Inconceivable! Page 25

  “Oh honey, it will. I’m sure of it.” Mom gave me another squeeze.

  Then it was Dad’s turn. He gave me and John big hugs. “Let us know if you need anything.”

  “I will, Dad. I love you.”

  “John, take good care of my girl.”

  “I always do, sir.”

  ohn reorganized the book shelves. Then, he dusted the TV screen. This was the first time I’d ever seen him do any cleaning.

  “I can start up an aerobics routine, if you want, so you’ll have something to do,” I teased.

  “What are you talking about? I don’t need anything to do.” He rubbed the dust off a vase with the bottom of his T-shirt. “What time are they supposed to call?” John’s hair looked exceptionally unkempt and gorgeous.

  “I don’t know. Sometime this afternoon. You’re the future king. Can’t you go down there and demand they give us the results right now?”

  I’d gone to Dr. Dreesen’s office that morning for a blood draw so they could run a pregnancy test.

  “How are you so relaxed?” He ran his hand through his hair, his eyes wider than normal.

  “It’s out of our hands. There’s nothing we can do at this point to change the outcome. Why worry?”

  The truth was I’d peed on a stick every day since I’d gotten an injection of the pregnancy hormone to prepare my eggs for retrieval. The first pregnancy test produced bold, brightly colored double lines. But I couldn’t celebrate because it was due to the shot. Then, each morning, the second line got lighter. Until one day, it didn’t. It was about the same intensity as it had been the day before. I knew this because I kept all the tests and lined them up for comparison. Then, the second line started to get darker in the days that followed. John was in on my little experiment. While the continued positive tests were wildly encouraging, we remained cautious; only a blood test would confirm it was a pregnancy and not just residual hormones from the shot.

  Just then, my phone rang out its melodic tone. It was Dr. Dreesen’s office.

  “This is Hatty,” I said, activating the speaker.

  “It’s Dr. Dreesen. Your beta number is one hundred! Hatty, you’re pregnant!”

  I gasped and my vision blurred with tears. Hearing those words meant more than the double lines on the pregnancy test. John wiped at his eyes.

  “Thank God! I’m so relieved. What happens next?” I was eager to do whatever was necessary to keep the pregnancy chugging right along.

  “You need to come back Monday morning, and we’ll do another blood test. We’ll want to see the beta number continue to rise to confirm the pregnancy’s progressing as it should.”

  We cleared one hurdle, but a track full of obstacles was ahead of us and we’d have to clear each one over the next nine months. I tamped down the worry and allowed myself to celebrate the news I’d waited so long to hear.

  When we ended the call, John scooped me up in his arms and kissed me deeply. He carried me into our bedroom and shut the door.

  “Mom? I’m pregnant.”

  “Oh, thank the Lord! How wonderful!” Her voice broke on the last word and she sniffed.

  “I’ve got to go back to the doctor’s office Monday and make sure my beta numbers go up. What if they don’t? I’m so worried. How did you stay calm when you were pregnant with me?”

  “I wasn’t relaxed. I worried every minute of every day until I held you in my arms. And after you were born, the worry grew. That’s what parents do―obsess over their children. Welcome to parenthood. You’re going to be a wonderful mother.”

  The jingle-tingle of the queen’s bell quieted the family’s noisy chatter in the dining room. She raised a glass.

  “Tonight, we celebrate the wonderful news John and Hatty received this week. She has the future of our family growing in her womb. We’re thankful and relieved.”

  My face flushed as heat rose to my cheeks. Relieved? Ugh.

  “On the heels of this blessed announcement, I have a bit of news to share myself,” the queen continued. I looked at John and he gave a little shrug and shook his head.

  “I will be abdicating and passing the crown to Leo at the beginning of next month. And when I leave for Thailand this time, I’ll be moving there permanently.”

  Only Leo and Aunt Elinore didn’t have a shocked look on their face.

  “Granny, are you sure you’re ready for this? It’s a huge decision,” John said. This move put him literally one heartbeat away from being king.

  “My dear, I’m completely ready and the time is right. With Juan and your baby on the way, the future of the family is secure. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.”

  No one else spoke up. It was a retirement announcement, and no one seemed to know how to react.

  Herr Schroeder entered, followed by staff carrying trays of food. The meal began and the casual banter slowly returned.

  I leaned over to John and pretended to wipe my mouth with a napkin. “What about Louisa?” Leo’s mistress had become a fixture at Belvoir. I was surprised she wasn’t joining us for dinner.

  John shook his head, and I dropped it. But I was curious how this turn of events would impact her.

  I looked at my profile in the big bathroom mirror. I was only wearing panties so I could see the full length of my upper body. Even though I knew there was no way I’d have a bump this early, I couldn’t resist looking. I closed my eyes and imagined what it would feel like when my abdomen was full and round with new life.

  So far, everything with the baby was right on track with my beta numbers increasing at the right pace. John reached around me from behind and put a hand on my lower abdomen.

  “I’ve never seen you like this. There’s a glow about you.” He swept my hair aside and kissed the back of my neck.

  “Okay. I’m sorry to break the mood. But now can I ask you about Louisa?” Inquiring minds need to know what the heck’s happening!

  He frowned. “He’ll either have to marry her or end it. Their relationship can’t continue the way it is.”

  “And you want him to end it. What do you think he sees in her?”

  “I think he sees a bit of my mother.”

  “What? I can’t believe you’d think that. They look nothing alike and more importantly, Louisa can’t compete with the grace and kindness your mother seemed to have.”

  “I don’t mean they’re truly alike, but I think Louisa’s youth helps him relive the way he felt when he and my mother were young. I don’t know if that’s true or if it even makes sense, but that’s the only way I can stand to think of it. Otherwise, it’s just about the sex.”

  “You’re making me blush, Your Highness.”

  “I’m about to make you do a lot more than that.”

  He spun me around to face him. Pressing my almost-naked body into his, he kissed me before stepping back to remove his clothes.

  placed my feet in stirrups and waited for the ultrasound tech to return to the room. I was naked from the waist down except for a thin sheet spread across my lap. It reminded me of my only infertility-related appointment with Dr. Cloutier.

  There was a brief knock before the handle turned and a woman who looked about my age entered the room.

  “This is a trans-vaginal ultrasound, just like the ones you had to monitor the follicles during the IVF cycle.” She picked up the wand with her gloved hand.

  “Too bad that thing doesn’t vibrate.” I forced a nervous chuckle.

  “Who says it doesn’t?” She raised an eyebrow and laughed.

  I lifted my head and craned my neck to see the monitor as she inserted the wand and moved it around.

  “I see the sac. I’m looking for a heartbeat.” She stared intently at the screen.

  I took a deep breath and waited. I counted the squares on the ceiling.

  “Any luck?” I asked, trying to sound cheerful.

  “No. I can’t find it.”

  “What does that mean?” Panic rose in my throat.

  Her friend
ly demeanor evaporated. “It may be too early for a heartbeat. Your doctor’s office will call you with the results.”

  As soon as she left the room, I got out my phone and called Dr. Dreesen’s office. I asked the nurse to have someone call me as soon as they had the images from the ultrasound because I was worried.

  I got dressed, gathered my things, and met John in the private room where he was waiting. I didn’t say anything.

  “Well?”

  “No heartbeat. The tech said it might be too early though.”

  Just then, my phone rang. I put Dr. Dreesen on speakerphone.

  “The sac measured four weeks and four days. That’s too small for a heartbeat. At this point, you shouldn’t worry. But at your next ultrasound in three weeks, we definitely have to see a heartbeat. For now, relax and just give me a call if you need anything.”

  We rode in the back of the car in heavy silence, both of us uneasy. When we arrived at Langbroek, dusk was erasing the day, darkening the sky into night. We went into the bedroom and shut the door. I didn’t think the sac measurement was right for how far along I was supposed to be. The inconsistency niggled my brain.

  “Are you going to get the progesterone?” I called after John as he went into the bathroom.

  “Yes.”

  “Would you mind getting the ice pack? I don’t think I can handle it unless you numb me up first.”

  John had to administer intramuscular shots of progesterone in oil each night. He gave the shot below my waist between my lower back and rear. Even though we alternated sides, that entire area was incredibly tender. I couldn’t even wear jeans anymore because the waistband rubbed against those painful spots.

  I pulled my sweatpants and underwear just below my rump and felt the chill of the ice pack as he gently set it on my lower back. He ran his fingers over my flesh as we waited.

  “Okay. I think it’s numb.” I grabbed a gulp of air and held it in anticipation.

  John pinched a section of my skin, and inserted the needle. As he released his pinch, I exhaled, feeling the sharpness travel through my muscle millimeter by millimeter. He slowly pressed down on the syringe and I gritted my teeth against tears as the medicine entered my body. Even as he pulled it out, the needle continued to assault my muscle, sending out pulses of pain.

  “Baby King had better appreciate all this.” I wiped my eyes.

  “You’re doing an amazing job. I love you.”

  I looked up at him as he sat on the bed beside me. “If this doesn’t work, are you going to leave me?”

  “No. I won’t leave you. No matter what happens. Why would you even ask such a question?”

  “So, will your family exile us if I can’t get pregnant? The queen told me she’d have our marriage annulled.”

  “She won’t. She’ll get over it.”

  As we kissed, he finished undressing me.

  After we were spent, I rolled over and laid my head on his chest. “You know, Plato wants me to go to Ethiopia. I know you don’t like it, but don’t you think a pregnant lady could make that journey?”

  “Only if her knight in shining armor accompanies her.”

  “Too bad I married a prince.” He smiled and rolled his eyes. “C’mon. I’m only teasing.”

  We left Langbroek to spend some quiet time in De Haan. John thought I’d feel more relaxed at our beachside cottage during the first trimester. Brigitta came with us so I wouldn’t have to cook, unless I wanted to whip up something. Unlike most pregnant women, I didn’t dread the weird cravings or morning sickness. I’d longed for this experience, and I wasn’t going to complain about any of the unpleasant aspects of pregnancy―I finally had what I wanted.

  As we walked on the beach in the early evening, my tennis shoes sinking into the soft sand, I picked up shells and put them in a little plastic bucket.

  “Did you know today’s Halloween?” I added a conk shell to my collection.

  “No. Growing up, I envied American kids and their Halloween fun. I wanted to dress up and ask my neighbors for candy.”

  “It was always one of my favorite holidays when I was little. My mom decorated the house with cardboard cut-outs of skeletons and scarecrows. And I loved letting my imagination go wild with costume planning. One year, I was the ghost of Marilyn Monroe. I remember thinking I had to be her ghost because just going as Marilyn wasn’t original enough. I had this sheer dress, big earrings, and a platinum blonde wig we borrowed from a woman in our neighborhood. She’d worn it after her hair fell out during chemo. Isn’t that crazy?” I took John’s hand.

  “Please tell me your mum has photographic proof of you wearing someone’s chemo wig.”

  “I’m sure there are pictures. But you wouldn’t have known it was a chemo wig if I hadn’t told you!”

  As we walked, I had the sensation of peeing on myself. “That’s strange.” I hadn’t relaxed my bladder.

  “Hatty! You’re bleeding!” John yelled.

  I looked down at my sweatpants and dropped the bucket. Instead of urine, a dark red stain spread from my crotch, creeping down the inside of both pant legs.

  “What’s happening? I need to get to a hospital!”

  We looked around us. The beach appeared deserted. I looked way down the shore to our cottage. A single Royal Guard stood on the stairs leading up to our house, but he was too far away to hear us. We saw a man near the dunes, sitting on a blanket.

  “Hey!” John said, waving his arms frantically.

  The man got up and jogged toward us as I hobbled, not in pain but in hopes of preventing any additional bleeding. John had his phone out and was punching the touchscreen frantically.

  “Oh, madam. Are you okay?” The man looked at my pants. Then realization dawned on his face as he looked from me to John and back to me. “Duchess, let me help you.”

  At the same time, I heard John yelling into the phone. “Send someone down the beach. Something’s wrong with Hatty!”

  As the man and John helped me hobble toward the cottage, I tried to think rationally for a moment. Was there any possible explanation for what was happening?

  I looked down at my pants, evaluating the quantity of blood. It no longer felt like it was pouring out of my body, but the warm, sticky liquid had spread farther down both legs. There was no way this was normal.

  Blink, Hatty. When my eyes fluttered, tears spilled onto my cheeks.

  Bernard ran toward us, pointing to a parking lot to our right, just off the beach. I heard the wail of the siren before I saw the pulsing red lights of the ambulance. It made me think of the blood pulsing and leaking out of my uterus. As I looked at the men unloading the white stretcher, I realized there was only one plausible explanation for what was happening: miscarriage.

  The curtain provided a thin barrier between me and the hubbub of the emergency room. An invisible hand squeezed my uterus producing agonizing cramps. I curled up my legs in hopes of making it stop.

  Despite the pain and the gravity of the situation, I babbled nonsensically. “Did you know in Germany, they call ambulances ‘Krankenwagens?’ It sounds like ‘cranky wagon.’ I can’t believe I had to come here in a cranky wagon. I’m sure everything’s going to be fine. Just peachy, because there’s no way you can come this far and have your pregnancy go to pot.”

  “Hatty, the doctor’s here.” John rubbed his eyes.

  A tall man with dark hair walked to my bedside.

  “Your beta numbers are low. You’re having a miscarriage. Did you even know you were pregnant?”

  I let out a single, choked laugh. I wanted to spit in his face.

  “Yes. We knew,” John said quietly.

  “I need to go to the bathroom.”

  John helped me up and I realized there was a gigantic, thick pad between my legs. It felt like I was straddling a hay bale. When did that get there?

  I waddled into the tiny bathroom. When I was done, there was a streak of blood on my hand. I glanced in the toilet bowl. The water was bright red and filled with
black clots. Part of a Bible verse came to mind: “The wages of sin is death.”

  My baby was in pieces, floating in the hospital toilet.

  “This is death,” I said aloud.

  Then, I wailed, my throat producing a sound I’d never heard before.

  John was by my side in an instant, holding me up, preventing me from crumpling. He carried me back to the bed. And just like that, exhaustion overtook me. I stilled my body and let John rub the blood off my hand with a rough white washcloth. The metallic smell rankled my stomach.

  The doctor wrote something on his clipboard.

  “We’ll go ahead and send you home. You’ll need to visit your doctor in a week to see if your body has cleared all the tissue or if you’ll need a D and C. If you’re in pain, I can write you a prescription for something that will help.” The doctor’s professional demeanor irritated me.

  “Yes, I’m in pain,” I whispered.

  “Would you like the nurse to send this to the hospital pharmacy? It’s open late.”

  “Yes, please,” John said.

  I reached for the doctor as he started to go. “Do I need to keep doing the progesterone shots?”

  “This was an IVF cycle?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then continue the shots until your obstetrician tells you to stop.”

  The doctor left and I closed my eyes.

  A loud crash interrupted my thoughts. I opened my eyes and saw the little metal trash can overturned. John had apparently kicked it over. He was digging the heels of his hands into his eyes and rubbing.

  “Don’t. You can’t fall apart now,” I said, shaken, even in my state, by John’s outburst.

  He inhaled noisily and pulled his hands away from his face.

  “Let’s get you out of here,” he said.

  We’d come to the emergency room without my purse, and I’d arrived in the blood-soaked sweats. A nurse brought me a set of blue scrubs, and John helped me slide them on.