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“What…what did you do with Jeffrey’s things? I know this must sound stupid, but what am I supposed to do with Christi’s clothes and her toys and the special things we bought for her? Do I just pack those up as if she’d never lived? Do I give them away? Or do I leave them out?”
“I don’t know,” Molly answered sadly.
“What did you do?”
Molly clenched her hands into tight fists. “A few days after we buried Jeffrey, my…husband went into our son’s room, closed the door and packed up all his things to give to a charitable organization.”
Molly vividly remembered the terrible argument that had followed as she fanatically sorted through the boxes, removing the precious items that had marked Jeffrey’s too-short life. She’d managed to salvage his baby book, a hand-knit blanket and his baptismal gown. A rattle, too, and a few other things that were important to her.
Their argument had scarred their marriage. It was as though Jordan believed that if he could get rid of every piece of evidence that Jeffrey had lived, the pain would stop. They’d each dealt with their grief in different ways. Molly had clung to every memory of Jeffrey, while Jordan had systematically pushed their son out of his life.
This was what had driven them apart. In looking at Molly, Jordan was forced to remember his son. In looking at Jordan, Molly was forced to cope with Jeffrey’s death.
“Tommy thinks we should sell the house.”
“Do you want to move?” Molly asked.
“No. Tommy has some bizarre theory that there was something in the air that caused Christi to die. He believes the same thing will happen if we have another baby, but I love our home, and the neighbors have been wonderful. I don’t want to move someplace where I don’t know anyone. I talked to the doctor about it and he’s assured me nothing in the environment was responsible. Besides,” Amanda said, “I don’t have the energy it would take to find a new home and then pack up everything we own. It’s all I can do to get from one day to the next.”
Molly understood that. For weeks after Jeffrey died, she could hardly manage to get out of bed in the morning and dress. By contrast, Jordan was up at dawn and didn’t return until long after dinner.
Work had been his release, his salvation. There hadn’t been any such relief for Molly, not until she realized she couldn’t continue to live with Jordan.
“Eventually I went back to work,” Molly said, remembering that it had taken eight months for her to function again. “That helped me more than anything. At least when I was working I didn’t dwell on ‘if only.’” She dragged in a deep breath, knowing that only someone who’d suffered these kinds of regrets would understand. “You see, I’m a nurse, and as a medical professional I couldn’t keep from blaming myself. I should have known.… I kept telling myself I should have been able to do something. Jeffrey woke that morning and cried. I … I wanted to catch a few minutes’extra sleep, so I stayed in bed. By the time I got up…” It wasn’t necessary to finish.
“Tommy and I woke before Christi and he wanted to go in and get her up, but I told him to let her sleep while I took a shower. Only she wasn’t sleeping,” Amanda said, her voice cracking, “she was dead.”
Molly reached for her hand and gently squeezed her fingers.
“I lost more than my baby when Christi died,” Amanda whispered brokenly. “I lost my faith, too. I don’t attend church anymore. I don’t want to believe in a God who allows children to die.”
Molly had made her peace with God early in the grieving process. She’d felt so terribly alone and needed Him so desperately. “I can’t believe God caused Jeffrey’s death, but I know He allowed it. I don’t understand why. I just have to accept it.”
Amanda reached for her purse. “Would you like to see Christi’s picture?”
“Very much,” Molly said.
Amanda opened her purse and handed her a small padded photo album. Christi had been a beautiful baby with a head full of dark, curly hair and bright blue eyes. “She looks like such a happy baby.”
“She was. I sometimes wonder…” Amanda didn’t finish. She didn’t need to; Molly understood. She’d wondered herself what Jeffrey’s life would’ve been like if he’d lived. Her own life, and Jordan’s, too, would have been drastically different.
“I have to get back to the hospital,” Molly said. They’d already talked much longer than she’d expected.
“I’m glad we met.”
“I am, too. Although I don’t know that I helped you.”
“But you have,” Amanda assured her. “More than you realize. Would it be all right if we got together again sometime? I know it’d help my husband if he could talk to yours.”
“I’m sorry,” Molly said, struggling now to keep her voice even. “I’d be happy to meet with you again, but Jordan and I are getting divorced.” It was the first time she’d ever spoken the words aloud. She didn’t add that their divorce was effective that very day.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
Molly stared into the distance until she’d composed herself enough to respond. “So am I.”
* * *
She should probably do something wild and expensive, Molly decided when she got off work that afternoon. It wasn’t every day a woman got divorced. Surely the occasion called for a shopping spree or a lengthy appointment at a spa.
