“Here.” Erin took my arm, turned me away from her, and tugged at the knots on the back of my gown. I could feel the hesitation in her movements and when she spoke.
“He’s beautiful, Melanie.”
I froze. The air heaving in and out of my lungs and the spilling of water onto the hard shower tiles were the only sounds in the room.
Erin started to say more, but stopped, grabbed a towel from the rack, and placed it near the shower. She averted her eyes as I stepped into the shower and pulled the curtain between us. I submersed my head in the water, breathing deeply as I relaxed into the hot spray that fell on my head and ran down my back.
“You know that he loves you?”
I stalled, pulling my head from the water and looking at her shadowed form.
“Yes.”
“Then don’t be afraid.”
She pressed her hand against the curtain and I pressed mine against hers, wishing I could take her words and live them. I just didn’t know how.
She whispered, “Love you,” before she left me alone with my whirlwind of emotions.
I stepped back into the spray and pushed thoughts of Daniel’s son away to give my heart and mind a moment’s reprieve from the pain. For this short time, I would relish in the fact that I would soon be going home, that I was now free, that Daniel loved me no matter what happened.
Truly, a shower had never felt better. The hot water seemed to melt away the tension, and as I washed away the dirt and dried blood from my body, it was almost as if I washed away yesterday’s events. I watched as the tinted water swirled and pooled on the tiles, spinning and circling through the drain. The water finally ran clear, and with it, my soul was freed of Nicholas’s chains forever.
I knew he had scarred me so much deeper than I’d ever admitted. Of course, I was aware I had been treated badly, but I’d never allowed myself to see just how abusive he was. I didn’t know if my broken heart had blinded me to that fact or if I had felt that I deserved nothing better. Either way, none of those things made what Nicholas had done okay. He was an abuser who needed to be held accountable for what he’d done, and I’d stand up in court to be sure that happened. Beyond that, though, I promised myself I would never dwell on the last nine years. I was determined to step from this shower and never look back, only taking with me the valuable lessons I had learned.
I toweled myself dry and slipped into the dark jeans and red sweater Erin had so thoughtfully brought for me. I brushed my teeth and pulled the hairbrush repeatedly through my wet hair. I glanced at my reflection in the foggy mirror and saw my injuries for the first time, thankful that they had not been worse.
When I stepped out, Daniel was speaking with my attending doctor. They turned their attention to me. I sat back on the bed and Dr. Lemmons checked me over once more, assuring me that everything looked great. He signed my release papers and wrote me a prescription for pain medication, telling me to have my stitches removed in ten days.
I was free to go.
When the doctor left, Daniel pulled me from the bed and into his arms. I wrapped my arms around his neck, holding him close, our bodies swaying as we rejoiced. For the first time in our lives, we were free to go home together, where we’d always belonged.
Daniel brushed his lips over mine, the electricity shocking with the light contact. We kissed and danced and held each other for the longest time, unhurried and no longer afraid of being watched, finally free to love.
As our kiss faded and slowed, he hugged me to him again, still rocking us, though his hold felt contemplative. I tensed, anticipating what he would say.
“Will you go upstairs with me before we go home?” His voice was timid, unsure, and so very hopeful as he asked me to meet his son.
I held my breath and pressed my nose to his chest, digging my fingers in his shoulders as I fought against the pain. The energy flowing from his body gave me the strength I needed to nod my head.
I had to—for him.
He pulled back and held my face in his hands, leaving feather kisses on my cheeks and mouth. “Thank you.” He looked down at me knowingly, tenderly, sensing each of my fears. “Melanie, I promise, we will make this work,” he reiterated, trying to bring me comfort, but the closer I came to meeting his son, the more terrified I became.
Grabbing the bag Erin had brought, he shoved the discharge information into the pocket and slung it over his shoulder.
He kissed me chastely again before taking my hand. I had no idea I was shaking uncontrollably until Daniel’s steady grip wrapped securely around my hand. “Ready?”
I wasn’t, but I’d never be, and this was a request that I would not deny him.
“Yes,” I choked out.
He hesitated, looking at me. “Baby, you don’t have to do this right now.”
I shook my head, unwilling to take the easy route. “No, Daniel. I need to do this...now.”
I had never felt so torn between my need to please Daniel, to sacrifice for him, and the selfish part of me who wanted nothing to do with this child, the part of me that wished he didn’t exist. The guilt that thought roused made me sick and my mind chastised my heart for being so cruel. But I couldn’t stop it, and it was still there when I took a deep breath and followed Daniel from the room. He led me, never releasing my hand, pulling me forward. Still, I trailed a step behind, my face trained on the ground, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other.
The elevator ride was short. My head spun and tears stung my eyes when we stepped out onto the floor. How was I going to get through this? We hadn’t even reached the nursery and I was already falling apart.
I clutched Daniel’s hand, the only comfort I could find. I felt his pulse racing just as fast as mine, but where his raced with anticipation and the desire to be united with his son, mine raced with dread as I walked to meet the manifestation of my every insecurity.
I couldn’t even bring myself to look up as Daniel showed the volunteer working the desk his wristband and had a pass made for me.
The buzzer sounded and the door opened. The warmth of the room washed over my face, sending shivers down my spine. Infant cries pierced my ears, coming at me from what seemed like every direction, making me cower against Daniel’s side. Wrapping his arm protectively around my shoulders, he drew me in, the energy between us acting as a shield from the pain. My spirit immediately eased. I breathed in and drew from that power, sucking it deep into the pit of my stomach, emboldened as we made our way across the floor.
Daniel stopped just feet away from his child, giving me time to adjust. But I pressed forward, preparing for the surge of jealousy I knew would come. I felt hurried and frantic and knew I should wait and clear my head, but I couldn’t stop the steps my feet took. It became suddenly clear the energy I felt was not coming from Daniel at all. His baby boy was crying, a gurgling, rattling cry, so sad it would bring any mother to her knees.
I gasped as I took in his small child, the picture of his father, a perfect replica of the man I adored. My chest rolled with tremors as I felt his call, taking the last step forward to be at his side. I didn’t hesitate to touch him, splaying my hand over his tiny chest. Soothed, the child stilled at my touch, his spirit calmed as it met with mine. I closed my eyes, feeling his heart pound, beating strong with Daniel’s blood that flowed through his veins. His pull was indescribable, so much like the force that bound me to Daniel, yet so different. It was a perfect accompaniment, an extension of the connection Daniel and I shared.
Daniel moved to my side and wrapped his arm around my waist, tugging me closer while taking his son’s hand, smiling wistfully. “He’s hard not to love, isn’t he?”
I wheezed out through my constricted throat, “Impossible.” Daniel and I stayed unmoving for an immeasurable amount of time, our arms wrapped around each other, satisfied to watch baby Andrew sleep in his small crib, his hand firmly gripping Daniel’s finger and his heart beating soundly against the palm of my hand. The three of us were enveloped in th
e cocoon of energy that hovered in contentment, for the first time complete.
I glanced over my shoulder and found Erin and Julia standing at the window hugging each other, their eyes bleary and red as they had watched my first encounter with Andrew.
I smiled pensively and tried to keep myself from shedding any more tears. I’d cried enough for a lifetime, and today was a day to rejoice. Daniel and I had found our heart, and it rested in this small child sleeping safely under our watch.
Erin wiped her face with tissues Julia produced from her purse before coming into the nursery.
Daniel stepped away and pulled his sister into a fierce hug. Both of them murmured their love for one another and satisfaction for the day, their whispers proclaiming, “Thank God,” and “I knew she would.”
Erin turned and wrapped me in her arms. I hugged her back, whispering, “I’m not afraid anymore.”
She nodded and pulled away, dabbing her fingers under her eyes. “I know.” She smiled. “So, can I do anything to help?”
Daniel roughed his hands through his hair. “Do you think you and Mom could go and help Vanessa get ready to take Andrew home? I just...” He grimaced, clearly aware he should be the one doing it but just not quite there yet. She shook her head, keeping him from having to explain what she already understood. “No problem.”
She patted us both on the back and left Daniel and me to resume our protective stance over his child. We just stood there and watched. We would never be able to get enough of Andrew, so we savored every second we had.
Ten minutes later, Erin rushed into the nursery and tugged hard at Daniel’s arm. Her voice was low and alarmed. “Daniel, I need to talk to you.”
“What is it?”
“Just come on.” Urgently, she tugged again, and he pulled me behind him.
The instant we were out the door, Erin burst. “She’s gone!”
“What are you talking about, Erin?”
Erin shook a folded paper in Daniel’s face. “This is what I’m talking about!”
Daniel ripped it from her hands and tore at it to expose what was written inside. “That bitch. I knew it.”
I stood looking between the two of them, waiting for one of them to fill me in on what happened. Neither of them looked my way, so consumed with what they’d found on that paper. He reached into his pocket and fumbled for his phone, still muttering profanities that Erin continually seconded.
Frustrated, I reached out and plucked the paper from Daniel’s shaking hand. I smoothed the crumpled paper against my chest so I could read it. It wasn’t addressed or signed, but simply stated, “I can’t do this.” I had to read it three times before it sank in. Vanessa had abandoned her son. I was suddenly every bit as angry as Daniel.
My thoughts went to that precious child in the next room. I found myself unable to grasp how anyone could see his face and not fall in love with him, especially his own mother. I turned and walked toward the glass. His small crib was across the room, and I could see nothing of him from where I stood, but I could feel him—the pull—the need within him matching my own.
I barely registered the flurry of activity happening around me as the day progressed. Morning turned to afternoon, and the numerous calls made to Vanessa still went unreturned. There were whispered conversations between Daniel and Patrick, the quick reappearance of Daniel’s attorney, people coming and going, the faces of all those I loved strained and concerned as William Bailey made what seemed to be an unending number of phone calls. It increasingly wore at Daniel as he tugged on his hair and paced up and down the corridor. His expression was pained when he paused to peer into the quiet nursery where I rocked his son. I spent those hours meeting all of Andrew’s needs while he met mine, comforting the child at the center of the tumult happening just outside.
I kissed Andrew’s forehead, wrapped the sleeping infant in his blanket, and placed him back in his crib, still unable to pull myself fully away. I held the side of his bed and gazed down upon the child I would forever adore.
I felt Daniel enter and he came up behind me and wrapped me tightly against his body. He looked over my shoulder to peer down at his son and then leaned in and whispered heaven against my ear.
“Melanie, let’s take our son home.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
He was so beautiful.
The sun shone down over us as I sat barefoot, squishing my toes down into the damp grass, my legs drawn to my chest. I watched as my son ran, untroubled and free, across our backyard. His blond curls played around his face as the faint breeze gave way to sudden gusts of wind.
“Mommy, watch,” he called. As if I ever stopped.
He climbed the steps to his small slide, his three-year-old legs quick and adept in his favorite activity. His hazel eyes flashed with excitement when he reached the top. He swung himself up and onto his butt, digging his heels into the slide to propel himself forward. His face shown euphoric for the few brief seconds it took for him to reach the bottom.
As soon as his feet hit the ground, giggles bubbled up from within him, his chubby, round face succumbing to a fit of laughter as he raced across the lawn and threw himself into my lap. I exaggerated the impact by shielding his body in my arms as I allowed us to fall back into the cool grass. Laughing, I hugged him to me and breathed against his head.
“You are getting too big, Andrew. You knocked your momma right over!”
He wiggled and sat up, grinning at me and showing all of his small white teeth. “Daddy said I’m a big boy now.”
“Yes,” I confirmed, my own smile filled with the intense love I had for him. “You are a very big boy!”
He was back on his feet, darting away. He sang the first line of his ABCs over and over while he settled down in the dirt to play with his trucks, leaving me to gaze at the little boy I still could not believe was mine.
Even though it had never been her intention, Vanessa giving up this child had been the most unselfish act she’d ever committed. She had given me a son, a child not borne of my body but created specifically for me, just as his father had been. I’d known it the moment I had felt his pull, just as I’d known that very thing when I felt Daniel so many years before.
Without Vanessa, though, Andrew wouldn’t be here. As much as I couldn’t stand the person she was, it didn’t stop me from waking each morning and silently thanking her for being the vessel that had brought my son into this world.
As he played in the sand, the sun warming his pale, smooth skin against the cool breeze, I saw traces of her.
No doubt, Andrew was his father’s twin, his golden curls a near perfect match to Daniel’s at the same age, small ringlets framing his precious little face and bouncing with each bounding step he took. Patrick had informed me on more than one occasion that most strangers thought Andrew was a girl, but I still couldn’t bear to see the curls cut away. Julia would only laugh and run her fingers lovingly through her grandson’s hair, reminding Patrick that he had said the very same thing when Daniel was young.
Andrew already had Daniel’s smile, the same one that rendered me helpless. I found myself constantly grateful that Andrew was such a good child because I had no idea how I would ever discipline him. And those eyes, they were as if God had seen his perfect work in Daniel and simply replicated the same magic in Andrew.
Still, Vanessa was there, seen in the faint freckles that ran over the bridge of his button nose and sprinkled out under his eyes, in the hint of red in his hair that could only be seen when the sun hit it just right. It was an odd feeling to be so indebted to someone I hated so much.
That day in the hospital had been a harrowing experience for Daniel. Vanessa had left without signing anything, and the hospital staff questioned whether Daniel was even Andrew’s father. Though we didn’t need medical confirmation that Daniel’s blood flowed through Andrew’s body, the state did. Daniel had willingly yielded to a paternity test that confirmed him as Andrew’s biological father. As stressful as that all had been,
it had become the single most important day in my life—the day I went home with Daniel and my son. Nothing could compare to arriving in front of our house and walking through the front door with my family. It was the first time in my life I had ever truly been home.
That April, on what would have been Daniel’s and my anniversary, I was given the wedding I’d always wanted, a simple one in which Daniel and I stood hand-in-hand in Patrick and Julia’s backyard and professed that we would love each other forever.
The very next day, I signed a petition to adopt Andrew, seeking that he not only be my son in spirit but legally as well. It didn’t take William Bailey long to track down Vanessa, and while I could never understand her reasoning behind it, she relinquished her rights to Andrew that day. Two months later, I officially became the mother of Andrew Daniel Montgomery. No longer did I have to live in fear that someday he would be taken away from me. He was mine.
“Andrew, sweetheart, Daddy’s going to be home from work soon.” I stood, dusted the traces of wet dirt and grass from my pants, and extended my hand to him. “We should head in and start dinner.”
His sweet face brightened at the mention of his father, and he barreled over to me, throwing his arms in the air for me to pick him up. I swept him off the ground and into my arms.
“Here, let’s get your hands washed.” I walked to the kitchen sink and leaned over it, running his hands under the warm water and washing the residue from his afternoon of play down the drain.
I kissed his forehead and set him on his feet. Andrew went straight for his little table standing in the corner of the kitchen. He settled into the small chair, picking a dark blue crayon, his favorite color. He set to work, drawing a picture for his dad, something he did most every day while I cooked dinner.
I looked around the kitchen I loved, warmed by its comfort.
I glanced down at my son, so intent on the picture he was drawing, his small hand flying across the page as he scribbled his wonderful, indecipherable thoughts for his father.
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