CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Her beautiful eyes
The color’s not mine
The pout of her lips
It makes her face shine
This sweet baby girl
She’s not from my blood
This love’s overwhelming
Just beginning to bud
I’ll be here for you
Cry a tear for you
Live a year for you
And more
—Sean Amity
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
The last thing I wanted to do was leave the house. I was two weeks postpartum. Two measly weeks. I was not my usual chipper self. I had no confidence in my ability to nurse my baby in public, or to just not cry. My body was not the same size or shape it used to be, and finding clothes was frustrating and difficult, so my clothes were really more appropriate for being at home and unseen. But there I was, out in the world, with Tucker driving and Nick riding shotgun, taking my baby to get her little heel pricked again because they didn’t like her bilirubin levels the first time.
I hadn’t asked Sean to come with me. I didn’t have to. He just came. I think he could see that this task was beyond my ability to handle on my own. I mean, I could have. If I’d had to do it by myself, I would have gotten it done. Hear me roar and whatnot. But Louisa had left when Joanie was ten days old, saying she’d intruded long enough, and also that she needed to get back to her horses now that I was past the biggest hurdles. So I was utterly relieved to have Sean beside me in the back of the SUV, the baby carrier between us. Sean insisted on bringing his diaper bag. He’d bought one for himself, unbeknownst to me. It was very manly. It was army green, with straps and zippers. It even had a patch on it that said, “Tactical Diaper Bag. Crisis Management Kit.”
I loved that man.
I wished I could enjoy that feeling more, but I was too consumed with concern and nerves and feelings of incompetence.
If only my normal motherly insecurities had been the only fears on that drive to the hospital.
They later justified their actions, trying to excuse what happened by saying, “If you’d just sent out a press release, we wouldn’t have…”
They blamed us. Blamed Sean most especially. Said they had to do their job somehow, so they had coordinated their efforts to be sure they got the photos they wanted.
We were at a stop sign when a car pulled around in front of us, cutting us off and then stopping, right there in the middle of the street. “What are they doing?” I muttered, confused.
Then two photographers jumped out and my heart sank. Not here. Not now. Not when I have my baby with me.
One climbed onto the hood of their car so he could get a better angle through the windshield to see into the back of the SUV, his camera flashing non-stop. The other ran up to Sean’s window and knocked on the glass. “Mr. Amity! Are you a father now?” Click. Flash. Click. Flash.
Tucker quickly reversed, maneuvering carefully so as not to hit the guy at the side of the car, and managed to pull around their vehicle.
Nick, who was in the passenger seat, advised me to get down, so I bent over Joanie’s car seat, my hands latched onto either side. Looking behind us, I could see the two men already back in their car, giving chase again.
“It’s okay,” Sean said as he put a hand to my back. “Tucker’s got this. You got this, Tucker?” Sean asked, his voice tight.
“Yes, sir.”
“Nick, get on the phone with the police department. These guys are going to get someone killed.”
Nick did as instructed.
“Is it always like this?” My voice shook as I asked.
“No,” he said, keeping one hand on my back and placing the other on Joanie’s carrier. “They’re not usually this stupid. But Tucker is good. He’ll lose them.”
And he would have. If it had only been them, we would have been fine. But another car pulled out from a side street, forcing Tucker to swerve before he was able to get the car back under control. The idiots came right up alongside us, their cameras sticking out their window, yelling questions, grinning as if they were having the time of their lives, as if it was all good fun. Tucker was looking over at them, trying to wave them off, and didn’t see yet another car pull purposely out in front of us.
“What are they doing?!” Sean yelled.
Tucker slammed on the brakes, but we were going too fast. We were going to hit their little sedan, so instead he swerved to avoid a collision with them. My eyes were wide, a scream on my lips as the brick building beside us rushed up to meet the front corner of the SUV. My head slammed into the window beside me. And that was all.
♪♫♪
My head hurt and there was a ringing in my ears. Joanie was crying and Sean was yelling. It made my head hurt more. I reached up to cradle it, but my forehead was slick with blood. Someone said my name and told me to stay still. They were touching my neck and then something stiff was fitted around it—a collar to keep my neck in place. My mind was a little slow processing everything. They shone a light in my eyes. Things went fuzzy again and I had the vague sense of being moved as someone desperately clutched at my hand. “You’ll be okay,” Sean’s voice whispered in my ear. “I’m going to make this okay.”
Eventually I realized I was riding in an ambulance. I couldn’t hear Joanie anymore. Where was my baby? I forced my eyes open and only saw two paramedics hovering above me.
“Sean?” I asked, but they didn’t seem to hear me. There was something covering my mouth, muffling my voice. I tried to turn my head and look around, but my neck was in a brace. Where was Sean? Where was Joanie? The cars…they had pulled right in front of us. How stupid and reckless! If those leeches hurt my baby…
My throat tightened as fear for Joanie overwhelmed me. My two-week-old had just been in a car accident that had won me a trip to the ER. A beeping monitor pounded in my ears and one of the paramedics hovered above me. “Libby?” he said, his voice calm, but firm.
I focused on him.
“We’ve got you, okay?”
“My baby?” I said through the oxygen mask.
“Your baby is fine. Your friend has her and will meet us at the hospital.”
Tears of relief ran down my temples.
When we got to the hospital, there was a whispered conversation about my connection with Sean before I was wheeled into a room with a door that closed. I’d always had a definite love/hate relationship with the special treatment that Sean’s fame afforded him—and now me—but at the moment I was simply grateful. I couldn’t handle any more gawking. I kept asking where Joanie was, but the answer was always the same. My friend was bringing her. “What friend?” I kept demanding.
The nurse I was interrogating shook her head. “I don’t know. I wasn’t told a name.”
“Is it Sean? Where is he?”
“I don’t know, but you were the only one brought in by ambulance, so that’s a good thing.”
So then, was Joanie with Sean? Or did Nick have her? Tucker? Who?
I tried to trust that what they said was true, that she was safe and with someone I knew, but each minute that passed without my baby coming into the room made me that much more agitated. I didn’t have my phone, so I couldn’t call Sean or Nick. I couldn’t find out where my baby was. Sure, they said she was fine. Sure, they said she was coming, but I didn’t KNOW that. And she wasn’t here with me, and I didn’t know for sure that she was okay. And she was so tiny and so fragile that how could she possibly be okay after what had just happened? The pain in my head threatening to split it in two certainly didn’t help matters, and I was on the verge of screaming for someone to find me my baby now when there was a scuffle and an argument at the door, before a frustrated, “This is her baby!” rang out.