“Use the men’s,” he told them tautly.
“Huh?” the one with hair too black to be natural said. “What’re you doing here?”
He hustled them out and closed the door behind him. “Emergency,” he said. One of the bartenders frowned at him and left his post. “Hey, buddy,” he started to say, but Luke cut him off.
“Nine-one-one’s on the way. There’s an unconscious woman on the floor. My friend,” he added coldly, as the bartender tried to brush past him. “Man the door. I’ve got this,” he ordered, heading back inside.
“The hell you do. This is my brother’s bar!” He pushed Luke out of the way and stepped inside. One look and he spun on his heel, a little paler in the face. “Blood,” he said. Luke wanted to throttle him, but he pulled himself together and took a post at the door.
Luke returned to Andi. Emma was in the stall, talking on her cell phone, saying, “I don’t, Carter. I don’t know! The ambulance is on its way, that’s all I know!”
“Andi,” Luke whispered, getting on his knees. He ripped off his shirt and folded it under her head. His heart was beating so hard he felt like it was moving his skin.
It was mere minutes, though it felt like forever before the EMTs were bringing in their gurney. By this time a small crowd had gathered outside the restroom, and Luke could see a blur of faces trying to look inside when the door was open.
Emma came out of the stall, her makeup ruined. Her eyes were moist. She hiccupped and covered her mouth with her hands. “She’s pregnant?” she asked.
“Yes.” He hoped she still was, but it didn’t look good.
The EMTs carefully loaded her onto the collapsible gurney, then covered her and wheeled her out.
Emma put a hand out to stop him as he followed them out, and he looked back at her impatiently. “Yours?” she asked.
“I’ve known her less than a week. She said Greg’s the father.”
She was poleaxed. “Greg?”
He shook her off and followed after the EMTs. They told him they were going to Laurelton General and he headed for his truck. As he peeled out of Lacey’s parking lot he saw Ben and Emma’s faces in the crowd that had gathered outside to watch the ambulance pull away.
*
It was all a blur to Andi. She awoke at the hospital emergency room. “My baby,” she said, and then slipped away again. It was hours later that she found herself in a private room, an IV in her arm. The room was dimly lit and she sensed it was the middle of the night. No one had to tell her what had happened. She felt the loss already. Miserable, she put her face into her pillow and cried until blessed sleep, and whatever they were giving her, took her away again.
Sunday dawned with gray light, and even though bright sunlight slipped inside, she still felt gray. The baby was gone. A few days of bright joy and hope and now it was gone. She could feel herself distancing herself from the pain, just as she had after Greg’s death, only this was worse: deeper, longer, harder. A coma of sorts, Trini told her when Andi surfaced again on late Sunday afternoon.
“There you are,” Trini said with relief from the only chair in the room as Andi opened her eyes.
Andi looked around dully. She was in a hospital room with blue and green decor. A blank television stared down at her like an accusing eye. She could see her toes holding up the covers at the end of the bed.
Miscarriage ...
A wave of sorrow brought tears to her eyes and she closed her lids and fought back a hard cry that wanted to erupt from her soul. She’d barely gotten used to the idea that she was pregnant and now the baby was gone.
“Hey,” Trini said. She was beside Andi in an instant, grabbing her hand.
“The baby’s gone.”
“Um . . . yes, I think so,” Trini said soberly after a moment of indecision. “I’m sorry, Andi. I didn’t know you were pregnant.”
Andi kept her lips tightly closed, afraid if she said anymore she would break down completely.
Trini squeezed her hand. “I know you probably don’t want to hear it, but there’s something good that came out of this.”
Andi just stared blankly ahead.
“It proves you can get pregnant. The last I heard, you said you didn’t think it could happen, and it did. Doesn’t have to be Greg’s baby, you know.”
“I don’t want to . . . talk about it.”
“Just listen then. Soon as you’re better, head on down to the local sperm depository and pick yourself out a baby daddy. Pick one with really good genes. Or how about that guy you’ve been seeing? Luke?”
“No. It’s not . . . no . . .” She didn’t have the energy to explain.
“I’m just sayin’. He wouldn’t leave the hospital even when the staff told him to. He finally took a break about an hour ago to get some sleep, but I bet he’s back ASAP. He’s like . . . built for sex, and I hope you’ll tell me it’s just as good as it looks.”
“Stop,” she said weakly.
“I’m not saying right now, obviously. But later.”