Page 115 of 15 Summers Later

She was losing the baby.

She didn’t need to look to know that she was bleeding. She could feel the wetness between her legs and the cramps that rippled through her.

All day, she had been achy, her back sore and cramps hitting her at random moments. She had ignored them, never once imagining those might have been early indications she was miscarrying.

No. She fought the wail building inside her.No. Please, God. No.

“What’s wrong?” Nicole Gentry was at her side immediately. The ER nurse’s voice was calm but concerned.

Ava couldn’t answer. She could feel the tears leaking down her face as all her hopes and dreams were dying inside her.

She must have managed some sound. An instant later, Madi was at her side, crouching on the floor next to her.

“What’s wrong, Ava? Is it the baby?”

“I...I think so.” It was all she could say as shock and pain and grief roared in her chest.

“You’re pregnant?” Nicole looked shocked. “How far along?”

“Eight...eight weeks.”

“Have you been cramping?”

She nodded, pressing her hand against her abdomen. “All day. I thought...I thought maybe I had a stomach thing going on.”

Another cramp hit her hard, so intense she doubled over with a keening cry.

“Easy. Let’s get you into the bathroom. Madi, can you help?”

Her sister, who had been so angry with her, now appeared stricken. She reached her curled fingers down and helped lift Ava off the carpet. With Nicole on her other side, Ava managed to make it to the bathroom.

She didn’t want an audience, even her sister and one of their closest friends. “I’m okay from here,” she said to the other two women.

“Are you sure?” Nicole frowned.

Ava nodded. “Yes. Please. I... I’ll let you know if I need you.”

“There are pads under the sink if you need something,” Nicole said gently, squeezing her arm.

Madi hovered outside the door, her mouth twisted with fear and sorrow. Ava couldn’t deal with it right now. She couldn’t even handle her own raw grief and didn’t have space to take on anyone else’s.

She closed the bathroom door and stood for several moments, breathing through the physical pain and the deep emotional loss.

Finally, she looked and the thick clots of rusty blood staining her underwear, much more intense than any mild spotting, confirmed her suspicions.

She was losing the baby.

Bereft, shattered, she rocked back and forth, arms wrapped around her abdomen as if she could hold on to the pregnancy by force of will alone.

She let out a sob and then another one.

She thought the worst moment of her life had been when her sixteen-year-old self had been married off to a man older than her father. When he had kissed her, sloppy and wet, and touched her with his fat, horrible hands.

She had been wrong. This was so much worse.

That had been over in a few moments. This pain she knew would linger forever.

She had only known about the baby for a few weeks but its existence had been a shining light of hope in a cold, harsh world.

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