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I stare at the photo on my cracked phone screen. The late morning sun pokes through gaps in the thick clouds outside the living room window, the dim light painting mottled patterns on Troy’s couch and me.
The driver from the towing company found my phone in Troy’s destroyed truck when he retrieved it from the ravine. The crack misses my beautiful twenty-month-old daughter as she held out her floppy puppy when I took the picture. The photo of the original print means Amelia is always with me.
I trace over her sweet face. “I miss you so very much.” The words are a croaked whisper. Saying them any louder will only hurt more.
The accident happened three days ago, and I’m alone in Troy’s house while he’s at work. He wanted me to recover for a few more days before I return to my job. Restlessness gnaws at my insides. I need to get back to work since it’s about the only thing I can do while the laceration on my thigh heals.
I keep staring at Amelia’s photo. All I want is to hear her voice. To talk to her. To see her.
Bailey, in her Service Dog in Training vest, whimpers next to my feet, seeming to sense my warring emotions. She’s good at that.
“What do you think?” I ask her. “Should I call Craig and Grace? I’ve been working hard to turn my life around. I’ve got a job and a house. I’ve even got you.” I smile at the ten-month-old puppy. “Surely that’s enough to prove I’m regaining my footing.” After spending five years at Beckley.
I pull up my list of contacts, and my finger hovers over Grace’s name. Maybe they’ve been waiting to hear from me, to make sure I’m okay. They must have heard by now that I bought Iris’s house since Anne Carstairs is a friend of a mutual acquaintance of theirs.
Before I have a chance to talk myself out of calling Grace, I tap on her number.
I can do this.
The phone rings a few times. My palms grow damp and my pulse races in my ears.
“Hello?” Grace says from the other end of the line. I can only assume it’s her voice. This is the first time I’ve called her.
“Hi!” The greeting comes out as a strangled sound. I cough past my dry throat, attempting to clear a path for my next words.
“Mommy! Where are my favorite sandals?” A little girl’s voice dances through the phone and clutches at my heart.
“Give me a moment, Lia.” Amusement colors Grace’s tone, a reflection of the smile I imagine on her face. “I’ll help you once I’m off the phone.”
The band around my heart tightens at Amelia’s shortened name, and useless tears prick my eyes. Amelia was my grandmother’s middle name. I’d never planned to shorten it to Lia. The nickname is just one more reminder Amelia is no longer mine.
“Oookay,” Amelia calls out. She sounds so beautifully happy, and I manage a teary smile.
A bark comes from her end of the line, followed by the giggle.
I squeeze my eyes against the ache in my chest. The pain from my bruised ribs is nonexistent in comparison.
“Hello?” Grace repeats into the phone. “Can I help you?”
Amelia starts singing in the background, and all the air in my lungs rushes out on a hard breath. I used to sing all the time to her. I can’t remember the last time I felt like singing.
“This is…S-Savannah.” The name still tastes foreign on my tongue. I swallow, my mind suddenly blank as to what to say next. “H-how are you doing?”
“Good.” The word is drawn out, hesitant, unsure. “What can I do for you?” Grace’s voice isn’t unfriendly, but it’s also not welcoming. It’s as if I’m a telemarketer who she’s about to hang up on.
I can do this.
The voice in my head sounds less certain this time.
“I was hoping I could see Amelia. In person. That…that I could be part of her life again. But not as her mother.” I rush out the last part so Grace doesn’t get the wrong idea. So she doesn’t feel threatened. I know what it’s like to lose a child. I’m not going to put Grace through that. She doesn’t deserve that kind of pain. She’s the one who saved my daughter from going into the system. Who loved Amelia when I couldn’t be there for her.
“I just…I just would like to see her again.” The final words fall, sandpaper to my tender throat, rendering my voice gritty. My heart is beating so hard, I’m positive Grace can hear the rapid boom-boom-boom through the phone.
A thickening silence fills Troy’s living room as I wait for Grace’s answer.
I stroke Bailey. Her silky hair runs through my fingers and keeps me from going numb.
Grace clears her throat. I close my eyes, preparing myself for whatever she’s about to tell me.
