Page 10 of Muskoka Miracle

Her bottom lip trembled. “I’m so sorry.”

“Princess, it’s not your fault. You heard what the doctor said. It was likely chromosomal abnormalities, not anything else. So please don’t start worrying about what you could have done differently.” He kissed her hand, then sat on the recovery room’s plastic chair.

She looked at him steadily, weariness rimming her eyes. “I’m not worried about that.”

Dan had a strange sense that she suddenly wasn’t talking about fault or blame, but that in the midst of this horror she was concerned for him. Oh man… Tears prickled quickly, and he glanced down at the floor, trying to pull himself together to face her scrutiny.

“I love you, Daniel.” She touched his hair, her hand lying on his head, like she was praying a benediction.

He glanced up. The brave smile she gave him might wobble a little, but still had the power to make his insides turn to jelly.

“I love you, Princess.” He tried to force a smile that only got halfway.God, where are you?

CHAPTER3

Sarah woke from a too-short sleep. She blinked. Where—? What—? Oh.

Afternoon shadows splayed across her bedroom, and she peered across to where Dan sat in the corner, on the comfy chair she’d bought for his birthday last year. He was hunched over, head in his hands, staring at the floor, grief etched in his features. He’d cried with her yesterday morning; she’d felt his tears in her hair and the way his body had gone rigid when she’d told him about her night. He sat still, too still for her to think he was normal. Which she couldn’t blame him for. This wasn’t normal. And while the doctor might disagree, it still felt like her fault.

Oh, guilt was a game she knew only too well how to play. If only she hadn’t gotten worried, hadn’t allowed herself to stress. Would their baby have been saved?

Coupled with this was the fear that her sickness had contributed to Dan’s team being eliminated from playoff contention. He hadn’t played; his absence had been noted; and she knew from some of the concerned texts she’d received that people were worried. But she had no strength to reply. No strength to even formulate an answer. And while part of her knew that shouldering responsibility for the Leafs’ loss was foolish, the fact remained that if Dan had played, they likely would’ve won. And now she suspected there would be talk of the coach being fired, of Dan’s contract value being diminished, all because he’d insisted on being at her bedside yesterday.

But looking at him now, the strength she knew existed in him seemed far away, and she wondered just how much time Dan was going to need. Her eyes filled with fresh tears, and she tried to gulp down a fresh bubble of sorrow.

He startled, and glanced up at her. Then stood, drew near. “You’re awake.”

She tried to smile. “So are you.”

“How are you feeling?”

Her throat closed at the tenderness in his voice. She swallowed to clear the rocks. “I’ve been better.”

He clasped her hand, and she threaded her fingers through his. “Do you need anything? Tea? Food? Pain meds?”

She shook her head. “Just you.”

He finally smiled. Well, his lips lifted a little, but there was no light in his eyes. The effect was eerie.

“Your mum would like to speak to you.”

She tried to calculate the time difference. Couldn’t. Her brain was too fuzzy. “What’s the time there?”

He glanced at his phone. Probably at the world clock app. His brow wrinkled. “Nine in the morning.”

A wave of weariness washed over her. She yawned. “I’ll call her soon. What… what have you said?”

His lips tightened. “That we lost it.”

It.How awful that all their hopes and dreams could be disposed of in a detached, impersonal two-letter word. Her eyes filled, and his face crumpled as he knelt beside the bed, and wrapped her in his arms. Shuddering breaths didn’t convince her that he wasn’t crying.

Yesterday’s silent drive home from the hospital had been followed by a night of agony. The physical pain, the cramping and bleeding wasn’t pleasant, but she’d been through months of pain and rehabilitation before, so she kind of knew her body enough to be able to recognize when she needed to sleep, and when she needed to pop another pain pill. No, the agony had been internal, a thousand pin pricks a day that had necessitated escape.

On arrival home they’d discovered a huge bouquet of flowers ‘congratulating them on their exciting news’. Dan’s face had gone black as he read the card. While it was nice his parents had sent the flowers, she couldn’t look at them, and neither could he apparently. She’d discovered the flowers in the kitchen bin this morning.

Their special secret had turned septic, into a rotten shock, and she wondered how Dan would cope with the phone calls still to be made. He wasn’t doing well. But then, who would be? He was always much quieter than her, but he was reverting to the shell that she’d seen before, hollowed out, as if something deep was bothering him. Was it the past? Or was he newly aware of what their future would be? Despite the tenderness and concern he showed, she still wondered if he did blame her, still wondered if there was something she could’ve done differently.

So many things should have been done differently. Like the drama with his parents, which had only worsened this morning when his mom dropped in. She’d never done so before. Sarah had listened through a fog and eventually gathered that Helen had called in to see if they’d received the flowers, and had wondered how poor Sarah was feeling.

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