They asked everyone who’d congregated around her to move aside, then lifted her onto the gurney, and rolled her out of the store.
The midday sun was directly overhead. It was blinding. Her vision turned watery.
She blotted tears from her eyes now.
Lisa must have noticed, because she stopped enumerating the aggravations associated with being discharged from the hospital. “What I’m leading up to is that this is the first chance I’ve had to tell you how sorry I am. Truly, truly sorry, Arden.” She stroked Arden’s hand.
Fresh tears welled up in Arden’s eyes. She looked into her untouched glass of Coke where bubbles rose in a rush to the surface, only to burst upon reaching it. Something vital and alive, extinguished faster than a blink.
In the ambulance, her jeans were cut away. She was draped. When the young-looking medic examined her, his smooth brow wrinkled.
She struggled to angle herself up in order to see what had caused his consternation, but the bodybuilder kept her pressed down, a hand on each of her shoulders, not unkindly, but firmly.
“My baby will be all right, won’t she?” Arden sobbed. “Please. Tell me she’ll be okay.”
But, thinking back on it now, she believed she’d known even then, on a primal and instinctual level, that her girl child would never draw breath.
“You probably won’t believe this,” Lisa continued as she rubbed her thumb across Arden’s knuckles, “but I admired you for electing to have the baby. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I was appalled when you told me about it and what you planned to do. Coming back here to live and raise the child. Here of all places?”
She took a look around as though seeking to find an explanation for the inexplicable written on the faded wallpaper. “It’s masochistic. Does this self-inflicted punishment have to do with the baby’s father?”
Arden picked up her glass and tried to hold it steady as she took a sip of Coke. The glass clinked against her lower teeth. She set it back down.
In a hushed tone, Lisa said, “Is he married, Arden?”
She cast her eyes downward.
Lisa sighed. “I figured as much. Did he even know you were pregnant?”
She took Arden’s silence as a no.
“Just as well,” Lisa said. “You’re under no obligation to tell him now. If he didn’t know about the child, he doesn’t need to know about its fate. That episode of your life is behind you. You can start afresh. Clean slate.”
Again she covered Arden’s hand and pressed it affectionately. “First thing on the agenda is to get you away from here. I want you to move in with me until you figure out what you want to do with your life.” She gave Arden time to respond, but when she didn’t, she continued. “Since Wallace died, the house seems so empty.”
Lisa’s husband, who had been much older than she, had died two years earlier. No doubt their huge, rambling house in an elite neighborhood of Dallas did feel empty.
“I’ll give you all the privacy you wish, of course, but Helena will be delighted to have you there to fuss over. She and I will pamper you until you’re completely recovered.” She smiled and patted Arden’s hand again before checking her watch.
“You can’t have much to pack. If we get away soon, we’ll be there by dark. Helena will have dinner waiting.” She was about to leave her chair, when she paused. “And, Arden, you’re not under a deadline. Give yourself time to think things through. Really think through an idea before you act on it. Don’t rush headlong into something.
“In all honesty, I had a bad feeling about your move to Houston, and, at that point, I didn’t even know about your relationship with this married man. Granted, the job held promise, but your pulling up stakes and relocating seemed impulsive and doomed from the start.”
The attending physician in the ER clasped her hand. “Ms. Maxwell, I’m sorry.”
“No.”
“Your daughter was stillborn.”
“No!”
“Don’t blame yourself. Nothing you did caused it. It was an accident of nature.”
Doomed from the start.
Feeling as though her breastbone was about to crack open, Arden pushed back her chair and went over to the sink. Opening the blinds on the window above it, she looked out at the backyard in which Lisa and she had played.
The fence was missing slats. The grass had been overtaken by weeds. Her mother’s rose bed, to which she’d given so much tender loving care, was a patch of infertile dirt.