The Battered Heiress Blues - By Laurie Van Dermark Page 0,4

the cord. The baby wasn’t getting oxygen. The doctors worked on both of you for such a long time…”

I couldn’t process what he was saying. My breathing became erratic. There wasn’t enough air. Hysterically, I grabbed my throat. Instinctively, Henry pulled me forward to the edge of the bed and placed my head between my knees. The nausea was overwhelming. Pushing by him, my hands secured the trash can. The familiar sensation of warm fluid pooling beneath me startled him and he began to yell for help as my stomach purged itself of the remaining anesthesia. Succumbing to my irrevocable state, my head surrendered to the coolness of the tile floor.

I couldn’t hear the noises that must have accompanied the staff entering. My view became the shoes that scurried in and out of the room. I was alone with my mind. I had my silence back. My only desire was to become smaller until I disappeared.

Henry protectively crouched down at my side as countless hands grabbed at my body. His face appeared in my line of sight speaking words with no sound. Pulling my body onto his lap, he motioned for the hospital staff to stand aside. A nurse steadied my arm and added medicine to the intravenous line. The heaviness of my limbs returned, but he easily lifted me as the nurses kept their instructed distance. I felt the softness of the bed before the medication overtook me.

A surgical resident woke me in the early morning hours to examine my incisions. He spoke very little; just mentioning insignificant details like how much fluid had collected from the tubes that were protruding from my abdomen. I couldn’t blame him for the lack of conversation. What do you say to a woman who has lost her mind? – Whose baby suffered a tragic death? He uncovered me, lifted my gown, admired his handiwork and expeditiously left, waking Henry who had fallen asleep in a rocking chair across the room.

“Hi love.” He walked over to the bed and helped me prop my back up on the pillows. Sitting down next to me, his fingers traced the colorful bruises on my face which I had only then discovered as I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. They stained my otherwise pale complexion. He pushed a stray piece of my long dark curls behind my ear. Tears began streaming down my cheeks, having no control over them. His jaw tightened as he tried to stifle his anger. My hands found his and I tried desperately to pull myself together. Learning to compartmentalize my emotions would be a necessary tool if I were to survive the days ahead.

“How did you know about all this?”

“The Bishop called your brother’s parish. Tommy phoned your father. We were in a meeting. I came straight away.” He busied himself out of nervousness, taking the water pitcher off the table and pouring me a glass. When I didn’t eagerly accept it, he placed it in my hand.

“You didn’t have to come.” He looked away as if I had injured him with my low expectations, but I quickly recovered. “I’m glad you did.” I took a sip of the water and placed the glass down.

“Where else would I be?” Pulling me forward, his embrace was delicate and full of compassion; an effort ruined by the words that were to follow. “Your father wants you home…immediately. I’ve made arrangements.” Henry pulled a thick ivory colored envelope from his jacket pocket and held it in front of my hands, subconsciously willing me to grab the correspondence. “He asked me to give you this. John sends his love.”

I grabbed the letter and placed it on the bedside table, with no desire to read it. “I need some time to figure out…”

“Everything will get sorted.” He paused and I could tell that he was unsure of how to proceed. “Julia, there is a matter we need to discuss.”

His business-like approach made me feel uneasy.

“The police would like a statement. You shouldn’t be alone for something like that, so I’d like to stay.” The attorney in him needed to tie up loose ends- anything that would restrict my ability to leave the country. “Are you up for that?”

“I need to see my son, Tru. I need to hold him. Can you find him for me?” My arms came to rest on his shoulders as our eyes met. “It’s important.”

He nodded, not in agreement, but acceptance, pulling my hands down to his. “Let’s talk to