The Color of Joy by Julianne MacLean

Author:Julianne MacLean [MacLean, Julianne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 9781927675243
Amazon: B00MCP0CVI
Barnesnoble: B00MCP0CVI
Goodreads: 24309336
Publisher: Julianne MacLean
Published: 2015-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-nine

November 9

I woke up feeling knifelike stabs of guilt, grief, and fear. At first I didn’t understand where they were coming from. Then I remembered: The guilt was from lying to my husband; the grief was from the loss of my child; and the fear was for the future—both Jake’s and my own.

Where was he? Would he be safe? What would he do when he found out I’d lied to him? As for my own situation, and why I couldn’t remember my miscarriage… Was I losing my mind?

“I’m taking you straight to the ER,” Mom said as she set a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of me.

I looked down at it without interest. I couldn’t even bring myself to pick up my fork. “I’ll call my regular doctor today and make an appointment.”

“What if she can’t see you?” Mom challenged. “I think we should just go to the hospital. This is serious, Jenn.”

“It’s not an emergency.”

“Yes, it is. Do you even hear yourself?”

For some reason in that moment, no matter what she said, I simply couldn’t grasp the fact that something was wrong with me. Maybe some part of me knew there was, but another part was in denial. Of course I was upset. I’d just learned I’d had a miscarriage. We just had to stay calm.

Suddenly I became aware of Sylvie standing at the counter refilling her coffee cup. “Why aren’t you at school?” I asked.

“I thought I should stay home today,” she replied, looking at me disapprovingly, as if I were a criminal.

“Why?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Really, Jenn? You have to ask why?”

Blankly, I stared down at my breakfast.

“It’s not going to eat itself,” Mom said, taking a seat across from me at the table.

“I’m not hungry,” I replied.

My mother’s shoulders slumped with disappointment. “You have to eat, darling.”

“I will,” I replied. “Just not right now. I don’t feel so good. I want to go back to bed.”

Mom and Sylvie exchanged looks of concern, so I pushed my chair back and stood. I froze, however, when a soft buzzing sound began in my head. I couldn’t seem to make my body work. I couldn’t even put one foot in front of the other.

“What is that smell?” I asked my mother. “Is it lemons?”

“I don’t smell anything,” she replied.

A shiver of anxiety moved through me, followed by intense heart palpitations. I sat back down on the chair.

“Are you all right?” Sylvie asked.

“I feel strange.”

For a long moment I sat and stared at my open palms. All my extremities grew cold and numb. I wanted to ask what was going on, but I couldn’t seem to remember what words I wanted to say, or how to put them in the right order to make a sentence. Then pins and needles spread over my skin from the soles of my bare feet to the top of my head. All my muscles tensed up, hard as steel. I wanted to scream but I couldn’t.

The next thing I knew, everything was fading to white and I was vaguely aware of falling sideways out of my chair.

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