she’s just standing there with her hand out. I’m frozen, unsure what to do, exactly.
His mom stares at me as if she has no idea what’s wrong, but then finally shakes her head. “What am I thinking? Let me give you some privacy,” she says. “Just give me a holler when you’re done.”
She walks from the room and shuts the door behind her. I can hear her in the kitchen scolding Chloe for bumping into me, but everyone is laughing and having a good time, teasing each other.
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
I’m so far out of my comfort zone, I don’t even recognize the zip code. I slowly shrug my jean jacket off my shoulders and unzip my dress. There is no way this pink one is going to fit me, but I guess I can try to make it work.
I slide it over my head and look for a mirror, finding one in the small bathroom.
I stare at my reflection and shake my head. This is awful. I don’t want to be rude, but the dress is about three sizes too big and makes me look like I’m a preteen trying on her mama's clothes. I can’t go out there looking like this.
Someone knocks on the door and before I can even answer, Carol walks in.
She brings a hand to her mouth, trying to hide her smile. “Well, that’s not going to work, is it?” she asks. “Cammie? Come in here for a minute.”
Cammie, holding her newborn baby, walks into the room and begins laughing. My cheeks flush and tears spring to my eyes.
“Oh, don’t cry, sweetheart,” she says. “Are we scaring the crap out of you?”
I shake my head, afraid that if I try to speak, I’m going to collapse into sobs.
“Mama, why on earth did you put her in this old thing?”
“I don’t know, it was the first thing I grabbed,” Carol says. “I’m sorry, Jo, you’re such a tiny little thing, I doubt any of my clothes are going to fit you. Cammie, you’re probably my smallest girl. Do you think you may have something that will work?”
“I’m sure I do,” she says. “Here, why don’t you hold Emma while I go look.”
Before I can protest, Cammie passes the baby into my arms and turns away. Someone in the kitchen calls for their mom and Carol excuses herself, leaving me alone with Emma.
I am breathless.
My heart is tight in my chest. My body shivers.
I sit down on the edge of the bed, unable to hold myself up or trust my knees not to collapse.
I don’t hold babies. I haven’t in years. In fact, I avoid them at all costs. It’s just easier not to think about it.
A tear slides down my cheek and I force air into my lungs.
Baby Emma squirms a little, her tiny pink foot escaping from the blanket. I swallow and stare down at those perfect little toes, kicking back and forth. She coos and pushes her tongue against her lips.
I hardly know what to do with her.
I’m terrified I’m going to drop her or hurt her somehow.
Carefully, I hold her against my chest as I use my other hand to wrap the blanket around her feet again. The baby begins to cry, and on instinct I bounce her up and down slowly in my arms.
“Shh, shh, shh,” I say softly. “It’s okay, Emma.”
She calms, her dark blue eyes staring up at me.
It’s the strangest moment. Our eyes meet and a hidden part of me opens wide, letting her in. This tiny little person. Regret and fear pours over me like a rainstorm, but there is something else, too. Something like forgiveness. Hope.
“Here you go,” Cammie says, rushing back into the room. She hands me a black dress that looks much more my size.
“Thank you,” I say.
She reaches for the baby, and for a moment, I don’t want to give her up. I feel like in the span of two minutes, she’s changed me somehow.
Or maybe it’s time that has changed me. Maybe it’s Colton.
Either way, the pain of my past doesn’t hurt quite as much as it used to.
She leaves me alone in the room to change. I wipe my tear-stained face and pull my jacket on over the dress, all the while feeling like a piece of my past has just rushed back. A memory of what might have been. A sign of what might someday be possible.