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“I love you,” Brock mouthed.
For the first time, I believed him.
But it was too late.Chapter Twenty-One“Wake up, sunshine.” Grandma’s cheery voice hit me like a sledgehammer against my head. What was worse, she tore down the blankets I’d hung up to cover the windows and threw open the shades. She was evil.
I burrowed under the covers, refusing to let the light blind me, or worse, make me feel the slightest bit of the sun’s warmth. Unfairly, Grandma had brought her minions with her—Ariana and Kinsley. They ripped off my blankets and tossed them far from my reach before plopping on my bed. I scrambled for my pillow before they took that, too, and used it to cover my face and shield me from their presence. Unfortunately, the three of them were stronger than me. Lying in bed for days hadn’t done my muscles any good.
With nothing left to hide behind, I was forced to acknowledge their existence, my existence.
Grandma sat on the edge of my bed and caressed my cheek. “Enough, Dani. You can’t live like this forever.”
“I’m willing to give it a shot.”
Grandma chuckled. “You still have some sass; that’s a good thing. Now get up.”
I buried my head in the mattress. “I don’t want to. I’m tired.”
“Of course you are. You’ve been lying in this bed for a week.”
Ariana picked up my mop of hair and let it drop. “I think we could grease all of Kinsley’s bread pans with your hair.”
Everyone snickered, even me.
“Help yourself,” I quipped.
“We’re only here to help you.” Grandma kept it real.
“Well . . . and me,” Kinsley added. “You and Brock are kind of putting a damper on my love life, and . . . I hate to say it, but you stink.”
I pulled out my shirt and took a whiff of myself. I reeked so bad it made me cough. I rolled over and faced them all surrounding me like they were getting ready to either sacrifice me or save me. Hopefully the latter.
I was met by three pairs of anxious eyes, blinking in disbelief at my state. They all smelled and looked too good to be in my presence.
Grandma took my hand and held it tight. “Honey, you aren’t the first woman to lose her baby. Unfortunately, you won’t be the last. Sooner or later you are going to have to cope with the loss and, as hard as it is, accept it. Your baby wouldn’t want this for you.”
Tears leaked out of my eyes. “My baby didn’t even get a chance to live.”
“That is a tragic shame,” Grandma’s voice shook, “but it doesn’t mean you should stop living. Look around you. Look at the people who love you, who you have touched. Read the cards from your students—all the children whose lives you’ve made better because you mothered them when they needed you the most. Dani, you lost your baby, but think of what the children who look to you for help would lose if you gave up. You’ve been a mother already to many. And you will continue to be, if you choose it.”
I dared to look around the room at all the flowers and cards that had been sent to me. They’d come in a variety of colors and sizes. From large rose bouquets to simple carnation arrangements. Even the cards that were stacked on my nightstand varied greatly. Kinsley had hung up some of the pictures several children had drawn me. I hadn’t wanted to acknowledge them, since I felt so undeserving. I hadn’t just lost my baby—I had lost my way and done things I wasn’t proud of. Honestly, I hadn’t wanted to feel good about myself. It was easier to feel dead inside.
One of the pictures struck me. It was of me and Amelia Anne holding a baby boy. I knew exactly who it was from because last year all Amelia Anne wanted for Christmas was to see her baby brother who had been born while their mother was incarcerated. The baby had gone to a different family than Amelia’s. I’d arranged for a special meeting between the two families. When we’d placed that baby in Amelia’s arms, she’d cried and smothered him in kisses. She kept saying, “I’m so happy. I’m so happy.” It was the most precious scene of my life. I had worked this past year to make sure Amelia and her brother were adopted by the same family, and miracle upon miracle, they were last month. On the bottom of the picture, Amelia had written the same thing she’d said last Christmas: I’m so happy.
I wanted to be happy again.
I wiped my eyes and sniffled.
“What do you need from us?” Ariana asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe we could start with a shower,” Kinsley suggested with a smile.
I softly laughed. “That would probably be a good idea.”
