Page 48 of Parker

We move as a group to the ambulance―its doors are set wide, waiting for a patient.

The doctor, Boyd, and Nicky are up front, and my mother and I follow behind.

The whole group stands at the back of the vehicle, then the doctor climbs in.

I move to Nicky’s side, taking her arm to steady her.

Boyd and I then help her into the treatment area and get her settled on the bed.

Standing beside her, she takes my hand in hers and closes her eyes.

“Thank you,” she murmurs. “Thank you for coming to save us. I thought we were going to die. You always save me, Joel.” Her eyes flutter open once more. “This is probably a good time to tell you, you’re going to be a daddy.”

“Really? I never noticed,” I whisper as I sit down on the chair next to her.

She chuckles.

The sound makes my heart swell; it’s the most beautiful noise in the world. I rest my forehead against our entwined hands. She’s still here.

“My world almost ended today,” I tell her. “You not being on this earth would be the death of me. It would kill me, Nicky.”

The doctor clears his throat behind me. “Excuse me, Mr. Parker, may I check over Mrs. Parker now?” I stand and move out of his way, hating our bodies being separated. I listen intently as he assesses her.

“Nicky, I know the past few days have been horrific for you, but I need to ask you some questions. Is that okay?” she murmurs in assent.

“Thank you. Some of these questions may be uncomfortable, but they’re necessary,” he explains kindly.

“When you were imprisoned, how did you obtain the bruises on your face and body?”

She glances at me, then back to the doctor. Her face stills as she obviously recollects the events.

“I tried to escape at the shop, then again when they took me out of the van. They beat me,” she says.

My anger simmers under the surface, rising with every detail she gives.

“Drayton threw me across the room, and my back hit the wall. I thought it would trigger a miscarriage again.” Her tear-filled eyes lift to mine. “I had pains in my back for a while, but they went away, and I felt him moving again.”

“That’s good news that he’s moving. You’ve miscarried a child before?” he asks.

“Three,” I interject, keen to move this topic along. It’s painful to go over. “We’ve had three miscarriages over the years. Always before twelve weeks.”

My mother gasps, shocked, no doubt, to learn what Nicky’s been through in our quest to have a child. Perhaps, now, she’ll be a bit more sympathetic in situations where she doesn’t have the full picture.

“Nicky, I’m sorry to ask this, but did anyone force you to have sexual relations with them?”

Please say no. Please say no. If anyone touched her, I swear, I’ll gut the bastards, slowly and painfully, with my bare hands.

She shakes her head, and air rushes from my lungs.

“That’s good, Nicky. Now lie back, relax, and I’ll examine you,” the doctor says.

I watch as he lifts her dress, exposing her swollen belly. His hands run over her skin, pressing and pushing to check her precious cargo. He turns around to the machines behind him, pulling forward a unit.

“We are going to take an ultrasound scan to ensure baby is all right.”

He squirts gel onto her stomach, then lifts the scanner, pressing it into the goo. The monitor flickers on, and the sound of a heartbeat resonates around the ambulance. My eyes are glued to the screen, taking in the blurry human outline that is my son.

My protective instincts go into overdrive. My wife and son are mine to defend, and I failed horrendously. Right now, I plan to never let them out of my sight. I will never fail them again.

***

Nicky sits in the passenger seat as we pull through the electric gates that secure our home. She hadn’t been happy about returning here with me, but there was no way I was letting her go elsewhere. She’s been giving me the silent treatment since I put my foot down.

Outside the house, she climbs out of the car, and I take her arm. We walk into the house together.

“I’ve had your library made up as a bedroom,” I tell her as we move. “You’ll have your own space, and we can see out this pregnancy together.”

She swallows but stays silent.

“Nicky, I’m here for you and our son. Whatever you both need. But there will be no arguments; you’re staying here.”

“I need to call Sophie,” she interrupts. “She’ll be worried.”

We reach the front door, and I turn the key in the lock. As I push the door open, the smell of vanilla engulfs us.

“My mother has been keeping her up to date. It was her who came to me and raised the alarm. She told me about the baby.” Her eyes drop to the floor as we stand face to face in the living room. “Nicky, why didn’t you tell me? At the garden party…”

She puts her hand up to stop me from speaking. “Joel, I’ve been locked in a room with gangsters for days. They beat me, threatened to rape me, and almost caused the miscarriage of our child. Please, can we talk about this tomorrow?”

“Did they touch you sexually? Did you lie to the doctor?” I growl. This is the first mention of them suggesting they would rape her. She sighs softly.

“No, they didn’t. It was a warning. I just want to have a shower and go to bed,” she mutters, and without waiting for my response, she turns then walks away up the stairs towards her library.