Hugo glances at me. "I know what I said back there. I heard it. I didn't mean to presume, I was beside myself."
He still doesn't get it, and I can't speak the words I want to say. So I point at my belly, then at him, and I nod.
He points back at his chest, a grin better than a sunrise splitting his face. "My baby?"
I nod again, vigorously this time. "Yours," I manage.
"My baby," he says again, eyes flickering over me. "My girls."
Chapter 48
Mallory
Dr. Connolly was waitingbehind the front desk when we walked in. The police called ahead and told her what happened at Summerhill.
"Baby girl looks great," she says, running the wand over my belly. The sound of Peanut's fluttering heartbeat fills the room. "Healthy. Heartbeat is perfect." She takes the wand away, and the sound in the room ceases. I wish I could listen to it all the time, a background to my day. Like white noise. I wipe the gel from my skin with the paper towels she has given me.
"No kicking," I choke out, sounding like I've sat beside a campfire while chain smoking.
"She'll start up again soon," Dr. Connolly assures me. "What I'd like to know is how you're doing?"
"I'm ok." The tears falling down my face say otherwise.
She frowns. "How could you possibly be ok afterwhat you went through today?" Gently she prods my throat, my vocal cords. I wince.
"Rest and hydration," she says, "but I'm not a general practitioner, so please, if you're feeling anything you're concerned about, don't hesitate to call Dr. Murray. He makes house calls."
I nod, while Hugo thanks her.
The office staff stares at us when we leave. So do the people in the waiting room. Could news have made it out and around Olive Township that quickly?
Hugo makes a stop at Sweet Nothings for a chamomile tea with honey.
Sonya calls and says the police are having a special team come out to clean up the kitchen. "You can stay here tonight," she offers.
Hugo agrees, and reminds his mom he has to take me to the police station.
"You ready?" he asks, a hand on my thigh.
Blowing across the top of the tea, I whisper, "I'll do my best."
My hand hurts from writing.It's hard to speak more than a few words at a time, almost impossible, so they brought me a pencil and paper.
I've done my best, writing out everything I can remember. There are some holes in my memory, smallpieces of what happened I can't recall in sequential order. Some things I know aren't verbatim.
I try to tell them this, and they assure me it'll come back over time. "Your brain is still protecting itself," Detective Towles says.
I also write down everything that happened at the Olive Inn, and send the photos of me sleeping to Detective Towles. I have no idea if it's connected to Liane, but they should know about it.
"Why didn't you tell me about this when it happened?" he asks, clearly unhappy. Hugo explains my reasoning, and the detective makes it clear he's not in agreement. "I'll look into it," he says gruffly.
I point at the detective, then at Hugo, raising both hands as if to askHow?
"I'll tell you everything," Hugo promises me. "For now, I'd love to take you home."
Sonya has homemade chicken noodle soup simmering on the stove when we walk in. Hugo tells her he's going to his house to pick up some of our things. Sonya takes over, caring for me in a way only a mother can. She sets me up on the couch in the living room, turns on her favorite cooking show. She brings me ice water, heats another cup of tea, and asks me what else I need.
"I'm fine," I whisper.
