I folded in on myself, wishing stupidly that he had lied to me, that he had told me that there was something that we might be able to do. I had never felt so helpless in my life.
And I knew that part of the reason I was so angry with him, part of why I was so desperate to pass the blame onto him, was because I was guilty. He was right. I should have tried harder. I hadn't pushed like I knew that I should have.
But did he have to be so mean about it?
“I'm going to get Emma out of here,” Eric said. “I don't want her around the hospital. I'll try to find someone else to watch her this week if you want to stay here with your mom rather than running the daycare.”
“How long does she have?” I asked, even though I hated saying the words.
Eric was silent for a long moment. “Not long,” he finally said. “Could be weeks. Could be days.”
I dissolved into tears, but Eric didn't move to comfort me. Instead, he stared impassively at me for a long moment and then strode briskly from the room, leaving me there by myself.
By myself, with…
I put my hand over my stomach, remembering my unborn child. Our unborn child. Even if Mom managed to hang on for a few more months, she wasn't going to be around to meet her grandchild. I remembered how much she had always wanted to have grandchildren, and I felt an irrational surge of anger.
Why hadn't she gotten the chemotherapy when she knew that was the only thing that could slow down her cancer? Wasn't it the responsibility of a mother to do everything in her power to ensure that her child was happy? I didn't want to watch her die, not like this, and definitely not now.
And there was this argument with Eric. I felt suddenly uncertain about the child. I still hadn't told him about it, and I had to wonder what his reaction would be. Would he try to blame me for that as well? Would he be just as angry and upset and unreasonable?
I swallowed hard. I knew that I had to tell him sooner rather than later, but I had to wonder if he would even talk to me again, after this argument.
I leaned against the hospital bed for support, my knees feeling weak and my blood roaring in my ears. Suddenly, everything in my life seemed to be going wrong. It had been ever since I'd moved to Tamlin, and I had to wonder what I had done to piss off the universe in such a big way. A dying mother, an unsuccessful daycare, an unhappy non-relationship, and an unexpected pregnancy: could it get any worse than that?
I took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm myself down. I had to see Mom. I had to tell her I was sorry and apologize for not insisting that she get the treatment that she needed. I had to tell her about the baby, but I wasn't sure if I could. Maybe it would only stress her out, knowing that she wouldn't be here for the birth, knowing that I was about to become a single mother, just like she had been.
I took a few more deep breaths, but I couldn't seem to quit crying. Finally, I sunk to the floor, realizing I had no choice but to let it all out.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Eric
By Tuesday morning, I still hadn't found an alternate sitter for Emma like I had promised Olivia that I would do. I took Emma out to breakfast that morning, trying to figure out what to do. As we went by the daycare, I saw that it was, in fact, open for the day, and Harlan was just arriving. But I also knew that I wasn't ready to see Olivia, even if she did keep the daycare open.
I shook my head and looked at Emma in the rearview mirror. “How do you feel about coming to work with Daddy today, pumpkin?” I asked her. I didn't have many appointments scheduled for the day, and they were all in-office appointments, so this would work out. It wasn't a permanent solution by any means: the next day, I knew I had nearly twice as many appointments, and most of them were house calls. But that would give me at least one more day to figure out what to do. Maybe I would be able to find an alternate daycare or a nanny.
I felt some trepidation about bringing Emma into the office for the full day, but I was armed with plenty of coloring books and the promise of ice cream that evening if she was well-behaved. Emma seemed happy to go along with that plan. She definitely seemed to be behaving better recently, which I chalked up to the time she'd spent with Olivia at the daycare. I didn't know what kind of magic the woman had worked, or if it was maybe that Emma was just growing up and getting more mature, but it was a godsend.
Olivia.
I sighed. I hadn't been able to get our argument out of my head, and even though I felt justified in saying everything that I'd said, I also knew that hadn't been the most tactful time or place for it. And I hated knowing that I had upset her that badly when she was already so worried about her mother.
Still, it was true: if she had tried harder, I doubted we would be in this position now. I wasn't ready to lose someone else to cancer. I was already dealing with Helen's memory loss; there was only so much that I could take.
And to be honest, I still felt guilty about the whole thing. Olivia's words had hit home in too many ways. I probably should have tried harder, rather than trying to rely on Olivia to convince her mother. But every time I had to think about Jeannie's situation, I was stuck thinking about Emily's situation and all the similarities. Still, I felt like I had dropped the ball as Jeannie's primary physician.
Nor could I blame Olivia for calling me out on that, not when I knew she was already upset at the time, not when I laid into her like I did. Of course, she would lash out at me in response. Of course, she was upset with me. I felt like an ass.
I didn't know where to go from there. I wouldn't be able to avoid Olivia forever; we were bound to run into one another around town or at the hospital. And there was still the matter of daycare if I couldn't find an alternative solution for Emma. But for today, I tried to put her out of my mind.
Tried being the operative word.
Emma hummed along as she colored in a picture of a giraffe, using blue and green crayons for some reason. Not that I was going to interrupt her creativity. I smiled over at her, glad that she, at least, still seemed happy. She didn't have to worry about adult things yet; she still retained her innocence. I wanted that for as long as I could have it.
The door swung open, and I frowned up at the person entering. I didn't have any appointments scheduled for now, and I had been hoping to make a dent in the massive stack of paperwork that had been piling up. I felt like I'd been distracted for weeks, unable to focus as well as I should because of all my thoughts about Olivia.
Again, it wouldn't be fair to blame her for that.