For Now: A Novel Read online

  We finished eating, mostly in silence, and made a bit of small talk. She talked about her new studio. Emma had made a pretty decent name for herself as a photographer and was successful enough to open a store front studio. She spent her days snapping shots of happy women in their wedding gowns, at bridal parties, with their newborn babies, and families. She said her favorite thing to do was photograph the same family over time. From engagement photos, to the wedding, the newborn, and then family photos. She loved watching the evolution of it. She once said it made her happy to watch them grow.

  “You know, if you’re ever bored and want to fill some time, you can always come help me out at the studio,” she offered.

  “Thank you, that might be nice,” I said sort of quietly. In truth, the thought was terrifying. I’m not sure I wanted to be around all those happy smiling families and babies. All those babies. I put my hand over my belly and thought it would be best to stay away from her studio for the time being.

  “You feel like going for a drive? There’s a store downtown I think you’d like,” she said.

  “Sure.” I shrugged my shoulders and grabbed my purse, keys, and phone. It seemed like a better idea than watching the squirrels again after she left. I needed to get out. I couldn’t stay away from people forever. I locked the door behind us and made my way to her blue Nissan.

  Emma was right. That night, I sat in bed with all the stuff I purchased, pulling things from bags. Shopping made me feel a little better. She took me to her favorite boutiques. I bought some things for the house. A couple of vases, some candles, a few picture frames. Although I don’t know what I’ll put in them. I bought some cute pillows for the couch and curtains for the windows. I even managed to make a joke while I was out with her.

  “Well, at least I get to decorate exactly how I want and don’t have a pesky husband to battle with.”

  The laugh that followed was small, but it was there.

  Emma forced me into buying some new clothes. I hated clothes shopping. I looked in the mirrors in dressing room after dressing room and hated how everything looked. But she insisted and when your best friend insists, you go with it. I pulled out a couple of sweaters from one of the bags. If I was being honest with myself, I was glad she made me buy them. They were so cozy and perfect for the coming weather. I pulled a dress from another bag. I wasn’t so sure about this one. I didn’t really wear a lot of dresses. It was long sleeve and sort of short, something you wear with leggings and boots. I’ll just tuck this in the back of my closet and only wear it when Emma forces me to.

  I finished putting everything away and reminded myself to get fresh flowers for my new vases tomorrow. I always enjoyed fresh flowers in the house. They kept it smelling nice while also giving the appearance of a cheerful atmosphere, even when it wasn’t true. Jeff used to bring me lilies home, my favorite. So tomorrow, I would get any other flower. No more lilies for me. I’d have to settle on a new favorite flower.

  Just as I was pulling the blanket up over me, I heard my phone ding. I grabbed it from the nightstand and opened it to my texts. It wasn’t a saved number. Weird.

  Everything has a way of working out exactly as it is meant to.

  That’s fucking weird. Who the hell? I waited for more. Wrong number maybe? I replied asking who it was and I waited a few minutes. Nothing. Okay, Delilah, it’s not a big deal. Probably just a wrong number and they were too embarrassed to respond. I couldn’t help but think the message sounded all too much like something someone would say to me, given my current circumstances. What an odd occurrence.

  That night, I tossed and turned for a while before I finally fell asleep. I dreamt of a stark white hospital room with no windows and no doors. There was an exam table in the center of the room and a balled-up hospital gown on the floor beside it. The gown was covered in blood. I woke up crying.

  Chapter Four

  Jeff threw open the door to the emergency room and helped me in. I was cupping my stomach and screaming in pain. The nurse abandoned her station to run over to me with a wheelchair. They eased me down into it, but not before she noticed the blood trickling down my legs. She immediately took me to the third floor, the maternity ward. Any emergency that involved a pregnant woman was dealt with there.

  I was only twenty-seven weeks pregnant and woke up in the middle of the night with excruciating pain in my lower abdomen and between my legs. We’d found out about four weeks prior that we were having a little girl. I bought everything pink, and Jeff painted the nursery to match.

  The nurse wheeled me out of the elevator and straight into an exam room. She didn’t even stop at the nurses’ station on the floor. Someone had clearly called ahead because I was greeted by four additional medical staff members of some sort. They made Jeff wait outside and a nurse pulled him away by the arm. Two men pulled me out of the wheelchair and put me up on the table. A nurse was helping me out of my clothes while another was helping me into an exam gown. I heard metal stirrups clank open and a doctor helped me get my heels into them. It hurt to move and I let out whimpers the entire time.

  “I’ll need to check you,” the doctor said hastily.

  The next thing I knew, two fingers full of cold gel were sliding into me. It only amplified the pain and I screamed out in agony.

  “She’s completely dilated.” I heard him say. “Get the monitor strapped to her now.”

  A nurse started running bands around my belly, and they clamped something to my finger. Suddenly the screen to the monitor next to me flickered on and there were two sets of stats on it. One heartbeat line was erratic and high. The other line was completely flat. I focused on that screen.

  “Delilah, we can’t find a heartbeat for the baby,” he said, “we’re going to have you push. We’ve gotta get the baby out so we can help her.”

  I nodded and complied with each request they gave me to push. I was dizzy and in shock. The pain was nothing compared to the fear.

  I pushed for what seemed like only a few moments and when she came out, there was no crying. I lay back and stared at the ceiling, waiting. Nothing. I looked down at the doctor holding her. He was pushing two fingers against her little chest. They stopped and pumped air into her mouth. Nothing. They tried again. Nothing.

  “What’s wrong?!” I screamed. “Why isn’t she breathing?!”

  “Delilah.” The doctor looked up at me. “She’s gone. There’s nothing more we can do for her. I’m so sorry.”

  I watched the doctor hand her little lifeless body to a nurse, who wrapped her into a small swaddling blanket. She handled her as gently as if she were alive. She placed her in the small baby bed next to mine. All I could do was stare at her.

  I closed my eyes as tightly as I could, tears streamed down my cheeks. I let out a wail. I’d never cried so loudly in my entire life. I wailed again. I moaned. I screamed. I curled myself into a ball on top of that exam table. Any physical pain I was feeling had gone numb. I made myself as small as I could. And I cried until I had nothing left in me.

  One by one, the medical staff trickled out of the room. They finally let Jeff in. He looked like he had been crying but his face was now stone cold. He sat next to the bed and held my hand. I had stopped crying. I was staring at the blank white wall. We didn’t say anything for a long time. They were keeping me overnight for observation and to have me speak with a grief counselor that deals “with this sort of thing.”

  “It’s okay,” Jeff said. “We can try again.”

  Tears started welling up again at the thought. What was he even saying? I didn’t even want to think about going through this again. I stayed quiet. Maybe he was just trying to be positive.

  “We’ll just try again and again until it happens,” he said. There was no emotion in his voice. He suddenly felt so distant from me. He’s grieving, too, I told myself. It will pass.

  Everything will be fine. We can get through this together. We have each other.

  Chapter Five

  A few quiet days went by,
in a bit of a blur. My agent said the editor should be done with first round edits in a few days. Most of my time was filled with seemingly mundane activities and bits of genuine happiness sprinkled in, most of which occurred when Emma was around.

  I did stop by the gym the night we went shopping and have gone three days in a row now. It felt good to pop headphones in, get on the treadmill, and run. I ran until exhaustion. I ran until my legs started to ache, and my breaths became short, and then I kept running. It was easier to sleep if I wore myself out first.

  Today wasn’t any different. I was stepping onto the treadmill and scrolling through music while putting my earbuds in. I settled on some Fall Out Boy. Sure, it was sort of random, and no one would ever guess that’s what I would choose to listen to, but their music was upbeat and sort of angry and that was the best kind of music to run to.

  I noticed out of the corner of my eye that someone took the machine to my right. I kept my eyes forward and focused on the song beating in my ears. I picked up pace. I had half a mind to close my eyes and pretend it was just me in the gym, pretend I was off somewhere running in the dark. That’s when I felt a hand tap me on the shoulder and zap me back to reality.

  I jumped sideways and whipped my headphones off. I whirled my head around to see a man smiling at me.

  “Oh, hey,” he said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  It was….fuck, what was his name? Steve? No. Sean? Fuck.

  “Samuel Young,” he said, putting his hand to his chest, as if he were reading my thoughts.

  Great. It wouldn’t be as easy to avoid conversation this time. We were right next to each other and it wasn’t like I could exactly go pick a different machine now without looking like a total bitch.

  “Oh, hi.” My voice was flat. He probably thinks you’re so weird.

  “So how’s it going? All settled into your new place?” he asked.

  God, I hated small talk. Especially with strangers. Especially with strange men.

  “Yes, thank you,” I said.

  “So what brings you here? New job maybe?” he asked.

  This is excruciating. On the plus side, running on a moving machine did give me an excuse to avoid eye contact. I kept my focus forward. “No, actually I just needed a change of scenery and my best friend lives here.”

  “Oh, that’s cool. I’m a professor at the University of Louisville.”

  “What do you profess?” I asked.

  He chuckled. “Well, I don’t suppose I profess anything. I teach history.”

  Even though I wasn’t looking at him, I could hear the smile in his voice. “Why?” I asked.

  “Why do I teach history? Well, my father was a professor, too, and I liked his stories from his teaching days.”

  “No, I mean, why history?” I asked.

  “Oh! Well, truth be told, I’m terrible at math and I’m not nearly creative enough to teach writing. But I fell in love with history late in school. I enjoyed those stories, too. I liked the idea of getting lost in the past,” he said.

  Who the hell wanted to revisit the past? I nodded my head and a few minutes went by without words. Maybe the torture was over.

  “So what do you do?” he asked.

  “I write.”

  “Oh, wow, awesome. Anything I would have read?” he asked.

  “I doubt it, but your wife may have heard of me,” I said. My male readership was low. I knew my female audience was ninety percent of my fan base as a whole.

  “I don’t have a wife,” he said sort of quietly.

  “Oh.” The awkward silence crept in and I finished my run. I started slowing my machine down until it was finally off.

  “Hey, listen, if you need someone to show you around, I’d be happy to. This place has some pretty neat places if you know where to look,” he offered.

  I turned and looked him in the eyes for the first time. Whoa. I found myself staring into deep brown eyes, the kind that were nearly black. They accented his dark brown, wavy hair perfectly. His mouth fit his voice well. His lips curled up slightly to form a crooked little smile but his teeth were straight and white. His voice was deep and raspy but calming, like someone had put honey in warm black tea. He was smiling at me while I took note that he only had one dimple in his right cheek. He was attractive and he probably knew it.

  “Oh, thank you, but my friend has insisted on showing me around every day. There probably won’t be anything left to show me by the time she’s finished.” I forced a laugh to go with my excuse.

  “Oh, I think you’d be surprised.” He smiled. He stopped his machine and hopped off pretty quickly.

  He stood in front of me. He was at least 6’3” which was at least ten inches taller than me.

  He wiped the sweat from his forehead. “I’ll see you around, Delilah.” He turned and walked away.

  “Bye,” I managed. I was slightly intimidated by his confidence. I didn’t like that at all. Here I stood, slightly confused, and definitely glad he’d walked away. Go home, Delilah. Go home and write something.

  I must’ve written for at least five hours before I realized it. I sat down at my desk and my fingers moved over the keys faster than they had in a very long time. I didn’t have a specific goal, but I liked the raw material flowing and knew I needed to get it down before it got away from me. Come to think of it, the last time I’d written this furiously was when I put down the foundation for my very first novel.

  Thinking back it made sense. I didn’t really have much else to do with my time. I started writing as a hobby to pass the time and to express what I was feeling in a healthy way. I didn’t really imagine it would turn out the way it did. I let three people read that first novel and they insisted I try to get it published. I looked into a few publishers but they wanted to change too much. So I self-published. The book took off in a way I never imagined it would. Soon I was swamped in request after request for interviews, offers from publishers, and all sorts of things way beyond my knowledge base. That’s when I hired Vera. She was an independent agent, with no ties to any publisher, and she respected my wanting to remain an Indie writer. She handled PR for me, interviews for magazines and shows, and was the bridge most days between me and my freelance editor. I was fortunate enough to find an editor I really liked and used her for each one of my books.

  I got up to stretch my legs and walked around my sunroom office. The sun was starting to sink toward the horizon but it was still pretty light out. I walked to the living room to peek out the front window. I glanced to my left, and there he was. Samuel Young. I flicked the blinds back to place and stood back a little so he couldn’t see me. He was walking with a young boy. If I had to guess, he was maybe seven. His son? He said he didn’t have a wife but I suppose that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a child. Or maybe it was a nephew. Only one way to find out, Delilah.

  Before I could stop myself, I was walking out onto my front porch as they approached the front of my house. Samuel glanced over at the movement and instantly smiled. Shit, what have I done?

  “Well, hey there, almost-neighbor,” he said as he guided the boy in the direction of my front lawn.

  “Hi,” I said. I tried to make it a little cheery but not too cheery. If that makes any sense.

  “Dad, who is that?” asked the boy.

  Well, that solves one mystery. Now where was Mom?

  “Mason, this is Delilah. She just moved in. Delilah, this is my son, Mason.” Samuel took turns answering us and gesturing toward one another.

  If ever a kid looked exactly like his dad, it was Mason. Dark brown wavy hair and the same skin tone. Their eyes were shaped the same, only Mason had bright blue eyes.

  “Hello, Mason.” I crouched down to his level and gave him a warm smile. Samuel seemed surprised by this, and given my slightly cool demeanor toward him, I didn’t blame him. But children melted me. Children, with their innocence, made me remember what it was to be soft.

  “Hi.” Mason smiled back, and I caught myself once
again covering my abdomen.

  “So this is where you live?” Samuel asked.

  “Oh, yes.” I turned my face back up toward Samuel.

  “It looks like a nice little place. Are you guys settling in well?” he asked.

  “It’s just me. No one else. I like it. Especially the sunroom off the back,” I said.

  “Oh, that sounds nice,” he said.

  There was a brief pause and I didn’t really know what should happen next.

  “Would you like to see it?” I blurted out. What the fuck, Delilah?

  Samuel hesitated for a moment, looked down at Mason, and then agreed.

  I led them to my front door. “You know, Mason, I have a ton of squirrels you can see out the back window. Do you want to see them?” I asked, looking down at him. He seemed pretty excited after that. Samuel shot me a kind smile.

  We stood in my sunroom, and as Mason watched for squirrels out the window, I noticed Samuel surveying my desk.

  “I turned this room into my office and writing space.” I seemed to answer his silent question and he started to nod. “I really liked all the natural lighting and scenery.” Beyond the edge of my backyard was a wooded area. The trees were dense enough that you couldn’t see what was beyond them, and I liked that.

  “Are you working on something new?” Samuel asked.

  “Well, sort of. It’s really raw at this point. I’ll have to go back and refine it,” I said.

  “What sort of stuff do you write?”

  “Thrillers mostly. There’s always some scandal, mystery, and sometimes romance.”

  “Sounds intriguing,” he said, smiling.

  “Well, I don’t know about that, but people seem to like it.” I shrugged and smiled back.

  Mason interrupted us to let us know the squirrels had gone and he was hungry. He grabbed his dad’s hand and leaned into his side in a way that made me smile.

  “Would you like to stay for dinner?” I asked. Ugh, I am so out of my mind right now.