Chapter 1 - Six Days After Owen)
Amelia Caldwell had slept for forty three minutes.
She knew because the clock beside the bed had read 4:17 when Owen finally stopped crying, and 5:00 when he began again.
Forty three minutes.
That was longer than most stretches she had managed since bringing him home.
She opened her eyes slowly.
Everything hurt.
Not sharply.
It was a deep, heavy ache that seemed to live inside every part of her body.
Her back hurt.
Her shoulders hurt.
Her head throbbed.
Her legs felt strangely weak when she pushed herself upright.
Across the bedroom, Owen's cries became louder.
"I'm coming, baby."
Her own voice sounded unfamiliar.
Thin.
Exhausted.
She pulled on her cream cardigan over the dark green nursing dress she had slept in and walked carefully toward the bassinet.
Six days.
Owen had existed outside her body for six days.
Sometimes Amelia still could not believe it.
She lifted him slowly, supporting his head exactly the way the hospital nurses had shown her.
The instant his cheek touched her chest, his cries softened.
"That's it," she whispered. "Mommy's here."
The bedroom door opened.
Grant appeared already showered and dressed.
His dark quilted jacket was folded over one arm.
Amelia looked at him.
For a second she simply stared.
Then she noticed the suitcase behind him.
Her stomach tightened.
"You're really going."
Grant exhaled.
They had already had this conversation twice.
"I told you I was."
"I thought after last night you might change your mind."
"What happened last night?"
Amelia almost laughed.
She did not have the energy.
"I was awake until four."
"So was I."
"No, Grant. You came in at one because Owen was crying and then went to sleep in the guest room."
"I have to drive today."
Amelia looked down at their son.
Owen's tiny fingers curled against her dress.
"I don't feel right."
Grant's expression changed slightly.
Not concern.
Annoyance.
"You haven't felt right since we came home."
"I just had a baby."
"Exactly."
Amelia stared at him.
Grant seemed to realize how harsh that sounded.
He softened his voice.
"Amelia, the doctor said recovery takes time."
"She also said I shouldn't be alone if I feel dizzy."
"You said you were dizzy yesterday because you hadn't eaten."
"I ate."
Grant glanced toward the clock.
The gesture was small.
Amelia noticed it anyway.
He was worried about being late.
Not worried about her.
"When are they expecting you?"
"Nine."
"So you have time to cancel."
Grant looked at her.
"Amelia."
Her eyes filled.
She hated that.
She hated crying now because crying made Grant immediately assume hormones were responsible for whatever she was saying.
"I am asking you not to leave me alone."
"You aren't alone. You have Claire."
"Claire lives forty minutes away."
"She said she could come over."
"Tonight."
Grant rubbed his forehead.
"This weekend has been planned for eight months."
"I know."
"The hotel can't be refunded."
"I know."
"Jason flew in from Denver."
"I know."
"Then why are you acting like I'm abandoning you?"
Amelia looked at him in disbelief.
Because you are.
She wanted to say it.
Instead she whispered, "I need you here."
Grant's phone buzzed.
He looked down.
A smile appeared briefly.
Jason.
Already downstairs.
Grant picked up the suitcase.
Amelia's face changed.
"Grant."
He walked toward her and kissed her forehead.
"You'll be okay."
She stepped back before he could kiss her again.
"You don't know that."
Grant gave her a patient expression.
The expression he used when he believed she was being unreasonable.
"If anything happens, call me."
Amelia stared at him.
"Would you come home?"
"Of course."
"Immediately?"
Grant hesitated.
Half a second.
It was enough.
Amelia looked away.
"Go."
"Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Turn this into some test."
She laughed bitterly.
"I'm not testing you. I'm asking my husband to stay home six days after I gave birth."
Grant reached for the suitcase handle.
"You knew about this trip."
"I didn't know I'd be struggling to stand."
"You stood perfectly fine yesterday."
Amelia looked at him.
Grant sighed.
"I'll call tonight."
Then he left.
Amelia stood in the bedroom holding Owen.
She listened to the suitcase wheels roll along the hallway.
She heard Grant descend the staircase.
Thirty seconds later, the front door closed.
A minute after that, a car engine started.
Owen stirred.
Amelia looked down at him.
"It's okay," she whispered.
She was not sure whether she was talking to the baby or herself.
At 8:24 that morning, Claire called.
"Did he leave?"
Amelia sat on the edge of the bed.
"Yes."
Silence.
Claire knew her sister well enough to recognize the effort Amelia was making not to cry.
"You asked him to stay?"
"Twice."
"Do you want me to come now?"
"You have work."
"I can cancel."
"No."
"Amelia."
"I'm fine."
Claire was quiet.
"That sounded convincing."
Amelia smiled weakly.
"I just need sleep."
"How's the bleeding?"
"Normal, I think."
"You think?"
"The hospital said it can happen for weeks."
"How dizzy are you?"
Amelia looked toward the bathroom.
The twenty steps between the bed and the doorway suddenly felt enormous.
"A little."
"I'm coming."
"Claire."
"I'm serious."
Amelia closed her eyes.
"Could you come tonight instead?"
Claire did not like it.
Amelia could hear that in the pause.
"I'll be there by six."
"Okay."
"If anything changes, you call me."
"I will."
"Not Grant first. Me."
Amelia laughed softly.
"Why?"
"Because I'll answer."
The words landed harder than Claire intended.
Neither woman spoke for a moment.
Finally Amelia said, "Six o'clock."
"Six."
They ended the call.
Amelia placed the phone beside her.
She fed Owen.
Changed him.
Walked downstairs for water.
Halfway back up, she had to sit on the staircase.
Her heart was beating too fast.
She waited until the dizziness passed.
At 10:12, Grant sent a photograph.
A hotel balcony.
Blue water.
Palm trees.
A champagne bucket.
His message read:
Finally made it.
Amelia stared at the screen.
She typed:
I'm feeling worse.
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
A minute later Grant replied:
Try to sleep.
Amelia looked at the message.
She typed again.
I'm serious.
No response.
At 10:47, she called.
Grant did not answer.
At 11:06, she called again.
No answer.
At 11:19, Grant sent a message.
At lunch. Everything okay?
Amelia held the phone in both hands.
I need you to come home.
This time the three dots appeared almost immediately.
Amelia waited.
Grant's response came thirty seconds later.
Let's not panic. Claire is coming tonight.
Amelia read it twice.
Then she placed the phone face down.
Owen began crying upstairs.
Amelia pushed herself off the couch.
The room tilted.
She caught the armrest.
For one frightening second, the entire living room seemed to move sideways.
She stood perfectly still until the floor became stable again.
Then she began climbing the stairs.
One hand on the railing.
One hand against the wall.
One step at a time.
She reached the nursery.
Owen was crying in the bassinet.
Amelia bent to lift him.
Her vision went dark around the edges.
She stopped.
"Breathe."
She said it out loud.
Breathe.
She straightened.
The darkness receded.
She lifted Owen carefully.
He settled almost immediately.
Amelia pressed her lips to his forehead.
Then she noticed something on the carpet.
A drop.
Dark red.
Her pulse quickened.
She looked down.
Another drop fell.
Amelia reached for her phone.
It was downstairs.
For several seconds she simply stood there.
Then Owen made a tiny sound against her chest.
Amelia turned toward the bedroom doorway.
She needed the phone.
May you like
She needed help.
And somewhere two hundred miles away, Grant Caldwell raised a glass beside a swimming pool as his friends shouted happy birthday.
