Hidden Under Her Heart Page 29

  “Your mother finally took her medicine.” Her father smiled, as if he were a proud parent.

  Maryanne hugged her mother. Miscarriages before her birth? And she, herself, a preemie? What had her mother gone through? A thought nagged. I can’t end up like her. I need to be strong for Emma Faith. Panic spurred. How many days had gone by? She shifted her legs to the side of the bed.

  “Whoa, there,” her father said. “You can’t get up yet.”

  “I have to get out of here, or they’ll take my baby from me.” Her heart raced. It might be too late already.

  Her parents looked at each other, and her father pressed her into the bed. “You must rest some more. Answer the doctor’s questions correctly before they release you.”

  “You’re in a mental hospital, dearie.” Her mother patted her hand. “Just like me. Maybe we can be roommates. I have a doll for every baby except you and Ted. Arthur, Brenda, Cassie, Darrell… Oh, you did ‘E’ and ‘F,’ Emma Faith. Smart.”

  “Uh, we better let Mar rest for the doctor.” Dad took Mom’s hand and kissed her cheek.

  Maryanne’s mother leaned over her and ruffled her hair. “You can fool the doctors and bust us out of here. I’m getting a new doll for my birthday. I can’t think of a good ‘U’ name, can you?”

  Maryanne kissed her mother and held onto her for a long time. “Thanks for visiting. I love you.”

  ~~~

  Maryanne sat in her hospital room waiting for her father. She pushed the rice and peas around the gravy in her dinner plate. Fortunately, her head was clearing from the effects of the sedative. She took a deep draught of ice water.

  A nurse came in and set a couple of pills in a small paper cup. Maryanne pushed them aside. “I don’t need these anymore.”

  “Sorry, doctor’s orders. You wouldn’t want to be a noncompliant patient.” Her saccharine smile didn’t fool Maryanne.

  “Please, let me speak to the doctor. I want to be discharged.”

  “He’s gone for the evening. Take the medication. They’ll help you sleep.”

  Maryanne crossed her arms. “I don’t want to sleep. I want to see my baby.”

  The nurse patted the tray table. “If you cooperate and take the medicine, I’ll tell the doctor to stop by tomorrow.”

  “What if I got up and walked out? I’m not sick.”

  “You know you can’t. You’re under a 5150 involuntary psychiatric hold. If you refuse to cooperate, the psychiatrist can commit you for good. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

  Maryanne popped the pills in her mouth and held them to the side of her cheek. “How many days have I been here?”

  “Almost a week. Be a good girl and swallow the pills.”

  A week? Anything could have happened to Emma.

  “I have to get out of here. My baby.” Maryanne spit the pills onto the table.

  The wretched nurse looked over her glasses at Maryanne. “If you take the pills, I might let your visitors in. Tim and Sarah Tanaka, any interest in seeing them?”

  Maryanne swallowed the tablets and gritted her teeth to stem the rising tide of frustration. “Yes, I do, as a matter of fact.”

  Nurse Wretched walked out with her nose in the air. Maryanne balled up the paper cup and threw it at the door. Psych nurses, the lowest dregs from nursing school, were little more than jail wardens.

  A minute later, the door opened and Tim and Sarah stepped in. Sarah spread her arms. “Your father told us you’re talking again. What happened to you?”

  “I’m good. How’s Emma?” Maryanne leaned forward.

  Tim pulled up a chair for his wife and stood at the foot of her bed. “We’ve come from seeing Emma. She’s off the oscillatory ventilator. Thank God. There’s a new ventilator called neutrally adjusted that detects the infant’s breathing signals and gives assistance as needed. This helps her develop her breathing skills.”

  Maryanne hugged her pillow. “So, she’s doing well?”

  The Tanakas looked at each other and their mouths turned down.

  A trigger of nerves prickled Maryanne’s stomach. “Is there something else?”

  “She isn’t responding well to feeding,” Sarah said. “They wanted to give her human milk, but none was available. She might be intolerant to—”

  “It’s my fault.” Maryanne slapped the bed. “I haven’t been able to express milk. I’m so incompetent.”

  “No, no, no.” Sarah patted her hand. “I didn’t mean to imply anything. We’ll find a donor. Besides, you had a fever, and they have you on antibiotics from the near drowning, so you really can’t donate milk.”

  “It’s not donation. It’s for my own baby. What kind of mother am I?” Tears burst from Maryanne’s eyes, and she hugged her face to her knees. “I can’t do anything right.”

  “You’re putting too much on yourself,” Sarah said. “Let us worry about Emma and you concentrate on getting well.”

  “Emma is my daughter,” Maryanne blubbered. “I can’t not worry about her.”

  Tim stood behind Sarah with his hands on her shoulders. “Wait. You agreed to the adoption.”

  “I’m sorry, I really am.” Maryanne’s voice trembled. “I-I’ll pay you back. Every penny.”

  Sarah clamped Maryanne’s forearm. “You don’t have to. We want you to be a part of Emma’s life. Worry and everything.”

  “But I don’t want to give her up anymore.” The words tumbled from Maryanne’s mouth. “I love her.”

  “Yes,” Tim agreed, “and so do we. But you must do what’s best for her. Emma’s going to require specialized medical care. She could have vision and hearing problems, maybe even mental retardation or cerebral palsy. She could need round the clock medical care.”

  Maryanne propped herself up with the tray table. “I’m a nurse. I can take care of her.”

  “But, you’ll be a single parent,” Sarah said. “You won’t have insurance if you quit your job to take care of her.”

  “We can hire you to be Emma’s nurse,” Tim quickly added. “It’ll all work out.”

  “I don’t think I can just be a nurse. I want to be her mother.” Maryanne grabbed a tissue and dabbed her eyes. “I’ll pay you back all my expenses. My dad will help. I’m sure he would.”

  Sarah’s chair scraped the floor, and she turned toward the door. Tim draped Sarah’s jacket over her shoulder and came back to Maryanne’s side.

  “You have time to think it over.” Tim bent close to her and spoke in a low voice. “I know you’ve had a lot happen to you with Lucas leaving. But you have to consider Emma’s welfare over your own desires.”

  In other words, you’re a selfish loser and unfit to be a mother. He gave her a stern look and ushered Sarah from the room.

  ~~~

  Dr. Horner, the psychiatrist, tapped a pencil over his lips and stared at Maryanne. It didn’t help that his round wire-rimmed glasses, bushy eyebrows and hooked nose made him resemble a great horned owl.

  Maryanne sat as still and calmly as she could. She breathed evenly. She could do this. Prove that she was a capable mother. No more falling apart, depending on anyone, least of all Lucas.

  “Tell me about your mother.” Dr. Horner twirled the pencil in his ear.

  “She’s fine.”

  “How do you feel about her?” He tore off a sheet from his notepad and wrote Maryanne’s name on it.

  “I understand her now.”

  “In what way?”

  Maryanne dragged her teeth over her lower lip. “I can feel her pain. I didn’t know she had all those miscarriages or that I was premature. While I was growing up, she put on a veneer of normality, but she was overprotective. I just wanted to get away from her. But now that I’m a mother, I finally understand.”

  “Do you think it’s healthy to be overprotective?”

  “No, it’s the insecurity of the parent manifesting on the child.” Maryanne had studied clinical psychology for her graduate school entrance exams.

  “Good answer. How do
you feel about your daughter?”

  Warmth percolated Maryanne’s heart. “I love her to pieces. She’s so small and vulnerable, and I do want to protect her. But someday, she’ll have a mind of her own. I want to be the best parent I can for her.”

  “Sounds good.” The doctor scribbled a few words on the paper. “I understand there’s a problem with her paternity. Do you know who the birth father is and do you plan on having him be involved in the child’s life?”

  “That’s an interesting question.” Maryanne kept her composure. “I suppose the answer will come out if the state pursues the rape charges. However, I have no idea who the culprit could be. Fortunately, California is a state where rapists are denied paternity rights.”

  “In other words you do not plan on sharing your daughter with her birth father.”

  “No, under the circumstances, I don’t see a reason to.” She swallowed discreetly. She’d pretend this was a case study. Dr. Horner would see how normal she was and discharge her.

  “How about the fellow who lied and said he was the father? The one who skipped town. Was he the reason you cut your wrists?” Dr. Horner leaned forward, looking eager to catch her breaking down.

  “My wrist cutting was a cry for help. Nothing more.” Maryanne folded her hands on her lap and maintained eye contact with the unblinking owl eyes. Inside, her heart clenched and her stomach tightened, but she held still. The medications took the edge off of Lucas’ betrayal. At least something worked in her favor.

  “Did you receive the help you needed?” The doctor chewed on the pencil.

  “Why yes, I’ve reconciled with my parents, and they are ready to give me every assistance I need for my daughter’s sake.” Perhaps she overstated, but Daddy dearest saw dollar bills with his latest lawsuit against the hospital for leaving razors in the residents’ call room.

  Dr. Horner scribbled on his prescription pad. “I see no reason to hold you any longer. Next time you want to cry for help, do me a favor and call your parents.”

  He tore the prescription and handed it to her. “Anti-depressants. Take care of yourself.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.” Maryanne smiled with her mouth closed. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

  She was free to go. But where? She didn’t want to go back to Sacramento with her parents, but she could no longer stay with the Tanakas. A rumbling pain ground her gut. She had been such a jerk, taking advantage of their kindness. Could it be simple selfishness? Wanting someone to love her? Someone all to herself? Emma would be better off with a stable and loving family, one equipped for a special needs child. Maryanne wiped her eyes and swallowed the swelling lump in her throat. In a way, losing Lucas had made her stronger. She’d channel the pain into caring for Emma Faith. Mother and daughter, there was no stronger bond.

  Chapter 37

  “Thank you.” Maryanne took the glass pumpkin from Sandra and moved to close the door of her hotel room.

  “Have a nice life.” Sandra waved, looking supremely satisfied with her role of returnee of meaningless trinkets.

  “You too.” Maryanne shut the door and pressed her back against it. She hefted the pumpkin against her palm. If Lucas were around, she’d bean him. He was no different than any of the other men in her past. Sure, he talked a better game, appeared like he cared. But when things got tough, he ran. She set the pumpkin on the table and pulled our her new cell phone. Her father had forwarded her living expenses and bought her a new designer wardrobe, including a Hermes handbag.

  Once Emma Faith was out of the hospital, she’d move back home and transfer to the K-care in Sacramento. Her aunt, a retired nurse, offered to babysit. Score one for the Torres family. They closed ranks when one of theirs was in need. Unlike Lucas, the two-faced loser. As for her past abortion? Plenty of women had them. It was a woman’s right to choose. Her father was right. Nothing to feel guilty about. At least he accepted it, and even the Tanakas gave her no grief about it. Pffuh. Only stick-in-the mud Lucas Knight, the savior of the unborn. Idiot.

  She’d text him and let him know she didn’t need him. “I’m doing great. Emma Faith should be out of the hospital next week.”

  Not that she expected a response. No, she’d show him she was moving on, being a mother, living her own life. She twirled the pumpkin on the table. See? It didn’t hurt at all to look at it. Devoid of emotions, just a decoration. The anti-depressants made her calm and strong. She could take on the world. Bring it on, Lucas. You can’t hurt me anymore.

  Her phone buzzed with a message from Lucas. “Glad to hear.”

  “I’m happy you’re back home reconnecting with your parents.” She texted back.

  “Yes, me too.”

  “My mom and dad visited me and the baby. I have everything I need.”

  “Same here.”

  What’s wrong with him? Can’t he text more than a few words? Infuriating prick.

  Maryanne’s fingers danced over the virtual keyboard. “Sandra brought the pumpkin. I’m really glad to get it back.”

  “Good.”

  Why was he so cold to her? Maybe she had only been a project for him. Chalk another baby on the headboard of his crib. Saved another one from the abortionist. So stupid of her to think Sandra exaggerated.

  “Any other pregnant women to save?”

  “No, I’m done.”

  So his job was finished. She supposed God gave him another gold star. Emma Faith meant nothing but to even the score. Maryanne’s lower lip trembled, and she ground her heel into the plush carpet. She’d make sure she never let him near her baby again. She stared at the cell phone screen as tears misted her eyes. He didn’t care about her nor the baby. She set the phone down. It buzzed with an incoming call from a local number unknown to her. Maybe Lucas had bought a prepaid before leaving.

  She waited three rings, not wanting to seem eager. “Hello?”

  “Miss Torres?” The voice sounded businesslike. “It’s Gayle. We need you at the hospital.”

  “Is something wrong?” Her heart jolted.

  “It’s better if you come immediately.”

  “No, no, don’t tell me she’s dead.” A wail erupted from the depths of her belly. “Please.”

  “She’s had a setback. Just come.” Gayle’s voice was subdued, like that of an undertaker.

  Maryanne threw her phone in her purse and grabbed her car keys. Everything had been going so well. Emma had been feeding off donor milk, had even gained a few ounces. She ran downstairs to the parking garage. Her phone jingled with an incoming text message, but she ignored it.

  ~~~

  Lucas waited for Maryanne to reply. What did she want him to say? That he regretted his cowardly actions? Wished he could be a better man? He blew out a deep breath and texted. “Forgive me.”

  There was no return message. He swallowed a bitter lump and rubbed his beard. There was one last thing he needed to do. He entered Daria’s phone number.

  She picked up on the third ring. “Well, hello. What a surprise. I heard you’re at your parents’ house.”

  “Yep, can I see you?”

  “Lucas, you never change.” She laughed. “What about asking me how I’m doing?”

  Her voice made him smile. She seemed happy and content.

  “Okay, how are you?”

  “I’m fine, and you?”

  He shrugged and shut his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Not good. I need some advice.”

  “Oh? And you think I can help?” She clucked her tongue. “That’s a change. Where do you want to meet?”

  “How about the Mean Bean?”

  “You mean that hippy coffee shop on Central? What a dive.”

  “It has atmosphere.”

  She hummed. “I don’t know. I can’t think of why you’d want to talk to me.”

  “I want to ask your forgiveness.”

  There was silence on the line. Lucas stretched and paced across the room, the wooden floorboards creaking with each step. “Daria? You
still there?”

  “I’ll see you there, half an hour?” Her voice sounded strained.

  “Yes, sounds good.” He hung up and checked his text messages. Nothing. He reread Maryanne’s messages. Emma was going home. He could have been there to put her in the car seat, carry her through the parking garage, and tuck her into her crib. But Maryanne had always made it clear she didn’t want to share her baby with him. He pulled on his boots and headed out into the cold, slushy weather.

  Daria was waiting at a corner table near the pot-bellied stove. Her baby bump stretched her sweater dress, making her appear soft and feminine. He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Thanks for coming.”

  She ordered decaffeinated cappuccino, and he ordered a hot chai with cinnamon and cream. It was almost like old times, except he didn’t hold her hand. Her dark brown eyes glinted warmly, reflecting the light from the stove.

  She smiled. “It’s good to see you again.”

  He scratched his beard and blew the steam off the top of his chai. “You look very happy.”

  “I am.” She rested her hand on her abdomen. “I’m going to be a mother soon. But you don’t seem to be doing well. I heard you quit triathlon.”

  “Reevaluating my life. I’ve made some serious mistakes.”

  She added sugar and stirred her coffee. “Don’t we all.”

  “Yes.” He stared at the cross resting above her cleavage. “I never asked you to forgive me for killing your brother.”

  She inhaled sharply. “It was self defense. Rico was beating the crap out of you.”

  He took her hand. It was trembling. “I hurt you and your family. I took his life.”

  Her other hand fisted, and she lightly tapped the table. “You broke my heart. When Rico died, I knew we could never be together again. He always protected me, fought my battles. I loved him, and I loved you. There’s a part of me that will never live again.”

  He cupped his other hand over hers and rubbed it. “I’m so sorry. I should have taken the beating. I often wished I had died instead of him.”

  “That’s an awful thought. Why would it have to be one or the other?” A tear slid down her face, but she made no attempt to wipe it. “You did what you had to do.”