Shattered & Mended (7 page)

Ten

~Allie~

Halle-motherfreakin-lujah! The day has come for me to leave this death-infested hospital and head home. I don’t have anything but the clothes Mom brought up yesterday, sweats and a tank. I’ve brushed my teeth, gently combed through my nappy hair, and I’m ready to go. I’m anxiously waiting on Mom to get here to take me home. I called Blake twice already to let him know I’ve been discharged, but he hasn’t answered. I’m sure he’s already been informed, but I just wanted to double-check. He would flip his shit if he came up, and I wasn’t here.

Just as I’m sliding on my flip-flops, Blake walks in. He’s in scrubs, a surgical hat, those blue bootie things that cover his shoes, and a mask hanging from the strings tied around his neck. “Hey, baby, you ready?” He walks over and bends down to kiss the top of my head.

“Hell. Yes. Mom should be here any minute. I called her a little over thirty minutes ago,” I tell him.

His smile fades. “Your mom? Why?” he quizzes.

“Because … I got discharged,” I shrug. He pulls the cap from his head and crumples it into the palm of his hand.

“Babe, I thought we agreed you were coming to my ... our house?”

“No, you voiced that you believed it would be best for me to stay at your house because you could afford an around-the-clock nurse, but I don’t need that,” I protest.

“You said you didn’t want to be anywhere near Wyatt, and we agreed you would stay with me, Allie. Dammit, you don’t need to be under any stress,” he argues.

I understand where he’s coming from, but I don’t want to be babysat. I just want to go home, climb into my bed, and forget the last week ever happened. I want to put in my ear buds, listen to some Ben Rector and Ron Pope, read a little, and forget. Plus, Blake spends most of his time at the hospital or catching up on sleep; I don’t want to feel like I’m intruding. Of course, he says his home is our home, but I still can’t get it out of my head that he only wants me there because he feels like Wyatt’s competition. No matter how many times I tell him he isn’t, Blake remains uneasy about Wyatt and me being under the same roof. 

“Blake?” He lifts his eyes to mine, but he doesn’t answer. “Come here,” I order, taking a fistful of his top and pulling him down to me. I lift my head and place the tip of my nose to his. “You listen to me, okay? I love you, and I love how concerned you are about the babies and me, but it’ll be fine. No, I don’t want to be near Wyatt; Mom and I’ve already discussed this. Wyatt is to stay out of my sight. He and I have unfinished business, and eventually, we’ll have to discuss—”

“Hell no, not anytime soon, and sure as hell not by yourselves,” he commands, jumping in and cutting me off. He pulls away from me and runs his fingers through his hair. He takes a few steps back, and I can see he’s frustrated, maybe even angry.

“Babe, tell me why you’re upset. Is it me?” He clasps his fingers behind his neck and stares to the ceiling.

“No, not you. I can’t stand that son-of-a-bitch. And after what he did to you last Friday, I want to rip out his throat,” he seethes. 

I stand up and walk to where he is. I pull his hands down away from his neck and wrap them around my waist. I rest the side of my face on his chest, and wrap my arms around his middle. “I know, B. And I’m sorry, I really am, but I want to be in the comfort of my own bed. My ass burns like jellyfish have been using it as their main food source. These beds are far from comfortable.” His hands drop low and rest on both ass cheeks, and he massages them gently. I pull my head back and look up to him. “Okay? You have to tell me it’s okay, or I’m not going to stop thinking that you’re mad at me.” 

“If it makes you comfortable, and you promise to follow your discharge instructions … fine,” he huffs. I rest my head back onto his chest and listen for the rapid thumping in his chest to slow.

I lean up to kiss him just as Mom walks through the door. “You ready, love?” She walks over and pushes Blake back, placing herself in his spot and hugs me tenderly, paying close attention to my sore ribs.

“Definitely,” I confirm.

“Blake, thanks for looking after my girl,” she acknowledges.

“Always,” he promises.

“I’ll be by once my shift ends. Since you won’t agree to stay with me, I’ll be at your house whenever I’m not here,” he announces. I agree and kiss him goodbye. 

Who in the hell would have ever thought a car ride could be so painful? Even the slightest bumps make me cringe in pain. Each bump we hit
, I feel my brain jar around, and my ribs beg for mercy. It’s only a forty-minute drive to my house from the hospital, but this trip feels like we’re on a full-day road trip. When Mom pulls into the driveway, I finally release the door handle I’ve been gripping the entire drive. She hops out and rushes over to my side to help me out. Before I take her extended hand, I sit back and focus on the breathing strategy Blake taught me; it gets oxygen to my lungs and eases the bone-splitting pain my ribs are experiencing. 

I step out of the car slowly and Mom helps me up to my room. She goes over to my bed and folds the covers back, but I head into the bathroom instead. I’m grimy and smell of death; I need a shower.

“Give me a second, and I’ll help you,” Mom calls.

“I’m fine, Mom. I’m bruised up, not paralyzed. I’m going to hop in the shower and wash away this gawd awful smell,” I gag. I don’t gag from my lingering smell; I gag as my eyes make contact with the trash can next to the vanity. It’s from the night of my accident when I came up here after the fight Wyatt and I had, and I expelled things I had no clue my stomach housed. 

Mom walks in just as I’m about to throw up. Quickly, she grabs the can and removes it from my sight. I go to the sink and turn on the cold water to splash on my face, willing my stomach to settle. “Crap, I forgot to check in here. You okay?” she asks, pulling my hair back away from my face and fanning the back of my neck, just as she did when I was pregnant with Lacy.

“I will be.” I close the toilet seat and sit down. Mom grabs a washcloth and runs it under the cold water, wrings it out, kneels in front of me, and places the cool cloth to my face.

“You could’ve told me. You know that, right?”

I know I could have told her, but I was in shock. Although
, I’m not sure why it shocked me so much. I know I let things between Blake and me get out of control. I can’t help but come undone at his touch.

I take her hand and place it on the side of my face. “Thank you. Thanks for accepting me despite my flaws, for always being there, even when it’s not your place. And even though I’m certain things with this pregnancy are different from last time, I’m still scared,” I confide. 

She pushes my hair back away from my forehead, “Oh, honey, I know.” She kisses my cheek before standing to turn on the shower. “I know you think you can do this on your own, but I promised both Blake and Dr. Dixon I would keep a close eye on you. You know I keep my promises, so undress and hop in. I made all that’s under your clothes, so don’t be shy,” she teases.

“Ugh. Mom, did you really have to go there? You start talking about makin’ me, and I get gross images of you and Dad,” I groan.

She laughs and pulls the curtain back. “Just get in.” I do as she instructs and get into the shower.

As I lather the shampoo into my hair
, I feel several places where my hair’s missing. “Holy hell! Mom, what the shit? Dr. Dixon said it wouldn’t be noticeable. Not noticeable, my ass,” I complain.

“They didn’t have a choice, love. It was you or your hair, and the hair had to go.” 

“I know, but damn, this much?”

“It’s not as bad as you think. You can style your hair over it or we can take you to the salon and get you a new cut,” she concludes.

Silently, I sulk in my sadness and finish washing up. I dry off and Mom helps me dress. I carefully slip into bed and grab my ear buds, ready to listen to some soft music and doze off. Mom interrupts me before I have chance. “I’m not so sure you should use those right now. The doctors said you might be sensitive to sound over the next few days or so,” she informs.

“I’m sure it’s fine.” She eyes me scornfully, enough to make me negotiate. “Okay! I’ll only use one of them and turn the volume down to almost nothing. Is that okay with you, momma bear?” 

“Fine. But I don’t want to hear you bellowing when you have a migraine that’s big as

Texas.”

I agree, and she finally leaves me be. Honestly, I don’t need a caretaker. I’m fine. My nausea is under control, thanks to the anti-nausea meds they prescribed, and I only get dizzy with quick movements, but I don’t know many people who don’t. My legs only get weak when I stand for long periods of time, and I know my body and when it’s had enough. I don’t want to be looked after or treated like a child.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Blake whispers. I open my eyes to darkness. I turn my head toward his voice and my lips brush against his.

“Hey, handsome,” I acknowledge.

“Mind if I climb in beside you?” he asks, making his way under the covers.

“Sure, but is my mom here?” I ask. Even though I’m already pregnant, my mother’s religious and doesn’t approve of us sleeping in the same bed, at least not under her roof. The bed shakes, and he chuckles silently. “I remember. She’s gone into work. She knows I’m here. We made a deal that, if you’re going to stay here, then while she’s away, I’d be here whenever I can. She figured there’s not much else we can do; you’re already pregnant. She just asked me not to sleep in your bed,” he explains, nodding to a sleeping bag on the floor.

“You’re sure she’s fine with you staying in my room?” I ask curiously, only because my mom has the tendency to overreact.

“Yeah. Only because she doesn’t want me and Wyatt getting into trouble.” Of course. I forgot about Wyatt being here. I asked Mom to talk with him about getting his own place, but she insists she can’t. He’s part of the family, so she says. Fuck him. He’s no family of mine.

Fucking pussy, always running away from confrontation and ridding himself of emotion in all the wrong ways, like screwing another woman. 

“Have you eaten today?” Blake asks. I replay my day and realize I haven’t eaten a single thing.

“No.” He jumps out of bed and slides his pants back on.

“Where are you going? I’m not hungry,” I assure him.

“You may not be, but the babies need nutrients and they get that from you. I’ll be back.” There’s no use in arguing with him because he thinks he knows everything, just as I do.   

Minutes later, Blake returns with soup and crackers. I’m not hungry, and it’s not my first choice, but I’ll eat it if it makes him happy. I reach for the bowl, but he pulls it away from me. “You have to take this first.” He holds his hand out
,
and in the center of his palm is a rocket
-
sized pill.

“What is that?” I ask, turning my nose up and wondering which end that big bastard goes into.

“It’s your prenatal. You have to take it. It’s important for both you and the babies.”

I know what it’s good for, but I don’t remember them being the size of torpedoes. “Give it here,” I sigh. I place the vitamin on my tongue and wash it down with an entire bottle of water. “There,” I pout.

“Open up. Let me see,” he insist
s
.

What the …? No. “You’re crazy! I’m not proving to you that I swallowed it, Blake. Now, give me the damn food and sit down.” I’m going to have a talk with Lucille and Blake. This shit’s going to end, and soon.

Eleven

~Wyatt~

Allie’s been home for two weeks, and we’ve yet to talk. Actually, we haven’t even seen each other. I caught a glimpse of her a few times when she came down to get something to drink in the middle of the night, but she walked right past me. I’ve bit my tongue until it bled, trying my damnedest not to talk to her. And it’s taken all my power not to throw Blake out her window the nights he’s stayed with her in her room. It should be me. It should be me lying next to her and taking care of her needs. On the bright side, she’s doing better. Her stance is more erect; her movements are faster, and her bruises are fading. I figured I’d try to talk with her today. Since I discovered Lucille’s working a double and Blake’s on call, there shouldn’t be any interruptions. 

After I hear her water shut off
,
I give her a few minutes to dress before I make my way up to her bedroom. I knock on her door several times, but she doesn’t invite me in. I twist the knob to see if it’s locked, but it isn’t. I crack the door and open it slowly. She’s sitting cross-legged in the floor with a photo album splayed open in front of her. She doesn’t look up to see that it’s me; she already knows. “You sure can’t take a hint, can you?” she mumbles, admiring the photos in front of her.

“I can take a hint, but I just refuse to.” She continues to stare at the photos, and as I sit on the floor next to her. When my eyes catch sight of what she’s looking at, my heart squeezes. There are some pictures of Allie with her round belly sticking out from under a hospital gown. She’s smiling, but it’s a heartbreaking smile. I look to her, but she continues to ignore my presence, so I break the silence. “What’s that you’re looking at?” I ask. Stupid question, Wyatt. You know what she’s looking at. This question could bite me in the ass, and if I know my butterfly like I know I do, it will.

“You have eyes. What does it look like?” she spits.

I smile, because I knew it was coming. Always such a feisty little fireball. She hears me cough my laugh and gives me a look that says ‘drop dead asshole’. “I know. I was just breaking the silence.”

“Don’t,” she argues.

“I can’t take the silence, Allie. It’s driving me insane. There’s so much I have to tell you, and I need you to hear me out. Stop shutting me out of your life, butterfly. I need you,” I say, reaching up and tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. She slaps my hand down and turns the page. My mouth drops, and my heart stops beating. The next set of pictures is of Allie lying on a table, arms stretched out to the side, tubes in her nose, and a blue sheer cap containing her hair. She’s looking into the camera with that same sad smile, but this time there are tears in her eyes. On the other side of the album, I see Allie sitting in a rocking chair, holding a baby with a head full of dark hair, and she has tubes coming from her nose. Allie’s staring into the baby’s face and she’s using her pinky finger to pull the baby’s bottom lip down.

“These were the best and worst days of my life. I thought when you left, my heart was completely damaged, but nothing compared to the damage left behind after placing Lacy in another woman’s arms—nothing,” she sniffs. I run my fingers through her hair gently and pretend that I don’t notice the missing patch. “Don’t try to console me, not now. Don’t pretend to care. It’s too late.” I pull my hand away and rest it on my knee. I don’t want to upset her. 

“That’s her, right? That’s my Lacy?”

“Yes and no. Yes, this is Lacy.” She points to my beautiful baby girl. “But no, she’s not yours. She doesn’t belong to you, or me.”

The fuck she doesn’t. She may not belong to her anymore, but she’s still mine. I didn’t agree to give her away. I almost choke on the words that are fighting to escape, but I can’t allow them to escape. She’s finally talking to me. She may be fueling my anger by telling me Lacy is no longer mine, but I don’t want her to shut me out, again. “She’s beautiful,” I attest.

“She is.” I see the tear that’s gliding down her cheek, but instead of wiping it away, I sit on my hands to keep myself from touching her. 

“She looks just like me,” I note.

“Yeah, a spitting image,” she agrees.

“What color are her eyes?”

“Blue, just like yours.”

Hair so dark it’s almost black, plump baby lips, and blue eyes make for the most beautiful baby girl ever created. She turns the page to another set of pictures, but this time
,
the baby has grown tremendously in size, and the tubes that covered her are gone. “She’s much bigger in this picture. She was still in the hospital?” By the size of Lacy
,
they should’ve left the hospital weeks, maybe even months, prior to these pictures.

“This is the last day I ever held her.” Her voice breaks as she begins to cry.

“How old is she there?” I ask, pointing to our baby girl.

“Almost three months.”

“What?” I yell. How does a mother, especially one with a heart of gold like Allie’s, care for a baby for months and then just hand her over?

“Don’t fucking yell at me! I’m having a hard enough time as it is,” she sobs.

“Tell me how. Tell me how to calm down, Allie. Not only did you drop the bomb on me that we created a life, which you so easily gave away, but you kept her for almost three months before handing her over? How?” 

“You think it was easy handing her over?”

“Yes, to me, that is exactly what it seems like. There is no way I could’ve held our precious girl in my arms and then hand her over for someone else to raise.” 

“Are you kidding me? She was in the hospital that long, asshole. She was born prematurely, she couldn’t breathe on her own, and she was underweight! I stayed with her every day. I nursed her once she was able to suck. I took care of her, dammit!
I
gave birth to her.
I
wanted her. You didn’t.
You
walked away from us.” Spit sprays from her mouth as she speaks through her teeth. “Why am I even explaining myself to you? You don’t deserve an explanation. You can sit here and put the blame on me, but she’s gone because of you,” she accuses. 

“How is that? I left, but you could’ve kept her, at least until I returned.”

“How was I supposed to know you were coming back, huh? You left us behind! You didn’t leave a letter. You didn’t call. Nothing. How was I supposed to take care of her? Tell me that, Mister Kick-her-while-she’s-down Cooper,” she demands.

Fuck. I don’t know, but she could’ve done something. “I’m not trying to kick you while you’re down, Allie. I’m just trying to understand. And maybe I’m coming off as a prick, but you could’ve done it. There’re shit loads of single mothers. No, it wouldn’t have been easy, but you could’ve managed. I mean, hell, did you at least know the family you handed her over to?” I ask hatefully. I’m trying to control my anger, but as usual, I spit out the words before evaluating them in my mind. She doesn’t respond. “Did you, Allie? Tell me everything you know.”!” I demand. Still nothing but a glare. 

“For all things fucking holy! Tell me something, anything that’ll help me get her back,” I plea.

“Glad to know you think so highly of me,” she huffs, her voice full of sarcasm. “She’s with a great family, and that’s all you need to know. You can’t go and rip someone’s daughter away from them after they’ve raised her for almost four years. Are you insane?” I’m beginning to think I am.

“Not yet, but I’m on my way there. Of course, I can’t rip her from their home, but I am going to fight to get back custody. Goddammit, Allie, I just don’t understand how you did it. I don’t know how anyone could do it.” Do I feel bad for the family I’m going after? You bet your ass I do, but she’s mine.

“If all you’re going to do is tear me apart and belittle me, get the hell out. I don’t need you or anyone else telling me how horrible a person I am; I already know. Every single time I close my eyes, I see her beautiful face. Those beautiful blue eyes haunt my dreams. And on top of all that, I feel guilty for having these babies; almost to the point of not wanting them. There!

You happy?”

“No. I’m not happy. Allie, the last thing I want to see is you hurting. I know I’m coming across as an insensitive dick, but I just want our daughter. I’m sorry; I didn’t realize all you went through. And I hate myself for leaving, but we all make mistakes, and you won’t ever let me forget it.” I walk over and help her off the floor. Once she’s standing
,
I wrap my arms around her neck and use caution when pulling her head into my chest. I kiss the top of her head softly. “With all that’s within me, I truly am sorry. Sorry for the way I left you and for the decisions you had to make on your own. No one should ever have to go through that,” I sympathize. As I hold her
,
I begin to think that she’s forgiven me, until I feel her wipe her snotty-ass nose down the middle of my shirt and push me away.

“You shouldn’t be in here. I still haven’t forgotten what you’ve done,” she sniffles.

“Can you at least give me a chance to explain?”

“Explain what? Excuse me if I don’t want to go through the details of what happened between you and Sophie. That’s something I wish I had never seen.”

“That’s just it. I need to know exactly what you saw. I don’t remember anything after our argument. Not a damn thing.” I say, hoping to convince her to give me a chance to explain what Dr. Ruben told me.

She walks to her door and opens it, silently telling me to leave.

“Allie, please. Just hear me out,” I beg.

“I will, I promise. Just not now. It’s still too fresh, and I need a few more days. If you can leave me alone for a few more days, I’ll hear what you have to say.” She nods her head in the direction of the hall, and I obey her request. I kiss her head once more before walking out of her room.

Before she shuts the door, I blurt out the last and most important question I have for her. “You never really answered my question. Did you know the family who adopted her? Can you at least tell me where to begin my search for our daughter?” I ask.

She huffs and rolls her eyes. “No, I didn’t know much about the family beside the fact they had been married for over twenty years and were unable to have kids of their own. All I know is that Mom said they were godly people, and she trusted they would take great care of her. If you want to know anything else, ask Mom.” She lowers her head as she closes the door.

I go back into Kyle’s room and fire up my laptop. In the search engine, I search for adoption agencies in and around the Jacksonville area, but only two results display. I take down their numbers and call them both. I tell them my situation, but they refuse to dish out any information. I have to have some rights, don’t I? I wasn’t even aware of Lacy’s existence, and I sure as hell didn’t sign over my rights. I was overseas serving our country, for Christ’s sake; surely that has to count for something.

I call Lucille and convince her to break her dinner date with Jack and meet me instead. I don’t tell her what it’s regarding, I just tell her it’s important, and I need her help. I know she said I needed to get all the information about Lacy’s adoption from Al, but Allie directed me back to Lucille. Someone’s going to give me the answers I deserve. If they’ll do it willingly or not depends on them, and I’m not against summoning either one of them to court. It’s my last resort, and I don’t want to do it, but I will.

As I enter the restaurant
,
Lucille greets me in the entryway. The hostess takes us to our seats and the waitress—a woman I’m familiar with—steps up to the booth with her pen and pad in hand, ready to take our orders. I duck my head behind the menu in an attempt to avoid this bat-shit crazy lady who stalked me during the short time I spent at NCSU.

“Oh, my gawd! Wyatt Cooper, is that you?” she asks, pulling the menu away from my face.

Fuuuuucck. I flash her a polite smile, nod, and snatch the menu back. “Wow. Where’ve you been? One day you were here and the next day you weren’t,” she giggles.

Fucking blondes. “Yup, something like that,” I sigh, fully annoyed by her presence.

“Well, come on, spill it. Where did you run off to?” Can’t she take the orders and bounce off on her merry little way? Why must she lure out my inner demon that I’m trying so hard to conceal? Lucille must notice my aggravation and muscle twitches, because she reaches over the table and places her hand on my forearm.

“I’m sorry if I come off a little harsh, but we’re here to get something to eat and have a conversation of our own. And if I’m not mistaken, you’re on the clock, yeah? So, he’ll have a water with lemons, and I’ll take a diet Coke.”

Carlee, I believe that’s her name, looks to me as if I’m going to protest Lucille’s orders. I nod curtly to confirm her order and give Lucille a silent thank you. Carlee clicks her pen, shoves it into her apron, and stomps off toward the kitchen. Lucille pulls her hand back to her side and opens her menu. “So, Wyatt, tell me what’s on your mind,” she urges.

I don’t respond to her because I see Carlee returning with our drinks, and all I can think about is how I hope she didn’t spit in either one of them. If I see anything out the norm floating in either one of our cups, I’ll flip the fuck out.

She sets our drinks down onto the table, and I pick them up to examine them. All clear. She takes our orders, and once I see she’s out of hearing distance, I begin to tell Lucille what I need from her. “Allie finally spoke to me today,” I inform her.