Surrogate (5 page)

     Robbie leaned across the sill and looked out the window, watching the traffic tool past below--all those people who didn't know quite how lucky they were as their lives went on in the same boring way they always had.  What he wouldn't give to rewind his life a week, but that was never going to happen.

     The door swished open, prompting Robbie to turn, and when he did, he came face-to-face with Libet, who held a chart in hand.  Although Robbie was dying to give him a piece of his mind, both of them looked at Carrie, who slept peacefully unaware.

     "Well?" Robbie demanded, walking back to the chair where he'd passed the night.  "What did your tests tell you?"

     Libet frowned, opened his mouth, and closed it again.  Whatever he'd been about to say had simply fled.

     Seeing that Libet had so much to say and so much information to give, Robbie threw his head back and gave a hard laugh.

     "Damn it, can you tell me something--anything?"  He glared at Libet.

     Libet finally shook his head.  "Well, we can't find any injuries at all," he finally admitted. "She's got some bumps and bruises, but that's it--nothing substantial that would explain anything."

     Robbies tared blankly at Libet.  Oh, he had expected something.  Granted, he had no clue what, but this--this wasn't it.

     "Surely you're mistaken.  She has to have suffered some kind of head trauma or something that would affect her speech and memory."  Yet even as he stared at Libet's face, still hoping for answers, he knew he wasn't going to get any.

     Libet shook his head.  "I'm sorry, Mr. Williams.  There's no physical evidence of head trauma of any sort."

     Unsettled, Robbie stood and paced while Carrie still slept peacefully.

     "There has to be some kind of mistake.  I don't even think she knows who I am."  He started out whispering, but his voice rose slightly, and Carrie moaned softly while shifting to her other side, her hand gliding over her stomach to make sure everything was okay.

     Both of them looked at her, watching until she'd settled, then they turned their focus back to the conversation.

     "It's not from injuries.  Perhaps it's a matter of psychological shock.  A wreck that violent could cause that.  Perhaps she should see a therapist."

     "A violent wreck?  What are you talking about?  She barely has a scratch on her."  Robbie settled his hands on his hips.

     Libet arched an eyebrow.  "You still haven't seen the car, have you?"

     Robbie shook his head.  "What does that have to do with it?"

     "The EMTs showed me a picture.  She should have died on the scene, Mr. Williams."

     Robbie felt himself exhale, almost as though someone had  punched him.  He wanted to argue that it couldn't possibly be as bad as all that, but he hadn't seen the picture, and part of him wasn't sure he wanted to, not if the doctor was right.  While he didn't like the fact that he hadn't gotten answers sooner, he did feel Libet had no reason to lie.

     The doctor frowned and looked down at his watch.  "I've got other patients I need to visit, and I see no reason to keep Ms. Williams here any longer, as I can't find any physical reason for the symptoms you're describing.  A nurse will be in shortly with the discharge paperwork."

     For a moment, Libet stopped there, his gaze vacillating between Carrie and Robbie, but in the end, the silence grew too much for the doctor, and he headed for the door.

     Robbie watched the door ease closed, took a deep breath, and ambled over to the chair where he slowly sank down, bracing his forearms on his thighs and trying to adjust to the idea that no matter what he had expected from life, this was going to be it, and whatever had caused the rift between he and his wife, he might not be able to fix it.  She should be clinging to him, but she wasn't.

     Maybe it was always going to be like this.

     He leaned close, watching her sleep as she kept one hand on her stomach.  Although Robbie felt the tears pooling in his eyes, he did nothing to stop them.  Instead, they filled his eyes and then poured over, running down his face.  He didn't know, really, what he was crying for.  She was alive.  The baby was alive.  The future was unwritten, but something deep inside him ached to the point of breaking.

     When he felt he couldn't hold it inside anymore, he closed his eyes, trying to keep his emotions from spinning out of his control.

     As he opened his eyes, his gaze locked with her seemingly endless eyes. She took a tentative breath and swallowed,  never looking away from him, but even so, there was a distance there, something he'd never felt between them before, and it frightened him.  He'd always thought of himself as unshakeable.  Now he knew better.

     "Carrie?"  A whisper was all he could manage, and she lifted her head slightly, causing long strands to fall slightly, gathering around her face.

     She didn't answer immediately.  Instead, she reached with one hand and touched his cheek, where the tears flowed.  She only managed one mangled word: "Why?"

     There were a million things she could be questioning.  God knew, he'd had many--but somehow Robbie knew what bothered her were the tears, something he'd never once shown his wife.  Perhaps it was a stupid idea of appearing weak or that he just couldn't seem to make himself that open.  Whatever the reason, he'd never once cried in front of her.

     "I don't know."  He wanted to give a better answer as he reached and took her hand in his.  They were both shaking, and he wondered what had caused his wife to tremble and why he couldn't make it better.  "Are you all right?"  It was probably a stupid question considering the doctors could find nothing wrong with her, but he felt compelled to ask, even if Carrie didn't have an answer.

     She stiffened unexpectedly, and Robbie's frown deepened as he wiped his face.  "Carrie?"

     Her hand drifted back to her stomach, and she looked down at it expectantly.  Although Robbie sat, no more than a few inches from his wife, she focused only on her body, and whatever was happening, Robbie wasn't a part of it--or at least he wasn't until she'd taken his hand and placed it on her abdomen.

     "Ba-by," she whispered, breaking the word into two distinct syllables.  She stretched the 'a' far too long and sounded more like a child learning to speak than a wife who'd had once been eloquent in most everything she'd said. 

     What had happened to her? Robbie wondered, and he felt the panic begin anew, at least until a soft thump against his palm caught him off guard.  He waited.  Sure enough, there came another thump, and it stunned him to realize his son or daughter was kicking like that.

     "Baby," Carrie said again.

     He nodded and let a small smile surface.  "Yes, Carrie, it's our baby--our beautiful baby."

     He leaned in and kissed her forehead, but the motion seemed awkward as his wife backed away slightly, making it harder for his lips to touch her skin.

     After he'd pulled back, he might even have asked her about it had the nurse not walked in with paperwork to sign.  As the nurse stood next to the bed and started rattling off the discharge instructions, Carrie looked ahead blankly; she didn't understand a word the nurse was saying. 

     The nurse, too, seemed a little apprehensive; she probably knew Carrie wasn't getting her words, and when it came time to sign, she looked first at Carrie and then at Robbie. 

     Robbie reached for the clipboard.  "Dr. Libet is aware she's not comprehending everything.  I'll sign the forms."

     The nurse nodded and gratefully handed them over, hovering until he'd scrawled his signature in all the right places.  He was aware of the nurse watching him, almost like she was expecting something from him.  It seemed most people were expecting something.  He just didn't know what or why.

     His fingers trembled as he handed the pen and the forms back to the nurse.  She looked at the forms and headed for the door.

     "Can she get dressed now?"

     "Of course," the nurse said, giving Robbie a pathetic smile.  He was glad right then that he hadn't grown up with her.  He didn't have a clue what had made her move to this small town, but at least she didn't have the satisfaction of seeing this moment as some sort of triumph the way other people he'd gone to high school with might have.

     Waiting until the nurse had slipped out of the room and closed the door behind her, Robbie turned his attention to the small suitcase sitting in the corner, the one he'd insisted Carrie pack just in case.  He'd carried it around in his trunk for two weeks and hadn't given it much thought.  He'd only asked her to pack it because he was somewhat superstitious and figured the best way to prevent her going into labor early was to be prepared--yet nothing could have prepared him for this.

     He forced a smile and turned to his wife, glad they were finally going to escape this depressing room.  Two days here had felt like an eternity.  Of course, part of him wondered what it was going to be like at home with her silence breathing around them, as if a stranger had moved in.

     "Are you ready to get dressed?"  He purposely made his tone warm and inviting as he walked over, his boots tapping the floor lightly.

     He waited for an answer, but she only stared blankly at him, so he waited a moment more.  No words.

     "All right, then," he finally said, feeling a lump form in his throat.  He wanted to get everything out in the open--to cut deeply into whatever was killing them like this and gut it--but he knew this wasn't the time or place.  He also had a feeling that no matter how much he raised or quieted his voice, Carrie wasn't going to give him any answers until she was ready.  He just needed her to be ready now, before he went mad.

     Sighing, he walked to the suitcase and hefted it onto the chair so he could unzip it.  As he drew back the top flap, he wasn't prepared for the small, stuffed bear on top--the first toy he'd bought for the baby-to-be.  He could still remember standing in Galmore's, looking over all the plush toys, settling on this one because he'd known Carrie would love it more than the baby would.  As much as he loved his future child, there was never going to be anyone he loved more than Carrie.  He knew that like he could tell which direction the wind was blowing on a stormy day or when rain was about to fall despite the sun still burning in the sky, knew it the way he knew his heart was going to take its next beat.  She was that much a part of him, and this was killing him.

     With trembling fingers, he nudged the bear aside, sorting through the clothing, past the nightgown and robe until he'd found a pair of maternity shorts, a t-shirt, and the underthings for her to wear.  He gritted his teeth and pulled them out before zipping the suitcase and turning back to her.

     "You'll need these."

     He carried them over to the bed and gently laid them in front of her.

     "Thank you."  Once again, her words were mangled, and Robbie wasn't sure he was ever going to get used to that, not when Carrie's voice had normally been as smooth as honey.  It just didn't go with her.

     "You're welcome," he managed, watching her awkwardly scoot to the edge of the bed.  Without thinking, he moved to help her, but it to no avail.  She avoided his touch, something Carrie just didn't do.

     "Can you get yourself dressed?" He fought to keep a neutral tone, but it was so damned hard, especially since she didn't answer again.

     So he waited, watching her stand, his fingers splayed slightly as she tottered unevenly.  He even started to steady her, but as she caught her balance at the last moment, he stopped himself and curled his fingers into fists just to keep them where they were.

     Aside from her obviously pregnant belly, she was still thin.  It actually looked as though she were carrying a basketball, something he thought was just a joke until he'd seen his own wife's body blossom with new life.

     Although Carrie had become somewhat awkward as the baby had grown, she seemed much more so as she clutched the fresh clothing and started to change.

     "Perhaps you should go in there and get dressed," Robbie suggested, pointing toward the bathroom.

     "Okay."  She waddled towards the bathroom. Shaking his head, he started back over to the chair to wait it out when he heard a knock at the door.

     "Come in," he called.

     That same nurse entered, pushing a wheelchair into the room.  She glanced around, obviously searching for Carrie.

     "My wife is getting dressed."

     At that, the nurse nodded.  "Oh.  Okay.  Well, whenever she's ready, I'll wheel her down, if you want to pull the car to the front ramp."

     "I can do that."  Robbie headed for the door but stopped at the threshold, his fingers gripping the jamb.  "But you might keep an eye on her.  She's a little...unsteady."

     The nurse nodded, her hands lingered on the grips of the wheelchair.  "I'll just stay here while you go down."

     Robbie grabbed Carrie's purse--the only thing that had come out of the wreck besides Carrie.  He thought about grabbing the suitcase, but Carrie would need the shoes inside.  In order to take care of that, he walked back to the suitcase, unzipped it, and pulled out the shoes, setting them on the bed.  Then he zipped the suitcase and headed down the corridor.

     As he walked, he felt many gazes settling on him, and when he looked up to meet them, he found both the doctors and nurses watching him--none of whom he'd met, yet they seemed to recognize him, which left Robbie feeling more than a little unsettled--so much so he glanced downward and busied himself finding keys in his pocket.