Chasing Rainbows A Novel - By Long, Kathleen Page 0,74
a glance at Ashley. Moisture shimmered in her eyes as she nodded at me.
“Okay,” I said softly, returning her nod. I turned for the stairs, hesitating momentarily on the bottom step to take another look at these two women.
Sophie’s eyes met mine, her gaze softening with encouragement and love.
Was this really the face of the woman who’d yelled at me countless mornings over Poindexter’s barking?
Her eyes crinkled just the tiniest bit as if she knew exactly what I was thinking.
“I’ll be right back.” I heard myself say, and the next thing I knew, I was headed upstairs to retrieve my most private possession, ready to share my most painful--and my most joyous--memories with the lanky teen and the next door neighbor who had become two of the most important women in my life.
o0o
I sat and stared for a long time after Sophie left and David came to take Ashley home. I stared at the contents of Emma’s memory box, at her photo on the mantle.
Trisomy 18.
I remembered when the call came. I remembered the time of day, the smell of late summer coming in through the open windows, and I remembered the tone of Dr. Platt’s voice.
I remembered the slick wall, cold behind my back as I slid to the floor in disbelief and shock.
And then we’d battled--Ryan and I--together as a team.
We’d fought for Emma’s life, and for five days, we’d won.
I slowly climbed the stairs then headed down the hall to Emma’s room, or rather, what would have been Emma’s room.
I’m sorry you never got to bring her home, Aunt Bernie. Ashley’s words reverberated in my brain as I peeked through the doorway.
An oversized plush bunny snuggled into the pillows on the bed where I’d always imagined I’d cuddle Emma on nights she couldn’t sleep or got scared. Trailing pink and yellow tulips graced the fleece blanket on which Emma had rested at the hospital.
A rainbow of stuffed elephants, bears and dogs lined the shelves, waiting for a little girl who would never come home, who would never cuddle them in her sleep. I touched their heads lightly with fingertips that still remembered the softness of Emma’s skin and the downy hair on her forehead.
She would have loved it here.
A sob pushed against my throat and I pressed my fingertips to my lips to hold it back.
Ryan had never believed the prognosis. He’d always sworn the test results were wrong, the ultrasound findings were inaccurate. But me...I’d always known something wasn’t right.
Call it mother’s intuition--call it whatever you want to call it--I’d known Emma was sick. Sure, I’d believed in the miracle. I’d been convinced she’d prove the doctors wrong by being born alive, but I’d never been able to picture her coming home.
Had I failed her by not believing enough?
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to conjure up the image of her face, her scent, the feel of her tiny body against my chest as I’d held her in NICU. Then I refocused on the here and now.
The doorway to Emma’s room. The doorway to what might have been.
I’d stood here countless times before. I’d sat in the middle of the floor with her belongings piled around me, intending to sort them, give them away, put them in storage.
But I never had.
I’d never been able to fully accept the truth.
Emma wasn’t coming home.
This time, as I stood here, the reality of Emma’s empty room felt different to me.
I looked at my feet, blinking against the tears that came, watching as one fell with a tiny splash to the top of my foot.
When I lifted my gaze, refocusing on Emma’s room, everything looked the same, and yet everything looked different.
I needed to let go.
And this time, I was ready.
o0o
By the time I’d sorted and packed Emma’s toys and clothes and blankets, my eyes were gritty with fatigue, but there was still one thing left to do.
Ryan and I were meeting at my lawyer’s office in a few weeks to sign our property settlement papers. I patted a small box as I pushed away from the bureau in Emma’s room, making a mental note to take it with me when I saw him.
I ruffled Poindexter’s head as I passed him in the hall, gesturing for him to follow me when he wearily lifted his snout and squinted at me.
We padded downstairs together, I checked the lock on the front door as we passed and I tossed him a few dog treats then let him out back.