Page 5 of Reclaiming Izabel

Four monthslater

Izabel

I stared at the ceiling.

The sun peeked through the blinds, promising another glorious fall morning, but my world was painted in shades of joyless gray. Every day, it was a chore to get out of bed, to shower, to get to work, and to keep my mind busy, because the alternative was to shrink into myself and disappear into a desolate landscape. That wouldn’t do.

Movement in my belly gave me a reason to stay strong. I put my palm reflexively over it, as if it gave me strength.

“Thanks for reminding me, baby girl.”

That was the only spark of happiness in a stretch of bleak days. I forced my body to leave the bed.

I ached.

Deep in my heart to the bottom of my soul, I ached, because I missed him desperately. “Why can’t you be here, Drake?”

Pain formed a lump in my throat and hot tears pooled in my eyes. A scene replayed every morning since the day my husband was killed.

The phone rang.

Cindy calling.

I sighed. Cindy Lake was my best friend and coworker. She was also the personal assistant of my project manager at Stockman and Bose.

“You’re coming in late?” she asked when I answered the phone.

“I think I can make it on time.”

There was a slight pause and then, “I know it’s hard, Izzy, and you do phenomenal work when you show up, but I heard the boss griping yesterday about your tardiness.”

“I’ll try harder,” I whispered. Though Drake’s insurance covered most of my expenses, my job kept me sane. It made me get up each morning. For that alone, I couldn’t afford to lose it.

“Did you go to your session yesterday?”

“Yes.” I attended group bereavement services besides my private counseling sessions. “I’m not sure it’s helping.”

“Give it time, Izzy.”

That was what everyone told me, but I was beginning to believe it was a lie. The hollowness inside me kept growing each day, threatening to swallow me whole.

“Well, I have to go if I’m going to make it to the office on time.” I ended the call and sucked in a ragged breath, fortifying my resolve for the workday ahead. Leaving my bedroom, I passed by the big picture window with a planter situated underneath. Twelve potted orchids—once my pride and joy—now sat shrunken and dead in their clay pots. In my own morbid way, I purposely didn’t throw them in the trash can because they reflected the current world I lived in.

I walked into the kitchen, sighing again as I pulled out my breakfast from the fridge. No matter how hard it was to muster an appetite, I made sure I ate properly to nurture the life growing inside me. I was clinging to hope that the last piece I had of Drake would pull me out of this darkness.

Dammit,I was going to be late!

I ditched the basement garage and parked on the street. I hurried out of my car, bumping the door closed with my hip. I beeped the locks and glanced at both sides of the street before I started for my building.

“Watch out!”

I registered a dark blur before the most excruciating pain rammed into me. My body was airborne before the unforgiving pavement stole my breath.

“My baby!” Contractions started almost immediately amidst screams and yells. “Help me…oh, God, please.”

I folded over in a fetal position as if it would ease the agony.

And then there was nothing.

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