Growing Grounds

Chapter 6: Life-Changing News

As soon as the sheriff disappeared around the corner toward the front door, Matt sidled around until he was in front of Tammy. "Okay, honey. What happened? What the hell is going on here? Do you remember anything?"

"I don't remember much and what I do remember seems crazy."

"Tell me. I saw the wound and that's not a normal stab wound."

Tammy eased to a leaning position and craned her neck to see as far into the foyer as possible. The last thing she wanted was for the good sheriff to hear what she was getting ready to tell Matt. Being hauled off to the psych ward was not her idea of a good time.

Satisfied that the sheriff and his deputy were outside the house still, Tammy spoke quietly. "You're going to think I'm crazy or that I'm making up stories, but I swear that what I'm going to tell you is the truth." She glanced toward the foyer again. "It was that damn chair, Matt. It was alive."

Matt's eyes widened and he sat on the coffee table in front of Tammy. "Excuse me? The chair was what?"

Tammy sat back against the sofa, exasperated. Why did I think he would believe me? Hell, I wouldn't believe me. Looking up at the ceiling, she repeated, "The chair was alive. That's what took me into the forest. I was going to drag it out onto the porch so you could put it in the building. It was alive, Matt."

Matt laughed. She did not blame him; she would have laughed if she were in his position.

"Doesn't matter if you believe me or not." She looked levelly at him. "I am not crazy. I know what happened."

"Well, I'm not crazy either and I don't believe the chair kidnapped you. It's a hunk of wood and that's all." He stood, paced to the window, and turned to her again. "Maybe you were drugged. Did you drink or eat anything before the uh, episode?"

Tammy only shook her head in negation, knowing it would do no good to keep talking. He did not believe her story and no amount of talking or explaining or pleading would change that. Let him think what he would and damn the consequences seemed to be her best course of action.

"I'll insist that they do a drug screening just to make sure." He offered her more water and she took it.

Drinking water beat trying to talk. A warm feeling spread across her midsection as if someone had laid a warm wet towel across her stomach. I'm bleeding out was her first thought but when she checked, there was no more blood than before. Puzzled, she ran her hands across her stomach.

"All right?" Matt looked concerned.

"Yeah. Guess I'm finally warming up." A sense of peace and well-being flooded her body and mind and she smiled. It scared her when the smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. In this kind of situation, many might think that smile was a sign of deceitfulness, or worse, lunacy. She fought the feeling and made the small smile disappear—she hoped it was gone before Matt saw it. He caressed her back.

****

Sheriff Green showed the two female detectives into the living room and they asked Matt to leave them alone. He left but not without showing his disapproval. Tammy loved him for that. It made her feel safe for some reason. The ambulance crew waited outside, also.

Detectives Hughes and Evans closed the doors and curtains and then donned latex gloves. They collected Tammy's nightgown and panties, placing them in a large plastic bag, which Evans then slid into a brown paper bag. They took samples of the dirt and blood on Tammy's body. Fingernail clippings were also collected along with vials of blood and a DNA swab from her mouth. All this took about twenty minutes. Tammy was glad when it was over. Or, rather, when she thought it was over.

She stood and pulled the sheet tighter around her body. "Can my husband get me some clothes now, please?"

Detective Hughes shook her head. "No, I'm sorry, Mrs. Milner but we aren't finished yet. We also have to do a r**e kit."

"But I wasn't raped." Tammy pulled the sheet even tighter.

Holding out her hand as if she was afraid Tammy would bolt from the room, Detective Hughes again tried to explain. "It doesn't matter. We have to have that in evidence. We have to have proof of it so that if this guy is arrested and you go to court, it will be on paper that he didn't r**e you. Or that he did."

"What if I refuse?" Tammy backed away two steps.

"That's your right, but I don't recommend it. It seems you could have been drugged. That's what we've gathered from what you told Sheriff Green earlier. It is perfectly possible that this man slipped you a date r**e drug. You would have absolutely no memory of the r**e. None at all. If you refuse to have the r**e kit done and then you find out that you have a sexually transmitted disease…well, as you can imagine, you would have no case against him except a circumstantial one. Your word against his." Detective Hughes stepped closer. "You have to consider the possibility. You have to think about diseases and other damages. We need the proof to make a stronger case."

"What if they never find who did this?" Tammy knew this was also a very real possibility. What detective would think to look at a chair as a suspect in a crime? However, there were other voices in the woods. What if the detective is right after all?

"They might not, but statistics are against that possibility. Even if it takes years, the evidence will be there if you help us by submitting to the r**e kit collection." Detective Hughes looked to Detective Evans and gave a slight nod. The short, stocky Evans reached into what looked like a large plastic briefcase and pulled out a sealed specimen collection kit. Hughes turned to Tammy again and in a slow, even, low tone (Tammy supposed this was what the older woman considered a consoling tone) said, “See. That is the collection kit. Nothing to be afraid of. We’ve both done these before and it only takes a matter of minutes, Mrs. Milner.”

"I don't know. Shouldn't I talk to Matt about this?" Tammy found no comfort in Detective Hughes’ tone, attitude, appearance, or demeanor. She was not threatening but she was a far cry from comforting. Knowing that both detectives had executed these r**e kits before did nothing to ease Tammy’s mind about the process, either.

"All due respect, this didn't happen to him, it happened to you." Detective Evans set the still sealed r**e kit on the coffee table and looked levelly at Tammy, holding her gaze unflinchingly. “I’ve seen way too many women refuse this kit and then regret it later, Mrs. Milner. It’s no different than having a PAP smear done at your doctor’s office.” She held up both hands, palms toward Tammy. “I promise.”

Evans did not try to console or comfort Tammy with facial expressions and changes in the tone of her voice. Tammy thought she respected Evans for that.

The detective was right and Tammy knew it but she also knew that a chair had come to life and kidnapped her from her own home; there was no man, no human to build a case against. Playing to the possibility that something happened that she had no memory of, Tammy conceded to the collection of more evidence.

* * * *

At one that afternoon, Dr. Harvey released Tammy from the hospital. "Your injury doesn't seem to be very bad and it looks like it was done a week ago, not last night." With his glasses resting far down toward the tip of his nose, Dr. Harvey looked comical.

"I know, but it was done last night. Why is it healed already?" Tammy wanted to be okay and to go home but she thought there was something seriously wrong with a wound that healed overnight.

"I don't know what to tell you except that maybe it wasn't as bad as all of you thought. Just keep an eye on it and if there is any swelling, tenderness, or redness, give me a call." He pushed his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose, closed the file he’d been holding, and stood straight. Smiling, he stood there a moment, as if waiting for something to be said that neither Tammy nor Matt was saying.

When the silence drew out and became awkward, Matt excused himself, walked out the emergency room's double doors, and propped up against the wall by the exit. Unable to think of any other questions for the doctor, and not knowing what to read into that long awkward silence, Tammy thanked Dr. Harvey quickly and turned to leave but he stopped her.

"Mrs. Milner?"

Tammy turned back. Dr. Harvey still wore that strange little smile and it was quite unnerving. "Yes?"

"Your baby is fine." The little smile morphed into the wide, toothy kind that only people who are tremendously happy or tremendously insane can pull off.

Tammy's heart lurched up in her chest and the room teeter-tottered. "My what?"

Dr. Harvey's face turned immediately serene and sober but his eyes registered a different look, as if he had been expecting a very different reaction from Tammy. "Your baby." He stepped closer, glanced at the double doors, and leaned in to speak more confidentially. "Your baby is fine. You did know you're pregnant, didn't you?"

Tammy could only shake her head. No. She had had no idea. She and Matt had not tried to get pregnant in the last five years. Since her miscarriage five years earlier, Tammy had happily remained on the pill, content never to endure that kind of heartbreak again. Matt did bring up the subject of having a baby every now and then and she always agreed with him, but it was no longer in her heart to try.

Dr. Harvey flipped through some papers in Tammy's file, located the one he wanted, and pulled it out to show her. "Yes. Right here. So you have no idea how far along you are?"

"No. I can't be pregnant. I'm on the pill; have been for the last five years." All the feeling disappeared from her lower body and her face. The world tried to tip her off the side and she reached for the nearest seat.

Dr. Harvey put an arm around her shoulders and helped her into the chair, dropping her file and scattering papers across the floor as he did so. "I thought you might not know since you never asked about the baby's health. Do you have a doctor you can see for the pregnancy?" Bending his tall frame, Dr. Harvey set to the not inconsiderable task of picking up the papers and putting them back into Tammy’s file.

"No. I have a family doctor, though. She will recommend someone. I have to tell Matt." She stood. Feeling disconnected from her own body, as if she were floating six inches above and six inches behind her physical body, Tammy started for the doors again.

Reaching out for her arm in a clumsy motion, Dr. Harvey halted her escape once more. "Do you want to know how far along you are?"

Taking only a moment to consider this, Tammy shook her head curtly. "I don't think so, not today. Thank you, Dr. Harvey." Before he could find another excuse to delay her, Tammy made a quick exit and joined Matt. She just wanted to get home and figure out how to tell Matt that they were going to be parents. First, she needed to figure out if she was ready to even try to go through with this pregnancy.

Putting on her best, fake, everything-is-fine-and-dandy smile, Tammy walked to where Matt stood watching her, threaded her arm around his, bumped him playfully with her hip, and said, “So, let’s get home. I’m completely pooped and I’ve seen enough uniforms today to last me a lifetime.”

The smile he returned was genuine; Tammy saw the relief in his eyes as he leaned forward to give her a quick kiss. “So, you’re good to go home? He said everything is all right?”

“Yep. Says I’m fine as frog hair split three ways.”

They laughed and walked out of the hospital arm in arm, the picture of a normal, healthy, happy, all-American couple, if there ever was one.

****

Matt went to the drive-thru window of the small fast food restaurant, Mom-N-Pop, that offered a variety of not-so-good-for-you food and ordered burgers and fries.

Small talk was all they could accomplish on the drive home as they both tried to ease the tension and calm their own worries. The smell of the food reminded Tammy how hungry she was. With her stomach growling, she thought of the baby. Should I be eating burgers and fries? Is the baby really okay? Boy or girl? Are we ready for this? Does it matter? Why now?

At home, they unloaded the bag of greasy food and ate like a couple of teenagers who have yet to give a s**t about caloric intake or such things as bad cholesterol. Afterward, Tammy cleared away the trash, her nerves determined to keep her from resting until she had unloaded the new information on Matt. Wanting to keep the news from her husband was bad and she knew it. She also knew that actually doing it was worse.

Facing him, not wringing her hands, and barely not stuttering, Tammy breathed deep once and said, "Matt, we need to talk. I have some news for you. First, though, I want to shower and change clothes again. I just feel icky." She tried on that fake smile that she had worn as they left the hospital earlier. It stayed put for only a few seconds and was gone. A flash-fire of a smile.

"Is everything all right?" She watched worry crease his normally smooth brow.

"Fine. I just need to talk to you. Could you make some coffee and I'll be right back." Without waiting for an answer, she spun around and walked upstairs fast enough that he did not have time to question her further but not so fast that it seemed she was in a panic—which she was.