Chasing Rainbows A Novel - By Long, Kathleen Page 0,73
door--to find her legumes.
While I listened to Sophie say she’d be right over with the cans she’d purchased at last week’s two-for-one sale, Ashley straightened from the sofa, moving toward the mantle.
I watched her from the corner of my eye, my heart catching as she studied Emma’s photo and traced one slender finger along the lines of my daughter’s face.
My stomach tightened, the usual dread knotting inside me as I hung up the phone.
“What are all of those things on her face?”
Surprise flickered through me. Not that Ashley had asked the question. I had always known she would someday.
What surprised me was that whenever someone did ask the question, I was never as prepared as I thought I should be.
“She needed some help breathing, honey.” I stepped to her side, pointing to the tape and tubing on her face. “She needed some oxygen after she was first born.”
“And then she could do it herself?”
Ashley looked into my eyes, and the hope and innocence in her gaze stole my breath away.
I bit down on my lip and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, hoping she hadn’t spotted the tears threatening in my eyes.
“No.” I forced the word through my tight throat, wondering when it would ever get easier to talk about Em. “She never could breathe for herself, but she sure tried. She got better and better and then her heart gave out, honey.”
Ashley said nothing, studying me, nodding slowly. “I’m sorry you never got to bring her home, Aunt Bernie.”
I blinked then, forcing a smile, fighting like hell against the sting of tears in my eyes.
In one sentence, Ashley had summed up all my pain.
I never got to bring Emma home.
I wrapped my arms around Ashley’s neck and squeezed. “Thanks,” I said softly.
And then the mental image of Ryan holding his new daughter filled my brain and an inexplicable anger pushed against my sadness.
He’d replaced Emma.
He’d found another woman, another baby, another life.
Ashley pushed away from my embrace and narrowed her gaze on me as if she knew exactly what I was thinking.
“I think Uncle Ryan wanted the new baby because of how much he loved Emma, don’t you think?”
The vise of anger and grief loosened its grip on my heart and I stared down at the carpet for a moment.
Maybe Ryan hadn’t been trying to replace Emma...or me. Maybe he’d been trying to recapture what we’d once had.
I looked up at the picture, at the look of sheer joy painted across Ryan’s features as he’d cradled Emma in his arms.
Ashley was right.
Ryan hadn’t been trying to replace our daughter at all.
He’d only wanted to feel that same sense of unconditional love again. One more time.
And suddenly, I couldn’t find a shred of a reason to fault him for that.
“Can I see her memory box, Aunt Bernie?”
Ashley’s question so surprised me, I audibly gasped.
“I’d like to see it, too.”
Sophie’s voice startled me. I hadn’t heard her come through the front door.
She pointed back toward the foyer as she stepped into the room. “I knocked, but I guess you didn’t hear me. I hope you don’t mind.”
Moisture blurred my vision and I shook my head, swallowing down the lump in my throat. “Of course not.”
She held up two cans of peas and waved them in the air. “Ta da.”
But then her focus locked on my face and I felt my features crumple, unable to hold my emotions at bay for another second.
Without saying another word, she crossed the room and wrapped me in a hug. I melted into her, not caring about the stream of tears that escaped, beating wet paths down my cheeks.
“Life has a funny way of working out, dear,” she whispered against my ear. “Never forget that.” She pushed me out to arm’s length and gave me a gentle smile. “I’d love to see Emma’s things.” She spoke the words without an ounce of uncertainty.
“Really?” I blinked away the lingering moisture in my eyes.
I found it difficult to believe her. No one ever asked to see Emma’s things before today. No one.
I’d never quite understood if it was because they didn’t want to remember what had happened or if they were too uncomfortable. Maybe it was because they were afraid to bring up my memories, my heartache.
“Really,” Sophie answered.
Something glimmered in her eyes and I realized she wasn’t afraid of the box. Wasn’t afraid of the memories.
Even more than that, I knew without a doubt it wasn’t my heartache she hoped to bring back.