him. He didn’t know what was going on between her and his family and she didn’t know how to separate his love for her from his love for them. It was all a horrible mess.
She shoved a load of Hope’s baby clothes into the washer, added laundry detergent and started the machine, then went back to the dishes in the sink. Without thinking, she plunged her hand in the water and at once, felt a sharp, piercing pain.
“Ooh!!” she cried, and yanked her hand back. It was dripping blood.
“Mary! What’s wrong?” Daniel called.
“Nothing,” she said, then grabbed a hand towel and quickly wrapped it around her slashed finger before dashing toward the bathroom.
Daniel looked up from feeding Hope in time to see Mary bolt through the living room and then down the hall. Hope was almost through with her feeding and already half-asleep. Concerned, he laid her down in her bassinet and then went to see what was going on. He walked into the bathroom just as Mary started pouring alcohol over the wound.
“My God!” he cried. “Honey…are you all right? What happened?”
“Obviously, I cut my hand,” Mary snapped.
Her anger sideswiped him, leaving him frustrated and hurting. And because he hurt, he lashed back.
“I can’t win with you, can I?” he muttered, yanked the alcohol bottle out of her hand and began ministering to her himself. “No matter what I say, it’s wrong.” Then he peered a bit closer, assessing the cut. “I don’t think it needs stitches, but maybe we should go to the emergency room…just in case.”
“We can’t afford a trip to the emergency room,” she said. “Just give me some Band-Aids. They’ll do just fine.”
Daniel froze.
Mary felt sick. Daniel looked as if she’d just slapped him. But if she went, Phyllis O’Rourke would find out and she would find a way to say something hateful about the money an emergency room visit would cost. She couldn’t face another one of Phyllis O’Rourke’s tirades. He didn’t know that his mother had been sniping at Mary for weeks about the fact that her son was having to work too hard on his own and that she should be doing her part by going back to work, too. No matter how many times Mary had tried to explain that she and Daniel had made the decision together that she should stay home with their child, it never seemed to matter. Phyllis blamed Mary for everything wrong in Daniel’s life.
Mary sighed. “Daniel…I’m—”
Hope started crying. Daniel took a deep breath and momentarily closed his eyes, as if trying to make himself calm. When he looked up, Mary actually flinched and took a step backward. That hurt him most of all. Dear God! Did she actually think he would strike her?
Hope’s wails increased.
Suddenly, he snapped.
“Damn it all to hell, Mary Faith. That does it! I am taking you to the emergency room. We’ll drop Hope off at Mom’s on the way. No need exposing her to God knows what. And when we get home, we’re going to talk. I don’t know what’s wrong with us…but I am sick and tired of being shut out of your life. Do you hear me?”
“No!” Mary cried, and clutched his arm. “Please don’t take Hope to your mother’s house. I don’t need to go to the emergency room. It’ll be fine. See…it’s almost stopped bleeding.”
Daniel ignored her and kept walking toward the living room to get their baby.
Mary followed, still begging him to stay, but her pleas fell on deaf ears. She watched in horror as Daniel got a fresh bottle from the fridge, packed the diaper bag and then picked up their crying baby. Almost instantly, Hope’s crying stopped, but now Mary was in tears.
“I won’t go!” she cried. “You can’t make me.”
Daniel turned, staring at her as if she were a stranger.
“Fine,” he said. “Stay here. But I’m still taking Hope to Mom’s and when I get back, we’re going to talk.”
He strode out of the house, put Hope in the baby seat in the back of their car and strapped her in, ignoring the fact that Mary had followed him out into the yard, still begging him to stay.
The moment he laid Hope down, she began to cry again. But Daniel couldn’t let himself focus on her tears. Her diaper was dry and she wasn’t in pain. She just liked to be rocked to sleep and he’d laid her down a bit too soon.
“Hush, baby girl,” he said softly. “You’re okay. You’re okay. Grandma Phyllis will rock you back to sleep when we get to her house.”
He closed the back door and then turned to get in when Mary grabbed at his arm.
“Daniel…please! Don’t! You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”
He frowned. “To you? Damn it, Mary Faith! Don’t you know what you’ve done to me? To us?”
Panic began to rise.
Mary stepped back, watching in horror as Daniel got into the car and closed the door.
Her heart began to race—her stomach turned. She didn’t want to be here again. She knew what was going to happen. She’d seen it every night in her sleep for the past six years.
Oh God…wake me up before the crash. Please…I don’t have the strength to see it again.
Daniel started the car. Mary stood, frozen to the spot, listening to the sound of her daughter’s shrieks. Daniel put the car in gear and began backing down the drive. Mary could already hear the sound of an approaching siren, but Daniel couldn’t hear for the baby’s cries.
Oh God…oh God.
The brown sports car suddenly appeared, careening around the corner and fishtailing as the driver tried to maintain control.
Oh God…oh God.
The police car came seconds later, sirens at full blast—lights flashing.
And Daniel is looking at me, not behind him.
Suddenly, Mary bolted, screaming as she ran, and threw herself on the hood of the car. Daniel hit the brakes and then put the car in Park just as Mary slid off the hood.
His heart was in his mouth as he bolted from the car. Dear God…if Mary had fallen beneath the wheels he would never forgive—
Suddenly, he became aware of the sirens and spun in shock, just in time to see the sports car spin out of control. A heartbeat later, the police car broadsided it and the cars exploded in a ball of flame.
Without thinking, he slammed the car door to keep flying debris from hitting Hope and threw himself over Mary’s prone body.
Mary was in shock. The dream! It wasn’t the same! It wasn’t the same. Overwhelmed with relief, she started to cry. Thank God. Thank God. Maybe this meant she was starting to heal. Even if it was just a dream, she’d given herself a happy ending.
“Mary, darling…are you all right?”
