Page 99 of Geordie

She turns away, giving no answer.

We arrive at her apartment, a messy lassie place that I've never seen before. How could that be after all the months I've known her? She drops her bag by the entrance and walks into the stark white kitchen. I stand at the door while she opens the fridge. Pulling out a frosty glass and a pitcher of water, she pours a glass. “Sorry, where are my manners? Would you like something to drink? I don't have whiskey; I have wine if you'd prefer that.”

“Water will be fine.”

She steps to a cabinet.

“No, tell me where it is and I'll get it.”

She points to a corner. I keep my gaze on her as I open the cupboard. “Are you hungry? Can I cook you something or I can order–”

“I'm fine.”

I sigh, pulling down a glass. “Talk to me, Lily.”

“I'll need to let everyone know what happened,” she says, agitation thrumming through her body as she makes quick movements. “I'll need a list of names and cell numbers of the people you've told.” She counts this off her finger. “I can use the list from Molly's party. Is there something I'm missing? I've got to do this as soon as possible.”

“No need. I'll take care of it. The doctor said you are to rest.” I splash water into my glass. “You might not be hungry, but I am. If you don't mind, I'll order something. Promise me you'll consider eating when it arrives.”

She lifts her glass, but stops midway, looking up. “If you pick up the order and swing by your apartment for your clothes, you can stay. I just need a little alone time; I want to change.”

I reluctantly agree because it's easier and I don't want to upset her. My apartment is near Lily's. I order her favorite dishes from a local French restaurant she likes and head off to make the trip as short as possible. When I return with bags in hand, she's on the couch in pajamas, bathrobe, and fuzzy blue slippers, her damp, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, knees to her chest and staring at nothing. “Would you like to start with a salad?” She jerks her unfocused gaze at me. “What? Oh, that's fine.”

She resumes her trancelike state as I drop the bags on the coffee table. I sit next to her, pulling out plastic containers. Lily says almost nothing during our meal; long stretches of time are filled with no sound. I wait for her to talk, hoping that she will tell me what she's feeling. It has to be crushing for her, because I'm barely able to control my grief.

Lily finally gives up the pretense of eating, pushes her meal away, then retreats to the corner of the couch. I gather what's left and place everything in the fridge. “Time to sleep. It's well after midnight. If you'll point me to the linen closet, I'll make my bed on the couch.”

She launches to her feet, padding to the hallway. I follow and wait at the door as Lily trudges into her bedroom, pulls back the coverlet, slips out of her robe, and plants herself in bed.

“Leannan, I'll need at least a blanket for my bed. Where do you keep a spare?”

“Sleep with me.” The simple request shakes my defenses. Whatever I expected to happen tonight, it wasn't this. This can only be comfort she wants. According to the material Dr. Rivera gave me, Lily has to abstain from sex for a few days. Lily is clear-eyed as she makes a place for me. “You promised once that I could borrow your strength. I'll need it tonight. I don't want to be alone.”

My T-shirt stays on, but I strip down to my shorts. The bed must be a full mattress; my bulk takes up most of the room. It forces Lily to tuck her body close to mine, her head resting on my chest. I hold her, stealing the comfort I desperately need but can't ask for. We settle in the darkness, the sounds of cars travelling down a distant road, a clock ticking somewhere in the apartment.

“Geordie?”

“Aye?”

Lily's hand rests on my chest, her touch soothing as a lullaby. “Why do you think I lost the baby?”

I tense, caught off guard by the question. I draw a breath, thinking of her needs. My arms encircle her, keeping her safe. “I think it's as the doctor said. It just happened.”

Lily falls silent and I relax that she's finally surrendering to sleep.

“I think,” she whispers, “my first doctor was right. I'm too old to carry a child. I'm sorry, Geordie, my body betrayed us.” Her words tumble out, preventing me from responding. “I failed. I'm sorry. It's too late for me; we should never have agreed to co-parent. I'm so sorry,” she sobs into my chest as wet patches form on my dark T-shirt. Her crying tears me apart. I want to join in and acknowledge my pain too, cry with her, but I've promised her my strength.

“No, Leannan no,” I say, quieting her fears as I kiss her hair and gently stroke the long strands. I infuse the love I have for her in that tender act so Lily knows she's not alone. “You'll conceive again one day soon and hold your sweet wee babe in your arms; I know it.” Her sobs reverberate through her body as she reaches to the depths of her sorrow. I'm helpless to erase her pain, so I hold her, rocking her in my arms like a child, keeping vigil until she falls asleep as the yellow shards of dawn peer through the windows.

Chapter forty-eight

Cowgirl Up

Geordie

ThenextdayIsend a text to everyone who should know about the miscarriage. It’s a simple statement that receives a flood of responses, all heartfelt support for Lily. One day, I'll show her the texts when she's stronger.

Lily rarely leaves her bed for the two days we're in her apartment. The third day, we meet with Dr. Rivera, who offers support and counseling. Lily is still raw from her experience but appears to be in a place to hear the doctor.

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