Free Blessed Are the Wholly Broken by Melinda Clayton Page B

of months. Because of her history, the doctor had her scheduled for a checkup every two weeks, but while she dutifully went, she refused to discuss the severity of her nausea with the doctor. “What’s the point, Phillip? They’ll tell me to drink plenty of fluids and rest. We both know what’s going to happen. By the third month I’ll feel better. And then it’ll all be over.”
    At ten weeks, as she approached the time her previous pregnancies had ended, they conducted an ultrasound. While I could just make out the steady flutter of our baby’s heart, Anna refused to look. “I don’t want to get attached to a baby I’ll never meet,” she said, and she turned her face to the wall.
    This was a new Anna, one I’d not previously met. I was alarmed by the bitterness in her voice, but at the same time, I understood. After all, I’d had the same thoughts. What bothered me most was Anna’s quiet anger towards me, yet I understood that, too. I was the one who had impregnated her; therefore, I was the one responsible for the upcoming heartbreak.
    She was distant from me, and if I’m honest, I have to admit I was somewhat relieved by her coolness. I had no idea how to comfort her. It was an awful situation; I felt guilty about her pregnancy, worried for her health, terrified of the aftermath, and unable to fix any of it. We were quiet those first months, circling each other in a holding pattern of sorts, both fully expecting a tragic ending somewhere ahead, but unable to predict exactly when it would occur.
    This is the shape Brian found us in when he finally chose to visit. We weren’t expecting him; it had been several months since he and I had spoken, not since my trip with Anna to Lookout Mountain. Anna was asleep when he arrived; she slept a lot in those days. She was not teaching any classes that quarter; she had arranged for some time off even before finding she was pregnant again. Most mornings she was still in bed when I left, and most evenings I found her on the couch with a blanket when I returned. I did not begrudge her the rest, nor did I begrudge her the mental escape sleeping provided.
    I was outside walking the perimeter of our property early in the morning before leaving for work. We had some fences that needed mending; kids from down the road had taken advantage of the openings to four-wheel on our land, and I planned to stop and buy the needed materials on my way home at the end of the day. I’d just stood from measuring a crossbeam when I saw the flash of sun on glass and squinted to see Brian’s sleek sedan turning off the main road. He wound his way up the long driveway, and I walked across the field to join him. I was always happy to see Brian, but that morning, watching him unfold himself from the car and turn in my direction, I nearly had to restrain myself from galloping across the lawn. So glad was I to see him it didn’t immediately register that Sylvie wasn’t with him. Sylvie had played such a small part in our lives I’d nearly forgotten that she should be.
    “Brian,” I held out my hand for our customary shake and he grasped it, pulling me in for a quick slap on the back. “Where’s Sylvie?”
    “Eh,” he said, with a shrug. “She left. Abdicated the marriage, as it were. Decamped, renounced, apostatized. I know, that’s a good one, isn’t it? Apostatized.” He held up a hand as I started to speak. “It’s all good, Phillip. It was a mistake from the beginning.”
    “Come on inside and fill me in.” I looked at my watch. “Do you not have to work today?” It was a Wednesday morning, one I would remember forever, as it turned out.
    “I took a few days off,” he said. “Going to head up to Kentucky Lake for a few days, camp, do some fishing. Some of the stuff I’ve missed. I just wanted to stop by on the way, let you guys know what’s going on. I wasn’t sure I’d catch you, but I thought if I made it early enough you might not have left for work yet.”
    “Hold