Tanner's Unrelenting Soul (The Cunningham's Book Two)

Kaysen This Loss Is Unbearable

Writers Note:
Grab some tissues everyone, because you're going to need them.

***KAYSEN TWO YEARS AGO***

“Alright, babe,” Michael whispered, his warm breath tickling my forehead, “I’ll be right back with your pineapple upside-down cake. Are you sure that’s all you want for me to get you?” I could almost taste the sweetness of the caramelized pineapple and the softness of the moist cake. And he hasn’t even purchased the cake yet.

I looked up at him, feeling his lips press against my forehead. The whiff of his cologne mixed with the comforting aroma of the lavender mist coming from the diffuser, bringing me peace.

A small smile played on my lips as I replied, “Nope, Cora wants pineapple upside-down cake. I’m not craving anything else. Well, maybe some chocolate chip cookies would be nice and strawberry ice cream.”

Michael chuckled, his laughter filling the room. I watched as he walked away, his footsteps echoing against the hardwood floor. “Ok, I love you. I’ll be back soon,” he called out, his voice fading as he walked out the door.

***ONE HOUR LATER***

I peered at my phone and saw that an hour had passed, the bright screen illuminating the darkness of the room. Michael still hadn’t returned from the store. I wondered what would keep him so long; he should have been home by now.

Soon after, there was a faint but distinct knock at the front door. The sound pierced through the silence of the night. ‘Who could be here at this hour?’ I thought to myself as I walked to the door, the hardwood floor creaking beneath my feet. It was eleven at night on a Sunday evening, the world outside cloaked in darkness.

Everyone I knew at this moment in my life would be home and asleep. I opened the door, the cool night air brushing against my face, to see two police officers waiting for me to answer the door. The dim porch light casts a solemn glow on their expressions.

“Excuse me, ma’am, are you Michael Reynolds’ wife?” One man asked me, his voice laced with concern.

“Yes, I am Kaysen Reynolds, Michael’s wife. Has something happened to my husband? He just went down the road to get me something from the store but should have returned about thirty minutes ago,” I said, my voice trembling with worry. My limbs grew cold, and a wave of dizziness washed over me.

“Yes, ma’am, we need you to come with us. A truck driver fell asleep at the wheel and ran a red light, and hit your husband’s car. He is alive, but he sustained serious injuries from the accident. We are here to take you to him. You may want to put on a jacket so that you don’t catch a cold while being pregnant,” the officer said, his words hanging in the air.

Glancing down at my swollen belly, a mix of fear and protective instinct washed over me. Two months remained before our daughter Cora would come into the world. I rushed to grab my coat and purse, the familiar feel of the fabric comforting me in this moment of uncertainty. Then I pulled my keys from my purse, their metallic jingle echoing in the hallway, and locked the door behind me.

One police officer guided me into the back seat of the cop car, the leather upholstery cool against my skin. The engine roared to life; the sound filled the night as we embarked on a journey filled with anxiety and anticipation. I’m grateful they were taking me, as my hands trembled too much to hold the steering wheel.

I didn’t have a good feeling at all, and a sense of foreboding hung heavy in the air, preparing me for the possibility of losing the love of my life.

***

The doctor placed me in a chair as he delivered the news. “We’ve taken your husband to surgery,” he said gravely. “He has lost a tremendous amount of blood. It would be best to prepare yourself. The odds are only twenty percent of your husband surviving. Do you have someone who can come help you?”