Beneath the Scars (43 page)

“Did it work?”

“No.” He paused. “I had one huge flaw in my logic, though.”

“Oh?”

He leaned forward, his hands splayed across his thighs. “My rage was directed at myself because I knew, somewhere inside, I knew, I could never hate you. No matter what I thought you did, I would only ever love you.”

His honest words caused an ache in my chest. My hands tightened around the edge of the blanket as I fought the tears that were never far beneath the surface.

He picked up the journal. “I hurt you so much. I also left you alone to face so much more than some reporters.”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Tell me.”

“You didn’t read it?”

“I read your words. I want to hear you tell me.” He paused, swallowing as his voice shook. “Tell me about the day you found out, Megan.”

“Karen made me go to the doctor—she wouldn’t let me leave until I did.”

He nodded.

“They took blood and checked me out, ran some tests. Karen stayed with me because I was so nervous, even though I was sure he would tell me it was stress.”

“It was more. So much more.” He came closer, edging forward, his gaze never faltering.

A tear rolled down my cheek as I recalled the moment. “He told me I was pregnant.”

The smallest smile ghosted over his face, his eyes bright. “How did you feel?”

I thought back to that day and the myriad of emotions I went through.

“Surprised—scared—upset—angry.”

“With me?”

“No.” I leaned toward him, wanting to explain. “I forgot my shot, Zachary. I missed it. I was angry at myself.” I drew in a deep breath. “But then, I wasn’t. All I felt was joy. So much joy, I thought my heart would burst.”

“Even though I left you alone?”

I closed my eyes as I nodded. “It was as if I had a new sense of purpose. I was determined to move forward and give this child all my love—create a life for the two of us. I had a small piece of you left I could love.”

His voice became thicker. “You loved our child even though I deserted you?”

I met his gaze, shocked to see tears in his eyes. “Or course I did. We created this life together.” I lowered my voice. “You didn’t know. Neither of us did at that point.”

“And I never would have, if I hadn’t come back. You would have been alone with our child.” His voice grew angrier. “Raising our child on your own, because I’m a coward.”

Hot tears splashed on my shaking fists. “You’re here now,” I offered, almost afraid to say it. I had no idea if he would stay.

“By the grace of God, yes.” He got up and began pacing. “How can you forgive all this? How can you forgive me? If it’s not bad enough I didn’t have the same faith in us you did to stay and find out the truth, now I find out I left you alone and pregnant?” He stopped, dropping to his knees in front of me. “Why would you even keep the child? How can you forgive me all that, Megan?” His eyes searched mine, looking for answers. “I don’t understand.”

The depth of emotion in his gaze was overwhelming. Pain, regret, and torment churned in his wide stare. The edges of his eyes were so red-rimmed I knew he’d been crying before this conversation happened. He gasped as I reached up and cupped his face, his hands moving to cover mine right away, pressing them into his skin. “When you truly love, you forgive,” I whispered.

Hope colored his words. “And do you?”

I knew we had so much to work out—so much to talk about and deal with. His leaving, the pain he caused, the fears I’d been dealing with alone. The months I spent trying to rebuild my life. I didn’t even know where he’d been, or what he’d been doing all this time. There were fears I would have to face about him staying as well, but I also knew I still loved him.

“Yes.”

“The baby?”

“—is a part of us; it was all I had to hold on to of you.”

His hand lifted, shaking, and began to lower again, but then he drew back, his face uncertain. I lifted the blanket aside and clasped his wrist, guiding it to my stomach. The warmth of his skin felt good against the cold of my own. Slowly his fingers opened, moving and caressing the small swell beneath his touch. “I never planned to have a child,” he whispered. “I didn’t know if I’d be a good father.” He looked up, a worried frown on his face. “You know I didn’t have a very good example growing up.”

I studied his face, seeing the wonder in his expression.

“How did you feel when you read about the baby?”

“How did I feel?”

“Yes. You wanted my words, Zachary. Now I want yours. I need them. What made you cry?”

He stared, his brow furrowed. “I was ashamed that I’d deserted you. Worried I was too late and you may not forgive me.” He paused, his gaze dropping to my stomach. “Then the happiness of knowing you're carrying my child. That you were here, safe, and maybe I had a chance—I’ve never felt happiness like that before, Megan. I’ve never wanted something so much, either.”

He swallowed and looked back up at me. “You didn’t finish the story. Why didn’t you finish?”

“I didn’t know how it was going to end.”

“Let it end with me—with us. Give me the chance, Megan. Please.”

“Do you want this child?”

Both his hands were on my stomach now. Skimming, touching, spreading out in a protective gesture covering the entire surface. “Yes.
God
, yes. ”

“Do you think you can love our child?”

“I already do.”

I lifted his chin. “Then you’ll be fine.”

“What about”—he hesitated—“us?”

“We need to work on us. I need time.”

“You’ll stay on here?”

“Yes.”

“Will you let me be a part of this, of our child’s life?”

I sighed. “Yes, of course.”

“Do you—”

“Do I what?”

He leaned closer. “Do you think you can love me again, Megan?”

“I do love you, Zachary. I need to be able to trust you again—to know you won’t run the next time something happens that upsets you. I can’t do that to our child. I won’t allow that to happen.”

“You won’t have to. I’m never leaving again. I can’t,” he declared as his voice trembled. “I’ve been so lost without you.”

My voice caught. “I’ve missed you so much.”

He moved even closer, his breath washing over my face. “Forgive me. Please forgive me.”

“I have.”

His eyes dropped to my mouth in a silent question. My head dipped with permission as his lips, so soft and familiar, molded to mine, the pressure gentle. His hand wove into my hair as his fingers stroked the back of my head in light caresses. His scent surrounded me, the taste of him in my mouth easing the dull ache I carried for months. A long shiver ran through his body as he whispered my name, the sound so pleading, I whimpered as he brushed his lips over mine once more. Zachary’s kiss was languid and indulgent; long sweeping passes of his tongue, sweet pecks of his lips, gentle nips of his teeth as he pulled my bottom lip into his mouth. He wrapped his arm around me, holding me close, while his other hand stroked my stomach in never ending circles.

There was nothing rushed or hurried. No long, deep moans of raging passion. It was a kiss of welcome, one of sweet reunion, of letting go of the hurt and starting again.

It was a kiss that promised a future.

Our future.

He drew back, his breathing deep. Touching his forehead to mine, his voice shook. “Never, Megan—I’m not leaving again. I will fight and struggle to stay with you—for you, for our child.” His fingers curved over my rounded stomach. “If you let me?” He paused, and I felt a shudder run through his long frame. “Please let me.”

“This is your only chance,” I whispered. “I have to protect our child.”

He shook his head. “You’ll never have to protect our child from me, or guard your heart again. I promise you with everything I am.”

“I love you.”

He gathered me to him, lifting me onto his lap and wrapping himself around me. His warmth soaked into my skin, as his fingers stroked through my hair in long, gentle passes.

“That’s all I need.” He pressed a kiss to my hair. “That’s all I’ll ever need.”

I rested my face onto his chest, doubt still lingering.

“I hope so,” I whispered.

“With all that I am, Megan, I swear.”

For now, it was enough.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Warm lips lingered on my temple. “Morning.”

I snuggled deeper into the comfort of the blankets with a little groan. “Too early.”

“Your doctor appointment is in an hour, Megan. I let you sleep as long as I could.” Zachary’s voice was tender as he spoke, his fingers stroking through my hair in long passes.

Opening my eyes, I smiled up at him, the feeling of wonder still fresh. Even after three weeks, I found it hard to believe he was back and home with me. We had been taking things slow. I was still staying at Karen’s in the guest room. Zachary slept on the sofa, refusing to leave me alone at night, but knowing I wasn’t ready for anything else quite yet. We’d spent endless hours talking, sharing, crying, and at times, even yelling. But the past week there had been less of those dark conversations and more of the lighter moments. We were both letting go of the past sadness and moving on. Zachary’s smiles were easier these days; quick to appear, often followed by the low laughter I liked so much.

Today, I had an ultrasound scheduled and he was coming with me. He’d been hesitant when he asked permission; I’d been overjoyed he wanted to be there. He spent a lot of time reading pregnancy books, asking me questions, and when I was lying down, talking to my tummy. Last week, I’d woken up to find him beside me murmuring in a gentle tone, his lips close to my skin.

“
You’ll love it here, little one. There’s sand and water and all sort of things to discover.” He chuckled suddenly. “You don’t know what Daddy is talking about do you? You don’t know what sand and water is!” His lips moved on my tummy, as his hand ran gentle circles over it. “I’ll teach you everything. Daddy loves you so much and I can hardly wait to meet you. Mommy, too. She’s taking such good care of you.” He glanced up, meeting my tear-filled eyes.

“
Ah, the book says to talk to them so they get used to my voice,” he mumbled, the tips of his ears turning red. I nodded, unable to speak as I took in the look in his eyes. They were soft, peaceful, and filled with love. There was none of the wariness, no distrust in the depth of his gaze. His lips lingered against the swell of my tummy again as his large hand wrapped around mine. “Thank you,” he breathed.

Today he would get to hear the heartbeat of our child, and if possible, we would find out the sex. Zachary was beyond excited for both things to occur. It was also special for me, since, for the first time, I wouldn’t be alone in the waiting room. Zachary would be beside me.

“Megan?”

“Hmm?”

His hand rubbed the back of his neck as he hesitated. “I’m nervous.”

I ran my fingers through his hair—it always seemed to relax him. “About the ultrasound, or going to the hospital?”

“Both.”

“The ultrasound is easy. All you have to do is hold my hand.”

“I can do that.”

I wrapped both of my hands around his, which was resting beside me. “As for the hospital, how about I hold
your
hand? Would that help?”

His lips curled into a shy smile, his entire face relaxing as he nodded. “Yes, that would help a lot.”

He helped me to stand, then wrapped his arms around me, holding me close. I could feel his love surround me. Every day I accepted it a little more, believed him a little more.

Believed in us a little more.