Faith Sullivan - Meant for Me

“See, I told you,” Wanda mouths. Out loud, she says, “Now, Mr. Young. Miss Thompson lost quite a bit of blood, so she’s going to be a little weak on her feet for the next couple of days. I don’t advise her taking a shower alone, if you catch my drift.” Wanda wiggles her eyebrows at me, and I can only shake my head at her.

“I do.” Eric coughs nervously.

“So you’re going to have to help her, but I’m sure you won’t have any problems doing that, right?” Wanda grins widely, and I pat her arm, signaling her to stop before he runs out of the room again.

“Nope,” he manages to choke out.

“Good, I didn’t think so,” Wanda says, helping me into a pair of ugly sweatpants we had sent up from the gift shop. Unfortunately, the ambulance crew had to cut me out of Eric’s shirt in order to attach leads to my chest to monitor my heart rate. Something I’d rather not think about to be perfectly honest. Knowing that strange guys saw my boobs is a mental image I’d like to forget.

“All right. All set, Mr. Young,” Wanda announces, drawing back the curtain. “Let me have one of the orderlies bring over a wheelchair.”

“That’s not necessary,” Eric says, his eyes fixed on me.

“But sir, she can’t walk all the way—” Wanda objects, but she stops when she sees Eric lift me into his arms.

“The Lord works in mysterious ways,” I counter, tilting my chin in her direction as Eric carries me out the door.

“What?” Eric asks, peering down at me.

“Nothing, just some girl talk,” I respond, winking at Wanda.

“You take care, honey child. I’ll be praying for you,” Wanda says, tapping me lightly on the shoulder before hustling back to the desk.

“Well, she’s full of life,” Eric comments, distracted as he checks to make sure my prescription is safely in his coat pocket.

“That she is,” I answer, stroking the nape of his neck. “In more ways than one.”

No matter what happens, I’m keeping this baby—whether he agrees with me or not. It’s one of those rare moments where I feel at one with Cassidy, connected to her on a level I never would have imagined possible. I get now why she did what she did. My fears are inconsequential when it comes to the sheer power of bringing a new life into the world. A woman would literally die for her child, and I can understand that pull now. I feel it too.

Eric doesn’t get the last word on this. It’s my body, my decision. I don’t want to hurt him, but I’m going to put faith in what Wanda told me. I have to believe there’s some kind of purpose behind all of his pain and suffering. It can’t all be for nothing. It has to count for something.

In my heart of hearts, I know that this baby is destined to do great things. I’m not going to let it down. I will fight for it with everything I’ve got. No one’s going to change my mind no matter the risk—not even Eric.

One way or another, this baby is going to live.

Eric

“We can just call them. We don’t have to stop over there,” I protest, even though I know it’s already a lost cause as my heart starts to melt while listening to Ivy’s pleas.

“Eric, c’mon. They’re probably worried sick. I promise to stay in the truck. I won’t get out,” Ivy exclaims, naughtily running her hand up and down my thigh, driving me crazy.

“So we’re headed to the garden center then?” Will asks from the driver’s seat as we bounce along the country road.

“You heard the lady,” I reply, defeated. “But only for a short visit. Keep the motor running.”

Ivy’s hand travels to my knee and she gives it a reassuring squeeze. Her eyes light up when I turn my head to look at her. She’s seated between the two of us to prevent her from being jostled too much. But I hear her wince when we hit a particularly nasty rut.

“Slow down, jerkwad!” I bellow at Will, regretting that I agreed to let him drive us home from the hospital.

“Sorry, Ivy,” Will implores, slowing to a crawl. “I’m just not as familiar with every nook and cranny of these shitty roads as ‘John Boy’ here. If you can even call it a road, it’s more like an overgrown trail.”

“Cool it with the Waltons references, asshole,” I mutter back. “Are you okay, Ivy?”

“If it weren’t for the two of you acting like a couple of kids, I’d be fine,” Ivy says, rolling her eyes.

“He started it,” Will interjects, as we see Shep running over the grassy knoll to greet the truck.

“Yeah well, you should know better. This isn’t the Indy 500,” I retort. “And try not to hit my dog while you’re at it.”

“Enough!” Ivy exclaims, putting a hand over each of our mouths. “You’re supposed to be easing my stress level, not adding to it.”

Pulling her hand away, I snicker. “C’mon, pretty boy. Your lover awaits.”

“Lover?” Ivy questions as Ben drives the tractor out of the garage in preparation for tonight’s haunted hayride.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Young,” Will huffs, clearly miffed at me for letting Ivy in on his secret.

“Someone’s a little cranky after last night’s booty call. I don’t think I ever want to step foot in that woodshed again,” I respond, wrinkling my nose. “Not after what must have gone on in there between the two of you.”

“Wait, let me get this straight—Will and Ben?” Ivy stares at me, open-mouthed.

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it straight,” I counter as Will slams his fist against the horn, causing Shep to yelp and my dad to come running out of the store.

“Shut it, Young,” Will warns as Ben raises his head and glances over at the truck.

“Isn’t he a little young for you, Will?” Ivy asks.

“He’s eighteen,” Will replies haughtily.

“Barely legal,” I mumble under my breath.

“Enough!” Will screams.

I open the door as Ben approaches the truck cautiously.

“Everything okay?” Ben asks, glancing at Ivy and then at Will.

“Just peachy,” Will snipes, sliding out of the truck and storming toward the greenhouse.

“You sure?” Ben questions again. “And I’m not talking about the drama queen.”

“For now,” Ivy says, not wanting to say more. She doesn’t seem to care for Ben. I wonder why.

“How’s it going, little lady? All patched up?” my dad asks with Shep hot on his heels. I called him from the hospital so he knows we didn’t lose the baby. “My tiny speck of a grandchild still hanging in there?”

“It sure is, Frank,” she replies, bestowing on him a dazzling smile. She can’t keep buying into this false hope. I’m not going to let her give in to it. She has to come to terms with just how dangerous things really are. In the meantime, I’m not going to sit here and listen to my dad encourage her.

“I’ll be right back,” I grumble, following Will toward the greenhouse. Ben watches me out of the corner of his eye, but my dad is too preoccupied with talking to Ivy to notice my sudden change in mood. I don’t want to start a war and get her all upset. I just need some space. I feel like I’m going to explode.

When I draw nearer, Will kicks an overturned pail and it clatters against the wall. “Fuck!” he yells at the top of his lungs as I close the door, sealing us in the climate-controlled room.

It’s pretty humid in here. I unzip my jacket and look around. The Christmas poinsettias are coming along nicely. Customers will start purchasing them right after Thanksgiving, so we only have a few more weeks to get them potted and ready for sale. There’s so much that has to get done and I’m already behind. I sigh, easing myself onto a wooden slab holding a row of late-blooming mums. We’ve already had the first frost of the season. No one’s going to want them now. They’re just another lost source of income down the drain.

Will continues his rampage, knocking over a garden hose. He starts issuing a string of profanities as it kicks on, spraying his legs. “Turn this damn thing off!” he calls out, already soaked below the knees. I take my time going over to the spigot, heartily enjoying the show. He tries nudging the nozzle away with his toe but only ends up squirting himself in the face.

“I said you could shower at the garden center, but I didn’t mean inside the greenhouse,” I tease, throwing him a beat-up, old rag to dry off.

“Could this day get any worse?” he sputters, wiping his face.

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Don’t be so sure,” he retorts, rolling up his sleeves.

“Did you talk to Lauren?”

“No,” he exhales, meeting my eyes.

“Why not?” I bear down on him.

“Because there might be another way we can come at her.” Will bends down to recoil the hose. “Ben and I shared some interesting pillow talk last night.”

“Really?” I dig my nails into my clenched fist, desperately trying to remain calm.

“I think we have a common enemy. It appears the Prices got his brother fired from his job at the high school, and he might have some leverage we can use against her.”

“We’re not having this discussion,” I mutter, pacing around the giant puddle on the floor.

“Dude, I know he might have banged Cassidy but—” Will stops as I advance on him.

“Shut the fuck up, Carter!” I yell, tightening my jaw. “We don’t even know if that’s true or just more of Lauren’s bullshit. And until then, I’m not going to waste any time thinking about the past when Ivy could—”

“I get it, man. I do. You have other things to worry about. But you’re going to have to go there eventually. You can’t keep Ben in the dark forever. He’s bound to find out what Lauren’s saying about his brother. You know how this town is.” Will walks over to the panel of windows. His eyes are trained on Ben as he hitches the hay wagon to the tractor. “I just don’t want him to get hurt. He thinks the Prices got his brother fired because of him. He has no clue that he might have been involved with Cassidy.”