face is so pale.
The sirens grow louder, and I see the lights flashing at the end of the street. Beto limps to the edge of the driveway, moving into the shadows. I’m not interested in him. My entire focus is on my love, fading in my arms.
“Stay with me, Angel.” A hot tear hits my cheek. “Don’t fly away. Don’t leave me.”
The ambulance screeches to a stop, and the scene grows chaotic. A gurney appears, and people are running back and forth. I can’t take my eyes off Angel’s pale face, so relaxed and beautiful.
Two large men surround me. “We have to take her now, sir.”
“Let her go, Deacon.” Winnie’s hands are on my shoulders, but I can’t fathom her words. They’re the worst thing I’ve ever heard.
“She’s so warm.” I hold her closer to my chest, lowering my face to hers, unwilling to let her go.
“Deacon, you have to let them take her.”
“Sir, you have to let her go.”
My brain is reeling.
I can’t let her go.
They force my arms apart, and I think I’m losing my mind. My world is imploding, then my aunt destroys my soul.
“Please do everything you can… She’s pregnant.”
30
Deacon
My eyes ache, and I can’t stop my thoughts.
“What’s happening?” I growl, pacing like a caged tiger.
Winnie arranged for Angel to be taken to the private wing of the Methodist hospital, where our family is treated by private physicians. She brought me clean clothes, and we’ve been waiting ever since. It’s like being in a plush prison.
We rushed here from the mansion. I rode in the back of the ambulance with Angel, but I couldn’t get close for the paramedics doing everything they could to stabilize her, stop the bleeding, monitor her vitals.
Even though I was shoved aside, I was relived to be in the same space, to know she was alive, even if she was fighting.
“The bullet entered her shoulder.” One of the big male attendants was on the phone with the doctor the entire drive. “No exit wound.”
As soon as we arrived, she was taken from us, rushed to emergency surgery to remove the bullet and hopefully repair the damage to her arm and shoulder.
I think about her not being able to paint. I think about how she turned, putting her body between Mateo and me, and I realize I would be dead right now if she hadn’t. My face drops to my hands, and I fight the tears.
Clearing my throat, I look up at my aunt. “How did you know she was pregnant?”
Winnie shifts on the leather couch, adjusting the throw over her legs “She was sick at the house one evening. I took a guess.”
“You guessed she was pregnant?”
“Sit down, Deacon.” Winnie reaches out her hand. “You’ll make yourself ill.”
I let it go she avoided my question. “Why didn’t she tell me?”
“I think she was planning to tell you tonight.”
I rub my fingers over my eyes. It all makes sense now. That’s why she wasn’t drinking—I try to remember the last time I saw her drink alcohol. It was last weekend. She must’ve just found out. “I had no idea.”
“Fathers are often the last to know.” Winnie stands and walks to the window, looking out at the black night.
My chest is tight, and even though I’ve only known a few hours, I desperately don’t want to lose our baby. “Where’s the fucking nurse?”
A cheery young man has been popping in every hour or so to let us know the surgery is progressing and everything is fine. His updates are all the same, but his perky face is wearing on my nerves.
“Language, Deacon, please.” She turns, not seeming that offended. “Surgery takes time. You want it to take time.”
Noise outside the door draws our attention, and I look up to see Lourdes rushing in, her red-rimmed eyes round with worry. “How is she? Oh, God, I can’t believe this…”
“I can’t believe we’re back at the hospital.” Valeria reaches out her hand, and I take it.
Sofia is on her hip, and when she sees me, her little chin quivers. “I want Carmie.”
I reach for her, and she leans into my arms, putting her head on my shoulder. I close my eyes a moment, thinking about our baby, how it could look like this little girl.
My voice is thick. “I want her, too.”
My aunt stands and straightens her blouse. “Who are these people?” Her tone is decidedly unfriendly, and I hate her choice of words.
“Sorry…” I gesture between the women. “This is my aunt Winona Clarke.