In a sudden rush, like he’d been catapulted out of REM sleep, Wrath shot upright. “Beth!” he screamed.
“What-what-what-what—”
As he twisted around to his wife, he cursed at the blackness all around him. Goddamn fucking dream, teasing him with what he didn’t have.
“What?” Beth cried.
“Shit, sorry, I’m sorry.” He reached out and soothed her, soothed himself. “Sorry, fucked-up dream.”
“Oh, jeez, you scared me.” She laughed and he heard her hit the pillow as if she’d let herself collapse. “Good thing we sleep with the bathroom light on.”
Frowning, he turned to the side of the bed where his mother had stood and … “No, she wasn’t really here.”
“Who?”
“Sorry.” Cracking his neck, he threw his leg over the side of the bed. “I’ll be right back.”
He gave things a good stretch, and as his spine let out a snap, crackle, pop, he thought fondly of the conversation he’d had with Payne as soon as he’d gotten home. They were going to start sparring again—and not because she was a female.
It was because she was a helluva good fighter and he wanted to get back in the game now.
In the bathroom, he petted George, who was curled up on the Orvis dog bed Butch had given him for Christmas—and then took a piss and had a face wash.
When he got back in bed, he intended to return to lights-out land. Except as he lay flat, he frowned. “Ah, listen … are you feeling okay?”
His Beth yawned. “Yeah, absolutely. But I’m glad I headed back here when I did—the sleep helped. And lying down feels better—I’ve got a stiff back from that mall crawl still.”
Trying to sound causal, he asked, “When’s your next appointment with the doctor?”
“Not till Friday. We’re going weekly now. Why do you ask?”
“No reason.”
As he fell silent, she curled in against him and let out a sigh like she was re-settling for the duration. He lasted about a minute and a half.
“What do you think about calling the doctor?”
“Calling as in—wait, you mean right now?”
“Well, yeah.”
He could feel her recoil. “But why?”
Yeah, like he could tell her anything along the lines of, My dead mom said so. “I dunno. Just, maybe she could give you a checkup or something.”
“Wrath, that’s not appropriate. Especially considering there’s nothing wrong.” He felt her playing with his hair. “Is this about that civilian? Who lost his wife and baby?”
“It wasn’t during childbirth.”
“Oh. I thought that—”
“Maybe we could just call her.”
“There’s no reason to.”
“What’s her number?” He reached for his phone. “I’m calling her.”
“Wrath, have you lost your mind?”#p#分页标题#e#
Fuck it, he’d just do 411.
Beth kept talking at him as he waited for the operator to come on. “Yeah, hi, in Caldwell, New York. The number of Dr. Sam—what’s her last name?”
“You’ve lost your mind.”
“I’m going to pay for the visit—no, not you, Operator.” As the last name came back to him, he said it and spelled it twice. “Yeah, connect me to the office, thanks.”
“Wrath, this is—”
Just as the call went through, Beth went quiet. “Beth?” he asked with a frown.
“Sorry,” she said. “My back let out a twinge. You know what? I’m wearing running shoes next time I go walking like that. Now will you hang up and—”
“Yeah, hi, this is a medical emergency. I need Dr. Sam to come to our home, my wife’s a patient of hers … thirty-six weeks … Symptoms? My wife’s pregnant, how much time have you got?”
“Wrath?” Beth said in a small voice.
“What do you mean, you can’t—”
“Wrath.”
And that was when he shut up … and knew his mother had been right. Cranking his head toward his wife, he said with dread, “What?”
“I’m bleeding.”
The definition of terror changed when things weren’t just about you. And nothing was less about yourself than when you were thirty-six weeks pregnant, you felt a welling between your legs … and it was not your water breaking.
At first, Beth thought she’d lost control of her bladder, but as she moved the blankets aside and shifted positions, she saw something on the sheets.
She’d never seen blood so bright before.
And shit, her lower back was suddenly killing her.
“What’s going on?” Wrath demanded.
“I’m bleeding,” she repeated.