Love Lifted Me (32 page)
Tucker kicked a field goal. The Warriors were ahead. And the D was battling like their lives depended on it.
Jade glanced down the row where Mariah should've been, seeing her son win the game. But she was gone. When Max had called Tucker up, Mariah went ballistic, reaming Jade out because “your husband” put “my son” in the game just to humiliate him.
No, Mariah, you're doing that all by yourself
.
“You think you can steal my son . . . Miss High and Mighty . . . Where were you when he had a fever and diarrhea?” She ranted. Railed. “Who do you think you are?”
Jade peered at her. “Just a woman who loves your son.”
Fuel to her flame, those words. Mariah started back into it, growing louder, then Brenda reached around with some kind of scary kung fu grip and down she went. “Go clean yourself up, Mariah.”
She steamed and stormed off. Just as Tucker made the kick. Women. Such a complicated species.
As the D ran onto the field, Jade winced. For the last few minutes, a discomfort settled in her lower abdomen. A second sharp pang awakened her senses. Something was wrong.
She'd had pain and cramping off and on for a couple of days. Dr. Gelman said, “The womb making room,” and laughed at her own pun.
But this didn't feel like womb room. Another sharp pang fired up through Jade's abdomen and bent her forward. Then she felt it. The warm gush.
“Brenda, I'll be back.” Jade tugged her jacket tight and moved down the bleachers.
“You all right, shug?” She bounced Asa. “Come on D, read the play. Get off the line.”
Panic burped in Jade's mind and soured her heart. This wasn't happening. She was thirteen weeks. Past the old danger zone. The baby moved. Dr. Gelman verified the heartbeat.
Don't die on me, little one
.
Following the signs to Warrior Women, Jade rounded the brick wall and ran into Mariah Walberg. “Mariah, I'm sorry, excuse me.” She stepped around her. “You missed your son's kick. He scored.” Jade shoved the door.
“Was that what all the cheering was about?” Was that remorse in her tone?
Jade held her next step forward. “I'm not trying to steal your son, Mariah.” Jade winced with another cramping wave. Followed by another warm rush. “I'm sorry, but I need to go.”
Barricading herself in the first stall, Jade realized her fears. Blood, soaking blood. “No, no, no.” White spots paraded across her vision and her heart beat so frantically Jade lost control of her trembling hands and quivering legs.
The thin sheets of toilet paper shredded when she tried to rip them from the roll. “Oh, come on.” Jade smashed the metal dispenser with her hand.
“Jesus, Jesus, Jesus . . . please, please.” Tears burned a hot trail down her cheeks.
“Hey in there, are you okay?” The tips of Mariah's boots barely showed beneath the stall.
“No . . . I'm not. Get Max, Max. Please.”
“Coach? He's on the field.”
“I . . . I'm bleeding, Mariah. Get him, please.”
“Do you need a tampon?” Mariah's boot tips turned toward the opposite wall. “Oh, there's no machine.”
“No, no, I'm pregnant.” Jade held back a blue word. “Was pregnant.”
“You're pregnant?” Mariah banged on the door. “Open up. I'm taking you to the hospital.”
“Mariah, please, get Max.” Jade collected herself as best she could and opened the stall door. The cramping came in small waves followed by purple swells of panic. “I need Max.” She left her phone in the truck, but Max never took his phone onto the field. “Mariah, I need my husband.” Jade lowered to the floor, stretching out on the cold, wet tile.
Please, God, this one was supposed to be different. Supposed to live
.
“What are you doing? You can't lie down on this floor, it's filthy.” Mariah snapped a wad of paper towels from the dispenser and dropped to the floor, mopping up some of the grime.
“I'd lie on a mountain of mud to save this baby.”
“Where's your car? I'll get it. Drive you.” This stubborn woman was not the same insulting Mariah who'd dressed her down in the stands a few minutes ago.
“Go get Max. Get a deputy to help you.”
“Are you sure? I can drive you to the ER, then come back to tell him.”
“Mariah.”
She bolted from the bathroom with a
click-clack
of her boot heels, then
click-clack
ed back. “I'm really sorry . . . about earlier.”
“Mariah, it's okay. I understand.”
“I was jealous is all. Tucker thinks you hung the moon. Oh, I'll shut up. Hold on, I'll be right back. Everything's going to be fine.”
Lying on the cold, hard floor, eyes shut, heart wide open, Jade pleaded with the Lord of life to save her child.
“Coach.” A sheriff deputy tapped him on the shoulder. “The woman at the fence says she needs you. Emergency.”
Max turned. Jade? But it was Mariah. What? They had the ball back, a minute to go, and Noah was hitting Calvin in the numbers. They were down by two again. Lubbock had kicked a field goal but the Warriors were marching down the field.
“Coach.” She waved him over.
Max checked down the line at Tucker. He watched, sheepish and distant.
“Coach.” Again with the frantic arm wave. Max gazed up to the stands. Where was Jade?
He ran to the fence. “What?”
“Jade . . . in the bathroom. She's bleeding.”
In one move, Max cleared the fence and raced for the low stone building by the concession stand, crashing shoulders, shoving bodies, hollering, “Out of my way.”
Behind him, the crowd gasped. A whistle blew. He jerked open the bathroom door. “Jade.” He dropped to one knee. “What's going on?” Her hair was soaked in a puddle of muddy water. Her eyes were red and raw.
“I'm losing the baby . . . I'm losing . . . it's never going to be right, is it? It'll always be almost but . . . never. Never.” She shook with a sorrowful sob.
“Hush, you're not losing this baby.” Max slipped his arms under her and lifted her off the floor. “The ambulance is right outside the door.” Kicking his way out the bathroom door, he ran toward the red and white emergency vehicle. “Medic!”
The EMTs in the aisle watching the game bolted into action. “My wife might be miscarrying.”
“Got you, Coach.” The men in blue went into action, pulling out the stretcher, taking Jade from Max's arms.
Mariah danced and pranced off to the side.
“Mariah, where's Asa?” he said, turning to her.
“With Miss Brenda.”
“After the game, get Tuck and take him to our house with Asa. Can you handle that? There's a spare key out on the carport. Under the flowerpot.”
“Y-you'd trust . . . me?”
“Is there any reason I shouldn't?”
Her eyes grew wide and round. “No, sir.” She swallowed and sobered. “Miss Brenda can come, too, help out.”
“You probably can't stop her. But Tuck knows Asa's routine.”
“Don't worry, Jade.” Mariah reached for Jade's hand as the paramedics moved her into the wagon. “I'll take care of him.”
“Just make sure he gets something to eat before he goes to bed. He likes applesauce or yogurt. Tuck knows.”
Max climbed into the back and the medic clapped the doors closed. The engine fired up and the ambulance surged out of the parking lot. Jade gripped his hand so fiercely he couldn't feel his fingertips, but he held on to her.
Jade lay there, weeping, tears flowing with the speed of the vehicle. Max had no words. Only prayer. After a moment, he bent down to her face.
“Look at me, Jade. It's going to be all right. We didn't come this far by God's grace to fail.”
“I can't do this again, Max. I can't lose another baby.”
“We got to have faith, babe. What can we doâbut believe?”
“I can't believe. I can't . . .” She winced, squeezing her eyes shut so water gushed from the corners. “Where are the lights of life now, Max? Where?”
Jade counted the ceiling tiles as the nurse pricked her arm to start an IV. Since she'd arrived at Baptist St. Anthony's, they'd put her in a gown, moved her to the OB wing, and drawn several tubes of blood.
Ten tiles down. Ten across. The window in the far left corner was dark save for the room's overhead lights bouncing off the glass.
Besides the number of the tiles, another number surfaced in her mind and demanded an account. Five. She'd been pregnant five times. Five times she'd lost.
Oh, Lord, another baby?
A mournful moan sent a plea across her soul to her heart.
Max squeezed her hand. He'd not let go since the medics lowered her to the stretcher. The nurse bumped the bed and Jade moved her gaze to Max. He traced his finger along the curve of her cheek, smoothing away the residue of tears. Her eyes welled up again.
“Hey, babe,” he whispered in her ear, “the baby is going to be fine. I feel it. Right here.” He tapped his free hand to his chest. “Brenda's activated prayer meetings and prayer chains all over Colby.” Max spoke low, tender and steady. “Dr. Gelman is on her way.”
Jade nodded, crushing her fingers harder into his. “You have always been there for me. I ran and you chased me. I was so . . . so mad about Rice, but you are the one person in my life who never left me.”
“We don't have to talk about this now, Jade.” He kissed the back of her hand. His eyes searched hers, reflecting his heart. Jade knew. She had to let Max all the way in. Open up all of her heart's doors and windows, and trust. This beautiful man God gave her would never rob her soul.
“I trust you, Max.”
“What's this all about, babe? I know you do.”
“No, babe, I
trust
you. Trust. You. I see it now, so clearly.” She struggled to sit up, a surge of passion and confidence overpowering her momentary sorrow. “You love me.”
“You're just now figuring that out?” His smile was saucy and sexy.
“Yeah, I am.”
If Jade had known at sixteen what she knew now, she'd have never let fear reign in her life. She'd never have lied to marry Dustin Colter, no matter how passionately he wooed her heart. She'd never have let her broken heart agree to Mama's “choice” for her babyâa Des Moines
women's
clinic. Don't get her started on the irony.
Remorse took a slow ride down her spine. She'd have never healed from the abortion without Jesus. Her heart condemned her, but in the end, He didn't. Kind God with kind eyes and a balm to heal the destruction of sin on her heart.
But now she lay in a hospital, again, losing the little life she already loved. Surely He did too.
Lord?
A fresh wash of tears rode down her cheeks.
“More tears?” Max caught them with the curve of his finger. “What's going on behind your eyes?”
“Just realizing how blessed I am, Max. More than I deserve. But I don't want to lose this baby.” Desperation filled every part of her. “Do you think unborn babies go to heaven, Max?”
“I'd bet my fortune they do.” He brushed her hair with the tips of his fingers.
“We have
four
babies there.” He arched his brow.
Are you hearing me?
“But not this one. God didn't bring us to Texas to lose. Football games, yes, but not babies.
Let's just trust Him to lead us to a level place. No matter what, we're together.”
Max tapped his forehead to Jade's. “Jesus, we trust you to keep this baby. To heal, to redeem, to stop the bleeding.”
Closing her eyes, Jade formed the words
heal
and
redeem
in her mind and made them her offering to the Lord. Peace, like a royal blue ribbon, swirled in her soul. It was then, when her mind cleared, she realized the pain had subsided. The blood flow had eased. “Max, the cramping . . . it's stopped.”
“Babe, really?”
“Actually, I don't think it's happened since we got in the ambulance.” Fear had robbed her reason. Turned her focus inside out.
“I told you.” Max squeezed her hand.
She smiled. “Maybe it'll be okay.”
Thank you, Jesus, thank you
. “Hey, how did the game go?”
“We lost.” In an instant, they exchanged sorrows in their countenances. Max released her hand and walked toward the window. He wore his new red varsity jacket with a gold
W
on the back and black warm-up pants. He'd transformed himself this year. Exchanged addiction for freedom. Given up self for son.
“No, babe, no. You won. Those boys played like champs tonight. Did you see that kick? I mean
see
it? It was darn near perfect. Form and all. I've watched you all fall, Max. You've gone from privileged lawyer to redeemed cowboy to passionate football coach. From being fatherless to parenting a two-year-old and forty teen boys. All the while you chased me home. You never broke stride. You looked at yourself in the mirror and you said, âMan up,' and you did.”