Chapter 2 - THE SECOND CHOICE
The ambulance siren became the second sound Simone remembered clearly.
The first had been David swimming away from her.
She lay strapped to a gurney beneath a thermal blanket, oxygen tubing beneath her nose and both palms curved protectively around the hard shape of her stomach. Every bump in the road sent panic through her.
The baby had moved once since she had been pulled from Lake Juniper.
Once.
That was not enough.
“Heart rate is one-fifty-two,” the paramedic said.
Simone looked at him desperately. “Is that good?”
“It’s within range. We’re taking you straight to obstetric emergency.”
“Is she okay?”
“We’re monitoring both of you.”
That was not an answer.
She knew because she was an attorney.
Before pregnancy, before marriage, before becoming Mrs. David Carter and slowly allowing her own ambitions to become smaller around his life, Simone Hayes Carter had been an associate at one of Atlanta’s most aggressive commercial litigation firms.
She knew how people answered when they could not promise anything.
“Where’s my husband?”
The paramedic glanced toward the rear doors.
“He’s coming separately.”
Of course.
David had remained with Rebecca.
Even after the rescue.
Simone closed her eyes.
A memory arrived.
Rebecca Lang had joined David’s architectural development company eighteen months ago as its new director of investor relations.
Beautiful.
Thirty-one.
Recently divorced.
Simone had been nice to her.
That part hurt now almost as much as the lake.
She had invited Rebecca to Thanksgiving when Rebecca claimed she had nowhere to go.
She had sent flowers after Rebecca’s divorce became final.
She had even defended her when one of David’s sisters called her “too familiar.”
“She’s just lonely,” Simone had said.
How many women betrayed themselves first by insisting they were imagining what they already knew?
“Mrs. Carter?”
Simone opened her eyes.
The paramedic smiled reassuringly.
“We’re here.”
Emory’s emergency entrance exploded into fluorescent light and movement.
Doctors.
Nurses.
Questions.
“How many weeks?”
“Thirty-one tomorrow.”
“Any bleeding?”
“No.”
“Contractions?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you lose consciousness?”
“Maybe.”
“Did you inhale water?”
“Yes.”
“Previous complications?”
“No.”
The fetal monitor was strapped around her abdomen.
Simone stared at the machine.
Then sound filled the room.
Fast.
Steady.
A heartbeat.
Her daughter.
Simone broke.
She covered her face and sobbed so violently the nurse beside her immediately squeezed her hand.
“That’s your baby.”
“She’s alive.”
“Yes.”
“She’s really alive?”
“Yes.”
The obstetrician entered minutes later.
Dr. Leah Morgan was perhaps forty-five, with calm eyes and the efficient warmth of someone who understood that terrified women remembered every expression on a doctor’s face.
“Simone, your daughter is showing us a strong heartbeat.”
Simone exhaled shakily.
“But?”
Dr. Morgan did not pretend there wasn’t one.
“You’ve experienced significant physical stress, near drowning, and probably a period of reduced oxygen. You’re also contracting.”
Simone’s fear returned instantly.
“Labor?”
“Not necessarily. Your uterus may simply be reacting to trauma. But we need to monitor you.”
“How long?”
“At least overnight.”
“Can you stop it?”
“If necessary.”
Simone nodded.
Then the door opened.
David entered.
Wet hair.
Borrowed hospital scrub pants.
A blanket around his shoulders.
He looked devastated.
“Simone.”
Every emotion inside her went strangely quiet.
Behind him stood Rebecca.
She had changed into gray hospital sweats.
A bandage covered her temple.
David had his hand at the small of her back.
He removed it the moment he saw Simone watching.
Too late.
Rebecca whispered, “Simone, thank God.”
Simone looked at David.
“Why is she here?”
David stopped.
Rebecca’s face crumpled.
“I wanted to make sure—”
“I asked my husband.”
David stepped closer.
“Simone, please.”
“Why is she here?”
“She hit her head.”
“So?”
His expression changed.
The word had been cruel.
Simone did not regret it.
David glanced toward the nurse.
“Can we have a minute?”
The nurse looked at Simone.
Not David.
Simone appreciated that.
“I’d like Ms. Lang to leave.”
Rebecca flinched.
“Simone—”
“Now.”
Rebecca looked at David.
That tiny movement said everything.
Permission.
Expectation.
Intimacy.
David sighed.
“Rebecca, give us a minute.”
She left.
Simone laughed softly.
David frowned.
“What?”
“She waited for you to dismiss her.”
“What does that mean?”
“You know exactly what it means.”
“Simone, this isn’t the time.”
“When would be better?”
“You almost drowned.”
“Our daughter almost drowned.”
His eyes filled.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Please don’t do this.”
“Do what? Describe what happened?”
David dragged a chair beside the bed.
Simone stared at him.
“You saw me.”
He looked down.
“David.”
“I saw both of you.”
“And you went to her.”
“It happened in seconds.”
“You went to her.”
“She was closer.”
“No.”
His head lifted.
Simone’s voice remained calm.
“You were closer to me.”
David opened his mouth.
She continued.
“I remember exactly where you were.”
“Simone—”
“You looked at me.”
That silenced him.
For several seconds, the fetal heartbeat filled the room.
Fast.
Alive.
Honest.
David rubbed both hands over his face.
“I panicked.”
“And your panic chose her.”
“That isn’t fair.”
Simone stared at him.
“You want fair?”
Her voice cracked for the first time.
“I was underwater with your daughter inside me while I watched my husband swim away.”
David’s face collapsed.
“I didn’t know you were sinking.”
“You knew I was seven months pregnant.”
“I thought you could stand.”
“The dock had collapsed into ten feet of water.”
“I didn’t know.”
“You didn’t check.”
He stood.
“I made a mistake!”
The fetal monitor accelerated.
A nurse entered immediately.
“Mr. Carter, lower your voice.”
David froze.
Simone looked at the monitor.
Her baby’s heart rate.
Stress.
Because of him.
“Leave.”
David blinked.
“What?”
“Leave.”
“I’m your husband.”
“Not tonight.”
“Simone.”
“Get out.”
He stared at her.
Something hardened behind his guilt.
“Fine.”
There.
The old David.
When tenderness failed, pride arrived.
He walked to the door.
Simone thought he might stop.
Might turn around.
Might understand that this was the moment to fight for her.
Instead, he opened it.
Rebecca was standing directly outside.
David looked at her.
Then at Simone.
And once again, without seeming to realize he was making a decision, he chose Rebecca.
He left with her.
Simone stared at the doorway until it blurred.
The nurse quietly closed it.
“Do you have someone else we can call?”
Simone thought of her parents in Savannah.
Her older sister Natalie in Charlotte.
Friends she had neglected because David always seemed to need something.
Then she remembered the man at the lake.
The stranger who had entered the water when her own husband had not.
“What happened to the man who rescued me?”
The nurse checked.
“His name is Elijah Brooks.”
“Is he okay?”
“Apparently he refused treatment.”
That sounded believable.
“Can you find him?”
“I can ask.”
Twenty minutes later Elijah appeared.
He had changed into borrowed hospital scrubs and still wore wet loafers.
“You gave me a scare, young lady.”
Simone immediately began crying.
Elijah pulled a chair closer but did not touch her until she reached for his hand.
“Thank you.”
“No thanking necessary.”
“You saved my daughter.”
“We both did.”
Simone shook her head.
“You went into the water.”
“So would most people.”
“My husband didn’t.”
Elijah’s expression changed.
He had seen.
Of course he had.
“I’m sorry.”
Simone wiped her face.
“Did you know them?”
“Who?”
“David and Rebecca.”
“No.”
“Did you see what happened before the dock broke?”
Elijah hesitated.
Simone noticed immediately.
“What?”
“You need to rest.”
“Elijah.”
He looked toward the door.
Then lowered his voice.
“I was on the deck before everyone fell.”
Simone’s pulse increased.
“And?”
“I saw your husband arguing with that blonde woman.”
“Rebecca?”
“I guess.”
“What were they saying?”
“Couldn’t hear everything.”
He paused.
“But she told him you were going to find out tonight.”
Simone stopped breathing.
“Find out what?”
Elijah looked uncomfortable.
“I don’t know.”
He continued.
“Then she said something about the baby changing everything.”
Simone’s fingers went cold.
“My baby?”
“I assumed so.”
Maybe.
Or maybe not.
The room suddenly felt too small.
Later, after Elijah left, Simone lay awake beneath the blue hospital lights.
At 2:14 a.m., David’s phone account synced a message onto the shared tablet inside Simone’s overnight bag.
She had forgotten it was connected.
The screen lit.
REBECCA LANG.
Simone should not have looked.
She looked.
You promised me tonight would change everything. You said after the lake you were finally going to tell her about us—and about our baby.
Simone stared at the words.
Our baby.
Her own daughter kicked beneath her hand.
Hard.
Alive.
Simone did not cry.
Something inside her had moved beyond tears.
She took a screenshot.
Then another.
Then forwarded the entire message thread to an email address David did not know existed.
By sunrise, she had called her former law-school roommate, Maya Henderson.
Maya answered half asleep.
“Simone?”
“I need a divorce attorney.”
Silence.
Then Maya became fully awake.
“What happened?”
Simone looked through the hospital window as dawn appeared over Atlanta.
“My husband chose his mistress over me.”
“Are you safe?”
Simone placed one hand over her daughter.
For the first time since entering the lake, she considered the question carefully.
“Yes.”
May you like
Then she corrected herself.
“I will be.”
