His Heartbeat Came Six Years Too Late

Toby didn't hesitate, not for a second. He went after her.

I'd been knocked to the floor when he shoved past, and for a few seconds I just sat there, dazed and disheveled.

People streamed by on every side of the hospital corridor. Without thinking, I called my best friend.

"Celly, I heard Toby's heartbeat. It was so loud…"

"Really? See, I always said there was no way Toby didn't love you!"

"You've been imagining things all these years."

Her voice came through bright with excitement.

A fresh wave of pain shot through my head.

It hurt so much I half believed that pounding heartbeat had never been real.

Then, a second later, Toby ran back in, face tight with panic, the fainted Daisy in his arms.

That violent heartbeat was in my ears again.

This time, he saw me.

"Addie, why are you here too?"

I looked up and listened, carefully, to his heart.

Tears spilled out before I could stop them.

So my hearing wasn't broken after all.

Toby's heartbeat.

When he looked at me, it didn't change in the slightest.

"Addie, are you all right?"

"I have to get Daisy checked first."

He didn't wait for an answer. He turned and left without looking back.

I stayed on the floor a few more seconds, then pushed myself up on my hands.

"Celly, Toby's heart really was so loud."

"But it wasn't beating like that for me…"

Tears slid from the corners of my eyes. I hung up, turned, and started to leave.

A nurse came rushing over and caught my arm.

"Miss Swanson! Did you know you're pregnant?"

"You're already eight weeks along!"

I stared at the report in her hand and froze.

Three years married, and Toby's mother had never stopped pressing us for a baby.

Every time, Toby brushed her off with one excuse or another.

Once he'd gone cold-faced right there at the dinner table.

"Bring up babies one more time and I'll get a vasectomy."

I'd always thought it was because he respected me.

But now I wasn't sure of anything.

I took the nurse's report and went home.

Toby didn't come back all night.

It wasn't until the next morning that I heard the door.

He looked exhausted, a thick stack of medical records in his arms.

From across the room, all I could make out were the words Daisy Matthews.

The date was eight years ago.

My heart gave a sudden, sharp ache.

I forced a smile and walked over, holding out the pregnancy report.

"Toby, I'm pregnant."

The room went terribly quiet.

His heartbeat didn't shift, not by a single beat.

The smile froze on my lips inch by inch, and tears welled up that I couldn't hold back.

"Toby, I said I'm pregnant."

I repeated it.

At last that familiar, gentle smile came over his face, and he stroked my hair softly.

"You've had it hard, Addie."

"But this baby, we can't have it right now."

He carried the records carefully back to the study, then came out with a first-aid kit in his hand.

"Addie, last night was wrong of me."

"But Daisy has a congenital heart condition. I was afraid that one second later, she'd be dead."

"I looked at your results at the hospital. Nothing serious."

He said it all evenly, then took my hand and sat me down on the couch.

He opened the kit, pulled on gloves, and started tending to my cuts.

"Addie, this isn't the right time for us to have a child."

"Over the next three years, I'll probably be going abroad for a medical fellowship a lot."

"Raising the baby on your own would be too hard for you."

He kept his voice low, and kept glancing at the watch on his wrist.

Even the way he dressed my wounds carried a thread of impatience now.