Butterfly Lane (16 page)

“It sounds a little nuts when you put it that way, but yes.”

She was eyeing him with obvious doubt, but she didn’t seem upset. “Okay.”

John started to relax. “I don’t want you to think I don’t appreciate all the little things as much as the big things. Because I do. But I want you to make sure you’re doing what you’re doing because you want to. Not because of some expectation you think I’ll have.”

“Okay.” She stood and rubbed her lower back. “I, um… I’ll be back. Excuse me.”

“You all right?”

“Yeah, just need the bathroom.”

John watched her go. He was a little uneasy, not being able to get a read on her feelings, but he hoped that when she came back out, they would talk more and things would be better.

But when she reappeared in the doorway, tears were streaming down her cheeks. Her face was so pale that the skin under her eyes looked bruised.

He jumped to his feet. “Zanny?”

“Something’s wrong.”

He didn’t see the blood until she held out her hands, and then, for several seconds, he stupidly thought she’d cut herself. When the implications sank in, his heart shattered, and he knew things weren’t going to be okay—not for a long, long time.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Z
anny didn’t remember John’s frantic, devastated actions after she came out of the bathroom. She didn’t remember him getting her into clean clothes or making the phone call to his mother that had Sarah rushing over from the library to stay with the boys. She remembered a little bit about the trip to the emergency room, but nothing of the exam that followed.

The first real memory she had was of waking up in the middle of the night, intense cramps tearing through her abdomen. She was in a hospital bed, and the only light in the room came from the bathroom. John was in a chair beside her.

He woke as she whimpered with pain. “Zanny?”

“Hurts.” She curled into a ball, ignoring the uncomfortable wetness between her thighs. Even though her thoughts were somewhat muddled, she knew what was going on. “Please make it stop hurting.” She wasn’t sure if she meant the physical or the mental pain.

John smoothed his hand over her hair and her back, then pressed the button for the nurse. “Okay, sweetheart. They’ll bring you something. Just try to breathe through it.”

She felt tears trickling down and into her hairline, but she didn’t try to stop them. If she let go of her knees to wipe them away, she would fly into a million pieces.

The nurse was there quickly, and whatever she gave Zanny acted almost immediately. As she drifted off, she felt John press a kiss to her temple and heard him whisper over and over again how sorry he was.

“Me, too…” she tried to say. “Me, too.”

When the next morning came, Zanny was numb. Her doctor came in early, and the exam that followed was an ordeal she never wanted to experience again. His face was grim as he finished.

“We’re going to need to go in, do a little procedure,” he told her and John. “You’ll be under sedation, so you won’t remember any of it, but we need to make sure we take care of you so that you don’t set up an infection.”

Zanny gripped John’s hand tightly, knowing the doctor meant a D&C. She’d read about the procedure some time ago and had been horrified by it then.

“Why’d this happen?” she managed to ask.

“This early in the pregnancy? Given that you didn’t have any problems with the boys, it was probably just one of those things. There isn’t any way to tell, not really. I’m sorry.”

“Is it because we’re separated?” She pulled her hand from John’s and let it fall to her side.

“Stress can cause issues, you know that, but I doubt it’s the cause of this loss. As much as I wish I had answers for you, sometimes there are no answers. Sometimes, it just isn’t meant to be. And I know you probably won’t take much comfort from this now, but I see nothing that tells me you couldn’t have another child down the line.” He patted her knee gently. “I’ll have the nurse come in and start getting you prepped.”

He closed the door behind him when he left. Silence filled the room, and Zanny tried to bring herself to look at John, but she couldn’t. The pain, the doubt, and the shame were just too strong.

“The boys?”

“With Mom and Dad at the farm.” She felt his hand come to rest lightly on her shoulder, then travel up and down her arm. “Zanny, I’m sorry.”

“I can’t do this. Not right now.” She closed her eyes and had to bite her lip against a scream of grief that threatened to rip her apart when she heard him sniffling wetly behind her.

“Okay. Just…I’m here.”

Zanny couldn’t answer. All she could do was focus on breathing in, breathing out, breathing in. Everything else was just too hard.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

J
ohn had never felt so utterly helpless in his life as he waited for Zanny to come back up from surgery. When a soft tap sounded on the door, he looked up. Owen stepped into the room.

“Hey.”

“Come on in.” His voice felt rusty.

“How is she?”

He didn’t know how to answer that, really. “They’re doing the procedure now. She should be back up here in a little while. Maybe an hour.”

Owen closed the door, then came over and sat on the cot beside him. “And how are you?”

All the stress and worry from the last week and a half, combined with his guilt and a heavy burden of grief, caught up with John. When he opened his mouth to answer, a choked sob escaped instead. Without a word, his father put his arms around him and held him while he cried.

After the storm passed, John excused himself and went to the bathroom. He took a few minutes to collect himself. Once he’d washed his face, he went back into the room. Owen was looking out the window over the parking lot, to the elementary school next door that Noah and Eli would attend in a few years’ time. John felt the weight of Owen’s gaze as his father assessed him, but he didn’t look in his direction.

“We’ll keep the boys at the farm until Zanny is ready for them to come home.”

“Thanks. The doctor said she might go home this evening if she isn’t running a temperature.”

“How’s she doing mentally?”

John shook his head. “Not good. She won’t look at me, won’t talk to me.”

“I imagine it hurts too much right now.” Owen shifted and moved his shoulders restlessly. “You probably don’t remember this, but after we had Emma and Ben, we lost a baby.”

John drew in a breath. “I didn’t know that. I’m sorry, Dad.”

“Thanks. Point is, Sarah and I have been where you are, and it takes time. Given everything else that’s been going on lately, well, I’m afraid things will probably get worse before they get better.”

“So am I. I feel like this is my fault. If I’d been there, I might have seen a warning sign or been able to do something to prevent this.”

“What did the doctor say?”

“That there’s nothing that could have been done. That it just happens this way sometimes.”

“I know how hard that is to take and to believe. But it’s true, and eventually, with any luck, you both will come to see that.”

“Did you?”

Owen touched his shoulder. “Eventually. Let’s go down the hall and get some coffee.”

John didn’t want to go far, in case they brought Zanny back up while he and Owen were gone. Plus, he wasn’t up to making small talk with anyone. They paced to the end of the hall and back a couple of times, keeping vigil.

“Emma called yesterday morning. She’s on her way home.”

That pulled John from his misery a little. He stopped at the end of the hall and leaned against the wall. “To visit?”

“Not from what she said, which wasn’t much. I guess she’s moving back.”

John frowned. “That’s pretty sudden.”

Owen agreed. “She said she’d explain everything when she gets here. She’s going to take her time, probably roll in around Thursday or Friday.”

“You’d said you thought something was going on. Looks like you were right.”

A nurse stepped out from behind the desk halfway down the hall and looked around. When she saw them, she gestured.

“She’s out of the OR, and things went very well. They’ll be bringing her up after she’s spent a few minutes in recovery, Mr. Campbell, so about twenty or thirty minutes.”

“Thanks.”

“In that case, why don’t we step outside and get some fresh air?” Owen suggested. “Just walk down to the parking lot and back? We can use the steps, so we can avoid everyone.”

“Fresh air sounds good.”

As the went down the steps, John tried to think, but he was so tired, he couldn’t pull his mind together to form thoughts. He figured that was probably a blessing, a defense mechanism of sorts, and that the thoughts would rush back in soon enough.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

L
ate Monday morning, Zanny’s doctor released her from the hospital. John took her straight home. He was solicitous and careful with her, anticipating her needs almost before Zanny knew she had them. That was fine with her. The less thinking she did, the better.

He pulled up under the carport and parked. “I’ll get the door unlocked and come back for you.”

“Okay.” She got her door open and was standing beside the car when he came back. She was sore, still cramping and bleeding, but her fever hadn’t returned.

“Wrap your arms around my shoulders.” He stooped down and, moving as though he thought she would break, he picked her up. “Good?”

“I’m fine.”

He carried her inside and stopped in the kitchen. “Where do you want to be?”

Zanny blinked. “I don’t know. The living room, I guess.”

“Yes, ma’am. Couch or chair?”

“Couch.”

As gently as he’d picked her up, he sat her down. Zanny felt him brush a kiss against her hair before he straightened. “I’ll get the bags. Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

For the rest of the day, she stayed on the couch, except when John made her get up, following doctors’ orders, and walk around a little. She felt completely disconnected from everything. Several times, she’d just tuned out while John was talking to her. She couldn’t even bring herself to apologize.

Mostly, she stared out the window at the front yard, trying to make sense of how her life had been turned upside down so completely in such a short amount of time.

Around four, John headed to the kitchen. “I’m going to get some food pulled together. Do you think you can eat?”

She hadn’t been able to choke down more than two bites at lunch. Seeing the worry on his face, she sighed. “I’ll try.”

He saw her seated comfortably at the small kitchen table, then turned to making sandwiches.

“Just make me half, if you don’t mind.”

“I can do that. Now, I won’t promise the same kind of results you can achieve with one hand tied behind your back, but it should be edible.” The words were light, but he couldn’t quite pull off a smile. Zanny knew he was hurting, and when he brought her plate to her, she reached for his hand.

“Thank you.” She kissed the back of his hand.

His fingers tightened around hers convulsively, but he didn’t say anything.

She managed to eat about half the food he’d given her, which surprised her. Once they were finished, she realized she was exhausted.

“I think I’m going to lay down. Are you going back to your parents’ tonight?”

John’s face closed down. “I wasn’t planning on it. Not as long as you need me here.”

She felt a little as though she’d kicked a puppy. “I didn’t mean… I’m glad you’re here.”

When he continued wiping down the already-clean counter without speaking, she cursed softly. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I think we’re both exhausted. I’ll bed down on the couch.”

Too weary to argue, Zanny nodded. She headed to the bathroom and changed into her nightgown, and when she came back out, he had the bed turned down.

“If you need anything, just call out.” He tucked her in and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. “I love you, Zan.”

He didn’t wait for her response, but left quietly, flipping the light switch off as he went. He left the door open about halfway, and Zanny followed the sound of his footsteps as he went into the kitchen.

She was sorely tempted to call him back and beg him to hold her and promise everything was going to be all right. She resisted the urge. Closing her eyes, she willed sleep to come. Part of her medicine pack was a muscle relaxer, and it was fast acting. She eagerly embraced the oblivion it promised, as that beat the hell out of the alternative.