When the phone rang in the middle of the night, Emily reached for it, disoriented, forgetting entirely that she was in Sunset Beach, North Carolina. Instead she expected the voice on the other end of the phone to be a nurse from the hospital telling her Ryan was asking for her and to please come back, or worse, that he was gone. She blinked in the darkness and realized that that news—the worst news—had already happened. Instead she heard an unfamiliar voice say, “Okay, so you were right.”
“Who? Who is this?” Emily asked, trying to place the deadpan delivery, the emotionless tone.
“It’s Amber.” This time the voice sounded smaller, less tough. Less certain.
“I was right?” Emily repeated, still not fully awake, still not tracking with Amber’s middle-of-the-night timing.
“Yes,” Amber said. “About what you said. I’m not sure how you guessed but I’m kind of glad you did now, because no one knows and . . .”
Emily listened to silence for a few seconds. “Amber?” she ventured.
“Yeah?” When she finally spoke, Emily could tell that Amber was fighting back tears . . . and losing.
“Honey, are you okay? Do you need me to come get you? Is your dad there?”
“My dad’s never here. He always stays over with his girlfriend.”
“Oh,” Emily said. “Okay.”
“And something’s wrong. There’s . . . blood. And I’m worried. I didn’t know who else to call. No one else . . . knows.”
She thought of her pull toward this girl, her desire to help her for no reason other than that the girl seemed like she could use someone in her corner. But God had known that this moment would come, that this girl would need someone to call. He had set it up, Emily could see, so that when the time came she’d have someone who cared. She closed her eyes and thanked Him, wondering what to do next.
Emily had never had a miscarriage but she’d known a teacher at school who had one. At lunch that day the other teachers discussed the poor woman’s tragedy like they were discussing something they had watched on TV, dishing about what happened. It had happened in the middle of third block and her husband, sheepish and ashen, had come to take her to the hospital. That, Emily thought, was what she needed to do. When it was over she would tell Amber that it was for the best and that when it was the right time, she’d have a baby, just like that teacher eventually did, bringing her bundle of blue to the school for all to admire.
“I’m on my way,” Emily said, already moving toward the dresser to extract a sweatshirt to pull on over her old T-shirt, sliding her feet into flip-flops. She hung up the phone with Amber, who agreed to meet her in front of the motel office, and peered in her bathroom mirror. She looked awful, her hair messy and no makeup. For the sake of not scaring poor Amber with her appearance, she settled for running a brush through her hair and slicking it back into a ponytail. She swiped some light pink gloss onto her lips and ran the mascara brush across her lashes. Thankful that she’d gotten enough color on her face during her many days in the sun, she figured she looked passable, grabbed her car keys, and headed out the door.
She zipped down Beach Road, turned right, then left into the motel parking lot, skidding to a stop in front of the main office to find Amber sitting on the curb, her feet stretched out in front of her, looking miserable. She got up and slowly made her way to the car, stopping to put an old threadbare towel on the seat before she sat down. “Just in case,” she said to Emily. The action brought tears to Emily’s eyes and she blinked them back as she put the car into reverse and then drive again, racing forward until they reached the bridge, where they found the gates down and the bridge open.
“No way,” Emily sighed aloud. She put the car in park and looked over at Amber, who was staring at her, open-mouthed.
“I have to get to a hospital,” Amber said. “Like, now.”
“I know,” Emily said, opening the car door, the dome light shining on Amber’s pale face as she did.
She reached out to grab Emily’s shoulder before she could get out. “I know it sounds weird, but I, like, want to save this baby,” she said.
Emily gave her what she hoped passed as an encouraging smile and slipped out of the car. She guessed that the pregnancy couldn’t be saved. In her limited experience, blood in an early pregnancy meant a miscarriage was happening. But she didn’t want Amber to lose hope and she certainly didn’t want to be the one who broke that news to the girl. For that reason alone, she needed them to close that bridge so they could get to the hospital. She’d seen a rather large hospital up Highway 17 near Shallotte. With any luck she’d have Amber there in less than twenty minutes. She headed toward the closed gates, the lights flashing out a warning to not come any farther. Emily walked right past them, determined.
She walked to the water’s edge and, with all the gumption she could muster, began to yell. “Hey!” she shouted. “Kyle? Bridge tender! Someone!” But they appeared to be doing something to the bridge and the clanking tools and machinations blocked out the sound of her voice. She yelled a few more times to no avail, even going far enough to flap her arms and jump up and down. But it didn’t help. Defeated, she walked back to the car, and Amber.
She was trying to think of a way to break the news to Amber that they weren’t getting over the bridge tonight unless they just happened to open it when she got back to the car. Amber handed her her cell phone with a number already plugged in. “Hit Send when you’re ready,” she said.
She looked at Amber with knitted brows.
“It’ll call the tender house,” the girl explained.
Amber looked at her like Emily was perhaps a little slow. “Of course.”
“And you just know the number? By heart?”
The look was still on her face as she said, “Everyone does.”
Emily hit Send and listened to the phone ring a few times while she thought, Well, obviously not everyone.
The voice that answered was familiar. Of course. This wasn’t the time to act like a flustered schoolgirl talking to her crush. She needed to be purposeful and direct.
“Hi, is this Kyle?” she asked.
“Yes, it is,” he responded. “Who is this?”
“This is Emily Shaw, the woman who bought Ada’s house?”
She heard him smile through the phone and—she couldn’t help it—pictured him smiling as she did. “Emily, yeah, of course. What can I do for you?”
Oh, would Marta have had a field day with that question had she been there. But Marta wasn’t there and Amber was. She looked at the girl who wasn’t smiling at all. “I, um, need to get across the bridge. Now. It’s an emergency.”
His voice went from jovial to serious in a second. “What kind of emergency?”
“I’ve got a girl here—a teen—who is having some, um, issues and needs to get to a hospital. Can you please close the bridge just long enough for us to cross?”
“Is it life or death?” he asked.
She glanced at Amber, who didn’t appear to be in pain, but who, she knew, was convinced that her baby would die if she didn’t get to a doctor. And yet Emily knew that chances were that was already the case. Truth was, without an ultrasound or tests to tell them more, she didn’t know for sure that Amber was actually pregnant at all. There had to be such a thing as false positives with those pregnancy tests.
“No,” Emily answered, a little hitch in her voice as she spoke. “I don’t think it is.”
“I’m on orders from the state not to close the bridge unless it’s a life or death emergency. We’re reopening the bridge at 5:00 a.m. You can cross then. I’m sorry.” He sounded genuinely sorry and Emily felt bad for putting him on the spot.
“It’s okay,” she said. She looked over at Amber and made a face, then executed a perfect three point turn right there at the water’s edge. She said good-bye to Kyle and handed the phone back to Amber before heading toward her house. She checked the clock. It was 3:00 a.m., which meant they didn’t have long to wait for the bridge to be functional again. She turned to Amber. “The state is working on the bridge. He can’t open it unless it’s life or death.”
Amber stared out the window as they drove. For a few minutes she said nothing. “I hate that bridge,” she said as they pulled into Emily’s driveway. “I wish they’d tear it down.” In Claire’s house she saw a light on and half wondered what they were doing up. She thought about the two sides of the argument, and the two women near her who were on either side—the romantic one who favored keeping the small-town access to the island in place and the practical one who favored safety and progress. Two generations held two opposing views.
As she watched Amber open the car door and carefully pick her way toward the front door of her house, she knew which side made the most sense, and she grieved not being able to help Amber the way she wanted to. Her throat tightened at the thought of yet another disappointment defining her life. She hoped that if she had miscarried Amber wouldn’t blame the bridge, wouldn’t rationalize that this delay had caused her baby’s death. Kyle had asked if it was life or death and as they each flopped down on opposite ends of the couch, she wondered if she had answered wrong.
After they both dozed for a couple hours, they got back in her car and headed toward the bridge. They were waiting when it swung shut to finally allow passage. She looked at the bridge tender’s house, expecting to see Kyle’s face and give him a wave, but she saw another man with gray hair instead. She told herself that she wasn’t disappointed and that it didn’t matter whether she saw him or not. What mattered right now was getting Amber to a doctor.
Thankfully there wasn’t a crowd in the ER of the local hospital when they got there and they took Amber back right away. Emily was impressed at the girl’s resourcefulness. She had her insurance card ready and filled out the forms with an efficiency that surpassed her age. She really was on her own, Emily realized. In that respect, Emily felt that they were kindred spirits. Each of them, when it came down to it, had no one to rely on except herself. She reached over and put her hand over Amber’s. “It’ll be okay,” she whispered.
Amber, who seemed on the verge of tears, nodded. A moment later a nurse called her name. “I’ll be right here,” she promised as Amber walked away.
Emily flipped through old magazines—a Woman’s Day from two years prior and a Runner’s World from six months earlier. It was practically a new release, she thought with a smile. She was debating taking up running—maybe training for a marathon—when a nurse came and fetched her. “Ma’am,” the nurse said. “Your daughter would like you to come back and be with her now.”
Embarrassed, Emily started to tell her that Amber wasn’t her daughter, but decided not to correct her. What difference did it make if that nurse thought wrong? At the rate she was going, Amber might be the closest she ever got to having a daughter. Never mind that—but for a teen pregnancy of her own—the girl couldn’t be hers. She followed the nurse, thinking how touching it was that Amber had asked for her.
She found Amber in a small exam room wearing a backward gown, sitting up on a gurney with a blanket over her. “They’re going to do an ultrasound,” Amber said. “To see if there’s a heartbeat.” Emily crossed the room and took a seat on a small wheeled stool beside the gurney. She reached for Amber’s hand and it didn’t feel weird at all. Amber took it, looking grateful. “I just didn’t want to be alone when I found out,” she said.
In a few moments a tech came in pushing an ultrasound machine on wheels. “So,” she said. “You’ve been having some bleeding?” the tech asked, all business, plugging the machine in and adjusting knobs as Amber began recounting the last few hours to the tech who nodded sympathetically but didn’t seem to need to know the details.
Once she was happy with the machine, she pushed open Amber’s gown in the middle, revealing a little pooch of stomach. She caught Emily’s eye. “You mom?” she asked.
“No,” Amber answered for Emily. “My mom’s dead. She’s a friend.”
The tech just nodded. It was clear she cared nothing about this girl’s life story or current situation. She was just another patient in a long line of patients, probably her last after a long night. “This is going to be cold,” she said.
Amber inhaled as the gel was squirted on her stomach. She looked at Emily. “She wasn’t kidding.” Emily smiled and was glad that after the drama of the night she could still make a joke.
They both watched as the screen came to life, a blur of gray and white images flashing. For a few moments there was no sound, just the efficient tech moving the wand across Amber’s belly and entering numbers into the machine. “What do you see?” Amber finally breathed.
The tech pointed to a little flicker on the screen. “See that?” she asked.
Emily and Amber nodded in unison. The tech hit a few buttons and a noise filled the room. Whoomp-whoomp-whoomp. Emily thought she knew what it was and found she was holding her breath and fighting back tears as she watched the tech deliver the news to this girl who had just called her “friend.”
“That’s your baby’s heartbeat.”
Amber’s breath caught in her throat and Emily noticed tears welling in her eyes. “Can you tell if it’s a boy or a girl? Can you tell how far along I am? Can you tell when it will be born?” Her words came tumbling out and even the no-nonsense tech had to laugh.
“It’s too soon to tell what it is—you’ll be able to find out around sixteen weeks along if you’d like. You’re about ten weeks right now.” She entered some more numbers and looked back at Amber. “Says here you’re due around November 30.”
Amber inhaled again. “Thanksgiving,” she breathed. “It’ll be right after Thanksgiving and before Christmas.” She looked over at Emily. “That’s my favorite time of year.”
Emily did her best to smile and not go into how hard this would be on Amber, being a single teen parent with no parental support. She didn’t want to tell her that this guy—whoever he was—would most likely stop visiting the motel once he found out about the blessed event to come. Though the harsh realities were on the tip of her tongue she chose to keep quiet and, after a very difficult night, let Amber have this moment of joy. She smoothed Amber’s beautiful hair back, thinking of how pretty that baby—he or she—would be. She would focus on that and that alone for now. She turned back to look at the image on the screen, that tiny determined heartbeat. That baby was still a miracle. Life—as Emily knew all too well—always was.
After the tech bustled out, the two of them were left to wait for the doctor on call, who was somewhere in the hospital delivering a set of twins and “might be awhile,” as the tech warned. Emily wanted coffee and was about to suggest she go find them something to eat and drink when Amber spoke. “I lied earlier,” she said. She was sitting up again, her gown closed, her arm protectively resting across her stomach.
“About what?” Emily asked.
“About my mom. She’s not dead. She left. A long, long time ago. I was a little girl.” She was quiet for a moment, thinking, Emily imagined, about her mother. “My dad did the best he could. Bought the motel so he could be around. Before that he was a fishing boat captain. Took tourists out deep-sea fishing and stuff. He was never around, which is why my mom left, I think. He said she was supposed to come back and get me but . . . she never did.”
She didn’t meet Emily’s eyes. “Do you think that someone who had a bad mother can be a good mother?” she asked quietly.
“Sure,” Emily said a little too quickly, her voice a little too perky. “This is your life, not hers.” She thought of her own mother’s life in a fishbowl, consumed with appearances and ruled by what people thought, always pushing that mind-set on Emily. In coming to Sunset, she’d found a place where she didn’t have to live that way. She wondered if maybe Ryan had thought of that each time he made those life insurance payments. “You can choose to do things differently than your parents.”
Amber seemed to ponder that for a moment. She nodded, using her index finger to trace the edges of the ultrasound photo she held in her lap. “I want the best for this baby,” she said.
“Of course you do.”
She stopped moving her finger. “It feels so real, seeing it like that. The heart was beating.”
Emily nodded, swallowed. “Are you going to tell the father?”
Amber shrugged. “I’ve tried a few times but I don’t get to see him much, and when I do we never seem to get around to it.”
Emily thought of him all over her at that ice-cream store. I’ll just bet, she thought but held her tongue. “You should tell him,” she said. “The next time you see him.”
Amber nodded, ducked her head. “He’s older,” she said. “Out of college already. I’m afraid he’s going to think I’m a stupid little kid for letting this happen.”
Emily wanted to launch into a sermonette on how Amber wasn’t the only one who “let this happen.” But she held her tongue for a second time, choosing her words carefully. “You shouldn’t have to face this by yourself though. If he cares about you then he should stand by you.”
Amber looked up at her, a panicked look on her face. “But I don’t know if he cares about me. We never exactly talked about feelings. We were just . . . hanging out. And stuff.”
Emily sighed, her heart breaking for the girl. She was all alone in the world and she was getting ready to be even more all alone, Emily suspected. Except that now she was responsible for someone else. “Look, when the time is right you can bring it up, let him know and see how he reacts. And I’ll be praying that it will go well.” She forced a smile. “How’s that?”
“You would . . . pray for me? About this?”
“Of course.” She gave Amber her best “duh” look, being silly and trying desperately to keep things light.
Amber smiled back in spite of herself. “I just don’t know if God wants to hear from me after the mess I’ve made. I’m not that much into . . . church and stuff.”
“Well maybe now’s the time.” She reached across and put her hand on Amber’s knee. “He does want to hear from you, that I can assure you.”
Amber sighed. “Okay,” she said. Emily was about to suggest they pray right then and there, but the doctor walked in and Emily was shooed from the room because she wasn’t family. She found herself wanting Amber to say, “No, I want her to stay.” But Amber didn’t and Emily exited the room, using the time in the hallway to pray alone instead, asking Jesus to mend that girl’s broken heart, and to somehow prepare her for what was to come.