Beyond These Walls (The Walls Duet #2) (34 page)

“We all came up with something. I hope you like them,” Grace said.

My mom went first, stepping forward with a simple gift basket, accented in pink. I gave it to Lailah to disassemble. Inside was an assortment of bath products and lotions along with some sort of art kit.

“I remember feeling very . . . well, not myself, let’s just say,” my mom explained, pointing to the bath gel. “I thought these would help you relax when you’re not at the hospital. It’s not always easy to spring back after giving birth, but a little pampering never hurts.”

“And this?” I asked, pointing to the small art kit.

“I had a friend whose granddaughter was in the NICU last year. She told me her daughter made a little name tag for the incubator. It helped make it feel more like home and less like a hospital, I guess. I thought it might be worth a try.”

“Thank you, Mom,” I said, squeezing Lailah’s hand.

I set down the basket in preparation for Grace’s gift.

“You know how much I love scrapbooking, photo books, and so on. Well, I thought this would keep you busy for a while, gathering everything, and it’ll give you something personal to hang up in her room.” Grace stepped forward and held out a large deep frame. “It’s a shadow box. You can put everything in it that reminds you of her—announcements, hospital bracelets, pictures. When she gets older, she can look at it and see just how much she was loved from the very beginning.”

“I love it,” Lailah replied, her fingers slowly tracing the edge of the frame. “It will be perfect in her room.”

I heard her take a deep breath behind me, trying desperately to keep her emotions in check. I knew her struggle. I was battling the same internal war myself. With each gift, I felt the lump in my throat grow bigger and bigger.

We’d expected to come home to an empty dark house, and instead, we’d found it full of warmth, love, and family.

I would never be able to repay them for this.

“We’re next,” Molly said, taking a step forward. Their gift was in a large pink gift bag with matching tissue paper streaming out the top.

Always one to enjoy watching others open gifts more than receiving them myself, I handed it over to Lailah once again and watched her toss pink tissue paper to the floor.

I chuckled in amusement when I saw her face contort into a mixture of horror and bewilderment as she pulled out several large balls of yarn.

“What am I supposed to do with these?” she asked, looking at the soft pink yarn like it was on fire.

“You’re going to learn to knit,” her mother said simply.

“I am?”

“Yes.”

“Do I have a choice?” Lailah looked at the yarn with contempt.

“Well, of course you do. But I think it will be a good hobby to pick up. It’s easy to learn and occupies the mind, and when you’re done, you’ll have a beautiful blanket to keep Meara warm.”

I saw her expression soften slightly as she gazed down at the basic with curiosity.

“Okay, deal. But you have to teach me.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.” Molly smiled.

Lailah set the yarn aside, and I tried not to laugh. Honestly, I couldn’t think of a better gift from her mother. It was thoughtful and caring, and it’d give Lailah a purpose during the time Meara wasn’t with us.

A deep voice bit through the lingering laughter. “I guess it’s time for my gift,” Nash said.

I’d barely had time to greet my old friend since seeing his face as we walked through the door. I was sad to say I hadn’t had many opportunities to see him over the last few months, but seeing him here now meant a lot.

“You didn’t have to do this,” I said, taking the plain brown bag from him with gratitude.

“I know, but I wanted to.”

I peeked in the bag and found an empty glass Mason jar. Picking it up, I glanced up at him for hints.

“Look again,” he urged.

My eyes fell back to the bag, and there, underneath where the jar had been, was a square pad of paper. Still having no idea where he was going with this gift, I looked up for further instructions.

“Here,” he said, pointing to the jar, “is where you will put all your hopes, one for each day she is not here in this house.” His accent grew thicker with emotion. “And when she finally comes home, you will seal it up and save it for when she’s older and needs it the most.”

“Beautiful,” Lailah whispered, having little experience with the unwavering romanticism that was Nash Taylor.

He’d won over the hearts of half of America with his overwhelming talent to turn words into melting chocolate with the flick of a wrist. His last stint in the hospital seemed to have tamed him slightly, and he hadn’t made a single inappropriate comment since we arrived.

“Me! I’m next! I wanted to go last, and now, it’s my turn!” Abigail bounced off the couch and handed Lailah a wrapped present that looked much like a book.

Their eyes met, and I could see this held special importance for Abigail. She watched every movement as Lailah pulled away the wrapping paper, exposing the pink leather below.

She flipped it over in her hands, and her eyes met Abigail’s.

“It’s a journal. The last time we talked, you mentioned you started writing in yours again, and I thought you could use another one, a nicer one. Also, I thought while the baby is still in the hospital, you could write her a list.”

“A list?” Lailah asked.

“Like yours,” Abigail said. “A Someday List. It won’t be just like yours because she’s a baby, but maybe you can add things in there that you guys can do later. I thought it would be cool if you had some things to check off right away, like take a walk on the beach or her first diaper change in her room. You know, things like that.”

I got up from my spot on the floor and joined Lailah on the couch, her eyes already misting with fresh tears.

“Thank you, Abigail,” she cried, her hands opening wide for the young girl. “I couldn’t have asked for a greater gift.”

They held each other tightly before we made our rounds, going from person to person, hugging and holding one another. Soon, dinner was ordered, and laughter filled the house.

There were no tears of sadness and no cries of loss, only the sound of hope and the promises of great things to come.

I LOVED SITTING out on the deck early in the morning before the world woke up.

It was quiet, new and fresh with possibilities, and the air clung to my skin, making my steaming cup of coffee taste that much better. Every morning I spent out here, watching the sun rising over the water, felt like a blessing.

Every day felt like a blessing.

I didn’t know if there would ever be a point in my life when that feeling would stop.

Did I really want it to?

Did I want to eventually fade into the rest of existence, unimpressed with life and the ways of the world?

No, I didn’t.

I loved my life and the constant amazement of it all. I would always be that girl who loved taking taxis just for the thrill of it and who never stopped looking at the ocean because it was too beautiful to turn away.

I would always be that woman who had survived.

The sliding door opened behind me, and I smiled, already knowing who it was.

“Look who beat us awake again this morning,” Jude said in that voice he’d adopted ever since the moment he first held her.

His dad voice, I called it. It wasn’t nearly as sexy as the voice he’d use in the bedroom, but it still gave me chills and goose bumps.

I looked up at them, my beautiful family.

Through it all, I would always be theirs.

Jude’s wife and Meara’s mother—nothing could get any better than that.

Having a child in the NICU was something you could never fully prepare for. It was something you could never explain to another who hadn’t experienced it either. Even after coming home from the hospital alone on that first day, we’d Googled and read everything we could, trying to make sure we were up on every piece of equipment she was hooked up to and medication she was on. We’d stayed in touch with doctors around the clock and planned our schedules around hers. Still, nothing could have ever prepared us for the grueling days of waiting for our child to finally come home.

Our family had helped in so many ways. They’d arranged meals, even come and cleaned for us, but nothing could bring Meara home faster. Only time and patience could do that.

We’d ended up seeking out those like us, the ones who were still waiting and those who’d finally made it out. Making friends with parents of preemies was probably the best thing either one of us could have done. It’d opened our world of support and given us people to talk to. They’d completely understood every emotion because they, too, had suffered through them all.

Forty-one days—that was how many days Meara had spent in the NICU. It was forty-one days until we had our celebration day and finally taken her home with us.

It was a day I’d never be able to forget.

I didn’t think I’d slept a single second that night. I’d just lain there, watching her in her bassinet by our bed, amazed and terrified at the same time. I had been so scared she’d somehow stop breathing, and we’d end up back in the hospital.

But she hadn’t, and now, two months later, she was still thriving.

And we were getting ready to say good-bye to our California home.

Our year on the beach had come to an end.

“What are you thinking about?” Jude asked as he and Meara settled in on the chaise next to me.

I turned to kiss each of them, a tiny smooch on Meara’s nose and a lingering long kiss for Jude.

“How much I’m going to miss this view,” I admitted, placing my head on his shoulder.

Meara rested on his chest, and her fingers reached out for a strand of my hair.

“Me, too,” he sighed.

“But I don’t mind New York either,” I said, trying to rally up some encouragement.

“We can introduce Meara to all our favorite restaurants when she gets a bit older,” he offered.

I didn’t respond as my head tried to envision our new life back in our old one. We’d once been happy in the city. We could be again. It would just be a readjustment. Lots of people raised families in big cities. We would, too.

“Hey, I know we still need to pack some things, but I want to take you somewhere this morning. Do you think you could go get ready real quick?” he asked before adding, “I’ll throw in breakfast afterward.”

“Well, only because you’re feeding me,” I said with a grin.

I raced down the hall before taking a quick shower and tossing on a pair of jeans and a blouse. My hair was thrown into a casual bun, and within a few more minutes, I was ready to go. He was already jiggling the keys by the door, and he had Meara in her car seat.

“No chance I can talk you into running by Dunkin’ Donuts beforehand?” I begged, rubbing my grumbling stomach.

“Sorry, no. We have an appointment. And we’re going to be late if we don’t leave now.”

“Well, you could have let me know sooner!” I announced.

We raced down the walkway and into the car. Of course that took time now as well. With a baby, we couldn’t just run out the door like we use to. Diaper bag had to be packed, bottles made . . . it was a lengthy process.

After quickly clicking Meara’s car seat into place, we were ready to go.

“So, any clues as to where we are going?” I asked, looking over to him, as he raced down the road.

“Nope.” He just grinned.

It didn’t take long to reach our destination, and as my eyes wandered around the construction site, I began to get suspicious.

“What are we doing here?” I questioned. I took a step out of the car.

“Just wait a second, and I’ll explain everything.”

I pulled Meara out of her car seat and held her to my chest. She hated being trapped in that thing, and if the car wasn’t moving, she would demand to be freed from it. As I walked around, I noticed the expansive ocean view immediately. It was endless and uninhibited to whatever they were building since it was the only house around.

I turned just in time to see Jude returning side by side with another man wearing a hard hat and vest.

“Lailah, this is Jim Duncan. He’s the lead on this project, our project.”

My eyes flashed back to the building, looking from one end to the other. “Ours?”

His grin widened as he nodded. “Yep. Ours.”

“Is it an investment property?” I said, trying to figure out just what was going on.

There were boxes all over my house that were going to New York at the end of the week. We were moving to New York. That was what he’d said.

“We’re not moving back to New York—ever.”

“We’re not?”

“No.” He laughed.

“I don’t understand.”

He looked over to Jim, and some sort of understanding was struck between the two of them. Jim gave a nod. As Jude took my hand, we walked up the stone path leading to the front door. Landscaping hadn’t been done yet, but mostly everything appeared to be finished. A large Spanish-style door greeted us, and we entered. The entire back wall was completely made of glass, giving a surrounding view of the sandy beach beyond.

The Spanish theme continued inside. Rustic colors of deep orange, yellow, and various shades of tans moved throughout the kitchen and living room. No furniture yet, but it already felt warm and inviting just standing there.