“Lemon, honey, why are you breathinglike that?”
I leaned my head against the steering wheel. “I think the salad I had earlier was bad. My stomach is killing me.”
“Are you nauseous?”
“No. My muscles keep cramping. It’s been going on for a couple of hours now.”
Momma went silent, and that was okay. I could barely carry on a conversation anyway.
“What pregnancy symptoms have you had lately? Are you still tired?”
“No.”
“Nauseated, food aversions?”
“Nope.” Mushrooms sounded disgusting again.
Mushrooms sounded disgusting? Salad sounded good?
No.
Oh no.
"Oh sweetie." She said it at the same time I realized. “Clem, baby, listen to me and don’t panic. I think you might be having a miscarriage. I need you to check.”
Her words grew massive fists that curled around my heart and squeezed as hard as they could.No. No, please.I closed my eyes for a moment and then looked down. I didn’t even need to unzip my pants. Warm blood had leaked through my shorts and was staining the cloth on the bench seat of Daddy’s old truck. I’d been so distracted by my breaking heart that I hadn’t noticed.
I whimpered. “I-I think you’re right.”
“Listen, how far are you from a hospital?”
I took a moment to get my bearings. “St. Joseph’s is a few miles ahead.”
“Can you drive there, or do you want me to call for an ambulance?”
I shook my head even though she couldn’t see. “No, I can make it.” I didn’t know how I was paying for this. I’d just been dropped by Billy’s fancy insurance plan. My new coverage wassomething affordable, but it came with high deductibles and co-pays when it came to hospital stays. There was no way I could cover an expensive ambulance ride, especially if I was thinking of buying Mr. Greerly’s entire building and converting it into a larger gym.
“I’m so sorry I’m not there, baby girl. You need someone with you. Let me call Silas. Or Jenny at least.”
“No. They’re too far away and I don’t want them here anyway. I’ll be fine.”
“You’re not fine, Clementine.” She sounded as broken as I felt. “You need someone to hold your hand and be with you afterward. You’re not doing this alone.”
I wiped the tears off my lips, my hands a shaky mess. “I’ll call Peyton.”
“Pfft. Peyton is not?—”
“I don’t care who you call!” I didn’t mean to yell. I simply couldn’t handle any more. “Just don’t call the Duprees. Please. Anyone but them.”
“Okay. I’ll figure it out. You focus on you.”
“I’m sorry, Momma.” I meant for the yelling—but also for not being able to carry her future grandchild to term. I felt like I’d failed her. And myself.
“Don’t apologize. This isn’t your fault. Sometimes these things just happen. And Clem?”
“Hmm.”
“You’re not a party of one. You never have been. Too many people love you for that to be true. You will find happiness and love again. It will work out in the end. You know how I know?”
