Against All Odds (42 page)

She closes her eyes, takes a breath, and opens them. “Will he be alright?”

“Hopefully time will fix it.” I grip her tighter, my fingers pushing into her soft flesh.

“Hopefully,” she whispers.

“Everything’s going to be all right,” I murmur.

She nods as I bring my lips to hers, reminding her she’s mine. She drags her hands into my hair.

I pull back after a minute. “Are
you
feeling okay?”

“Yeah, a little sick, but the meds are helping.” She drags a finger across my jaw.

“Good.” I feel sparks ignite along the trail her fingers run. “I want to remind you of something.” I walk toward the bedroom with her in my arms.

“Of what?”

I stare into her eyes and say simply. “Me.”

Her face softens as I carry her into the bedroom to remind her of all the reasons she was made for me. Not Gray, Nate, or whatever other piece of shit has touched her. She’s
mine,
and I will protect her at all costs.

They say time heals all wounds. Well, I pray to God they heal ours and Gray’s.

Five months later…

“I’m not sure I can do this.” My voice breaks, and tremors course through my body as I battle to keep my breaths even and steady. “I’m sorry, Cooper. I don’t think I can.”

He rounds the car toward me, his face concerned but confident. “Just give yourself some time. We just got here. It’s okay, you can do this.”

My body sags, everything becoming heavy and defeated. I tuck my chin into my chest. Nothing here can bring me peace or help me move on. This is a setback waiting to happen. “I don’t feel good.” I splay my hands around my enlarged belly, feeling the baby move below my fingertips.

He grabs me gently and brings my back flush against his chest. “Baby, this will be one of the hardest things you’ve ever done, but you can do it. I’m right here, and I’ll do everything I can to make this easier on you. I know you feel like it’s more than you can handle, but you can. It’s time, sweet girl. It’s time to tell her good-bye and make peace.”

His words run through me and tug at my heart. I know he’s right. How much longer can I go without confronting this, without talking to my precious baby girl? It’s just so hard. This is too painful. Being here is the worst form of torture a mother could endure. I know my daughter’s buried here, and the thought that she’s close but so far breaks me. I can’t touch her or see her. It’s a nightmare.

“What if I can’t?” I whisper. “What if I just can’t do it?”

“If you can’t, we’ll try again another day.” His voice is deep and soothing. He holds me tightly, giving me the time I need. His hands glide back and forth around my belly. “Just give yourself time. We’re not in a rush.”

I lean back against him and close my eyes, trying to calm my nerves. I think back to the day I held Kayla. I think of the way she felt, the way she smelled, the warmth she emitted when she was first placed in my arms. I picture her eyelashes, her little nose. When will I be able to accept what happened? Will I ever be at peace with how things turned out?

I close my eyes and lift my head, letting the warmth of the overcast day soothe me. I need to dig deep and find some strength for my baby. I owe her this. What kind of mother have I been? Since the day she was taken from my arms, I have never, not once, been to see her. I have never been here to talk to her. I abandoned her. I need to tell her I love her and that I’m sorry.

I take a long, deep breath and force my eyes open. They hit the trees and clouds that litter the sky. The gray and black swirling tint to the heavy rain clouds mimic my mood. A dark, smothering fog of sadness hovers over me. When my eyes move from the sky to the ground, I know this will be one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but Cooper’s right. It’s time. Ready or not, I need to make peace with my baby.

“I don’t know if I’m ready, but let’s go. I need to see her.” My voice is quiet and shaky. My breathing becomes erratic as his jaw nods against my cheek.

“I’m proud of you,” he whispers, threading his fingers through mine. He shifts me to face him and gives me a soft kiss on my forehead. “We’ll take this slow. If you feel like it’s too much, we can come back.”

I stare into his eyes and see my tender-hearted lover, a man who’s been to hell and back for me. Having him here means the world. “I can do it.”

He gives me a weak smile and squeezes my hand, nodding for us to walk. I feel sick as we move, hand in hand, toward our daughter’s grave. I feel haunted and devastated the closer we come to her rest spot. This has followed me, taunted and beaten me for years. With our feet crunching on the gravel path, my body seizes. I grip Cooper’s hand tighter. He pulls me into his side, sliding his arm around my waist. The air is dense and humid, almost suffocating. Pain blooms and swells in my chest, and I fight against it with everything in me.

The urge to run is present. It’s real. It’s almost uncontrollable.

When we near the grave, my body feels as though it’s shutting down. My eyes want to close to protect themselves. Our pace slows, and we finally stop in front of her headstone. Cooper moves his arm from my waist to my hand. He gives it a firm squeeze, reminding me that he’s here.

I stare at the gray stone surrounded by white lilies and roses. I can’t stop the sudden trembling that shoots through my bones and the coldness that penetrates my body. With my free hand splayed across my abdomen, I feel as if I’m dying. My wounds open, and my heart bleeds for my daughter. I cover my mouth, but I can’t stop the sob that pours out. My legs give out, and I sink to the grass.

I can’t breathe as I look at the words engraved on the headstone. It hits me in full clarity that Cooper had to come here all by himself while she was laid to rest. Bile burns my throat as I glide my fingers along the words he chose. I want to curl up and die when I think of his devastation after our baby was buried. Guilt surges through me as I read…

Our little Princess

You will be forever loved and never, ever forgotten.

I bury my face in my hands and weep as the weight of where I am, what we’ve lost, and what I’ve done bears down on me. Cooper sinks down next to me, his arms wrapping protectively around me. I weep so hard that I swear I can be heard all the way in heaven and hell. My body throbs with yearning and remorse so profound, I feel it in every ounce of my frame. My bones hurt and my muscles constrict, making me grip my belly in fear for my unborn child. I want to go back and do things differently. God, I want a chance to bring her back. I’m desperate, but there’s absolutely nothing I can do. I have to find a way to accept this.

The problem is my wounds aren’t healing. They’re open and buried inside me. They’re infected and ooze with sorrow and something worse… something more profound… guilt.

Guilt is tearing me apart. I let Cooper down, I let myself down, and worse than that, I let my child down. How do I forgive myself for that? I need to let her go, my spirit has to set her free and my heart needs to purge her death. After I do that, can I live with the reality that I let down everyone I love? I can’t stop my tears. I cry with everything in me, letting out all the dark thoughts and painful emotions that live inside me.

After a while, Cooper tries to console me. “Shh… It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” He rubs my back, trying to love me through this. “It’s okay, sweet girl. Let your tears come. Shh…” I cry harder, feeling like I don’t deserve his touch, love and tenderness. “You want to know something my grandma used to say?”

I know he’s struggling, and I want to soothe him too, but I feel broken. I pull my tear filled face up to his and my heart explodes. I feel wretched at the look of absolute agony on his face. He feels every ounce of my hurt. I lay my hand on his cheek, needing to feel him. I stroke his face tenderly, hoping my touch might bring him some kind of comfort.

“Tell me,” I say, desperate for something to give us hope.

He pulls in a deep breath and swallows thickly. “She used to say…” His eyes close as he forces his shoulders to relax. “God, she used to say that tears were like rain for the soul. That God gave them to us to help us cleanse the hurt and wash the heart, to renew it and restore it. She said that it was the only way to purge heartache from our bodies.”

I feel my heart stutter. “I love you, Cooper. Will it ever stop hurting like this?” I whisper, after a couple minutes of catching my breath.

He cups my face in his palms and drags the pads of his thumbs under my eyes. The way he looks at me makes my heart beat in spurts. His eyes hold so much love, so much honesty that I warm from his touch. No matter what he tells me, Cooper brings me peace. A little seed of healing sprouts inside me.

He shakes his head, his mouth turning down at the sides. “I don’t think so. I don’t think the pain ever goes away, but I think we can learn to manage and live with it. We have each other, and we’ll get through this. We’ll learn to handle the pain together.”

What he says makes sense. I’m going to have to learn to deal with the pain, to accept the things I can’t change, and work hard on the things I can.

I nod, knowing what I need to do next. After a few deep breaths, I pull away and reach into the back pocket of my maternity pants. My hand glides against the paper that’s wedged below me. I pull out gently. I stare at the letter feeling somewhat at peace with what I’m about to do. This has been a long time coming, and I have so much I need to say to my baby. I open it with my shaky hands and glance at Cooper. “I need to read this to her.” I notice how calm my voice is. I feel an unraveling in my spirit, something urging me to let it out.

“What is it?” His eyes move from mine to the paper in my hands.

“A letter. I wrote her a letter.”

“Oh.” He lets out a breath, his eyes narrow slightly, and his brow furrows. “I think that’s good. Really good, Ky.”

I smile weakly and turn to the open page. I sit silently, trying to think of how to explain myself. Is what I’ve written good enough for her? I feel myself retreating when Cooper places his hands on my shoulders.

He smiles softly and nods in the direction of the paper. “Read it, Kylie. It doesn’t matter what it says. So long as it’s from the heart, she’ll love it.”

I stare at him, taking in his words, and I shake my head. I look back to the paper, take a deep breath, and find the courage to begin. “Kayla. My sweet… sweet baby Kayla. Where do I start?”

I look at Cooper, needing reassurance. My chin wobbles, and tears drip down my cheeks. He looks at me lovingly and urges me on with a small tip of his head and the stroke of his fingers on my cheek.

“I guess at the beginning,” I continue, my throat tight and sore, “your daddy and I fell madly in love. The moment we said ‘I do,’ we wanted to start a family. We couldn’t wait to have someone to call our own.” I close my eyes, trying to picture her sitting in front of me. “You were very important to us, Kayla. You were craved, needed, and loved before you even existed.” I open my eyes, my face falling in pain. “When we found out we were pregnant with you, the world tipped on its axis and righted itself for the first time in my life. You were a dream come true. The only thing I’ve ever wanted was a family of my own, and you were the key to that. I wanted to make a family with your daddy. And I knew that once we did, I would work hard to keep it going, to nurture it. I wanted to make you my life. You were and still are everything to me.” I swallow as my throat burns from tears. “I just… God, I just want you to know that I dream of you every night, I breathe you, I feel you around me. You’re in everything I see and everything I hear. You’re the sun in my darkened sky. The light in what’s left of my empty soul.”

Cooper surrounds me, picking me up and setting me in his lap. His embrace is firm as I cry, nestling into his neck. “I’m proud of you,” he whispers into my hair, caressing my back. “I love you, baby. I love you so much.”

I nuzzle deeper into him and take a minute to calm down. After a bit, I pull back. “I need to finish.”

He nods again, and I look back at the note. I take in a big lungful of air. “There are times at night when I’m laying by myself thinking about you that I swear I can smell you. You were special, baby girl. There was something about you that stood out amongst the rest. I really wanted to give you the world. The short time that I was blessed to have you wasn’t enough. I’m desperate to be your mother, and I don’t think that need will ever fade.”