Chapter 5 - THE NIGHT AMY THOUGHT SHE WAS LOSING EVERYTHING
Ruth turned off every light in the bookstore.
“Back stairs,” she whispered.
Amy grabbed her coat.
The reporters remained outside.
At least three now.
One by the front window.
Another across the street.
A third sitting inside a parked vehicle.
Ruth opened the rear door.
“You have somewhere to go?”
“No.”
“My sister owns a cabin fifteen miles south.”
Amy hesitated.
“I can’t drag you into this.”
Ruth stared at her.
“Honey, they’re already standing outside my store. We’re dragged.”
Despite the fear, Amy almost smiled.
They slipped into the alley.
Rain covered their movement.
Ruth drove an old green Subaru that smelled like coffee and wet dog.
Twenty minutes later, they reached a small cedar cabin above the coast.
No neighboring houses were visible.
Amy stood at the window listening to waves strike rocks below.
Her phone rang.
Lucas.
She answered.
“We believe the leak came through the foundation.”
“Vanessa?”
“We’re investigating.”
“Someone knew the baby’s sex.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“We’re trying to determine that.”
Amy’s voice shook.
“That information existed for maybe six hours.”
“I know.”
“Did someone access the clinic?”
“We don’t have evidence of that yet.”
Amy felt suddenly nauseated.
“Does Daniel know?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He ordered us to stop the photographs from being published.”
Amy laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
“Amy.”
Lucas almost never used her first name.
She became quiet.
“He also ordered me not to tell him where you are.”
That stopped her.
“He said your safety comes first, and your privacy from him is part of that.”
Amy sat down.
She did not know what to do with information like that.
Daniel respecting a boundary only after destroying dozens of others did not repair anything.
But it mattered.
She wished it didn’t.
That night, rain battered the cabin.
At 2:13 a.m., Amy woke with pain in her abdomen.
Sharp.
Sudden.
She sat upright.
The pain faded.
Then returned.
She touched her stomach.
“No.”
Another cramp.
She stood.
Warmth moved between her legs.
Amy reached down.
Her fingers came away red.
The room tilted.
“Ruth!”
Ruth appeared almost immediately.
One look at Amy’s hand was enough.
“We’re going.”
The nearest emergency department was twenty minutes away.
It took fourteen.
Amy spent every second staring at the road and whispering the same words.
“Please be okay.”
At the hospital, nurses moved quickly.
Blood pressure.
IV.
Questions.
Ultrasound.
Amy cried before the technician even turned the screen.
“I need to know if there’s a heartbeat.”
The woman’s expression softened.
“There is.”
Amy sobbed.
The heartbeat filled the room.
Fast.
Alive.
Dr. Pierce arrived forty minutes later.
“The bleeding appears to be from a small subchorionic hematoma.”
“Am I losing her?”
“Right now, your baby looks stable.”
“Right now?”
“Amy, I’m not going to lie to you. We need to monitor you.”
Amy closed her eyes.
Her daughter.
A daughter Daniel did not even know he had.
The thought hurt so badly she could barely breathe.
“Do you want us to call anyone?” Hannah asked.
Amy’s answer came automatically.
“No.”
Then she thought of Claire overseas.
Ruth asleep in a chair.
Margaret.
Daniel.
Her husband.
The person she wanted most and trusted least.
“No,” Amy repeated.
By morning, the bleeding slowed.
Amy was admitted overnight for observation.
Her phone had twelve missed calls.
None from Daniel.
That surprised her.
Then a message appeared.
Lucas told me there was a medical situation but would not give details. I told him not to. I only need one thing: Are you and the baby alive? You do not owe me anything beyond that.
Amy stared at the screen.
Tears formed.
She hated him for making her still care.
She typed:
We’re alive.
Daniel replied:
Thank God.
Nothing more.
Across the country, Daniel read those two words inside his parked car.
We’re alive.
He lowered his forehead onto the steering wheel.
For the first time since his father’s funeral, Daniel Harrison cried.
Not dramatically.
Not loudly.
He simply sat in darkness while tears ran down his face.
Then his phone rang.
Margaret.
“Did she answer?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“They’re alive.”
Margaret exhaled.
Daniel wiped his face.
“I almost lost them without ever knowing her.”
His mother remained silent.
Finally she said, “Then become the man who deserves to know her someday.”
Not get Amy back.
Not save the marriage.
Deserves to know her.
Daniel understood the difference.
The next morning, Amy was discharged with strict instructions.
Rest.
No heavy lifting.
Reduced stress.
Return immediately if bleeding resumed.
Amy laughed when Hannah said reduced stress.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Hannah smiled sympathetically.
“I’m guessing that part may be difficult.”
“You have no idea.”
When Amy returned to Ruth’s cabin, an envelope was waiting on the porch.
No stamp.
No address.
Just her name.
Amy froze.
Ruth saw her expression.
“You expecting something?”
“No.”
Ruth picked up a fireplace poker.
Amy almost laughed.
“Do you always carry that?”
“Only when rich people start stalking my bookstore.”
Amy opened the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
Daniel.
Vanessa.
Chicago.
The two of them standing outside a hotel elevator.
Vanessa’s hand on his chest.
Daniel leaning toward her.
On the back, written in black ink:
Ask him what happened in Room 1814.
Amy’s knees weakened.
Ruth caught her elbow.
“You okay?”
Amy stared at the room number.
Daniel had told her the Chicago conference ended late.
He had called the next morning from his hotel room.
He had sounded tired.
He had said the dinner ran long.
Amy turned the photograph over again.
Room 1814.
Her phone suddenly rang.
Margaret Harrison.
Amy almost ignored it.
Then answered.
“Amy?”
Margaret sounded frightened.
Not polished.
Not composed.
Frightened.
“Amy, I need to tell you something before someone else does.”
Amy looked at the photograph.
“Is it about Chicago?”
Silence.
That was enough.
Amy’s heart cracked all over again.
“What happened in Room 1814, Margaret?”
“Amy—”
“Tell me.”
Margaret whispered:
May you like
“That room was Vanessa’s.”
Amy stopped breathing.
