Summer Sunsets (25 page)

“
Devin,” she says,
stretching her hand toward me. “C’mere.”

I reach the bed in two
strides and stand behind Skye as I take one of Helen’s hands into
mine. Helen looks at us both, and I swear I see tears in her eyes.
That’s when I lean close to Skye and whisper in her ear, “I told
you she was going to be fine.”

That forces her to face me.
“You’re not
always
right,” she whispers, daring me to contradict her.

I grin. “No, not always.
Just when it matters, and you know it.”

“
Whatever you say,” she
retorts and turns back to Helen. Taking a deep breath, Skye starts
to say something again, and I know what’s about to come out. Call
me surprised. I wasn’t really sure when she’d tell her mother about
the pregnancy, but I’m thrilled. One less secret to haunt
Skye.

“
Mom, there’s just one other
thing—Devin and I are going to have a baby.”

Helen draws in a sharp gasp
of air, and her expression is so shocked I’m waiting for it to kind
of filter into some other expression so I can tell what she’s
thinking. Is this a good thing, or a bad one? Is she angry or
happy?

It takes a moment to see
the grin that slowly emerges and blossoms into a smile. “You mean
I’m going to be a grandmother?” She can barely get the words out
she’s so excited.

Skye nods, and I say, “Yes,
ma’am, you are.” In that moment, when I finally tell someone
there’s a future between me and Skye, one that’s going to have
another little person in its future, I feel myself break into a
wide smile that consumes me because for once I feel like everything
I’ve worked so hard to make a reality is just that.

Helen reaches up and pulls
us both to her as tears brim and spill down her face. “Oh, my. What
a wonderful gift.”

We linger in her embrace
for a few minutes before pulling back and smiling at each other.
Skye and her mom begin talking, and that’s when I decide to get a
soda. It’s not that I’m thirsty; it’s just been a long couple of
days, and the fatigue is quickly catching up to me.

“
I’m going to grab a soda,”
I tell Skye as I reach for the door handle. “Do you want
anything?”

They stop talking long
enough for Skye to wave at me and let me know she’s fine and
doesn’t need anything. Then again, Skye doesn’t need much sleep,
which is a good thing, considering the baby in our future. Neither
of us will probably be getting a whole lot once he or she makes a
debut.

I walk down to the soda
machines and slip a couple of dollars into the slot. As I bend to
get the soda, I see movement from the corner of my eye. Turning, I
see Warren stands there, his hands shoved into his
pocket.

“
Hey, Devin,” he says, and
his eyes look clearer, as though he’s finally left the fogginess of
exhaustion behind. A few hours of good sleep will definitely do
that.

“
Warren.” I gesture to the
machine. “Can I get you something?”

“
Nah, I’m fine.” He peers
down the hallway, the worry tugging his lips into a frown. “Where’s
Skye?”

“
With Helen. She just woke
up a little while ago, and the two of them have catching up to do
and a wedding to plan.”

At that, he turns towards
me, his lips curving into a smile. “You finally asked her? And she
said yes?”

“
I wasn’t going to take no
for an answer. You should have figured that.”

He nods. “I did. I was just
waiting for you to get up enough courage to realize you had it in
you.” He reaches out and gives me a hug. “Sounds like
congratulations are in order.”

I pull back and unscrew the
top from my soda. “In more than one way, if you want the truth.”
When he cocks an eyebrow questioningly, I save him from asking.
“Skye’s pregnant.” I take a sip and savor the rush of chilled soda
down my throat.

He slowly nods, finally
catching on. “Which is why she took off, isn’t it? She was scared.”
He shoves his hands back into his pockets and scrutinizes my
face.

“
Terrified.” I screw the cap
back on the soda. “For a while, I didn’t think she was going to let
me inside.” I rake my fingers through my hair. “But she did, not
that it happened quite the way either of us expected.” I walk away
from the machine and down the hall, back toward the waiting
area.

“
What do you mean?” Warren
follows, and we both sit on one of the benches.

“
Skye’s pregnant, and if you
think the proposal freaked her out, this was worse. Way worse.” I
shake my head, marveling at the way Skye looks at herself versus
the way I see her. “She thought she didn’t deserve me or this
baby.”

Warren stares off into
space, and I know he’s thinking about the same thing I am—the day
so long ago we both almost lost her. It was the worst day of my
life, and I don’t think it was much better for him.

“
The choice she made is
going to leave a mark no matter what, but it doesn’t mean she’s
bad, Devin. We both know just how wonderful a girl Skye is.
Unfortunately, abortions don’t just go away. It’s not necessarily
the quick answer expected. It has its consequences, and she has to
come to terms with those.”

He’s right. I know, but
whatever demons Skye faces, we’ll face them…together.

Chapter
Eighteen

The days after Helen’s
stroke seem to blur together. Skye spends long hours at the
hospital until her mom is finally released. That gives me plenty of
time to get resumes out and get a job. The salary isn’t quite as
high as I’d hoped, but then again, I’m sure my work experience
wasn’t quite what they wanted, either, so both of us are going to
have to settle.

Once Helen was back at home
and situated, the real planning for the wedding begins, and while
Skye tries to involve me, I usually give her an answer she doesn’t
like. I mean, I’m not exactly into flowers, so how would I know
what to suggest for the ceremony? Besides, it’s really more
important for Skye to get the details right, and it provides a
wonderful distraction to keep her from worrying over the
baby.

I also kind of figure that
while it’s normal to worry, I feel Skye is just a little more
sensitive to what is going on inside her body than a lot of new
mothers would be, and the former self-inadequacies I’d finally
gotten her to express only seem to flare up that much worse, as
though she’s waiting for horrible symptoms from the abortion to
manifest themselves all these years later. I know it’s a
possibility, but I doubt it will happen.

While I’ll never openly
admit this to Skye, I’ve been sneaking peeks in the
What to Expect When You’re Expecting
she’s left lying around her mom’s house. I’ve made
myself familiar with the complications during each month. There are
things I can’t anticipate, no matter how much I want to.

The best time to spend with
her is usually at lunch, and we’ve taken to meeting at a
hole-in-the-wall hamburger joint because any of the fast food
places only make her feel sick after the meal, and even as we sit
in a corner booth, both of us are feeling the effects of the fact
that the owner, a portly man named Mel who’s old enough to be my
dad, has stupidly decided to give up on using the air
conditioner—never mind that it’s the hottest Indian summer I
remember. Both Skye and I are roasting in the mid-eighty temps, and
although I figure I have the worst of it in my white dress shirt,
silk tie, and navy jacket, I’m wrong. Skye’s face is flushed, and
her lips are tight, one way I know she isn’t feeling so
hot.

Concerned, I touch the top
of her hand. “You okay over there?” I ask softly.

She nods absently. “Yeah, I
just think I need to use the restroom. That’s when she eases
towards the edge of the booth and starts walking away. She takes
three steps, the last of which kind of drags—the first hint
something is wrong. I sense it, but a little voice tells me I’m
overreacting.

Then I see her falling. In
horror, I watch as her head begins to fall toward a table, and I
know she’s going to hit it. I’m frantically trying to escape the
confines of the booth to get to her, but I’m never going to make
it. There’s too much table and distance for me to clear.

“
Skye!” I call. My voice
sounds deep and dragging, as if time itself has slowed. Her body
keeps falling. At the last minute, I see a woman swoop toward my
fiancé and catch her enough to thwart the impact with the table. It
doesn’t totally stop Skye from falling, but it does keep her from
hurting herself.

By the time she’s lowering
Skye to the floor, I’ve finally gotten free and rush over, my heart
racing in panic. As she lies there, I feel the panic taking over.
Skye’s face is flushed, and even though she’s pregnant, she’s not
far enough along for anyone to make that leap.

“
Is she with you?” the woman
asks, her short brown hair falling into her eyes.
“Yes. She’s my fiancé.” I lean over and touch Skye’s face, my
fingers stroking. “Skye, baby, you need to wake up.”

Despite my touch, she’s not
responding. Sweat beads at her temples, and I don’t blame her much
for that. I’m sweating, too. The air should be on.

“
Any clue what’s wrong with
her?” the woman asks, looking at both of us, which unnerves
me.

“
She’s pregnant, and it’s
probably the heat.” My voice sounds steady, and I should be
confident in this, but some part of me still feels the draw of
panic reaching to claim me.

The woman brushes her hand
across her face and nods in agreement. “I can see that. I’m burning
up, too.”

A manager appears behind
me. He’s tall, thin, and clearly worried—probably about a lawsuit,
if you ask me. “What’s wrong?” That’s when he spots Skye lying
there, her long, dark hair flowing around her face. “Should I call
911?”

Part of me wants to say
yes, but I shake my head. “Just give me a chance to wake her up.”
Without waiting for his response, I grab her arm. “Skye, can you
hear me?”

At that, her eyelids
flutter open slightly, and she turns her head toward me, probably
guided by the sound of my voice. “Devin?” Her voice is weak, and
she seems disoriented.

“
Hey?” I paste a smile on my
face, wondering if she’ll see right through it to the cold streak
of fear cutting through me as I dab at a strand of hair curled
against her forehead and matted there with sweat.

“
What happened?”

I shake my head. “I don’t
know. One minute you were heading for the bathroom, and the next
you ended up on the floor, out cold.”

“
I don’t understand.” Her
voice is weak, and the last thing I’m expecting is for her to rise
up on her elbows and try to sit up.

“
Whoa!” Settling my hand on
her shoulder, I ease her back down. “I don’t think you’re ready for
that, not unless you want to pass out again.”

She closes her eyes, and I
can tell she’s weak, which only troubles me all the more. What the
hell is going on? She gives a slight nod. “Maybe you’re right. I
don’t feel so good. It’s so hot in here.”

The manager has folded his
arms across his chest and keeps looking at us expectantly even
though I haven’t a clue what he’s expecting. I force myself not to
mutter something antagonistic, even though I’m sensing he would
deserve it. Instead, I ask, “Could you get a couple of wet paper
towels and a glass of ice water, please?”

“
All right.” He strides off,
and I turn back to Skye. Her eyes are open, but the gaze is glassy.
The logical side of me suggests all of this has to do with the
heat, but that does nothing to quell the panic rising inside. If
anything happens to Skye, I’m not sure what I’ll do. Period. She
really is the best and most beautiful part to me.

The woman who’s been
kneeling with me senses that she should be elsewhere, and in my
peripheral vision, I see her go. My gaze never strays from Skye’s
face, and I’m relieved when I notice her eyes open wider, almost as
if she’s fighting away the sluggishness and returning to an
awareness of the world around her.

Her lips part slightly, and
she gives me a weak smile that’s so beautiful I feel my heart start
pounding even harder.

“
What are you smiling
at?”

Her hand reaches up and
touches my face. “You’ve got that cute worried
expression.”

Taking her hand in mine, I
kiss it. “Well, I am worried.”

The manager returns with
what I’ve requested, and I quickly take the wet paper towels and
blot her face, trying to cool her off. After a couple of moments, I
notice some of the glaze has left her eyes. “Are you ready to try
sitting up?”

“
Of course.”

I know Skye hates feeling
like an invalid, but that doesn’t stop me from slipping my arm
around her back and helping her to a sitting position. I keep
thinking about how close she came to hitting her head on the way
down, and I’m not willing to take any chances.

Once I’ve got her sitting
upright and I feel she’s stable enough, I reach out and take the
glass of water the manager is still holding, hoping perhaps he’ll
go back to harassing the kitchen staff or something that gets him
out of our hair. I can tell by the way Skye keeps looking at me she
doesn’t like all this attention. I don’t blame her. I’m not crazy
about it, either.