He took it without a moment’s thought and scurried away like the rat he was.
As his car drove off, I turned toward Stella.
“Are you okay?” I asked. “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”
“I overheard you both talking,” she said with a smile that sadly looked more like a frown. “You were right. Every child deserves a father. Not every father deserves a child.”
I took her hands in mine and pulled her closer to me. My forehead rested against hers. “Don’t let this harden you,” I whispered. “Don’t let people like Jeff harden your heart.”
“How could my heart harden when it’s surrounded by you?”
I heard her words but felt a slight bit of coldness. I knew what it felt like when a heart began to close. I kissed her forehead. Stay with me, Stella. “Do you want to go to the ocean with me?”
She shook her head and placed her hands against her stomach. “No. I’m not feeling too well. I’m going to go to bed for a while.”
That was the first night in the past months of knowing Stella that she didn’t step into the ocean. I hadn’t a clue why that brought me so much unease.
33
Stella
* * *
Damian didn’t know it, but it happened—my dam broke.
I’d been feeling heightened anxiety for the past few weeks.
Every pregnancy before this one started with the same type of fear: the possibility of losing the baby. What was even worse was this time, I didn’t feel right. It was almost as if I could feel my soul warning me of something awful that was on its way.
For the past week, I felt a new level of anxiety that I couldn’t really uncover. I hadn’t gone to the water, and I didn’t even know why. Each morning I woke up feeling on the verge of tears, and each night I struggled to fall asleep.
I stopped going to the ocean because every time I’d feel the waves hit my feet, an odd sadness fell against me. As if Mama’s love was so far away. Each wave felt more disconnected. Maybe it was me, maybe it was my mind. Either way, the calmness the water used to give to me was filled with more worry.
Damian could tell something was off, but he didn’t know how to approach it. I didn’t blame him because I wasn’t even certain how I wanted to be approached. At first, I thought it was the idea of Jeff not being in the baby’s life, but that wasn’t it. Secretly, I felt a sense of relief from that fact.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Mama and Kevin for the past few days. I felt as if a cloud of darkness was over me, and I wasn’t certain exactly what it meant. But I knew something was wrong.
“Slow down your mind, baby girl,” Grams told me, giving me a neck massage as I sat at her dining room table.
“I can’t, Grams. I just feel like something’s wrong.” I turned to face her and frowned. “Can you do a reading for me, maybe? Just a little tarot spread to let me know if everything’s going to be okay?”
She frowned. “Stella, you know my rules. When one’s anxiety is high, we do not turn to our magic. We have to be aligned with ourselves to use our gifts. Besides after the last…” Her words fumbled off.
“Miscarriages,” I said.
She frowned, hating the conversation, but knowing that she’d seen me like this before. Every time before when I was pregnant, I had the same kind of fear. “Exactly,” she told me. “We just have to trust in the universe.”
“The universe has screwed me over before,” I cut in.
Grams eyes filled with concern for me. I tried my best to shake it off.
“No, I know. I know, I’m probably worrying you, but I’m okay, Grams. But please, I just, I feel… please?” I begged. “Just one reading?”
Her eyes filled with tears. Emotions swept over her as she took my hand in hers. “Everything’s going to work out for the greater good. Just believe that.”
I pulled my hand away from her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Stella—”
“Did you already do a reading on me?”
She went silent.
“Grams, tell me.”
“Maybe we should go walk down the coastline. Put our feet in the ocean.”
“I don’t want to put my feet in the ocean, Grams. What is it? What did you see?”
She moved in to give me ocean kisses, but I pulled away.
“No. I’m scared, Grams. I’m scared. Tell me what you saw.”
“You’re okay, Stella. You’re okay, and the baby’s okay.”
“Then what are you avoiding telling me?”
“Anything I tell you is just a possibility, anyway, sweet girl. Nothing is set in stone.”
“It was last time you told me,” I said to her. “So, just tell me again.”
“I saw how much hurt you went through with the last loss, Stella. I’ve seen your heartbreak, and I refuse to put any more of that doubt or fear into your system with these cards or silly readings.”
“Now they’re silly?”
“Yes,” she said sternly. “They are silly when you become dependent on them instead of self. You are okay. The baby is okay. My sweet child,” she placed her hands against my face and cradled it. “Be here now. Stop chasing a future that is currently still make-believe. Be here now.”
She wouldn’t say what she’d seen. My stomach dropped, and I instantly felt ill. I stood from her chair and headed back toward my house, ignoring Grams as she called out my name. As I walked into the house, I found Damian in his office on a work call. The moment our eyes locked, he stood to his feet.
“Let me call you back,” he told the person on the other line, then he hung up quickly.
His arms were wrapped around me within seconds, and he held me tight as I cried into his arms.
It took three more weeks.
Three more weeks of anxiety. Three more weeks of panic attacks. Three more weeks of a heavy feeling of pain hovering around me before it happened.
Lying in bed beside Damian, I felt a sharp pain in my side. As my breaths intensified, I sat up beside my sleeping husband, and my hand fell to my stomach. I turned on the lamp beside me and felt an overwhelming amount of fear as I stared down at the bedsheets to see red.
Baby…
“Damian,” I cried out, shaking his body with my trembling hands. “Damian, wake up.”
He sat up and cleared his throat, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes. “You okay?” he asked.
“Baby,” I whispered.
His eyes opened more, and he focused on coming out of his dream state. When he saw the blood, he grew fully awake and alert.
“Baby,” I repeated, tears falling down my cheeks.
He rushed me to the hospital.
But I already knew what was to come.
I stared at the doctor with tears in my eyes in a state of complete disbelief.
“Everything’s okay?” I asked the doctor for the hundredth time. Damian’s hand was wrapped around mine. Even though my nerves were shot, his comfort was wrapping me up tight in his hold.
“Yes. Again, it’s called preeclampsia. And with your past struggles of being pregnant, I believe it is important to monitor this closely. With your blood pressure being so high and the swelling of your ankles, I am going to suggest bedrest for the remainder of your pregnancy. There is also a list of dietary changes we can add to your plan to help with this, and the medications I mentioned previously.”