Page 66 of Beau
She gained weight rapidly, which is a good thing, but there was almost a placental eruption. We managed to fix that and had to do some fancy footwork to keep the babies where they are safe and should be.” He passed a hand over his face.
“Like I said, she is a fighter, but the odds are so damned high. We are watching her closely for twenty-four hours and Blake, I am not a religious man, but you should pray.”
“Fortunately, I am, and I will be doing that.”
*****
Beau wandered the halls until he found himself inside the neat and cozy little chapel. And he was alone, which was fortunate, because he needed solitude. He felt dazed, as if he was outside of his body and carelessly observing what was happening.
Things have been great for the past three months. No sign of the bleeding nausea, she had gotten very big and teasingly told him that if she was any bigger, she would not be able to move an inch.
He had jokingly replied that he would get a winch to cart her around. They had become complacent. The lack of illness and absence of symptoms had lured them into believing that it was just a regular pregnancy. They had even started entertaining again and the sex- he dropped down on a padded seat in the front pew and buried his face into his hands. The sex had been greater than ever, more intense, more passionate.
Two nights ago, he had warned that they were going to kill each other. The nurseries were finished, and they had chosen names. Caleb Daniel and Cain Blake. Middle names after both their dads. The girl would be called Brianna Rose. Monique was true to her word and the nurseries had been decorated lavishly.
He would come home in the evenings to find her wandering from one to the other, folding tiny clothes and rearranging enormous amounts of stuffed toys.
“They are going to be smothered with all of those," he had commented as he stepped in behind her and wrapped his arms around her swollen belly.
“I should give some of them away.”
“You think?”
Now it looked like they would have to give all of them away. And he felt sick to his stomach. He had made his decision clear. Saving his wife was top priority. She would hate him for it, possibly wouldn’t forgive him for years, but he would rather have her upset with him and being alive, than dead. He could not lose her.
Tears blurred his vision, and he felt the anger overriding everything. Anger at her. He should have put his foot down. Heknew what they were getting into, and he should have stopped it. Why the hell couldn’t she have waited for them to have babies the normal way? What the hell was her hurry? And now he was on the brink of losing her.
“Like hell," he whispered hoarsely. Lifting his head, he stared at the crude cross and the wax figure representing the tortured Christ. “I am not going to apologize for swearing. I am pissed, do you hear me? I want my wife back. I want her here with me.
Please don’t take her. Damn you! I need her. Why give her to me and then take her away.” His face was upturned, and he was unaware that tears were streaming down his cheeks. “If you take her, you might as well take me too, because there is no life without her.”
*****
The next twenty-four hours felt like a lifetime. He had finally persuaded his dad to go home and take Cynthia with him. The poor woman had been trying to pry him from the waiting room without much success. Georgie’s sisters had gone home as well with the promise that he would call if there were any changes.
He was not budging. In case of anything, he wanted to be there with her. It had become a familiar scene. But this time, she did not look as if a strong wind would blow her away. Her stomach was swollen and there was meat on her bones. But she looked so still, so helpless and unlike his Georgie. But at least she was breathing.
Taking her hand in his, he studied the long and elegant fingers.
“You have piano fingers.”
She had looked at him as if he was addled.
“What do piano fingers look like?”
He had blushed a little at the question. “My mother played. And her fingers looked like yours.”
“I never knew that. Where is her piano?”
“At Dad’s place, in a room where he keeps some of her stuff. I couldn’t bear to look at anything to do with her for a long time.”
“I wish I had met her.”
“She would have loved you.” He smiled at that. “She would have admired your bluntness and the fact that you don’t put up with crap from me.”
“I am sure I would have loved her too. Because I love you and you look so much like her.”
Lifting her hand, he clasped them between his as if trying to infuse her with his life and warmth. He had spent half an hour in the chapel before coming into her room. A cot had been set up for him in the corner, but he was afraid to fall asleep, in case.