“I…I’m…not pregnant anymore, am I?”
He swallowed. “No.”
A guttural cry left her throat and she pulled her hand away.
“Jessie.”
“Please leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said.
Myra walked up to the bed. “Hey, Kiddo…”
“Everybody get out of my room,” she screeched, and a nurse came in.
“Mrs. Hardin, are you okay?”
“Make them leave.”
The nurse looked at Cadde. “Maybe it’s best if y’all give her some time.”
Against every instinct in him, he did, but he didn’t leave. He sat in a chair outside her door just in case she needed him. But she didn’t. For three days, he sat and only left to shower and change his clothes. Jessie remained distant, not talking to anyone.
Fran from Rachel’s House came by and told Jessie about Nina’s obsession with her. She said she was sorry, but once again Jessie only stared ahead, not looking at the woman.
Outside in the hall, Fran spoke to him, “I’m sorry, Mr. Hardin. I feel so responsible.”
“Yeah, me, too. I wish I had come home earlier. I wish Jessie had never gotten involved with Rachel’s House, but she’s so loving and giving…” He closed his eyes. “She’s shutting me out. She’s shutting everyone out.”
“It’s going to take time.”
“Yeah.” He drew a heavy breath, wanting to blame the woman, but he couldn’t. Now his only concern was Jessie and her well-being.
“Ms. Delgado called me. I offered to testify against Vernon Lynch when they catch him and the trial is set.”
“I’ve been so concerned about Jessie I wasn’t aware she was working on the case, but I hope they put that bastard away for life.”
“I’ll do everything I can to make sure he stays locked up.”
“Thanks.”
He sat in the chair, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped between them. Chairs scraping against the tile drew his attention and he noticed Chance and Kid sitting beside him. They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. They were his support system and he felt he was going to need them more than he ever had in his life.
CADDE HAD HAD THE BABY taken to a funeral home in Giddings. When the doctor released Jessie, he told her about the burial arrangements. All she said was, “Tell Rosa to bring my black suit.”
He knew she was suffering and he didn’t know how to reach her. Kid drove them to Shilah, where Chance waited with the helicopter. Myra was there, too, wanting to help Jessie. But Jessie wouldn’t look at anyone nor did she speak. She sat in the chopper, drawn into herself, away from a world that had caused her so much pain. In her hand, she clutched the yellow booties Rosa had made.
Chance landed the chopper in High Cotton’s country cemetery. Cadde planned to bury the baby next to his parents. His mother would have loved a grandson. A hearse was waiting and a small grave had been dug. He had asked Chance to tell the family to stay away. Jessie couldn’t handle a crowd and he wasn’t sure he could, either.
The cold north wind blew as he stepped off the chopper, scattering dried leaves against his feet. He tried to help Jessie off the aircraft, but she wouldn’t let him touch her. Her reaction cut deep and he didn’t understand it.
They gathered beneath two stately cedars that had stood the test of time. A man from the hearse carried a small coffin about the size of a shoe box and placed it in the ground. Cadde was numb as a preacher from a nearby church read a verse from the Bible. After he finished, Jessie knelt and dropped the booties on top of the box. He thought she’d cry, show some emotion, but she didn’t. She stoically walked back to the chopper and boarded.
He’d given Chance instructions to drop them at the house. He hoped once she was home she’d cry and release her pent-up grief. But there was no emotion as she walked into the house and headed for the stairs.
“I don’t know how to reach her,” he said to Rosa.
“Mr. Cadde, she’s grieving. She needs time to get over this tragedy.”
“But why is she shutting me out?”
Rosa shrugged. “I don’t know, Mr. Cadde. She’s hurting.”
Cadde walked toward the stairs to see if Jessie was okay. He opened the door and came to a dead stop. Jessie was throwing clothes into a suitcase.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m leaving.”
“What?”
She turned to him, her eyes wild, her hair even wilder. “I’m the reason our baby is dead.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Who do you think put the idea of marriage into Daddy’s head?” She poked a finger into her chest, her voice rising with each word. “It was me.”