Page 55 of When I'm Gone
“So, the paternity test. Is it back yet?” She asked it so simply, Luke wished he had a simple answer as well. She didn’t know about Andy or Maranatha or Pentwater.
“I have the test.”
“What?” She leaned over her cup, mouth hanging open a little. “Did I know this and I have the worst memory? Or did it just come?”
“Got it a few days ago. Sorry, I wanted Will to know first. We opened it together on FaceTime.” The phone in his pocket buzzed against his thigh. He put his hand over it, hoping to muffle the sound.
Felicity didn’t notice. She took a sip of her drink and placed the cup down gently. She held the liquid in her mouth for a second before swallowing.
“Sooooo.” She twisted her lips up to one side in a half smile. “Can I know the results?”
The phone buzzed again. The irregular notifications must mean texts. If it was an emergency, Terry would definitely call. Luke tried to refocus.
“Oh, yeah, it’s what we thought. He’s my kid, 99.999 percent sure.” The phone buzzed again, and Luke swore mentally.
“Well, that’s wonderful. Do you think he’s ready to accept the results?”
“Definitely. I think he always knew it, deep down. I guess I’ll be able to gauge things better when he comes home next month—” Another buzz cut him off midsentence, and Felicity leaned on her elbows like she always did at her desk during their meetings. Usually she was about to suggest something he might find uncomfortable.
“Luke, you want to check that? I really don’t mind. It could be your mother-in-law.” She swatted at a stiff strand of hair that had wrestled loose from the scarf and was flapping against her eyebrow.
“It’s okay. Terry doesn’t know how to text and Will’s phone is on the fritz, so the only person who texts me is ...” Annie. He finished the sentence in his head. It had to be Annie texting him. He yanked the phone out of his pocket, his shoulders tightening with anxiety. Usually he would assume the text was a smart comment about finally getting out of the dark ages of technology or a picture of a cat sleeping in a cup, but she knew he was on a date. If it was Annie, then there had to be a reason she was texting so frantically.
The screen was so full of message notifications he had to scroll down to see them all. The first one said:Call me.
He traced his finger down the screen to read the next one:I need your help. ASAP.
What did that mean? Annie almost never asked for help, even when it meant using a stepladder to reach stuff on the top shelf in the pantry rather than asking him or Will to grab it for her. The next message made the hairs on his neck stand on end:I’m scared.
That simple sentence made so many memories come flooding back to him. Blood on the carpet, his mother crying and holding her stomach, his father throwing an empty bottle on the kitchen floor and walking out the front door without bothering to close it.
“I’m scared,” his mother said, reaching out her hand to fourteen-year-old Luke. Her blonde hair was streaked with bloody highlights where she’d run her fingers through it. It was bad. Worse than he’d ever seen. Where was all the blood coming from? He searched her body for a gaping wound but didn’t find any. She grabbed her stomach as another pain hit her. “The baby is coming.”
“What?” Luke knelt beside her, counting the bruises. “But it’s too early.”
“She’s coming.” His mother moaned, a tear falling down her cheek, washing away a streak of blood. Horror settled on Luke’s shoulders. The baby wasn’t due for another two and a half months. If she came now ... what should he do? He lunged for the keys in the bowl on the counter.
“I can drive you to the hospital; I know I can.”
“No, no.” She shook her head. “Too dangerous.”
“Tell no one” had always been the family motto when it came to his father’s drunken fits, but the first name that came to his mind now was Natalie. Her parents were sane enough. They’d know what to do to help.
“I’ll get Mrs. Egart. She can help. She’s had babies. I can’t do this; I can’t ...”
His mother’s face hardened, eyes like steel. “No. Not her.” Pain broke through her mask, and she let out a gasp. “No one can help now.”
“Luke. Luke? Everything okay?” Felicity pulled him back to reality. Luke read through the messages again.
A busboy walked past their table. “You finished? I can take your garbage.”
“Thank you,” Felicity replied without taking her eyes off Luke or the phone.
“Can I get you anything else?”
Luke blinked up at him. “No. We’re fine. Thank you.” Which must have been the magic words because the busboy finally backed away.
“What’s going on?” Felicity asked, staring at his phone as if she could make out the words on his screen if she looked hard enough.
