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‘My dearest Holly,’ I begin, pausing as my voice crackles and breaks.
Nate takes my free hand in his, and the warmth of his skin drives up through my palm and calms me. I start again.
My dearest Holly,
Congratulations, my love. A baby is a wonderful gift. You will be a fabulous mother. I know it’s scary to think you might lose someone you love so much. Someone you adore before they are even born. But every day is a gift. If all you are gifted is one day, make enough memories in those twenty-four little hours to last a lifetime.
Sketch and I didn’t have much time as a married couple. But I wouldn’t trade those moments of happiness for a lifetime with anyone else. You see, just because Sketch didn’t walk this earth with me didn’t change that I was his wife. Just as you will always be your baby’s mother. Even if your little one isn’t in your arms, they will always be in your heart.
So open your heart, Holly. Be grateful for the time you have instead of being bitter about the time that’s snatched away from you. Love, live, and most of all, look at the stars. Because I’ll be looking right back.
All my love forever and always,
Nana
‘Nana, knew,’ I say. ‘ She knew the baby was sick all along. How?’ I shake my head. ‘I don’t understand.’
Nate swallows audibly. ‘I told her, Hols.’
I take a deep breath, unsure how this confession makes me feel.
‘I was desperate, Holly. I didn’t want to lose you. Icouldn’t. Annie was the person I turned to for advice,’ Nate says.
‘What did she say?’ I ask, thinking of the flowers on the windowsill in Nana’s bedroom and the cryptic note from Nate.
‘She told me to look to the stars,’ Nate says.
FORTY-FIVE
HOLLY
One Year Later
The journey from Dublin to Galway is like a familiar old story. I sit in the passenger’s seat of Nate’s car as he navigates his way out of the confusing airport carpark. Our flight home from Dubai was delayed by an hour, and I’m overly aware that we’re running late as a result. I’m also tired and hungry, and when Nate takes a wrong turn leaving the carpark, I groan inwardly.
‘Oops,’ Nate says, trying to make a U-turn on the busy road. ‘I thought I needed to take the first exit on the roundabout.’
‘It’s the second,’ I say. ‘Always the second.’
‘I know. Sorry,’ Nate mumbles sheepishly.
I frown. ‘No, I’m sorry. I’m just tired and anxious.’
Nate takes a hand off the wheel to squeeze my knee gently.
‘I know,’ he says, smiling. ‘But this will be good. Today will be good.’
‘I hope so.’
Nate manoeuvres us back on the right track quickly, and I relax as he accelerates into the stream of fast-moving traffic. Nate’s car is sporty and turns heads. It’s a distinctive contrast to my rusty little red car. Despite my car’s age and issues, it has kept going this past year even on the days when I thought I could not. It’s been such a difficult year that something as mundane as my car breaking down could have broken my spirit completely, but it held on, just like I did. However, I know it’s only a matter of time before my car gives up completely. Since we no longer need to pay into the wedding fund, Nate thinks we should keep the account open and use the next payments to pay off a new car. He suggested we check some out together at the weekend. I’m not sure if Nate made the suggestion because he really wants me to have a shiny new car to rival his or because he knew the idea would guarantee him the best honeymoon sex ever. Either way, he got results.
As we turn onto the motorway and leave the airport behind us, I close my eyes and consider sleeping for a while. Nate dozed sporadically on the plane, but I didn’t. The eight-hour flight was bumpy and uncomfortable. When we landed, despite having the most wonderful honeymoon, I was just glad to be back on home soil. Even though we arrived in Dublin only fifty minutes ago, and I’m exhausted, bypassing our apartment in Dublin and being on the road to Athenry feels right. I thought Nate would suggest going home to grab a shower and a change of clothes before we hit the road, but he never said a word, and as he veered right instead of left on the M50, I knew it wasn’t just another wrong turn. Nate is as anxious to get to Galway as I am.
‘Do you think traffic will be bad?’ I ask sleepily.
‘Looks okay,’ Nate says, pulling into the fast lane. ‘Get some sleep, Holly, if you can.’
‘I love you,’ I whisper.
