If he’s dead.
Bile creeps up my throat, singeing the already burnt tissue from multiple trips to the bathroom before now. There’s nothing left in my stomach. There can’t be. Just the by-products of the agony I’m in.
I miss his smile, the way his laugh washes over me and makes me feel like everything is going to be okay. I need that. I need that now.
“Please be okay,” I whisper. “We need you. You promised me you’d come home. You promised me you wouldn’t lie.”
“Can I get you ladies some fruit?” Dr. Walker asks.
“I can’t eat anything,” Lindsay says behind me. Her voice is devoid of emotion. Like me, she’s completely spent in every way.
She stands, grabbing the armrest of the chair and steadying herself. “I just keep thinking I fought with him for the last few weeks about moving. I just pushed and pushed and . . .” She bends at the waist, her head in her hands. “He left for work mad at me.”
I spring to my feet and hug her, tears flowing down my cheeks. “He’s never mad at you. He loves you so much.”
“They should have some news for you soon.” Dr. Walker chooses his next words carefully. “I know you’re scared right now, ladies, and that’s understandable. But can I be honest with you?”
My head turns slowly until I’m facing him. I’m unable to smile, to nod, to tell him he can say whatever he wants because I’m numb.
“Your husband and brother are both strong men. I’ve known Ty since he was a boy and would come into my office and ask for the requisite sucker and sticker before his appointment, not after. And Jiggs . . .” He chuckles and looks away for a moment. “I’ve known your brother since he came to me his freshman year for a physical for football. He made a not-so-gentle comment about me asking him to look away and cough.”
The corner of my lip twitches. “I can only imagine.”
“I’m sure you can,” he says. “You know, in my area of expertise, we believe in the science of things. In cold, hard facts. But I’ve always believed, even in med school, that there was more to it than that. That people can feel other people’s thoughts and wishes. And after all that schooling and thirty years of practice, I still do.”
He kneels in front of me, glancing over my shoulder at Lindsay for a split second. “I know you’re scared. You have every right to be. But you need to be strong. For you,” he says, before tapping my belly, “for the baby. For your brother and husband and Cord . . . and for Lindsay.”
“But I’m not strong right now,” I whimper.
“You are stronger than you realize, sweetheart. I want you to dig deep and think about what I’ve said. Send your boys below some good vibes, let them know the world is praying for them and pulling for them.”
My brows pull together. “The world?”
“It’s all over the media, Elin. It’s breaking news on the major stations. They have this place locked down tight.”
“My God . . .” My head buries in my hands. “Will this make it harder for Blackwater to focus?”
“I think they’re actually getting some help from experts they wouldn’t have access to normally,” Dr. Walker says. “I think this is a good thing.” His face scrunches and he takes a deep breath. “But I think you need to prepare yourself in case this doesn’t end up the way we want it.”
“No . . .”
“Elin,” he says, his hand landing on my knee, “I’m not saying it will, but I don’t want you unprepared if bad news is delivered.”
“You think there’s a way to prepare for that?” My head buries in my hands before something pops in my mind. “Can you do me a favor?”
“Sure,” Dr. Walker says.
“Can you make sure someone is taking care of Yogi? It’s Cord’s dog and he’ll be pissed if we forget about his girl.”
I begin to cry again when a sound catches my attention. A knock raps on the door and it pushes open. I’m glad for the distraction, realizing it might save me from punching the doctor in the face.
Vernon is followed by Greta, Reed, and another man in a blue pinstriped suit that introduces himself to Lindsay and I as she sits beside me.
“Any news?” I ask as Dr. Walker turns to leave. I grab his hand, needing his support. He moves behind me—one hand on my shoulder and the other on Lindsay’s.
“Yes, actually.”
My heart lodges in my throat, my hand squeezed tightly by Lindsay as Reed busies himself pinning a map of some sort to the wall in front of us.
“This is a bird’s eye view of the mine,” Vernon says, motioning to the drawing. “The area in that circle is where the miners should be.”