Hold Me Tight (16 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two
Eric

Somewhere in my consciousness, I perceive the cops going in and out of the hospital waiting room, but for the most part, I’m blind to their presence.

They’ve already questioned me about the incident, and I’ve told them everything I know. Things like double homicides just don’t happen around here. It’s too much to comprehend, and to think that it happened under my roof… I don’t ever want to step foot in that cabin again. Not after seeing the guy who was my best friend blown away before my eyes.

I have to focus on something else, anything else, because if I concentrate on everything that went down, I’ll lose it. Tim’s old hunting rifle jammed and I couldn’t even get off a shot. If Ben hadn’t appeared when he did, God knows what would’ve happened next. The last thing Lauren saw before she died was me pointing a gun at her, believing I was the one who shot her. And there’s poetic justice in that. Lauren always thought she’d win me over. Instead, she left this world thinking I was the one who took her out of it.

And if Ivy lives, I think I’ll be okay with that.

The chief of police already indicated to me that, pending a full investigation, they don’t plan on charging Ben with any crime. Off the record, they feel he acted in self-defense. But I think that’s the least of his worries right now. I’ve never seen someone so shaken. I’ve come to realize that, since he started working for me last summer, Ben’s become someone I can depend on—to take an extra shift, to watch over Ivy, to do whatever needed to be done. I don’t know if he’s going to bounce back from this, knowing that he took a life and he still couldn’t save his brother. Now he’s going to have to start his college career with everyone knowing about the events that transpired. That’s a lot to deal with for anyone, especially someone so young. He was so worried about people finding out he was gay, but this seems worse. It’s going to be a lot harder to handle. I’ll just have to keep an eye on him. It’s what Tim would’ve wanted me to do.

I can only hope that Conrad Price abides by the forensic evidence and doesn’t make things any tougher on Ben. It’s been rumored that Conrad was planning on leaving his business empire to Lauren after disowning Ryan, so I don’t know how far he plans on taking this. Now that Lauren’s gone, I just pray that he leaves Ben alone and lets the rest of us walk away in peace.

We’ve been through enough, and it’s still not over.

Dr. P.’s been in there with Ivy for nearly three hours, and I don’t know how much more I can take. I sag against the hard plastic chair as my dad taps my knee consolingly. I’m glad he’s here, along with my mom, because I don’t think I’d be able to get through this without them.

The good news is that Ivy wasn’t shot. I was terrified at first that one of the bullets went astray and hit her. But it was the trauma of everything going on around her that did her in. The placenta must have ruptured. The amount of bleeding this time was immense. There was no stopping it. She bled out all the way here, even losing consciousness before they were able to wheel her in.

This could be it. Lauren could very well have pulled it off. It would be the final act of her sick and twisted life if she succeeded in taking Ivy and the baby away from me. I can’t believe that fate would be that cruel. I just can’t.

“Honey child?” Wanda, Dr. P.’s nurse, pokes her head around the corner, still wearing her hairnet and scrubs. “Why don’t you come with me?”

I exchange an anxious look with my parents before getting unsteadily to my feet. This is it. They’re going to take me in a room and tell me she’s dead. The last time this happened, it was about Cassidy, only I wasn’t allowed back here for this part. Her parents told me afterward that she was gone. I didn’t get to hear it firsthand from the hospital staff. Her parents didn’t grant me the courtesy, since technically I wasn’t her husband yet.

But I’m surprised when Wanda stops and guides me into an adjacent hallway, away from all the noise and prying eyes.

“Now I need you to be strong for me, sugar,” Wanda pleads, gazing into my eyes. “Ivy’s not out of danger, not by a long shot. However, Dr. P. wants to try something, but he’s going to need permission from her next of kin in order to do it.”

And once again, that sinking sensation grips my stomach. It’s the same thing happening all over again. We’re not married. I’m not her next of kin. I can’t make the decision, even though her life is hanging in the balance.

“She mentioned to me once in passing about the strained relationship she has with her mama,” Wanda continues delicately. “But we’re going to need her to sign off on this, and we’re going to need you to help us get her consent.”

“What does Dr. P. want to do exactly?” I ask, going through all of the possible scenarios in my head.

“Ivy’s not at twenty-two weeks. She’s close, but she’s not there yet, and the chances of the baby surviving outside the womb aren’t very good if we can’t get her there,” Wanda explains as I try to absorb everything she’s saying. “But Dr. P. wants to do something that’s never been done before. He wants to go in and repair the placenta. Buy her the time she needs. It’s risky. It’s experimental. But he wants to try.”

“So the placenta…?” I ask, my voice unsteady.

“It’s hanging on by a thread,” Wanda says, hushed. “Dr. P. doesn’t expect it to remain attached much longer. He doesn’t give it the rest of the night. So you understand how urgent the situation is. We need her mother’s approval as soon as possible. Dr. P. is going to prep her for surgery one way or the other and hope against hope that you’ll be able to pull off a miracle.”

“And if I don’t?” I question, dreading her answer.

“You’re going to lose the baby, Eric,” she responds, holding on to my arm. “Hospital policy dictates that Dr. P.’s priority is to save the life of the mother, even if it means sacrificing the child. But we both know what that will do to Ivy. That’s why we can’t let that happen, not as long as there’s still a chance. I don’t care if you bring her mother in drunk out of her mind. You bring her in.”

“I will. I promise,” I reply, grasping just how dire things are.

“I had my girls at the front desk call around, and they were able to pull an address and phone number from a chart that Ivy’s previous OB-GYN had on file,” Wanda relates, handing me a folded piece of paper. “It listed her emergency contact as a Ramona Thompson over in Monroe. They tried the number, but no one picked up. I can only hope she’s at home and just didn’t answer.”

“I’m on it!” I exclaim, shoving the paper in my pocket. “I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.”

“Even a verbal confirmation from her will let us get started!” Wanda calls out to me as I hustle down the corridor, and I raise my hand to acknowledge that I heard her.

Ivy’s mother better still be there.

She has to be.

***

My dad knew that I was in no condition to drive, so he volunteered to take me wherever I needed to go. After plugging the address into the GPS on his dash, we set off from the hospital on a last-ditch effort to save my unborn child.

I’m glad that Ivy’s sedated. If she knew that it all hinged on her mother, I think it would crush her spirit. She wouldn’t be able to rally, and she’s going to need her strength when Dr. P. operates on her later. I only hope it is to repair the placenta and not to remove the baby from her womb.

So I’m okay with plunging into the breach and taking on her mother. From everything Ivy’s told me about the woman, she sounds like a lousy human being. The minute Ivy turned eighteen, she left and never looked back. The neglect, the abuse—it was just too much to bear. Ivy didn’t have a happy childhood, and she’s still feeling the effects of it. It’s why she’s so determined to make something of herself. It’s why she’s willing to risk her life to bring our child into the world. All because she keeps comparing herself to a woman she’s nothing like.

I know this is a stumbling block for Ivy, like she has to constantly prove to herself that she’s not her mother. I wish she wouldn’t torture herself like this. She’s her own person. She hasn’t just broken the mold. She’s shattered it. She’s going to be such a great mom, if only she’d believe it. She’s so afraid that she’s going to turn into her mother. But she’s not. It just isn’t possible. She’s too good a person.

“Well, this is a part of Monroe I’ve never been to before,” my father mumbles as we pull into a development full of low-income housing.

I stare out the window at the lines of laundry strung about even though it’s December. The sides of the buildings are tagged with gang-related graffiti. There’s a refrigerator without a door standing in the middle of somebody’s yard. I can only hope it is trash day, because the dumpsters next to the curb are overflowing.

Even though the wind is biting, there are people sitting in lawn furniture outside, smoking or doing nothing but waiting around. We’re eyed with suspicion as we drive down the narrow road, leading through the complex. They know we don’t belong here, and they’re checking us out. A young kid talks into his cell phone as we pass, probably alerting someone up ahead that we might be cops.

We keep going until we reach the cul-de-sac at the end. My dad proceeds slowly, scoping out the situation before sliding into a parking space in front of unit five. There are two women on the third floor, leaning over the balcony railing, observing our every move. Their heads are covered with brightly colored scarves as they whisper back and forth to each other, watching us.

The situation screams danger. We could very well be ambushed or mugged if we climb those stairs. But Ivy’s mom lives on the top floor, so we have no choice. It’s now or never. I nod to my dad as we open our doors together and step out.

The minute we do, one of the women shouts down, “You lookin’ for some action, sweet thing?”

The other whistles as I shake my head.

“Well, maybe I wasn’t talking to you then. How about you, old man?” she persists, undeterred.

“Do you know Ramona?” I yell up, and they start whispering again.

“It’s gonna cost you,” she responds, tilting her head, sizing me up.

“Now why would we pay you when we already know where she lives?” I counter, narrowing my eyes.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean she’s going to open the door, now does it?” she sasses back.

“And how do I know she will for you?” I shrug, feeling her out.

“Because I’m her supplier, baby,” she smiles knowingly. “She always opens for me. She can’t help herself.”

I swallow, trying to ignore the bile rising in my throat. Ivy’s mom has advanced well beyond alcohol, it seems. I don’t even want to know what this woman is supplying her with, feeding her addictive tendencies.

“You front me fifty, and I promise”—she pauses, chuckling—“open sesame.”

I start climbing the stairs with my father right behind me. When we make it to the third-floor landing, I reach for my wallet, counting out two twenties and a ten—all the cash I have on me—and hand it over.

She snatches it away from me as her friend laughs.

“This way, fellas,” she drawls, beckoning us forward with her finger. “But you’d better stay back so she doesn’t see you. Let me do the talking.”

I exchange a tense look with my dad as she bangs on the door.

“Ramona, open the fuck up. I got this new shit you gotta try. It’s the bomb. And I’m even willing to let you have a taste out of the goodness of my heart for being such a loyal customer,” she says sarcastically at eye level with the peephole.

For a minute, nothing happens but the woman doesn’t move. She stays rooted in place, sure of her conquest. Her friend mutters some obscenities under her breath before strolling away, leaving the three of us. I glance around nervously, wondering if we’re being set up, when the door opens with the chain hanging across the top.

“Hand it over,” a gravelly voice commands from inside.

“Not ‘til you let me in,” the woman sneers, shoving her foot in the crack as Ramona tries to close it.

Knowing this is our one and only opportunity at this, I slam my shoulder like a linebacker against the door, breaking the chain as it flies open and I go hurtling into the smoke-filled room.

“Later, Ramona,” the woman says, waving from the doorway as my dad follows me in. “Don’t forget you owe me for the shit I gave you last week, and Boo Boo’s none too happy about it.”

“Get out!” Ramona screams, raging out at her.

“Well, you can always work off your debt if you want. You know Boo Boo’s always up for that,” she snickers.

Ramona rushes at my dad, trying to push him out.

“Yeah, you guys can deal with this crazy bitch on your own, I’m outta here,” the woman exclaims, but I barely hear her.

All I can see is the scraggly grey hair whipping around the back of Ramona’s head as she pummels my dad. He tries to restrain her, but she’s strong even with such an emaciated body. I still haven’t gotten a good look at her face as I gently put my hands on her shoulders in attempt to pry her off. She spins around, digging her nails into my forearms, fighting me off.

But I don’t resist even though the crazed eyes glaring at me in hatred are filled with a wild sort of frenzy. They’re red-rimmed, bloodshot, and drowning in an immense ocean of sadness. But I’d recognize them anywhere.

Because they’re Ivy’s.

Chapter Twenty-Three
Ivy

I wake up groggy and disoriented.

I look up, thinking that the skylight is above my bed. But it’s not there. My heart starts to pound, and that’s when I hear the steady beeping of the monitor next to me. I move my arm and feel the tug of the IV line. Immediately, my hands fly to my stomach.

I’m still pregnant. The baby is still inside of me.

I exhale and lean back against the pillows. No matter what else happens, as long as the baby’s okay, I can deal with anything that comes my way. I don’t remember how I ended up back in the hospital, but I didn’t lose the baby. And for now, that’s all I care about.

The room is dark as I glance nervously around. The curtains are drawn, and the only light is coming from the machines beside my bed. It’s not until I detect a faint trace of snoring that I spy a shadowed form sitting in the corner.

Eric
…

My mind is fuzzy as I try to remember how I got here. I attempt to sit up, but I feel so incredibly sore down there. And that’s all it takes for it all to come flooding back. The blood. The gunshots. Tim.

I stifle a gasp, but Eric hears it anyway, jerking awake.

“Ivy, don’t move,” he says, his voice hoarse. “Dr. P. said you have to keep still.”

Eric gets to his feet and drags his chair closer to the bed. I don’t know how long I’ve been out, but he looks terrible, like he hasn’t slept in days. Not heeding his command, I slide my hands out from beneath the covers and reach for him.

He takes my hands in his, leaning toward me as he gazes into my eyes. I reach for him, lowering my head because I feel like I’m going to start crying and never stop. I hold on to him even tighter. I’m so scared. Having him here is the only thing that’s getting me through this without collapsing into a fit of hysteria.

I try to talk, but I can’t. Seeing my distress, Eric pushes my hair away from my face, letting me know that I don’t have to say anything. Shakily, I choke back the sobs that are threatening to burst forth.

“You had an operation,” he begins, tracing his thumb gently across my cheekbone. “What happened back at the cabin…was too much excitement for the baby. It started moving around a lot and nearly tore through the placenta. You lost a lot of blood…but it didn’t detach all the way. Dr. P. was able to try something in order to fix it.”

My eyes widen in response as Eric takes a shuddering breath.

“Dr. P. had never done anything like it before, but he had been reading up on all of your available options and consulting with doctors who have performed similar procedures. He was able to find a surgeon in the U.K. who used a fiber-optic laser and a tiny camera to operate on twins who were sharing the same placenta. All this time, Dr. P. has been going out of his way, taking all of the necessary precautions in case something like this happened to you…and we didn’t even know. He wanted to be prepared, just in case he needed to be,” Eric reveals, his eyes searching mine so tenderly. “And he was.”

I tilt my chin down, overwhelmed by the lengths Dr. P. went to in order to save our baby’s life. Words will never be able to express the gratitude I feel in my heart. He did this for us. Our child would not be here if it weren’t for him.

“In order to stabilize the baby, they put you under the minute you arrived in the hospital. They couldn’t risk any further movement. After Dr. P. conducted the ultrasound and saw what was going on, he decided on taking an aggressive approach. He wasn’t about to give up.” Eric smiles at me, squeezing my hand. “But since what he planned to do was deemed a clinical trial or a test study or whatever you want to call it, the hospital needed your consent, and being that you were already under anesthesia, that wasn’t possible. Dr. P. thought it was too dangerous to wake you up only to put you under again. There just wasn’t time.”

I raise an eyebrow at him and try to open my mouth to speak.

“Shhh,” Eric urges. “I’ll explain everything. I promise.”

He bends his head with a sigh before meeting my eyes again. I have a feeling I’m not going to like what he’s about to say. I brace myself, preparing for the worst.

“I thought of bringing in a justice of the peace to marry us on the spot,” he laughs weakly. “But seeing as you were unconscious, no one was going to go along with me. They needed the consent of a family member…so I had to track down your mother.”

I pull my hands away and look at him warily.

“Ivy, I had to,” Eric moans. “I didn’t have a choice.”

I reach for the cup of water on the adjacent tray table before Eric can get it for me, and I take a long sip from the straw. I drain the whole thing before I glance at him again. I nestle back down and clear my throat.

“Where is she?” I ask grudgingly. “Did she even stick around?”

“Yeah. She’s out there with my parents,” Eric confesses, looking over at me guiltily.

My cheeks flame in embarrassment. I never wanted him to meet my mother. I didn’t want him to see what she’s really like. How I could possibly be related to someone like her.

“My dad and I went to get her and…” He stops, seeing the stricken expression on my face.

“You saw where I lived?” I ask, feeling unnerved.

“Ivy, it doesn’t matter,” he says, trying to console me.

“It does to me,” I reply sullenly.

“If anything, I have even more respect for you now because of where you came from,” Eric proclaims, resting his hand atop my leg. “Realizing how strong you were to get yourself out of a situation like that. Ivy, that took guts. I know it couldn’t have been easy. But look at how far you’ve come. You should be so incredibly proud of yourself. I know I am.”

I sit there for several minutes and take it all in. Eric doesn’t push me. He gives me my space. He knows that I don’t want to be alone right now, but that I’m not ready to talk about it either.

After an extended pause, I hesitantly begin. “I know I should be grateful for what she did. We lost Tim. We almost lost our baby…again.” I crinkle up my face to keep from crying. “It’s all been so awful that I won’t tolerate any more threats to our safety, Eric. And that’s what my mother is—a threat. You saw her. You know she can never stay clean. And I don’t want her around us or anywhere near our baby.”

“You don’t even want to see her before she goes?” Eric prods, not letting me off the hook. “She didn’t refuse when I asked her to come with me. She dropped everything, no questions asked. And she waited all night to get a chance to talk to you. Can’t you at least tell her thank you?”

“Thank her? Thank her for what? For finally doing her job as a mother?” I yell back at him as my monitors start to spike.

“Ivy, just relax. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Eric stands, urging me to calm down. “I shouldn’t have said anything, but after all that went on with Tim, I don’t want you to make the same mistake I did. That’s all. You never know how much time you’re going to have with a person. Sometimes talking it out can really help.”

A nurse hurries in, shaking her head at Eric as she checks my vitals. “Just lie back for me,” she says soothingly. “Take some deep breaths.”

“Is she awake?” asks a voice I wish I’d never have to hear again. “Can I go in and see her now?”

“Shut the door,” I order Eric through gritted teeth.

But it’s too late. My mother comes shuffling into the room.

“Um, ma’am,” the nurse says, trying to get her attention, “the patient can’t have more than one visitor at a time. One of you is going to have to leave.”

My eyes lock onto Eric’s, begging him not to do this.

“I’ll be right out here if you need me,” he responds, bending down to kiss my forehead.

“Don’t…” I whisper fervently.

“You’re going to regret it if you don’t speak with her,” Eric replies, staring down at me with compassion. “I know how much she’s hurt you, but just trust me on this.”

He backs away, lightly tapping my mother on the shoulder as he exits the room.

After the nurse leaves, we observe each other from a distance. She’s wringing her hands, unable to keep still. She’s as fidgety as ever, probably strung out from going so long without a fix. I know the signs well enough to realize that she’ll never change—because she doesn’t want to.

“What are you doing here?” I ask coldly.

“Ivy, it’s been so long,” she cries, approaching the bed.

All it took was one word from me to set her in motion. I could scold her, curse her, mock her, and she’d still act like everything’s okay. Nothing ever gets through to her. She never respects what I want. She’s all about indulging her own needs.

“Don’t touch me,” I say, recoiling from her. “It’s too late for that.”

“It’s never too late,” she replies, taking Eric’s seat beside the bed. “Especially now that I know that you’re carrying my grandchild.”

“Don’t even think about it,” I warn her, propping myself up. “Because you’re not going to be a part of its life.”

“Oh, come now, Ivy,” she murmurs, scooting closer. “You don’t mean that. You’re just upset. I intend on spoiling that grandbaby of mine like nobody’s business.”

“Spoil it?” I fire back. “You don’t know the meaning of the word.”

“Yeah, I know times were tough when you were growing up, but things are different now,” she replies, her eyes taking on a faraway look. “You’ve got a nice, strong man to depend on—something I never had.”

“You stay away from Eric. Do you hear me?” I rage on, afraid of what she’s already said to him. “He may feel sorry for you, but I don’t.”

“Ivy, why are you being so cruel to me, huh?” she questions, acting like I’m trying to hurt her feelings. “I’m only here to help you.”

“More like help yourself,” I retort bitterly. “Don’t think you’re going to pawn any handouts off the Youngs. They’re good people who don’t deserve to be swindled by the likes of you.”

“If they’re so good, then why were you involved in a shootout in their son’s home?” she asks, her eyes gleaming. “I may live in the projects, but no one ever got shot under my roof.”

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” I respond, getting flustered.

“Are you in danger?” she questions bluntly.

I swallow, giving myself a minute. “I don’t know,” I reply, being more honest with her than she deserves.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” she huffs. “Not if Conrad Price’s stepdaughter was involved. Can you believe we used to live in the same neighborhood as that prick?”

“How far we’ve fallen,” I mumble, needling her.

“Ain’t that the truth, sweetheart,” she answers, her eyes following the track of the curtain surrounding the bed. “But you’re doing all right for yourself. I always knew you would. You’re made of tougher stuff than I am. I couldn’t handle the ups and downs life threw at me, but ever since you were small, you’ve faced them head-on, unafraid.”

“Maybe because I had to,” I respond, feeling tired all of a sudden.

“It’s just a shame that two young people in the prime of their lives had to die today because of him,” she rambles on, lost in thought. “He was always a good for nothing. I remember sitting on the back porch with his first wife, Joanie, listening to her tell me about all of the terrible things he did.”

I turn toward her. “Like what?”

“Oh, dearie, stuff not worth repeating,” she protests, holding up her hand, before going on. “How he cheated his clients on these insider-trading deals and clawed his way to the top. But Joanie was a smart one. She made copies of all of the papers he had in his home office when she planned on filing for divorce so he’d let her go.”

“Yeah, right. Conrad left Joanie for his mistress,” I jump in, shaking my head.

“That’s what he wanted everybody to think,” my mom says smugly. “But I know the real story. He was taking some off the top when it came to his financial dealings with his mistress’s family. He didn’t want to get caught, so he made a deal with Joanie to ensure her cooperation.”

“I wonder if she kept everything…” I ponder, mostly to myself.

“Conrad made her burn everything in front of him before he’d sign the divorce papers,” my mom admits, surprising me.

“What?” I ask, bewildered.

“I was working in the office of that auto repair shop then. Don’t you remember?” I nod. “Joanie didn’t work at the time. She depended on Conrad for everything. He was so paranoid. He started monitoring her comings and goings to the point that she couldn’t even drive her car without him knowing about it. That’s why she smuggled the documents over to me to make copies.”

“Mom, that’s insane,” I exclaim. “Do you know the risk you were taking?”

“Ivy, I had a lot of time on my hands, sitting out there in that waiting room with nothing to do,” she grumbles like my being tied up in surgery was a major inconvenience. “After hearing from the Youngs how Conrad kicked Ryan out and how he ended up in jail, I thought I’d give Joanie a call. See if she’d be willing to help. Ryan was never the same after the divorce, and I think she always blamed herself for it.”

“Can we please not talk about Ryan?” I plead, gripping my forehead.

“He always was a little peculiar, wasn’t he? There was something about that boy I never liked,” she grunts under her breath.

“Well, you could’ve fooled me because you were always falling all over him whenever he came to visit,” I reply, jogging her memory.

“It’s only because he was your friend, Ivy, and I didn’t want to upset you,” she insists, sliding her hand up and down the bedrail.

“Whatever,” I moan, not heeding her excuses. “So what did Joanie have to say?”

“She’d been trying to get Conrad on the phone all day, but he wasn’t returning any of her calls. She’s been frantic about Ryan. Conrad wouldn’t even get his secretary to tell her where they’re holding him,” she whispers like it’s a terrible tragedy. “When I told Joanie how you were connected to everything, she was floored. She promised me mother-to-mother that she’d get Conrad off your back when she spoke to him. We go way back and she remembers how I was there for her in her time of need.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever been there for anyone in their time of need,” I mutter stubbornly.

“You can’t say that now,” she declares, tossing back her shoulders. “Joanie just got back to me a little while ago and said it’s all taken care of. Conrad won’t be bothering you again.”