His own throat grew tight just thinking about it. How could anyone be so heartless to a young mother? No wonder Olivia wanted to provide a safe haven for women. To allow them the option of keeping their child if they chose to.
If only she’d been given that chance.
His shoulders sagged as the anger seeped out of him. This woman had endured so much heartache. It was no wonder she wanted to keep Abigail after losing her son that way.
Slowly he came around the desk. “I feel terrible for everything you’ve gone through, Olivia. I see now why it would be hard to share such a painful story.”
“Thank you.” She still wouldn’t look at him directly.
“I also understand why you want to keep Abigail. I wish . . .” He shook his head. What did he wish? He had no clue at this moment, except that he wished he could erase her pain.
When Olivia raised her head, the raw anguish on her face sent a spasm through his chest.
“It’s all right, Darius. I had no right to come here and burden you with my problems. The truth is . . .” Tears swam in her eyes, highlighting the amber flecks in their depths. “I don’t deserve to be a mother or a wife. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Her voice broke on a sob, and she rushed to the door, flung it open, and dashed out.
“Olivia, wait!” He ran after her, but she was already halfway across the outer office.
She bypassed the elevator and raced through the doorway to the stairs.
Darius came to a halt, conscious of the stares of everyone in the office. He couldn’t let Olivia leave in such a distraught state. He had to catch her, make her understand . . .
Darius made eye contact with the receptionist. “If anyone asks, I’ll be back shortly.”
Then he charged down the stairs, taking them two at a time. By the time he reached the main level, however, there was no sign of her. He ran out onto the sidewalk and craned his neck in both directions, but to no avail. She was gone. Swallowed up in the sea of pedestrians.
His stomach sank to the tips of his shoes. He could go after her. Catch up with her at the maternity home and . . . and do what? He certainly wasn’t ready to propose marriage, so really what was the point in prolonging the misery? He let out a defeated breath as he slowly made his way back inside.
His father was right. The only thing that would help him now was time. Time to process all that he’d learned today and allow God to work on his heart. Hopefully then, the Lord would make it clear what Darius needed to do next.
29
The next day, Olivia sat with Abigail in the rocker. The child grew heavy in her arms, and Olivia knew she should lay her down for a proper nap. However, she couldn’t bear to let her go, even for half an hour. It was only a matter of time before Jane Linder showed up to take her, and Olivia wanted to cherish every last moment with the girl. She looked down at Abigail’s sweet face, so relaxed in slumber.
If only God would grant her a miracle, a way to spare her the anguish to come.
She’d foolishly thought that marrying Darius would be that miracle. How could she have been so blind, imagining she could propose to him and he’d simply accept? Even if he had agreed, she couldn’t have married him without disclosing her past. She realized that now.
But her desperation to hold on to Abigail had clouded her judgment, making her oblivious to everything but her own selfish desires. And that might be her worst crime of all.
She’d deluded herself into believing she could be a good mother—not only to Abigail, but to Sofia too. In reality, Darius had every reason not to want her around his daughter. He’d said Meredith would make a poor role model. If so, then Olivia would be ten times worse.
A sigh escaped. Lord, forgive me for trying to take matters into my own hands. You know what’s best for Abigail and for me. Help me to accept your will for the both of us.
Three sharp knocks sounded on the front door. Olivia’s eyes flew open, and her heart began to thump heavily in her chest. Slowly, she rose with the baby and headed to the door.
Mark Henshaw stood on the porch, looking very serious. “Good morning, Olivia. Mrs. Linder is here to pick up Abigail.”
Olivia looked past him to the walkway, where Mrs. Linder stood holding a briefcase.
Her lungs refused to inflate, and she clutched the baby tighter. “Please come in.”
“Hello, Miss Rosetti.” Mrs. Linder sailed by her into the parlor, looking very efficient in her cream-colored suit. “Is Mrs. Bennington at home? I’ll need her signature on some paperwork.” She set her case on the coffee table.
“She’s upstairs,” Olivia said in a voice she barely recognized as her own. “I’ll get her. I have to change Abigail anyway and pack her bag.”
“Fine. I’ll wait down here.”
Olivia took as much time as she dared, changing the baby’s clothes and gathering her few belongings. With shaking fingers, she folded the delicate items and placed them one by one into a small satchel. Her eyes burned. How empty this room would be without Abigail. No more soft cooing from the bed, no more midnight feedings or cuddles in the night.
She picked up the now-content girl, kissed her head, and breathed in the soothing scent of talc and baby soap one more time. Giving up this baby seemed almost harder than losing her own son, probably because Olivia had spent so much time with her.
Lord, I don’t know how I’m going to let her go. Please grant me the strength to face this terrible day.
Then, on a deep inhale, she grabbed the satchel and went to find Ruth. She’d need her friend’s support to get through this.
If that were even possible.
Ruth was just coming out of her bedroom when Olivia reached the door. She looked bright and alert, her gray hair fashioned in curls around her face. “Good morning, Olivia.”
Olivia couldn’t manage a smile or a greeting. “Mrs. Linder is here for Abigail. She needs your signature on some paperwork.”
Immediately Ruth’s features softened, and she put an arm around Olivia. “Oh, my dear. I’m sorry. I know how much you will miss that child.”
Olivia’s chin quivered. Unable to say a word, she turned and headed down the stairs. She set the satchel at the door and followed Ruth into the parlor. Several sheets of paper lay beside Mrs. Linder’s briefcase on the coffee table, along with a pen.
“Do you need me to sign anything?” Olivia managed.
Mrs. Linder looked up. “No. Mrs. Bennington and the doctor’s signatures will suffice.”
“I’ll wait with Abigail in the hall, then.”
She couldn’t stand to watch them sign away the little girl’s life, condemning her to a foster home and a lengthy adoption process. All Olivia could do was pray that a caring couple would claim her soon and that Abigail would grow up knowing she was loved.
Even if she never remembered the woman who’d nurtured her the first few weeks of her precious life. The woman who loved her so very much.
Tears gathered in Olivia’s eyes, and though she blinked hard, several broke free to trail down her cheeks. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips to the baby’s face. The girl began to stir, opening her eyes and staring right at Olivia, as though she understood exactly what was happening.
“Be good, little one. I know they’ll find you the best parents possible. And I’ll be praying for you every day. I’ll never forget you. I promise.” She hugged the girl until she squirmed in protest.
“We’ll do our best to make sure she gets a good home, Miss Rosetti. I can assure you of that much.”
She looked up to see Mrs. Linder watching her with sympathetic eyes. The woman waited a few seconds, then held out her arms.
Olivia froze as horrible memories of the exact moment she’d lost Matteo flooded her senses. This time, however, the woman wasn’t snatching the child from her arms. This time she waited for Olivia’s surrender.
Conscious of Ruth and Mark watching her, Olivia forced her wooden feet forward. She kissed Abigail’s cheek one last time, then reluctan
tly, achingly, handed her over.
She pressed a hand to her mouth to contain the sob building inside her. Her legs shook as she moved backward, away from them, and the air in her lungs thinned, causing a cascade of tiny spots to dance before her eyes. She couldn’t bear to watch Mrs. Linder leave with Abigail. Nor could she endure the sorrowful expressions on Ruth’s and Mark’s faces. She wasn’t ready to accept their attempts to console her—not when the roar of grief had just begun.
With a strangled cry, Olivia whirled around and raced upstairs to the sanctuary of her room. There, she crumpled to the hardwood floor and let sorrow have its way.
30
Olivia lay on top of her bed, staring at the swirls in the ceiling plaster above her. Her limbs felt like lead, so heavy that she wouldn’t be able to move them if she tried. Her eyes burned from hours of constant weeping, and her lips were parched from lack of moisture, as though every ounce of water had been drained from her body.
She glanced over at the window, attempting to ascertain if it were day or night. The days blurred together now, since she slept almost around the clock with no concept of the passage of time. What did it matter? She had no reason to get up, no reason to leave her room. Ruth could manage the home without her, and the girls didn’t need her. They had all the resources they required. In fact, since no one needed her, perhaps if she just kept sleeping, eventually she wouldn’t awaken at all.
Two sharp knocks sounded. “Olivia? Are you up?”
Olivia winced. Ruth’s voice was loud enough to rouse a coma patient.
She kept her eyes closed and ignored her. Hopefully, she’d assume she was sleeping and go away.
“Olivia, you have a visitor.”
She frowned, irritation mounting. Ruth had probably demanded Dr. Henshaw come to try and coax her from her self-imposed exile. But it wouldn’t work. She had no intention of seeing anyone.
The door creaked open.
Olivia steeled herself for Ruth’s inspection. As she’d done every day, Ruth would come in, hover for a few minutes, murmur a prayer, then let herself out again. A tiny part of Olivia felt bad ignoring her friend that way. But she couldn’t summon the energy to convince Ruth that she wanted to be left alone.
The bed sagged under the weight of someone sitting down.
Olivia held her breath. This was something new. And unwelcome.
A hand touched her leg.
She tensed. What if it wasn’t Ruth? What if she’d sent someone else in?
Olivia opened her eyes, her muscles loosening the moment she recognized her friend.
“Good.” Ruth peered at her. “You’re awake.”
Olivia scowled. “I want to be alone.”
“Well, that’s too bad. Because it’s time to return to the land of the living, and I’m not taking no for an answer, young lady.”
Heat surged through Olivia’s chest. She swallowed to force her emotions back down. She would not fall for Ruth’s attempt to goad her into an outburst of temper.
“You have a visitor downstairs. Darius Reed has been by almost every day. I think you should get up and see him.”
“I don’t want to talk to anyone.” She flipped onto her side, putting her back to Ruth.
“We also have a new resident who’d like to meet you. Her name is Monica. She’s about four months along in her pregnancy, I believe, and settling in nicely so far. I’ve told her all about you.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have. I have nothing to say. Nothing to give. Nothing left but . . .” She bit her lip.
“But what, pain?”
Amazingly, the burn of tears built behind Olivia’s eyes. She’d thought her insides too barren and dry to cry anymore, but apparently she was wrong.
“Olivia, I want you to listen to me.” Ruth’s voice had become gentle. “What you’ve been through is more than any one person should have to bear in two lifetimes. If I could take away your pain or bear the brunt of it myself, I would gladly do so.” She sniffed. “But life goes on, whether you want it to or not. Right now, you probably think it’s preferable to shut yourself off and exist in a state of numbness. I did that quite successfully for a very long time. The problem, however, is that you’re not really living.”
A warm hand landed on Olivia’s shoulder. She stiffened, but Ruth didn’t remove it.
“You have so much love inside you, but you’re afraid to share it. I’ve watched you with the women here, the way you hold yourself back from really connecting with them. Holding yourself in reserve, waiting for the pain to arrive.”
Every muscle in Olivia’s body became taut. She did not want to hear this. Did not need to listen.
“With Abigail, though, the real Olivia emerged. I saw how much you loved that baby, saw your incredible tenderness and devotion. You showered her with such love that it almost became an obsession. Yet deep down you knew it couldn’t last. That she wasn’t yours to keep.”
Tremors rippled through Olivia’s body. She held herself tight, hardly daring to breathe, lest the dam inside her break.
Ruth rubbed a hand down Olivia’s back. “Remember the joy you felt when you held Abigail? That’s how life is meant to be lived. You can hide from love and live an empty, joyless existence, or you can open your arms wide and embrace it.
“Does it mean you’ll never have heartache? Unfortunately, no. Everyone experiences loss and grief. I lost my son and daughter-in-law, then my husband, and, in another way, my grandson too. And yes, I wallowed in that state of numbness for longer than I care to admit, wishing for death. But then God brought you into my life. You made me remember how good it felt to care about people again.”
Spasms wracked Olivia’s chest as tears slowly slid down her face onto the pillow. “I can’t do it. I can’t take any more pain.”
Warm arms surrounded her as Ruth pulled her close, rocking her like she was an infant herself. “The heart has an amazing ability to heal, my dear. If you’ll only let it.”
Olivia buried her face in the woman’s shoulder, clutching Ruth’s arm as though anchoring herself to the room, to the world.
“There, there,” Ruth murmured against Olivia’s hair. “I’m here to help you through this if you’ll let me. And God is with you as well. He will sustain you in your sorrow and grant your heart peace. I promise you.”
As her tears subsided at last, Olivia absorbed the shelter of Ruth’s embrace, allowing her soothing words to sink deep into her marrow. She’d never had a grandmother, not one she could remember, but in this moment, she had an idea what having one would feel like.
Olivia raised her damp face to see Ruth wiping her own eyes.
“I’m sorry I let you down,” Olivia whispered. “I thought I’d be strong enough to handle being around mothers and their babies. But I don’t know if I am.”
Ruth shook her head. “You did not let me down. It’s only natural to go through a period of adjustment. The next babies who come along will be easier. You won’t expect to keep every one of them.”
Olivia’s lips twitched as she dried her eyes. “That probably wouldn’t be wise.”
“Nor very practical.” Ruth helped her sit up. “Now, I’m going to prepare you a nice hot bath and bring you up a sandwich and some tea. And maybe tomorrow you’ll feel like joining us in the dining room.” She kissed Olivia’s cheek, then moved off the bed.
“Ruth?”
“Yes, dear?”
“Would you ask Darius to come back tomorrow? I might be up to seeing him then.”
“Certainly.”
“And Ruth?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
Ruth pressed her lips together, sorrow and relief reflecting in her eyes. She nodded once, then slipped out the door.
Darius wasn’t sure what to expect when he arrived at Bennington Place the following afternoon. It had been five days since Ruth Bennington had called to give him the news that Abigail had been taken from the home and to ask that he come by the house in an effort to co
ax Olivia from her room. And so, every day he’d gone over, and every day Ruth had sadly shaken her head. Olivia refused to leave her room, seeing no one, barely eating or drinking. Darius had been beside himself with worry, yet all he could do was pray that Ruth could get through the wall of Olivia’s grief. To his great relief, yesterday Ruth told him that Olivia might be ready to see him.
Now he had to figure out what to say to her. Olivia was suffering, and he had no idea how to ease her pain, especially when he felt a measure of guilt about the whole situation.
“I know you were recently planning to marry Meredith. I was wondering . . . if you’d consider marrying me instead.”
Rather than hearing her out, he’d been consumed with making her pay for the hurt she’d inflicted on him. Not one of his finest moments.
This morning, as he was getting ready to leave, however, he’d had the brilliant idea to bring Sofia along. From experience, he knew that a child’s exuberance could do wonders to cheer a person, and Sofia had been asking when she could go back to see Miss Olivia. Perhaps having his daughter there would ease the tension between him and Olivia as well. He’d already prepared Sofia for the fact that baby Abigail had gone to a new home, and he prayed the girl wouldn’t bring up the subject in front of Olivia.
As they reached the gate to Bennington Place, he looked down at Sofia, who clutched a folded piece of paper in her fingers, apparently a drawing she’d made for Olivia. “Remember, Mouse, Miss Olivia might be a bit sad today, so we won’t mention baby Abigail, right?” It couldn’t hurt to remind her one more time.
“I remember, Daddy. That’s why I made her a picture.” Sofia smiled, a dimple winking in one cheek.
“That was very thoughtful.”
“Is that why you brought her flowers?” She pointed to the colorful bouquet of carnations and daisies in his hand.
A Haven for Her Heart Page 23