Forever Family (Forever #5) (18 page)

Our journey continued beyond the offices and to an elevator.

“It will take two trips, or some of you can take the stairs,” the director said.

“I’ll go down the stairs,” Corabelle said.

“You stay with the baby,” Stella said to me. “I’ll go down with Corabelle.”

“You will be well taken care of,” the director said, and shook my hand before heading back down the hall.

Mom and I filed into the elevator next to the trolley, the two men, and the woman from the other cemetery. The doors closed behind us.

We went down a floor. When the elevator opened, we were in another wide hall. A few chairs lined one side. At the end was another outside entrance, nothing fancy, just double doors that could open wide, and two metal doors to a room. Otherwise, it was one unbroken wall. The door to the stairs opened behind us and Stella and Corabelle rejoined us.

The woman’s face remained placid and calm as she turned to us. “We’re going into the crematorium now, where the casket will be opened and the baby prepared for cremation. You may go in, or you may wait out here.” She gestured to the chairs.

Corabelle’s face grew pale, but I could tell she would go in if she was asked.

“You all can just wait here,” I said. “This might be hard.”

Stella dropped into a chair and folded her hands in her lap. “We’ll be right here,” she said.

Corabelle sat beside her.

The men rolled the trolley forward to the metal doors. I followed behind them.

“Tina?” my mother asked.

I turned to her.

“I would like to come.”

I hesitated. I wasn’t sure I could manage if she got hysterical.

She came up beside me. “I’ll be fine,” she said.

I nodded. She linked her arm through mine. The men opened the metal doors and wheeled the casket through.

I braced myself. I could do this.

These rooms were clearly not intended for guests. Several workers in navy coveralls and black gloves manned large metal tables. A storeroom stood open, holding various styles of urns and a stack of plain boxes.

When they saw us, they nodded and moved aside.

The men rolled the trolley to the far side, where a table had been cleared. They lifted the casket onto it. One of them said, “We are very sorry for your loss,” then rolled the trolley out again.

The woman stayed with us. “They will break the seal now,” she told us. “Once they have done their work, they will let us know how to proceed.”

Right. They had to approve our seeing Peanut. I wondered at the things they had seen. If they had managed, over time, to become numb to it.

The woman led us a little way away from the table as two of the workers approached the casket.

My mother gripped my arm like a vise. One of the men unlatched the side locks.

“They will break the seal now,” the woman said.

The other man took a metal tool and slid it along the edges of the casket. The two of them struggled for a moment with the lid, then it came free.

But then they closed it again. Fear gripped me. Was it too much even for them?

The woman said, “They’ll remove the hinges so the lid can come all the way off. It’s easier to take him out that way.”

I let out a long gust of air. I couldn’t even cry now, I was so anxious.

One of the men walked to the other side of the casket to remove the hinges. The minutes were agonizing as he worked. I glanced over at Mother. Like me, she was rapt, probably both impatient and afraid of what they would find inside.

After what felt like an eternity, they lifted the lid completely away and set it aside. They looked down, then over at the woman, and nodded.

She stepped forward. “You can come over now,” she said.

My feet had never felt heavier. I hadn’t seen Peanut’s face for seven years. Until a few weeks ago, I couldn’t have imagined that I ever would again. I mentally flashed through all the grave-exhuming videos I had watched so I could prepare myself.

But when I peered inside, I could see only what I remembered. The small nubby nose. The tiny chin. Only his face showed above the blanket wrapped tightly around him. His skin was tight and mottled, but intact. I moved as if to reach in, but the man said, “Let’s slide something beneath him first.”

I pulled back. One of them held a flexible piece of clear plastic. He placed it inside the casket and shifted it beneath Peanut. I held my breath, knowing that they worried he would come apart. My mother stepped back, unable to watch. But when they lifted it, the blanket wrapped around him held.

They moved him to the table, carefully, with more tenderness than I would have expected from two gruff workers in coveralls. One of them tested the blanket and slid their hand beneath his body. He frowned.

But I didn’t care. I opened the handkerchief my mother had given me and moved forward. The caretaker woman acted as if she might stop me, but I didn’t give her that chance. I slid the handkerchief beneath him and folded it back over. He was so small. It was just the right size.

I wrapped the cloth tight so it would hold, and picked him up. He didn’t feel much different from all those years ago. Light as air, but substantial and real. He still existed.

My mother walked up then and touched his forehead. “Sweet little bub,” she said, tears flowing freely down her face. “He’s still perfect.”

I held him against me, wishing I could freeze this moment. I was such a different person now. I had to be. I couldn’t fall apart at every setback life brought me. I had to be strong. I had so much to face. Surely,
surely
, this was the hardest thing I would ever do.

I pulled him close, my lips close to his ear. “You’re going to be a big brother,” I whispered. “Watch over us.”

The caretaker approached. “You can walk him down,” she said.

I followed her and one of the men to another area of the room. An enormous wall faced us with three steel doors. Leading up to each of them was a mechanized ramp.

A simple brown box sat on one ramp, about two feet long. I knew that was where Peanut would go.

I turned and let Mom see him one more time. She touched his forehead and stepped back again. I laid him in the box. I thought I would let the handkerchief go with him, but then changed my mind and unwrapped it from his body. I held it against my chest as I moved away.

The coveralls man fitted a lid onto the box and walked over to the metal door.

“Step back here,” the caretaker woman said. She led Mom and me several feet from the ramp.

The man pressed a button and the metal door slid open. Inside I could see the orange light of the fire. Then he turned a switch and the ramp moved, taking the box inside.

I watched it go in and saw the flames alight on the box. Just as the fire began to burn brightly, the man closed the door.

Peanut was free.

Chapter 22: Jenny

I was going to pace a hole in the floor. Phoenix was up on my shoulder, sleeping at last. I was afraid to put her down or she might wake up. She’d been fussing for hours. Growth spurt, maybe. Or a tooth coming in? She’d been drooling a lot.

My phone sat silent on the side table. I passed it, stopped, picked it up, saw nothing, and set it down again.

Corabelle was in Houston with Tina. Earlier today, they had taken her baby from his grave. I had no idea how that had gone, what state Tina was in, or when they were coming back. Or if Tina would.

I knew I was the wrong person to be out there. It wasn’t right to have a baby in her face when she was going through all that.

But I felt so helpless.

The door opened and Chance strode in. I held my finger to my lips, and he turned to close it carefully.

I tried not to feel frumpy compared to him, me in my chenille robe and messy bun with hair flopping out. He looked every bit the rock star in faded jeans and a tight black T-shirt. His leather boots were tricked out with silver chains. It was just right. The stylist had changed his hair when they shot his album cover a week ago. Now the dark locks were cut short and spiked up in front.

He was seriously hot.

I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and patted Phoenix’s back. “Have fun at the Fire and Smash release party?”

“I’m not sure I’m sold on their sound, but there were good people there to chat up,” Chance said. He came over and took Phoenix from me, transferring her to his shoulder. She stirred a little, but he resumed the patting and she settled down again.

I arched my back, relieved to have my arms free. “I’ve been watching the Tweets and shares from the party. Some killer shots of you with that Grammy-nominated singer — what was her name?”

His lips twisted. “That Cheri girl. Yeah, I had a hard time losing her tonight.”

I laughed. “I saw. Every image had her fawning on your shoulder and you trying to look away.”

He seemed relieved I was taking that well. And I would. Women were going to be throwing themselves at him constantly. I had to get used to that. I couldn’t let it get to me. The moment I started to doubt him would be the day my fairy tale would end.

“So, you think she’s down for a bit?” Chance asked. The rumble in his voice went straight to my belly.

“Go for the swing. Improves our odds.”

He walked over to it and slowly, carefully, lowered Phoenix from his shoulder to the seat. I picked up a blanket thrown over the arm of the sofa and tucked it around her. Fate was on our side. She didn’t wake.

Chance didn’t wait for me to turn around, but put his hands on my hips and pulled me back against him.

“Somebody’s fired up and ready,” I said.

His fingers found the belt of my robe and untied it. “It’s so much easier to get you naked these days,” he said. “If I’m lucky, you’ll never get fully dressed again.”

“You’ll keep me barefoot and pregnant?” I asked.

“I’m going to do my part.” Her turned me around and tugged on the elastic band holding my hair, releasing it down my back. His fingers tangled into it as he drew me up to him.

I sighed into his lips as they lowered to mine. He smelled like wood smoke and aftershave. There must have been fire pits outside at the party.

“You taste so good,” he said against my mouth. “Drinking coffee at midnight again.”

“I wanted to stay up for you,” I said. I hadn’t been up for going. Prepping myself had seemed exhausting, and asking my mom to watch the baby until all hours wasn’t fair on a weeknight.

“So glad you did.” His hands slid inside the open robe. I had on simple cotton pajamas. Thankfully my boobs were cooperating these days and I wasn’t milky all the time.

His fingers flirted with the bottom of my shirt, then slid upward. My lack of bra meant he found what he was looking for right off. I relaxed against him, reveling in the feel of his strong hands on me. There was nothing like him.

He broke the kiss and moved down, lifting my shirt higher so his mouth could find a nipple. I clutched at his head, savoring each sensation. He knew not to get too crazy and let my milk down. He got it just right.

His fingers grasped the elastic waistband of my pajama bottoms and let them fall. I shivered a little at the chill and he pulled me tighter against him.

Now his hands were everywhere, my hips, my back, clasping my behind. His breath was hot on my skin.

I was dying. I pulled his head away. “Let’s go where I won’t wake the baby,” I said.

He gave me a wicked grin and stood, sweeping me up with him. The belt of my robe trailed along the floor as he carried me down the hall to the bedroom and closed the door.

I grabbed his neck and twisted in his arms until I was straddling him. I could feel him hard against me as we took the last few steps to the bed.

He bent forward to lay me down, dragging the robe away.

“Quickly, before she wakes up,” I said, but he shushed me with a kiss. He wasn’t going to be in a hurry.

He pulled my shirt over my head, breaking our connection to let the fabric pass between us. Then he made his way down, slowly, making me crazy with how he took his time.

He kissed a path down my collarbone, up the crest of one breast, then down to my belly button. He slid my panties down with a simple tug, then followed the newly exposed place until I arched up against his mouth.

His tongue teased me, circling the nub, until his fingers joined in. I quit thinking about the baby, or time, or the risk of her waking, and got lost in his work. Everything disappeared other than that pulsing need that was spiraling up and taking me over.

Chance knew me so well, reaching up to lightly tease a nipple, and I burst right over the edge, thrusting against him as I peaked, trying to contain my voice, hanging on to his shoulders for dear life.

I had barely caught my breath, still seeing lightning shards in my vision, when he grasped my hips and turned me over. I could hear his buckle jingle, and clothes hit the floor behind me.

Then his skin connected with mine, hot and rough. He slid inside me without any resistance. I dropped my head to the mattress, braced on my elbows, waiting for his first stroke.

When it came, I crashed back into him, taking him in hard. Chance groaned and sped up, holding tight to my hips.

For long moments he worked me, keeping a strong rhythm, then reached around for me again.

My hair was everywhere, flowing across the bed. When he touched me, I lurched back again. I was so hot, so full of need.

His fingers worked me, and I tightened around him. He felt me go and unleashed inside me, pulsing as I muffled this second round of cries in the blankets.

When he was spent, we stayed there a moment, breathing hard, trying to find our bearings. Chance’s arms came around me, lifting me against him, my back to his chest. I stayed there, loving the strong arms around me, until my thighs quaked, and he lay both of us down across the bed.

We stayed there a while in the quiet when I heard, in the distance, my phone chime with Corabelle’s ringtone. It was late to be hearing from her.

“I don’t think I can get that,” I told Chance.

He chuckled. “That’s one of your girlfriends, right?”

“Corabelle. She’s in Houston with Tina.”