The Tragic Life of Charlie Trout Prologue

The average human body contains a little over five liters of blood. Bart could estimate no less than three liters of his wife's blood was coagulating on the formerly shiny blue tiles of the operating room floor. Another half liter was carelessly smeared across every available surface. Gloved hands, surgical gowns, and gleaming stainless steel instruments and trays were mottled with angry streaks of crimson. And there was a further half liter in the scarlet saturated gauze pads that littered the floor, squishing wetly under the feet of the surgeons working feverishly to save his wife. And though brilliant red bags hung from two IV poles, attempting to rapidly put back what had been lost, Bart knew his wife was dying. He could already feel the hollowness created by her absence and his eyes burned stubbornly with unshed tears.

This was not how this day was supposed to end.

Four Months Earlier…

Bartholomew Bass had never envisioned himself in the role of a father. But there he sat, with his large hands splayed carefully over his wife's enlarged belly, in silent awe of the soft flutters their son's movements created under his fingertips. Bart and Misty didn't have the typical Upper East Side marriage, deeply mired in lukewarm feelings of affection and secrets. Bart loved his wife dearly. He would have given her the stars if she'd only asked. But she didn't want a heavenly body, just a single body, one she could cradle in her arms and rock to sleep at night. She wanted a child. She wanted a little boy, full of playful mischief, who would bring a smile to Bart's normally sullen expression. Or a little girl, sweet and innocent, with dark brown ringlet curls and expressive eyes who would help to soften Bart's hard exterior. And because Bart could never say no to her, Misty quickly found herself temporarily providing room and board to the new heir of Bass Industries, Charles Bartholomew Bass.

"We'll call him Charlie," she had told Bart through flushed pink cheeks as soon as they'd settled on a name. "Charlie Bass," she announced as her hand settled on her swollen belly proudly, rubbing gentle circles. "We're going to have our hands full with you." She smiled, feeling the baby's restless activity as he reacted to the sound of her voice. "You are going to be nothing but trouble, just like your father. I can already tell," she teased before giving a contented sigh and snuggled into Bart's embrace.