Gently she laid the baby on her lap and began to unwrap her. The nurse moved forward, but Rachel lifted a hand towards her. “I need to do this.”
The nurse retreated a step. Rachel slowly examined the baby’s tiny fingers and toes. She looked at the stump of umbilical cord attached to her tiny belly, the place they’d once been connected.
“She’s perfect,” Rachel whispered.
With one last lingering look at the tiny body that had grown within her own, she closed the blankets and lifted the baby back into her arms.
Rachel closed her eyes as she cuddled the baby close, inhaling her scent, feeling the softness of her skin. Suddenly her chest ached, a truly physical ache. Rachel didn’t want to let go, but she knew that in order for this precious baby to have the best in life, or at least better than what she could offer, she had to.
Slowly Rachel lowered the baby from her chest and gazed at her one last time. Tears filled her eyes, and she blinked rapidly not wanting moisture to cloud her last look at the baby.
“You can take her now,” Rachel told the nurse in a trembling voice. Eyes still glued to the small face, she held out her daughter.
The nurse took the baby and placed her back in the bassinet. She started to leave, then turned back and placed a hand on Rachel’s arm. She met the nurse’s gaze and saw tears in her eyes.
“She’s going to be just fine. I’ve seen her parents, and they look like nice people.”
Rachel looked one last time at the bassinet as the nurse pushed it out the door. She closed her eyes, and a tear slipped down her cheek. Cold spread across her chest and Rachel shivered. She crossed her arms and hugged herself. Feeling dampness Rachel looked down and touched her gown where it lay against her breasts. It was damp.
Confusion gave way to understanding. Her body had reacted to the baby’s nearness, readying itself to provide nourishment for her. But Rachel had not been able to offer the nourishment contained there.
Seeing her body react to the loss was just too much for Rachel. Never again would she get to experience this. She’d never again be able to nourish a child from her body. Everything had been taken away from her.
Why God?
Ignoring the waves of pain from her incision, Rachel curled onto her side, pressed a fist to her lips and wept.
“Rachel? Are you okay?” Mari’s voice broke through her memories. “You’re crying.”
Rachel lifted a hand to her cheek and found it damp. “I’m okay. Just remembering the last time I saw you.”
“The day you gave me away,” Mari stated matter-of-factly.
Rachel nodded. “I saw you just before your parents took you. The first and last time I got to see you.”
Mari nodded. “My parents told me about that day. They said the nurse told them you were brave, that you clearly loved me but knew it was best you give me up.”
“I did. You were my child. It was hard to hand you over to strangers without knowing anything about them. I’m so glad God allowed you to go to Christian parents who did a great job raising you.”
“You’ve met them, you know,” Mari said.
“I have?” Rachel asked in surprise.
Mari nodded. “They visited the bookstore a couple of times. Somehow they knew everything about you. I guess money opens a lot of doors. They never planned to approach you and tell you who they were, but they wanted to make sure you never lacked for anything. My dad said you’d given them the most precious gift on earth, and in return they wanted to make sure your dreams came true.”
“The loan for the bookstore,” Rachel said, amazement filling her.
Again Mari nodded. “Dad found out you’d been turned down. He approached the bank and said he would be responsible for the loan should you default, which he knew you wouldn’t, but he had to say that to the bank officer. His only requirement was that you never know that he had guaranteed your loan.”
“I never knew. I was shocked when they called me back after rejecting my loan and told me it had been a mistake. I thought maybe my dad had had something to do with it. But then I never heard from him so figured it had just been a paper mix-up at the bank. In my favor, for a change.”
“My folks wanted you to have a chance at your dream after giving them theirs.” Mari cocked her head. “You’re not mad, are you?”
“Mad?” Rachel laughed and shook her head. “I’m just relieved and thankful you had such wonderful, caring parents. They were all I prayed they would be and more.”
Rachel stared at Mari, reality suddenly hitting her. This was her daughter. The baby she’d held and kissed and said good-bye to. Reaching out she grabbed Mari in a tight hug, tears once again flowing.
“I can’t believe this,” Rachel whispered against the silkiness of Mari’s hair. “I’m just so sorry it took the loss of your parents to bring us together.”
As she held Mari close, Rachel felt her slender frame shake and heard soft sobs. Wondering if Mari had ever really taken the time to grieve the loss of her parents, Rachel continued to hold her, unwilling to let her go when Mari needed comfort.
Finally Mari pulled back, using her sleeve to wipe her eyes. “Thanks, Rachel. I wish Mom and Dad were here to meet you, really meet you. They liked you, even though they didn’t know you very well.”
“If they loved you, I know I would have liked them, too.”
“Want to see some pictures?” Mari asked, gesturing to the box on her lap.
Pictures! Rachel leaned forward, eager to see the years she’d missed.
They spent the rest of the evening pouring over the pictures. They moved to the kitchen to eat when they got hungry, still sharing stories and memories. Mari seemed as eager to learn all she could about her birth mother, as Rachel was to get to know her daughter.
Rachel went to the closet in her old bedroom and retrieved the box from beneath the floorboards. She showed Mari the hospital bracelet she’d kept, the paper with tiny footprints on it, and the Polaroid picture the nurse had taken for her. Also in the box where sixteen pressed pink roses. Each year on August fifteenth, no words were spoken of the significance of the day, but when Rachel would wake that morning there would be single pink rose in a vase beside her bed. Even last year when her mom had been so sick there had still been a rose. This had been the first year with no rose, but better than that was having her daughter in her arms.
Mari didn’t leave that night. They stayed up late talking and slept in the next morning. Rachel woke to bright sunlight, wondering if she’d dreamed the past twenty-four hours. Was her daughter really sleeping in the room just down the hall?
Slipping out from under her blankets, Rachel pulled on her robe and left the room. She moved quietly down the hallway, then paused in front of the room Mari was using. The door wasn’t fully shut, so she reached out and pushed it open a few more inches. She immediately spotted Mari, still curled up in bed.
The carpet muffling her steps, Rachel moved to the side of the bed and looked down at her sleeping daughter. She’d never had a chance to watch Mari sleep when she’d been an infant or a toddler. Rachel had never brushed a silky curl from her smooth cheek as a young girl.
She mourned the lost years. The only thing that made the loss less intense was knowing that Mari had had parents who’d loved and doted on her.
Mari stirred, then opened her eyes. She looked surprised to see Rachel, but smiled as she sat up.
“Sorry,” Rachel said with a sheepish grin. “Just had to make sure I hadn’t dreamed last night.”
“No dream.” Mari drew her legs up, wrapping her arms around them. “I’m so glad you’re happy about this.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I didn’t know. I wanted to be sure.” Mari tilted her head, an inquiring look on her face. “Am I the reason you won’t get together with Damian?”
“What?” Rachel looked at Mari in surprise. She sank down onto the bed. “No. Well, maybe that’s not quite true. There is more, and indirectly I guess it’s rela
ted to you.” Rachel plucked at the blanket. How much should she tell Mari? Revealing the rest of the details surrounding her birth might make Mari feel bad. And that was the last thing she wanted to do.
“Can you tell me about it?” Mari asked. “I want to know more, but only if you’re comfortable telling me.”
Rachel gnawed her lip. “You haven’t asked me who your father was.”
“I assumed you didn’t know. No father was listed on my birth certificate. Do you know who he is?”
Rachel hesitated briefly before nodding her head. “Yes, I know who he is.”
“Does he live around here?”
“I don’t think so. We were living in Chicago at the time. My dad had left, taking my brother with him. My mom retreated into a depression. Not that I blame her. Anyone who goes through losing a husband to a younger woman and doesn’t feel depressed in some way has got to be emotionally stunted.” Rachel often wondered how her mother had survived that time.
“I started dating this guy, he seemed nice at the time. He promised me love…and the world. Or so I thought. The day I told him I was pregnant was the day my world crashed down around me. He told me to take care of it, and he never talked to me again.
“I’m sure he meant for me to have an abortion, but I couldn’t. I was overweight at the time and hiding the pregnancy wasn’t too hard. I hid it until I was eight months along. My mom found out when she walked into my bathroom one day and saw me without the baggy clothes I normally wore.”
“Was she mad?”
Rachel could clearly remember the look on her mother’s face, right before she’d burst into tears. “No, she wasn’t mad. Sad and disappointed mostly, I think. Just one more disappointment for her. I told her everything then. After I had you, we moved here from Chicago. I started in a new school and put it all behind me.”
“And now I’ve brought it all back,” Mari commented, furrowing her brow.
Rachel reached out and smoothed her fingers over the lines in Mari’s forehead. “I don’t regret it at all. I wish the circumstances around your conception were different. But at least I can tell you this, though you weren’t conceived in love, you were certainly carried with love and given away with love.”
“And my parents loved me,” Mari said, her eyes bright with tears.
“An answer to my prayers.” Rachel leaned back on her hands. Her fingers sank into the softness of the quilt covering the bed. “Why didn’t you tell me right away who you were?”
Mari shrugged and looked down. “I guess I wanted to get to know you first. To see if there was any room in your life for me.”
“Oh, there’s room, Mari. Lots of room,” Rachel assured her. “When Mom died I felt as if I was all alone. I’m so grateful God brought you back into my life. I need you.”
Mari’s head jerked up. “You do? You need me?”
“Yes.” Rachel sat up and reached for Mari’s hand. “God knew I needed family. I’m so sorry it took the loss of your parents to bring you to me.”
“I need you, too.” Mari’s fingers tightened around Rachel’s. “My aunt, my dad’s sister, wasn’t a very easy person to live with. I think she resents the fact that Dad left all his money to me and none to her.”
“Did she treat you badly?” Rachel felt a burning in the pit of her stomach.
Mari looked away. “Not really. As long as I stayed out of her way and gave her money, she pretty much left me alone.”
“You shouldn’t have been left alone. Especially when you were grieving the loss of your parents.” Rachel struggled to keep the anger out of her voice. “You should have been loved and comforted. Not left alone.
A tear tracked a silver trail down Mari’s cheek. “I know,” she whispered hoarsely. “That’s why I came to you.”
“And I’m so glad you did,” Rachel responded, gathering Mari into her arms. “I’m so glad you did.”
*****
One around one o’clock that afternoon Rachel stood on the front porch step waving goodbye to Mari and Jace. After their talk in Mari’s bedroom they’d gotten up and had breakfast together. Mari had asked if it was okay to tell Jace their news, and Rachel had told her it was fine. She was not ashamed of Mari and the past was the past. Rachel imagined Mari would share their story with Jace as they headed out to a farm to join the college and career group from church for a sleigh ride.
Rachel looked up at the sky as they pulled away, grateful to see no clouds marring the beautiful blue. It would be a great day for doing stuff outside. Rachel hoped they had fun.
Even after the truck had disappeared she lingered on the porch, marveling at all that had occurred over the past couple of days. The year had begun with the loss of her mother and ended with the gain of a daughter. She could only imagine what the year ahead held. She knew it wouldn’t hold a relationship with Damian but maybe having Mari in her life would help to ease that pain.
Slowly Rachel closed the front door and entered the now silent house. The silence didn’t press down on her as it once had because she knew Mari would return and chase the silence away.
Rachel climbed the stairs and paused in the hallway before going into Mari’s room. She stood in the doorway, memories washing over her. This had been her room. Her bed. This room had been her retreat from the world, the world that didn’t know her secret. Many tears had been shed in this room. She’d moved out of it into one of the bigger rooms when her mom had died.
Now it would be Mari’s room. They had decided she would stay with Rachel. There was no sense in Mari living on her own in the small apartment she’d rented. Rachel couldn’t wait to see the room once again filled with teenage girl paraphernalia. She hoped Mari’s time in the room was filled with more joy than hers had been.
Smiling, Rachel headed back downstairs and picked up the phone. Sue was working alone at the store, and she wanted to check in and make sure everything was okay. If it was too busy she would go in and give her a hand, although the idea of a day off just to enjoy the holidays and to relish the news of her daughter was enticing.
“Don’t worry about coming in, Rachel,” Sue told her. “It hasn’t been too busy, and even if it picks up, I can handle it. We’re closing at three, right?”
“Yes, shortened hours today. Thanks so much for taking care of it for me.”
“No problem. My mom was thrilled to have the kids. They’re going sledding.”
“I’ll see you on Monday then, although don’t hesitate to call if something comes up.”
Rachel hummed “Joy to the World” as she cleaned up the kitchen. She didn’t want the holidays to end. It would be a Christmas she never forgot.
The phone rang just as Rachel slipped the last plate back into the cupboard. Hoping it wasn’t Sue, Rachel picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Rachel?” Her name came out on a strangled sob.
“Jace?” Rachel’s heart sank, and she began to tremble. “What’s wrong? What’s happened to Mari?”
“We had an accident.” Rachel heard Jace take a couple of gasping breaths. “She’s hurt. Hurt bad.”
Dread and panic curled like a snake in the pit of her stomach. “Where are you?”
Jace gave her the name of the hospital.
“I’ll be right there.”
Frantic, Rachel gathered up her purse, keys and jacket, pausing only long enough to slip her feet into her boots before leaving the house.
Her hands shook so much she could hardly get the key in the ignition. All the while she kept praying. Oh God, please don’t take her away from me. You just gave her back. Don’t take her from me.
Chapter Twelve
Rachel controlled herself long enough to get to the hospital and park the car, but as she made her way to the emergency entrance of the hospital her legs began to tremble. The shaking only got worse when she stepped into the ER and spotted Jace. His jacket streaked with blood.
“Jace?” Rachel called.
He stopped his pacing and came towards her, pani
c and fear etched on his face. “I’m so sorry. So sorry. My fault.”
Rachel reached towards him, but then drew her hand back. She couldn’t touch him, not when he was covered in blood. Her daughter’s blood.
“Where is Mari, Jace?” Rachel tried to speak strongly, needing Jace’s fractured attention. “Jace!”
He met her gaze briefly then looked away. “She’s in with the doctors.”
Rachel figured she’d get no more help from Jace, so she abandoned him and went to the nurses’ station.
“I’m wondering if you could give me some information on Mariam Hewitt?”
“And you are?” The nurse looked up from the computer screen she was viewing.
“I’m her mother.” The words rolled off Rachel’s tongue as if she’d said them a thousand times before. “I’m her mother.”
“Let me see what I can find out.” The nurse stood and pointed to the rows of chairs. “Have a seat. I’ll talk to the doctor.”
Rachel made her way to the closest empty seat and sank into it, grateful she no longer had to depend on her shaking legs for support. Her gaze went to Jace where he once again paced.
“Jace,” she called to him.
He swung around, spotted her and came to drop into the chair next to her. “Did they tell you anything?”
“Not yet,” Rachel told him. “What happened, Jace?”
Jace hunched forward, his hands hidden between his knees. Rachel could see tremors passing in waves over his body. He appeared unhurt, but Rachel wasn’t sure.
She touched him on the shoulder, careful to find a spot that was free from blood. “Jace. What happened?”
The young man didn’t look up or turn toward her. Rachel wondered if he’d heard her.
Finally he spoke. “We were just a little ways out of the city, still had about twenty minutes to go to get to the farm. It was a country road, and the train tracks didn’t have an arm or lights. We were talking and laughing. She’d just told me about you being her mom.” Jace glanced up at her. “That’s why I called you.” He looked back down at his knees. “We had the music on. I didn’t hear the train. I didn’t hear until it was too late. I tried to stop. The truck kept sliding.”
Waiting For Rachel: A Christian Romance (Those Karlsson Boys) Page 13