because they’ve done the same thing I’ve been doing for years. Documenting their life. While the purpose of me reading them is to find out who they belong to and give them to their families, I can’t help but be curious what these women’s lives were like. You read history books, old newspaper clippings, and see it in movies, but to read personal thoughts about a person’s life who lived in the nineteenth century is different. It’s almost like seeing it firsthand.
Unfortunately, I won’t be able to start them until tonight. Gray and Gemma are due back from their friends’ houses soon, and I have supper I need to start.
“Thanks, honey.” Once Lincoln has pushed up the attic stairs and faces me, I put a hand on his lower stomach and lean up on my toes for a kiss. His hand slides around my back, and what was supposed to be a simple kiss, turns heated.
“How are you doing?” he asks against my lips.
“I’m better.”
His eyes move back and forth between mine, looking for any hidden melancholy. While I do still feel sad and wish we were pregnant, the answer I gave him was the truth. I do feel better.
“Are you sure?”
I give him a smile to ease his worry. “Yeah, I’m sure. As much as I wish it otherwise, I know we’ll get pregnant when it’s time.”
“That’s good. If recruiting your mom didn’t work, I was going to have to break out the old guitar and have the kids help me serenade you. You know what happened the last time I did that.”
I laugh at the memory. We were seventeen. I had a pet rabbit named Mr. T because he was dark brown with a golden ring around his neck. My parents got him for me for my seventh birthday. Each morning before school I let him roam around my room when I fed and watered him. He was always so happy to see me, jumping around my feet and rubbing against me as he waited for attention. One morning, I woke up and he didn’t come out of his hut, and I knew right away something was wrong. Mom said he died from natural causes because he was so old. I didn’t care the reasons why. I just wanted my little buddy back. I was sad for days after that. One evening, while I was lying in bed, a blast of music came from my window. When I went to see what it was, I found Lincoln outside my window with his guitar. I broke down in tears when he started singing “Angel” by Sarah McLachlan. By the time he was done, I was laughing.
“I remember,” I reply softly.
His eyes twinkle. “I’m surprised your ears weren’t bleeding after it was over.”
I laugh. “You weren’t that bad.” Of course, he wasn’t that good either. His guitar skills were great, but his singing definitely wasn’t. It was his attempt at trying to make me feel better that made it so special. “That was one of the sweetest things I’ve ever seen.”
“Anything to make my girl smile again.”
My heart melts into a puddle of goo.
After pecking the tip of my nose, he looks around the hallway. “Where are the kids?”
“They’re due home any minute.”
“I thought you were supposed to pick them up?”
I frown and purse my lips. “No. We made plans for them to be dropped off around three.”
Lincoln looks at me strangely, like I’ve lost my mind. “Uh, Molly. You spoke with Lindsay yesterday. I overheard you tell her you would pick them up around three.”
“Wait. What?” I ask, having no clue what he’s talking about. “The kids aren’t with my sister. Gray’s at Dylan’s and Gemma’s with Sophia.”
“Baby,” he says slowly. “That was last week. Your sister picked the kids up yesterday to take them to the movies, remember? She and Joe were taking Aubree and figured Gray and Gemma would like to go too. You spoke with her yesterday evening on the phone after they got back. Lindsay asked if they could spend the night. You made plans to pick them up today.”
I wrack my brain for this conversation he says I had. It takes me a moment for the vague recollection to come to mind. It’s there, but it’s so distant that it feels like an old memory. Like it’s something that happened weeks ago instead of less than twenty-four hours.
“Wow,” I state, a little discombobulated. “I have no idea how I could have forgotten.”
“You’ve been doing