Page 95 of Crashing the Altar
I sat there frozen, paralyzed with fear, while Penny rushed into the bathroom. Her broken sob that sounded through the closed door was enough to break the trance, and I leapt into action.
Grabbing my phone, I called Tucker, my eyes never leaving that giant red spot on the bed. More than anything, I needed him to tell me this was normal. Because the alternative . . . Fuck, I couldn’t bear to even think about it.
His bedside manner was impeccable; he kept his voice level and calm as he urged me to drive her to a hospital in Topeka to be checked out by their emergency department. But when I protested that the hour drive was too far, that she needed medical attention sooner, his professional mask slipped, and he shot me straight.
Tucker laid out in the simplest terms that if the unimaginable was happening, there wasn’t anything anyone could do, but when it came to the aftermath, it was better if we found ourselves in a fully equipped hospital versus a country clinic.
With a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel, I sped down the highway, breaking every speed limit posted and daring a cop to try and pull us over because I wasn’t stopping until I reached that emergency room door and got my wife—and our baby—the help she needed.
Penny’s near-silent gasp from earlier still echoed in my ears as I drove. That sound would likely haunt my nightmares for years to come.
Beside me, she sniffled softly. “What if I’m losing our baby?”
“You’re not,” I snapped, wincing when the words came out harsher than intended. But I just couldn’t allow my mind to go there. That was the only thing keeping me from breaking.
Weaving in and out of traffic, I kept one eye on the road, the other darting to the passenger seat. Tears streamed down my beautiful girl’s face as she stared straight ahead, her knees tucked tight to her chest.
I prayed to God for a miracle while, in the next breath, bargained with the Devil, offering up my own soul if it meant saving hers. Because I already knew there was no coming back from this.
She would never be the same again.Wewould never be the same again.
The state capital came into view on the horizon, and the vise around my chest loosened a fraction, knowing we were close. Putting my foot to the floor, I gunned it for the rest of the drive.
When we pulled up to the emergency room entrance, I jumped out and tossed my keys to the valet before opening the passenger-side door and gently easing Penny down from the seat.
She was trembling violently, and my first instinct was to scoop her into my arms to carry her inside. In my head, I could picture her typical response, my spitfire beating on my chest, demanding to be put down. But with despair written all over her pretty face, I knew she wouldn’t put up a fight. And that realization was almost more painful than allowing her towalk through the sliding glass doors with only my arm around her waist for support.
The too-bright entryway fed into a large waiting room, and I settled Penny into a chair.
With a kiss to her forehead, I murmured, “I’ll be right back,” before walking to the reception desk.
The woman on the other side of the partition looked up from her computer. “Can I help you?”
“My wife.” I cleared my throat when it came out hoarse. “She’s bleeding and needs to be seen.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “Has she cut herself?”
Scrubbing a hand over my face, I shook my head. “No, it’s not like that. She’s pregnant.”
“Oh.” Her eyes stared up at me with pity, and I wanted to scream that I didn’t want it, that I didn’t need it, but instead, I kept my jaw locked tight.
Reaching to the side, she grabbed a clipboard containing a stack full of blank paperwork and passed it over. “I’m going to need you to fill these out as well as get a copy of her driver’s license and insurance card.”
I stared down at the clipboard, letting out an annoyed huff. “We don’t have time for this. This is an emergency.”
The woman’s lips pressed together. “Do you see all these people waiting?” With one hand, she gestured to the room behind me. “They’ve all come here with emergencies. We’ll be with your wife as soon as we can, sir.”
Stunned, I stumbled back, falling into the chair beside Penny.
My wife was bleeding. She wasbleeding, and we were made to wait here like anyone else with a minor illness or injury while our child’s life hung in the balance.
But I forced myself to bottle up my irritation, my all-consuming rage that she wasn’t seen as a priority, because I needed to stay calm for her. I’d be damned if I caused her an additional ounce of stress.
Filling in the forms as fast as I could, I snatched up Penny’s purse and pulled out her ID and insurance, striding back to the desk and handing it over.
Then we waited. And waited. And waited some more. The tension between us only grew as we watched others get called back by nurses with kind eyes and sympathetic smiles. The hope I clung to so tightly diminished with each passing minute.
“Penny Sullivan?”
