Dylan’s Redemption(92)
“You said something similar the night of the prom.”
“I’m a sucker for a poetic tough guy.” She kissed his stubbly chin. “About Hope, I know what you mean. It’s an ache that won’t go away. Some days it’s overwhelming and other days it simmers in the background.”
The kind of pain only they could share because it was the loss of a child they’d created. The pain, like the child, was unique to them. He swept his hand down the length of her hair. She opened the trunk. He glanced over her shoulder and wanted to weep with sorrow. Inside lay Hope’s things. Jessie pulled out a baby blanket, held it to her nose, and inhaled the lingering scent of their daughter. A single tear spilled from her eye and rolled down her cheek.
“This is the blanket I wrapped her in when she was born. They let her have it in the NICU where she stayed. I would drape it over the both of us when she nursed. I held her to my breast and looked down at her sweet face. She’d ball her fist and press it to my skin.”
He slid his hand around her back and over her ribs to cup her breast. Heavy, her nipple tight. Even the memory evoked a physical response in her. He held her breast in his hand and kissed the side of her neck. She leaned her head back against him and gave him better access to her throat. He slid his hand from her breast and over her flat belly where she’d once carried their child.
He liked having her with him this way, sharing something deeply personal and intimate. She didn’t resist, but relaxed into him, his hands on her body as natural as breathing.
She leaned over the chest and took out some of the clothes Hope had worn. He took one of the small pink sleepers.
“I forget how small babies can be. Will’s grown so much. She wore this?”
“Yes. It’s soft and warm. This was actually a little big on her.”
“It’s pretty with the little roses.”
“She looked like a princess.”
The chest held several other dresses and sleepers Hope never had time to wear. He tried to picture his daughter in them. It was hard since he’d only seen a single small photo of her. He hated that he couldn’t bring her into his mind easily, there being only a single memory to recall. Jessie pulled out a thick photo album from the bottom of the chest. He inhaled sharply at seeing his daughter’s name written on the outside cover with a close-up photo of her little face.
“Oh, Jess. You made this.”
“We took a lot of pictures before and after she was born. Looking back, maybe we knew we didn’t have a lot of time. We documented everything.”
“We?”
“We,” she confirmed. “Pop and Greg were with me all the time. I never went to a doctor’s appointment alone.”
He kissed her cheek. “I’m glad you weren’t alone, honey.”
About to open the photo album, she turned and fixed her gaze on him. “No fat jokes,” she warned. The smile on her face bloomed bright and honest. The first real one he’d seen in a long time.
“Are you telling me there are pictures of you pregnant in here?”
“I’m saying there are pictures of me looking as big as a house.”
It hit him again: just how much he’d missed. He’d never gotten to see her belly grow, or feel his daughter kick through her stomach. “Let’s see,” he said, choked up.
His throat constricted, heart aching, he inhaled deeply, catching Jessie’s sweet floral scent. Just that small thing eased him.
Her hand swept over the cover. She opened the book and showed him the first page. It listed all of Hope’s first information.
Hope Danielle McBride
Born: February 27, 2006
6 lbs. 10 oz.—19 in.
A photo showed her and Jessie taken moments after her birth. Jessie held Hope in her arms and smiled hugely at the camera, even though she looked worn out and exhausted.
She turned the page to several photos of her with her belly growing with each picture. They were in succession, starting at three months and every month after until she was, as she said, as big as a house.
“I can’t believe how young you were.”
“Fifteen, sixteen when I had her.” She pointed to the picture of her at seven months pregnant. “This one is from just after we got back from eating at an Italian restaurant for my birthday. I devoured an entire platter of lasagna, I think. I had a real craving for Italian the whole time I was pregnant. I couldn’t tell you how much of that baby bump is Hope and how much is dinner.”
“Sixteen, alone, and a mother. I’m sorry, Jess. I should have been there.”
“You would have been there,” she said and turned the page.
He wouldn’t let her get away with dismissing him and what happened so easily. He leaned his forehead to her hair and whispered in her ear. “I wish I’d been there with you. I’d have asked you to come to base where I was stationed and married you immediately. I missed you so much. I grieved hard for you every day. We could have had a life together. We could have shared our grief over losing Hope. I’m so sorry all these years were taken from us.”