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    The Only Life There Is
    The Only Life There Is
    The Only Life There Is
    Ebook255 pages4 hours

    The Only Life There Is

    By Maria Rachel Hooley

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    About this ebook

    All Sarah and Evan Davis have wanted was a child, but after two dangerous miscarriages, they face a childless future. Sarah gets pregnant, and Evan fears the pregnancy will kill her. Instead she gives birth to Kade, an autistic child. They struggle with never having a normal life until Kade drowns, leaving Evan and Sarah to face a normal life once again, but that life is broken and scarred.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMaria Rachel Hooley
    Release dateOct 25, 2009
    ISBN9781452334899
    The Only Life There Is
    Author

    Maria Rachel Hooley

    Maria Rachel Hooley is the author of over forty novels, including When Angels Cry and October Breezes. Her first chapbook of poetry was published by Rose Rock Press in 1999. She is an English teacher who lives in Oklahoma with her three children and husband. She loves reading, and if she could live in a novel, it would be Peter S. Beagle's The Last Unicorn.

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      Book preview

      The Only Life There Is - Maria Rachel Hooley

      The Only Life There is

      By

      Maria Rachel Hooley

      The Only Life There Is

      ©2009 Maria Rachel Hooley

      Smashwords edition

      Dedication

      For Taylor Maddison Hooley, a miracle who teaches me every day that I am a work in progress.

      Chapter One

      Sarah Davis perched on the rim of the tub, gripping a small plastic square, the fourth this week. Two little lines weren’t much to ask for. Outside, the wind blustered, rattling branches against the bathroom window

      Her foot rapidly tapped the linoleum, and she fought to keep her breathing regular, as though a frantic exchange of air would jinx her. She glanced at the clock--two more minutes—she shivered as frigid air seeped in around the panes, especially the one Evan had broken. The replacement had left a narrow gap, but she hadn’t really expected winter to find it.

      One minute. She chewed her bottom lip, trying not to peek, and gazed everywhere else, thinking maybe looking ahead of time would ruin things, too.

      Evan rapped on the door. Sarah? Are you in there?

      She jumped and dropped the watch. Yeah. I’ll be out in a minute. She bent and fumbled for the leather band with nerveless fingers. The doorknob turned from side to side as Evan tried to open it.

      When did you start locking the door? he snapped.

      I said I’ll be right out. Five seconds.

      Why is the door locked? he asked, his hand still slowly turning the knob, as if speed and persistence had anything to do with being able to open the door.

      I’m not feeling well, she called, carefully picking up the test. She cringed at the feeble excuse, though her stomach did feel a little loopy.

      The doorknob stilled, and Sarah focused on the results. At first, she clutched the plastic in her hand but slowly released her grip to see if her future held a child.

      Are you all right? Evan leaned close to the door.

      I’m fine. She studied the test and found not only one line but two. Sarah beamed, thinking, We’re going to have a baby.

      Can I come in?

      Sure. Sarah unlocked the door despite her clumsy fingers. Evan, dressed in a black turtleneck and jeans, frowned, reaching for her arm. His thin, John Lennon glasses slid forward, and she resisted the urge to push them back. She half hid the hand clutching her pregnancy test, wishing he hadn’t interrupted; she’d wanted to tell him some other way, not like this.

      He nodded toward her fisted hand. What is that? Reaching out, he grabbed her hand, his fingers gently drawing hers open. He took the square, his expression darkening, and he gritted his teeth, eyebrows furrowed.

      I…wanted to surprise you, she offered, her voice dying at the end. Although she might have called his expression surprised, it didn’t suggest anything positive. The pensive frown wrinkled his forehead, and he clenched his jaw, barely restraining frustration.

      I thought we talked about this. We agreed not to do this. He handed the test back to her.

      Sarah brushed past him into their bedroom. No, you talked about this. She pointed to the bathroom window. There’s cold air coming in around the window. It’s freezing in there. She sat on the bed and slowly opened her palm, double-checking the results as though Evan’s negativity might have changed it. Two lines.

      Sarah Davis was going to have a child. She closed her fingers protectively.

      Evan sat beside her. Sweetheart, I know you want a baby more than anything else in this world. He cupped his hand beneath hers. But we both know this is dangerous. We’ve been down this road.

      Sarah stiffened, bristling from the feel of his hand. This time it will be different.

      I know you’re angry. I know how important this is. It’s important to me, too, but not as important as you are. He pulled her reluctant body to his and rested his chin atop her head. I love you, Sarah Davis, and after last time, I’m scared. You should be, too. He closed his eyes and held her tightly. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.

      You’re not going to lose me. She slowly pulled away and looked at her fingernails, where the sienna polish had begun to chip. She flaked more away.

      Sarah, look at me.

      Gritting her teeth, she forced her gaze to his face. This isn’t about whether I want a baby. It’s about what being pregnant does to your body. After the last two miscarriages, Dr. McMeecham told you this was too dangerous. He warned us both that with each pregnancy you developed pre-eclampsia. He said I could have lost you, too.

      Sarah snatched her hand away and stood. I don’t care! She marched to the window.

      Well, I do. He braced his forearms on his thighs. But for argument’s sake, let’s just say by some miracle you get far enough along so the baby can survive, but the complications kill you. What then? Do I just tell our son or daughter you loved them, that your death wasn’t anybody’s fault? He rested his head in his hands. You think I’m hard-hearted because when it comes to having a baby, I’ll never love our son or daughter like I love you. Maybe you think these crazy chances are yours to take, but they aren’t, not as long as you love me. He felt his whole body stiffen with words he had debated over and over. He knew once they’d been spoken, he could never take them back. But for Sarah’s safety he had to speak.

      Maybe we shouldn’t have this baby. At once, the landmarks of expression on her face suddenly shifted, and the person he knew so well became a sullen stranger who angrily chewed her bottom lip until it bled.

      No, she argued. I won’t throw our son away.

      Evan swallowed hard, frowning as he tried to catch her gaze but she remained aloof, as though they weren’t even in the same room. She’d already gone from finding she was pregnant to the belief she knew the gender already. Next, she would peruse the baby books for the perfect name for a baby that probably wouldn’t live sans utero if it even managed to live at all.

      He flashed back to the first miscarriage six months into a pregnancy from hell. Sarah had collapsed, and the baby had died before they’d even realized something was wrong. Yet even as the doctor had told him about the lack of a heartbeat in his daughter, all he could do was pray for his wife. He’d promised God to stop asking for children if only she would get better. And she had, except in places where scars had left invisible marks. The woman who had used to laugh at his jokes and wrestle with him on Sunday mornings seemed hidden behind a medicated silence long after the antidepressant prescriptions had run out. She barely spoke, but the sound of a child laughing or crying would instantly turn her head as though she expected it to be her own children calling.

      He blinked. Sarah stood at the window, her face pale amid the stale sunlight. Even now, two years after, she looked too weak to think about another baby. Sarah, please, at least think about it. I don’t want to go through that again.

      Sarah stiffened; her shoulders slowly sank, and she touched her belly before turning. Does the past really matter, Evan? We’re going to have a baby. Her fingers rested lightly on her thin stomach, and she beamed, unable to do otherwise.

      The color drained from Evan’s face as he watched Sarah’s smile blossom with beauty. It was a brief flash from the past, and he wanted to hold onto it as though it could shelter them both against whatever the future might hold. He forced himself to rise and slowly cross to her side, his hand reaching for hers. Although the doubts plagued him, he, too, stared at her flat abdomen and couldn’t help wonder What if she does carry this baby to term? What if I could be a father? Would I be a good one?

      His fingers laced with hers, and he slipped behind her to cradle her body against his, well aware he’d given up hope for so long. He wanted a child, yes, but how could he risk losing Sarah?

      Chapter Two

      Late-afternoon sunlight poured through the windows of Dr. McMeecham’s waiting area. Outside, a soft breeze rustled among leaves of russet and gold, a few of which flitted from the branches to the yellowing grass below. From where Evan sat, he saw a cloudless blue sky. October diffused the warmth of the sun, but Evan knew this dip in temperature was just a precursor to the coming winter.

      Evan wanted to rise and pace the room; Instead, he rose and moved to the magazine rack, where, frowning, he scrutinized his choices, searching for distraction. He clenched his jaw, trying not to remember any of the previous times they’d been here. Nothing had been okay since the loss of the first child. Not Sarah. Not himself. For years, they’d tried to have a baby, and each pregnancy had ended in a miscarriage or a D&C.

      Their broken, childless life haunted him, and as badly as he wanted a son or daughter, he wanted his wife’s happiness. Unfortunately, he knew Sarah would prize that happiness above her own health and risk everything for a child.

      Having found a travel magazine, he looked at his wife, arrested by her beauty as sunlight poured through her long, dark hair, catching the auburn highlights. Her long, slender fingers clutched the latest issue of Parents magazine, and her mouth curved into a generous smile. Although a few small wrinkles creased the corners of her eyes, he still saw the same woman he’d promised to share his life with. Time couldn’t change what his eyes saw or what his heart felt. Some things transcended change.

      Sarah Davis? A nurse appeared in the doorway and scanned the crowd. As Sarah stood and put away the magazine, the nurse held open the door. Evan, too, stood and followed his wife, stopping as they reached the second exam room. Once they entered, Sarah sat on the examination table and folded her hands in her lap.

      So what makes you think you’re pregnant?

      A home test, Sarah said.

      The nurse wrapped a blood pressure cuff around her arm and checked her blood pressure. When did you use that test?

      Yesterday. Sarah watched the gauge needle rise. How’s my blood pressure?

      125 over 75. When was your last cycle?

      About six weeks ago.

      Nodding, the nurse opened a cabinet and pulled out a clear specimen cup. I need a urine sample. Do you remember where the restroom is?

      Yes. Sarah wrapped her hand around the cup and stood. As she strolled to the door, Evan watched her hair flowing down her back. She appeared small and fragile. The door closed behind her, and the clicking sound reminded him that even if he could erase this pregnancy, he could not obliterate his wife’s longing. He feared what this disappointing road of broken dreams would ultimately do to them both.

      The nurse flipped through Sarah’s chart, probably re-acquainting herself with the history he knew all too well. I take it this wasn’t a planned pregnancy, the nurse said, slowly peering at him.

      That depends on whom you ask, he finally replied, shaking his head.

      What do you mean? She closed the file.

      I didn’t plan to try having kids again, not after…. His voice dwindled before dying, and he looked at his hands.

      Sarah…chose this?

      He nodded and stared blankly ahead. You got it.

      But the risks? She grabbed the file again.

      Sarah doesn’t care. He raked through his hair and stood just as the door opened again. Sarah entered and handed the specimen cup to the nurse.

      I’ll be right back, she said, taking the cup. As the door closed, they both eyed the file, and Evan knew whatever lay in that file would come out.

      Unable to handle the silence between them, Evan pushed his John Lennon glasses higher and paced, trying to drive away the panic. You shouldn’t have done this, he said, his voice raw with barely restrained emotions.

      I want a baby. Our baby.

      Evan whirled. What if it kills you? he whispered savagely, staring at her placid expression.

      What if it doesn’t, and I give birth to a healthy baby?

      At that moment, he cursed Sarah’s ability to always be positive. She always minimized the bad , but this—this asked too much of him to simply believe it would all turn out okay.

      He opened his mouth, ready to argue, but no words would come. She walked to him and laid her head against his chest. His arms reflexively encircled her. It’s going to be all right this time. She slipped her arms around his torso, and God help him, he wanted to believe in her blind optimism, to remember how easy things had been once. He’d never loved anyone else, and as much as she wanted a baby, he wanted her to be alive.

      They remained entwined until the nurse opened the door. Then they hastily withdrew like teenagers caught making out. Frowning, she scanned their faces and closed the door, her fingers hiding the pregnancy test.

      Well, Sarah said, finally breaking the silence.

      You are pregnant, the nurse replied, but her guarded tone portended a warning.

      A soft knock preceded the doctor’s entrance, and he picked up Sarah’s chart, flipped to the end, and shook his head. Mrs. Davis, if you remember, I suggested that a pregnancy would be dangerous. His glasses perched on his nose, and he peered at her over the rims.

      I remember, she finally said. But instead of looking at the doctor, she nodded to the pregnancy test in the nurse’s hand. May I have that?

      The nurse gave it to her and turned to the doctor.

      Dr. McMeecham shook his head. You don’t understand the risks. With each pregnancy, you’ve experienced high blood pressure. You’ve not been able to carry the fetus to term. It’s not in your best interest to continue this pregnancy.

      I won’t abort my baby! Sarah snapped, her fingers clutching the test tightly as she stepped from the nurse, glaring.

      He folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. This could kill both you and the baby.

      My blood pressure is fine.

      Evan shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. Just like last time. It’s always fine at the beginning.

      She stiffened. It’s not going to be like that this time.

      Evan walked toward her. Sarah, be reasonable. This is dangerous. He gently wrapped his fingers around her arm. I know you want a baby. We can always adopt.

      Your husband has a point, Sarah, Dr. McMeecham agreed, scanning her chart. Concern etched frown lines across his forehead. This pregnancy comes with considerable risk.

      I’m aware of that. She folded her arms across her stomach. And I’m not aborting the child. She shot them a scathing glance. Can we just set up the next appointment?

      The doctor snapped the chart shut. All right. Since you’ve made up your mind. He nodded toward the laptop. I guess we’d best schedule a visit for next month.

      Nodding, the nurse tapped the keyboard to consult her boss’s schedule. How about November 30 at 3:30?

      Smiling, Sarah replied, That’s perfect. It sounds like we have a lot to be thankful for. She wrapped both arms around Evan’s and leaned against his shoulder, smiling sweetly at him.

      Swallowing hard, he tried not to think about the hell he had landed in. He’d known Sarah wanted a baby. He just hadn’t counted on this. Not knowing what else to do or say, he turned back to the nurse as she jotted the appointment information on the business card h she gave to Sarah. He ripped the glasses from his face and rubbed his eyes, well aware his fatigue had little to do with sleep deprivation.

      As the doctor and nurse exited, he slid the glasses back on and strode after his wife. Sarah stood by her decision as if she were the only one it affected. Unable to stomach that, he walked toward the door.

      Sarah caught his hand, forcing him to turn around. Are you mad?

      A bitter laugh escaped his lips, and he shrugged. Why would I be angry, Sarah? Because you got pregnant without even talking to me? Or that you’re willing to die to have our baby? Maybe that you’ve shut me out of all these decisions that affect us both.

      Taking a step back, Sarah flinched. I didn’t think—

      I know that. He walked out.

      Trembling, she followed him. He’d already started the engine, and the radio blared a classic rock song. Even as she slipped into the Explorer’s passenger seat, Evan stared ahead. Her shaking fingers fumbled with the seatbelt, and she waited until he’d started to drive before speaking. Evan, I’m sorry.

      His expression, unchanged, bore a frown. As the vehicle seemed full of loud music, she figured he hadn’t heard a word. Reaching out, she twisted the volume knob. Evan, I’m sorry.

      He shook his head and looked out the window. I want to believe that, Sarah. God, I want to believe that. But ever since we’ve been trying to have kids, you haven’t be able to think of anything else.

      I know, she agreed, folding her hands in her lap. And I’m sorry.

      Are you? He turned toward her, scrutinizing her features. I want a baby, too, Sarah. But more than that, I want you.

      She nodded. You’re right. I know. Whether I should’ve gotten pregnant or not, I am. And we have to deal with it. I can’t abort this baby and go on like it never happened. But no matter what, this will be the last time, I promise. She reached for his hand, and her smaller fingers barely covered his.

      I’ve heard that before. His voice sounded rough, as though it had been abraded by sand paper.

      I mean it. This is the last go round. She leaned against the seat and watched as he turned into their driveway. Maybe this will go better. Maybe it won’t. But I’ll have my tubes tied either way.

      He let the engine idle, staring straight ahead until Sarah wondered where he’d gone and how to get him back. Did you hear me? I said I’d get my tubes tied after this.

      Yeah, he began carefully. I heard you.

      Well, say something, she urged.

      In a lighter, playful moment, he would’ve said, All right. Something. But this, this was not that moment, and laughter did not touch his eyes. Instead when he finally killed the engine and turned to her, she found his expression haunting. I’m afraid.

      She squeezed his hand and took a deep breath. That makes two of us.

      Chapter Three

      October’s chilly winds blew the scarlet and yellow leaves from the trees, and November blustered in with scattered thunderstorms. Although Sarah saw her doctor every other week, the office visits failed to hint at a troubled pregnancy. She had gained two pounds, and her blood pressure hovered in the normal range.

      Still, she felt Evan’s watchful eyes lingering, and he’d developed an annoying habit of trying to anticipate her desires. More often than not, he forced her from the kitchen so he could prepare their meals or order take-out. Their typically active life had suddenly taken a sedentary shift, and although he enjoyed time with her, Evan maintained a physical distance as though he were afraid to touch her.

      Despite the trepidation, Sarah found her body’s changes amazing, and she looked forward to each week’s subtle nuances, fully grasping the miracle unfolding, and instead of dwelling on the uncertainties, she forced herself to live only in the present, in the possibility of life, not death.

      Neither she nor Evan wanted to jinx the pregnancy, so they skated around any mention of the future and left the spare bedroom as a storage room.

      By the time Sarah started her twentieth week, the guarded conversations and her husband’s unwillingness to glance at her changing profile had worn her patience thin. She missed the man who had once told her they could get through anything together. Obviously, he hadn’t anticipated this.

      Shaking her head, Sarah peered out the window, watching the sun dapple the landscape with the honeyed light pouring

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