas hovered above me and were determined to keep me down.
I caught Joan’s eyes, as I knew she would be the most forceful of the bunch. “Please don’t let them call the paramedics. Help me stand up.”
Joan’s violet eyes debated. “Sorry, kid. You should at least get checked out.”
“You’re fired,” I moaned.
Everyone around us laughed.
Joan gently swiped my forehead. “That’s my girl. You still have some fight left in you.”
Sam knelt closer and whispered for my ears only, “We should call Peter.”
I shook my head no as best as I could and begged her with my eyes not to. I would not have him coming here because he felt sorry for me, or worse, have him reject me in this state.
She sighed in resignation.
“Lucas,” Joan snapped, “get all these people out of here.”
“What are the chances this wasn’t caught on camera?” I groaned.
Everyone around me chuckled.
“You’re going to be breaking news, kid,” Joan didn’t sugar coat it.
Ugh.
Sam, Joan, and Fiona formed a barrier around me while I heard all the commotion of everyone leaving. Lucas was heading the expulsion charge with hotel management. While it was just the four of us for a few moments I whispered, “Please not a word about . . . you know.”
They all nodded like they knew exactly what I spoke of. I was keeping my baby news out of the media for as long as I could. At the very least, I had to tell Peter first. I still wasn’t sure how to do that. A tear leaked down my cheek thinking about it.
Sam wiped it away. “Everything is going to be all right.”
I wanted to believe her, but then I heard the unmistakable signs that the paramedics had arrived. All I could wish for at this point was that someday this would make for terrific material in a future book. I was thinking a thriller or murder mystery. I wasn’t sure if I could bear to write another romance. I couldn’t even finish the one I was working on.
Humiliation ran deep when I saw a stretcher being wheeled toward me.
“If I’m placed on that, someone is going to die, and it won’t be me.”
The women around me laughed.
“I got you, kid.” Joan stood up, finally doing what I wanted her to do. Sam and Fiona stayed with me, each holding a hand and looking at me like I was a pitiable creature. Maybe I was. Who faints while giving a speech? I didn’t even want to think about how many times it had been tweeted, posted, chopped, sliced, diced, and regurgitated. Before I could think about it too much, two male paramedics took the place of Sam and Fiona.
The paramedics didn’t waste any time after introducing themselves and asking for my name. One immediately started checking my vitals while the other did an oral assessment.
“Has this ever happened before?”
“No.”
“Are you in pain anywhere?”
“No.” I may have lied. I knew how this would all turnout if I didn’t, and there was no way I was being transported to the hospital. So I had a bump on my head.
The paramedic gave me a scrutinizing look but continued. “Are you taking any medications?”
“No.”
“Do you have any current or previous medical conditions?”
I had to tell another lie but justified it as I didn’t consider pregnancy a medical condition.
“When was the last time you ate?”
“Dinner last night.” If you could call a few bites of salad dinner.
“Have there been any stressors in your life?”
“Where do I begin?”
“Do you have a preferred physician and hospital?”
“None.”
The paramedics laughed. They had probably heard that one before.
Though they were itching to get me on that stretcher and to a hospital to be checked out, I made them reconsider and signed their paperwork refusing treatment. They concluded that I mostly likely fainted due to stress and low blood sugar, as my vitals were fine and I was coherent and obstinate. They gave me a sheet about signs of a concussion and recommended I see my regular doctor when I got home.
Little did they know that home no longer existed.