Choosing to Love Again

Leah Turner’s POV I woke with a start, the familiar feelings of grief, anguish and loss close to the surface causing me to gasp for breath as I held my hand to my chest trying to contain the pain. The pain I felt every morning for the past four years, two months, and five days. The pain that has settled deep in my soul since the moment I opened the door of my apartment in Toronto to see my best friend, Carly Sanchez who is the wife of my husband’s patrol partner Greg Sanchez, standing there with tears pouring down her face. Four years, two months, and five days previously “Leah, get your purse, we need to go. Jake has been shot. Greg is with him at the hospital. Hurry up.” Twenty words that changed my life forever. The drive to the hospital in the back of an unmarked police vehicle, siren blaring, the headlights flashing, Carly holding my hand in a tight grip, my mind filled with questions. Questions that had to wait to be asked and answered. The officer driving at a breakneck speed was one of the newer members of the squad. A young officer that Jake had taken under his wing. The grim look on his face was enough to tell me that this wasn’t just a minor injury. At the hospital, we were met by another member of the squad who swiftly whisked us up to the waiting area outside the OR. A place crowded with both off-duty and on-duty officers, one of them being the police chief. That was unusual. What was even more unusual was a man I recognized as a lawyer from Cole Industries legal team. What the f**k is going on? No one was saying anything, but the looks the officers were shooting at the lawyer was telling. Whatever happened involved the Coles, or someone in that family. Otherwise, there was absolutely no need for him to have sent legal representation. He and the chief tried to approach me but several of the officers ran interference, shielding me and Carly from the two of them. Greg came over immediately and wrapped his arms around both Carly and I. He was shaking with emotion and his voice was hoarse as he gave me an update. "Greg's in surgery. God, Leah, he's lost so much blood. I couldn't stop the bleeding no matter what I did. I am so, so sorry." The wait was a long one. But any wait is long when you fear for a loved one’s life. The wait came to an end when the door to the surgical theatre was opened by a doctor in a blood-stained surgical gown. He looked exhausted and defeated. His eyes darted around searching the faces of everyone present before coming to rest on my pale tear-stained face. “Are you Mrs. Leah Turner?” he asked, his voice filled with sympathy. “The wife of Officer Jake Turner?” I nodded my head, fearing the worst while hoping for the best. “I am so very sorry, Mrs. Turner. We did everything we could, but the damage was too great. He lost too much blood. Your husband died at 10:15 p.m. My condolences.” With those words dropped on me like a bomb, he turned and went back into the OR. I didn’t hear anything else over the roaring in my ears. My vision went black, and I felt myself falling. The sound of beeping roused me. I slowly opened my eyes to discover I was laying on a hospital bed in a semi-dark room, hooked up to monitors. The soft murmur of voices let me know I wasn’t alone. “Jake,” I called out in a raspy voice, my throat dry. Carly’s face suddenly loomed over me, and I felt her take my hand. “Leah, you’re finally awake. I was so worried about you. Greg and I are here.” “Where’s Jake?” I questioned. “Why isn’t he here?” “Oh, Leah, honey. Jake’s gone. I am so very, very sorry,” she cried, her big fat tears dripping onto my face. Then it hit me like the waves of a tsunami rushing in to sweep away everything good we had built, the dreams we had, the love we shared. All swept away in one towering wave that left devastation in its wake. Jake, my Jake, my husband of barely six months was gone. Dead. I would never hold him again. Never kiss him, make love with him, build a future with him. He was gone, and I was left alone to mourn him. Great wracking sobs shook my body, the pain searing into my very soul, leaving my heart scarred by the loss of the man I had loved since I was seventeen and a senior in high school. Jake was gone and I had nothing left. The pain of his loss was so great that I found it hard to catch my breath. My chest tightened, emotional pain becoming physical pain so great that I thought I was having a heart attack. Carly pressed the call button summoning the night nurse who came running. “Mrs. Turner, you need to calm down.” The nurse instructed. As if telling someone to calm down ever really worked. “She just lost her husband how do you expect her to calm down?” Carly growled at the nurse in frustration. “Can’t you give her a sedative to help?” The nurse’s expression immediately became one of concern and sympathy. “I am so very sorry for your loss, Mrs. Turner. I didn’t realize. I just came on shift. But you need to calm your emotions. You don’t want to hurt the baby.” “Baby? What baby?” Carly gasped. “Mrs. Turner’s baby, of course. Didn’t she tell you?” The words ‘Mrs. Turner’s baby’ was the third shock of the day. I had no idea I was pregnant. “I’m pregnant?” I stammered; my voice still choked with tears. “You didn’t know? You’re approximately nine weeks according to the hCG levels in your blood work. I mean, didn’t you suspect anything, Mrs. Turner? You must have missed a couple of periods by now.” The nurse’s revelation and questions brought me up short. Nine weeks pregnant? “I had no idea. My periods have never been regular. I sometimes go months without having a period.” I muttered trying to figure out when I could have gotten pregnant. I thought back to our delayed two-week honeymoon trip to the Maldives in early March. We didn’t originally plan to delay our honeymoon, but circumstances dictated we do so. The timing would mean I must have gotten pregnant during our last week there. I swore I had packed my birth control pills, but found they had gone missing, and we resorted to using condoms. A couple of times the condom had broken, but we figured the chance of me getting pregnant was few and far between. My irregular monthly cycles made the likelyhood of me getting pregnant faint. Or so I thought. Apparently not. At the time I had questioned whether Jake had sabotaged our birth control efforts as he had wanted children as soon as possible. He swore he had nothing to do with the missing birth control pills, suggesting that perhaps his mother may have removed them from my bag when she was over to our apartment the night before we left for our honeymoon. She had been in the bathroom for quite some time that evening. Frankly, I wouldn’t put it past her. She had been pushing us to give her a grandchild almost as soon as our wedding vows were completed. Well, now she would get her wish. Unfortunately, her son, my husband would not be here to raise our unborn child. I began to weep, not the gut-wrenching sobs of earlier, but a much quieter expression of my grief. I wept for the husband and life together that we had lost. Wept for the child who would never know its father, and the changed life I now faced. When I was all out of tears I looked at Greg. “Where is Jake? I want, no, I need to see him.” My voice was dull and flat. “Leah, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” Greg temporized. “Good idea or not, I want to see him. I want to know what happened. How the hell would he get shot? Your patrol area is in a quiet upscale neighbourhood. This doesn’t make sense.” Maybe I was grasping at straws, but something didn’t feel right. “And why was the lawyer for Cole Industries in the waiting room? Again, it doesn’t make sense.” He looked around as if checking to see if there was anyone listening or watching. He must have been reassured, because he faced me and began signing in ASL, something the four of us had learned to do in university. It’s best if we don’t talk about this here, or where anyone can see or hear us. Can we go to your place of work and use the secure room? My place of work? Graystone Security? Where I worked as a lawyer in their legal department? Again, what the f**k is going on? I need to get released; I signed back. Then I need to go see Jake. Greg, I’ll need you and Carly to be with me. Something tells me I need to get full body pictures of my husband. We’ll take them with her phone and upload them to the Graystone Security server. Both Carly and I worked for Graystone Security. Me in legal, her in investigations. Our husbands worked for the City of Toronto police department and were partners, patrolling the streets of the city in their cruiser. Both were recently promoted to Detective and were scheduled to start their new positions effective June first. Jake had worked and studied hard to pass the detective exam, especially since I had promised him that once he made detective, we could start our family. Now, a week away from starting his new job, he was dead, leaving me nine weeks pregnant. Alanis Morissette couldn’t have said it better. Isn’t it Ironic?