Playing For Keeps Part 8

He'd tried giving her s.p.a.ce, but it wasn't helping.

Her going back to work this soon? Not going to help.

"You sure that's a good idea?"

She blinked, giving him a puzzled look. "I have to go back to work at some point, Jake. I still have a house payment to make every month. Groceries. Bills."

"I can help with that." He made no mention of the fact that just a few weeks ago they'd been planning on him moving in. The one time he'd mentioned it since they lost the baby, she'd retreated even farther away. "Take a few more weeks."

Dana just shook her head. "There's no reason-"

"Don't. Don't give me that," he snapped. "d.a.m.n it, I know what you do in your job. You're going to be seeing women with what you just...no, what we just lost. Every time a new baby has come into the office over the past two weeks, it's taken everything I have just to get through the d.a.m.n visit. And you want to tell me you can handle it?"

c.o.c.king a brow, she said, "That's my job."

But her voice shook-just a little.

He didn't know why, but he pushed it. "And when you go through the first delivery next week? When you hold some woman's baby in your hands, hear her cry, are you going to handle that...because it's your job?"

"What else am I supposed to do, d.a.m.n it?" Dana snapped. Her voice cracked and for the first time in weeks, he saw a glitter of emotion there.

Something...

"You're supposed to let yourself grieve." He closed the distance between them and when she would have evaded him, he wouldn't let her. Wrapping an arm around her narrow waist, he pulled her against him and fisted his free hand in her hair, forcing her to look at him. "Grieve...cry, d.a.m.n it. Stop shutting yourself off and just let yourself feel. Let me...let me help."

She snarled at him. "Help? How in the h.e.l.l you gonna help me, Dr. Mac? Can you give me my baby back? Can you make it all better with a pink Band-Aid and a couple of stickers?" She struggled against him.

Unwilling to hurt her, or let her hurt herself, he let go and stepped back.

He was bleeding inside. A huge, gaping wound inside his heart was seeping something black, acrid and bitter through his veins. In a ragged voice, he whispered, "She was my baby, too, Dana."

Then, without saying another word, he grabbed his keys from the coffee table and left.

He didn't look back.

He couldn't. He could barely see to walk as he headed over to his house, one foot in front of the other. One step, two, five, ten...finally, he hit the driveway, but he didn't head towards the house. Instead, he went to his car and climbed in. He didn't close the door right away, and he didn't start the car.

He waited, the hot, oppressive heat of the Kentucky summer wrapping around him, a suffocating blanket that did nothing to dispel the chill inside.

He waited and willed away the tears burning in his eyes.

Once he could see clearly, he slammed the door and started the car.

As he pulled out of the driveway, he could see Dana from the corner of his eye, standing on her porch and staring across the street at him.

But he didn't slow down.

He didn't look back.

Breathe.

She just had to breathe.

Breathe past the knot forming in her chest, breathe past the pain that kept trying to tear free inside her.

She could do it.

She'd been tamping that pain down for three weeks now, she could keep on doing it.

Grieve-I want you to grieve.

Let me help.

She flinched as she heard her own words, How in the h.e.l.l you gonna help me, Dr. Mac?

The stark, naked pain in his eyes, raw in his voice as he said, She was my baby, too.

"I know that," she whispered, shying away from the memory.

She still stood on the porch, staring woodenly at his house.

His house-where he'd been spending more and more time as she pushed him farther and farther away.

She just needed time.

She was ent.i.tled to take some time, right?

How in the h.e.l.l you gonna help me, Dr. Mac?

The derisive scorn in her voice, even as she'd said it, appalled her. "Why did I do that?"

Closer-it crept closer...closer...breathing down her neck, threatening to burn her, to consume her. She shoved it back. "Breathe. Breathe. Don't think...don't think..."

It had become her mantra for the past three weeks.

Don't think about the baby.

Don't think about what you lost.

But now she had to add something new to it.

Don't think about Jake.

She couldn't.

Not yet.

She just wasn't ready.

Chapter Seven.

"You sure you're ready for this?"

Dana forced a smile at Joe as she stood in the break room and sipped piping hot, caffeine-laden coffee from an oversized mug. "It's been three weeks, Joe. I'm fine."

"Three weeks?" He shook his head and smoothed a hand through dark hair. "Dana, three weeks, you and me both know that's nothing."

He heaved out a sigh and then shoved off the counter opposite her. He closed the door behind him and then turned to look at her, crossing his arms over his chest. "I never told you that my wife and I lost our first child."

Dana stiffened.

She didn't want to hear this.

Shaking her head, she said, "Joe, don't-"

A sad smile curled his lips and he shook his head. "Don't. You don't want to hear this...you already know this. You know how common miscarriages are, that a quarter or more of all pregnancies end in the death of the baby. Yeah, you're a nurse, a trained midwife, and you know all these facts, because you've had to share them with others who've been where you are. They didn't want to hear it, but you told them, because often they need to hear it. Now it's your turn. Dana, it's too soon."

"I'm fine," she snapped, her voice harsh. Brittle.

"No. You're not. I went back to work three days after Maria miscarried-three days. I told myself I had to. I had to get back to work, get back on with life, and yeah, I couldn't just stop working. But I should have taken more time. That first baby I held after losing mine, it was like a knife cutting me up inside. But I told myself I had to. Had to do my job, because that was how life got back to normal, by living it. So I kept working. A week later, I'd delivered six babies-then I went home and had a fight with my wife that almost cost me my marriage. I had a fight with her, because it was easier to fight than face the pain."

Easier to fight than face the pain... She closed her eyes and in her mind, she saw Jake.

How you gonna help me, Dr. Mac?

Swallowing, she shook her head. "I know what I'm doing, Joe."

"Yeah, I thought so, too." He gave her a humorless smile. "I almost lost my wife. I almost walked away from a career I love. And I was pretty d.a.m.n sure I knew what I was doing, too." He opened the door to leave, but before he did, he paused once more and looked back at her. "You have to face the pain, Dana. I'm not telling you this as your doctor, or even as any doctor. I'm not even telling you this as somebody who also lost a baby-as much as I loved the little boy, I didn't spent five months carrying him around inside me, waiting for the first time he'd kick, worrying about whether I was taking good enough care of myself-and therefore him. I might be a doctor, but I'm a guy and I can imagine this hurts a woman on a deeper level than it does a guy. And trust me, it hurts a guy a whole h.e.l.l of a lot. But you have to face that pain. I'm telling you this as a friend, Dana. I don't want you doing something that's going to tear you apart any more than you already are."

Whether it was Joe's words, whether it was Jake's, whether it was just inevitable, or a combination of all, she didn't know.

But as she sat on the stool across from one of her patients and watched as the new mom guided her ten-day old baby's mouth to her breast, Dana felt something inside her crack.

Her breath wheezed out of her chest. Tears burned her eyes, blinded her.

Grieve...cry, d.a.m.n it. Stop shutting yourself off and just let yourself feel. Let me...let me help.

She was my baby, too.

You have to face that pain.

No. She didn't have to face it, because it was going to consume her. Awkwardly, she shoved to her feet and stumbled out of the room. "Excuse me for a minute," she said, her voice stilted and stiff. She slammed the door shut behind her and took off running down the hallway.

Co-workers saw her. One went to grab her arm, but Dana darted away.

Get away.

Get away from the monster chasing her.

As she tore through the door to the back office, Joe Castillo caught the eyes of the staff and said, "Let her go." Moving to the patient room, he knocked quietly and then glanced inside. "I'm sorry, a bit of a personal emergency. Dana's going to be unavailable for a little while, but I'll be just a minute." Taking the chart from the counter where Dana had dropped it, he left the room.

The office manager was standing in the hallway now, frowning as several staff members all spoke at once.

"Too soon-"

"What do you think happened?"

"Ladies, you all need to get back to work. I'll be taking care of Dana's patients, so if somebody can take care of the schedule and let those waiting know, I'd appreciate it." They paused.

At the other end of the hall, Maria sighed and clapped her hands. Everybody turned to look at the office manager as she said, "Come on, people. If we want to have any kind of lunch today, we're going to have to pick up the pace."

As they drifted off, she looked back at him and sighed. "I tried to tell her to take some more time," Maria murmured. She forced herself to smile. "But she's the stubborn type, didn't want to listen. G.o.d, I hope she's okay."

Joe reached out, cupped her face in his hand. "Stubborn types rarely listen very well, but she'll be fine."

"Yeah, you stubborn types are strong." In the office, they rarely stepped out of professional mode. They'd been married for ten years, working together for fourteen. But she took that step, one they both needed as their own memories surfaced. Forgetting about the office, the staff, everything, she wrapped her arms around him. "She'll be fine...but still, maybe somebody needs to find her. Talk to her."

"Call down to Jake's office. If anybody needs to be with her right now, it's him."

Jake couldn't find her.

It took a small miracle to get out of the office, including a promise to take his staff out to lunch as they called the afternoon patients and either rescheduled them for earlier in the day or for the following day. Those that couldn't or wouldn't be rescheduled got pa.s.sed off on one of his two partners.

Still, it was a good two hours before he could leave and go find Dana.

She wasn't answering her cell phone and she wasn't answering her home phone.

The twenty-five minute drive to the older neighborhood where they lived revealed that Dana hadn't come home, and other than the park down by the river, he couldn't think of where she'd go.

He called her mom.

He called Cissy.

He even broke down and called Mason.

But n.o.body had talked to her.

In the end, all he could was sit on his porch and stare at her empty house. Stare.

Pray.