If Forever Comes (31 page)

Christian nuzzled me beneath my ear, then
tipped his mouth to whisper in it. “We made it,
Elizabeth.”

And Christian loved me, the way only he
could.

And I knew it. Knew he would be my
forever.

Christian ~ One Year
Later

I stood at the large window, peering out into
the near dark.

When the night had grown deep, I’d climbed
from bed where I’d lain for hours, unable to sleep. I’d crept
across the bedroom, drawn to the peaceful scene painted
outside.

The quarter moon hung low in the sky. It
glinted across the murky waters of the raging sea. Tree branches
beat at the walls, a squall of heavy wind lashing at the earth. In
the distance, waves rushed up the shore and crashed on the
beach.

I could stand here for hours. Just listening,
lost in my thoughts.

Five months ago, we’d finally found the
perfect house. It was a beautiful structure, five bedrooms, a
kitchen Elizabeth would be happy to live in, and a sweeping
backyard.

Yeah. It backed up to our beach.

Lizzie spent entire days out playing on the
lawn, pumping her legs furiously on her swing, walking hand in hand
with her mother, barefoot in the sand.

As much as we loved it here, Elizabeth and I
knew the walls themselves meant nothing. It was what filled them
that counted, the laughter that echoed from them, the happiness
they contained.

Joy reigned here.

That didn’t mean there were no bad days. There
were still times when I found Elizabeth on her knees in the huge
walk-in closet adjoining our bedroom. Lillie’s blanket would be
balled in her arms. She’d rock it as if she were rocking the child
she never truly had the chance to. She’d cry and she’d whisper
incoherent words, she’d love and she’d adore. Then she’d dry her
eyes and climb to her feet, tucking those precious tokens away
until she felt compelled to be immersed in them again. She’d never
had the strength to leave them out, to put any of it on display,
but instead hid it away as her own buried treasure.

I’d be waiting for her, leaning up against the
doorframe. Elizabeth would cast me a mournful smile as I pulled her
into my arms, and she’d mumble into my shirt how much she missed
her.

And we were okay with that, welcomed those
days because, even though they hurt, they belonged to
Lillie.

Another wave crashed, and the ocean
stirred.

Behind me, our bed creaked, a soft rustle of
sheets. I looked over my shoulder.

Elizabeth sat up on the side of the bed,
arching as she pressed her hands to her lower back. Her long hair
fell in waves as she lifted her chin, brushed along the bed as she
stretched her neck.

My breath caught.

Beauty. There was no other way to describe
it.

She’d always reminded me of honey, the golden
glow of her skin, the sweetness of her mouth, the warmth in her
eyes.

I started toward her, whispering, “What are
you doing awake, baby? You need to rest.”

She blinked at me through the shadows of the
darkened room. She almost pouted. “Too uncomfortable.”

She blew a strained breath between pursed
lips.

I crouched down between her knees. My fingers
crawled up the top of her legs and around to her back where I
massaged deeply into her hips where she always seemed to be
sore.

She whimpered out a subdued moan. “That feels
so good.”

“I wish I could do more.”

“Just keep doing what you’re doing and I’m a
happy girl.”

Her fitted tank top had ridden up, bunched
just below her swollen breasts. The huge protrusion ballooned out
between us, her belly button stretched thin.

Elizabeth was five days passed her due
date.

A smile tugged at the corner of my
mouth.

Apparently my son was stubborn.

Three months after our wedding, we found out
Elizabeth was pregnant again. News of this pregnancy hadn’t been
met with the thrill of the last, with the wild expectation for what
was to be. Instead it’d been met with trembling hands and
trepidation.

But we’d realized this life was worth the
chance, that we had to breathe and live and love, and we couldn’t
allow fear to hold us back.

It didn’t mean there weren’t the nagging
worries, the panic that would tighten Elizabeth’s eyes if she
thought it’d been too long since she last felt him move.

For our peace of mind, Dr. Montieth had
recommended that we get a home heart monitor. She’d taught us how
to use it, what to look for and what to be concerned of, the
quickened whirl of his heartbeat a promise that he was
okay.

Elizabeth looked down as she ran her hand over
her stomach, bit her lip as she glanced up at me under the hedge of
hair that had fallen in her face.

I reached up and brushed it back.

She cradled him between her hands. “I wish he
would come,” she whispered. A smile trembled at her mouth. “I can’t
wait to meet him.”

I slipped my hands around her sides and to her
front, covered Elizabeth’s hold in mine as we swam in our
anticipation. “I’ve never been more ready for anything,
Elizabeth.”

She smiled a little before a yawn overtook
her. She chuckled as she tried to conceal it behind her
hand.

I nudged her chin with the hook of my index
finger. “You need to get some rest. I have a feeling you’re not
going to get much of it really soon.”

She giggled in the cutest way. “Yeah, I guess
he can’t hide out in here forever.”

I crawled in bed with her, pulled the covers
over us as I nestled her back against my chest. She curled into me,
her tender hand covering mine where I rested it on the distended
wall of her belly.

Contentment thrummed between us.

Her breaths evened out like a soothing balm,
and she quickly drew me into sleep.

A thrill of energy rose up in the room, a
cheer of encouragement. “You’re almost there, Elizabeth. Give me
one more big push,” Dr. Montieth coaxed.

Sweat drenched Elizabeth’s forehead, soaked
her hair. She clenched my hand as she bore down and cried
out.

For a moment, there was silence as our son
slipped into Dr. Montieth’s hands. Time seemed to stop as I watched
the frantic movements that had slowed in my mind. The doctor held
him in a blue blanket, one hand at the back of his neck as she
almost tipped him upside down, the other suctioning out his mouth
and nose.

Blood stained him, covered him whole, this
little boy that already held my heart.

My vision blurred.

Then he cried.

These shrill, shocked cries that welcomed him
into this world.

Another blanket was tossed on Elizabeth’s
belly, and they set him on his side, the two nurses roughing it
over his tiny body.

And he was crying and crying. The precious
sound rattled through the room as his little arms and legs
flailed.

Shaking uncontrollably, Elizabeth reached for
him, palmed his head with an unsteady hand. He reacted, tilting
against her touch as if seeking her out, a stutter in his cries as
his mouth twisted at the side because the child already knew
her.

And she wept, tears of relief and tears of
joy, a torrent of emotion spilling from this amazing woman. From
the woman who held my dreams, the one who held my
future.

I rushed to smooth her hair back that was
drenched in sweat, dropped my forehead to hers, lost myself in the
warmth of her brown eyes. “You did it,” flooded as a desperate
whisper as I kissed her mouth, as I kissed the woman I loved with
all my life, “You beautiful girl. You did it.”

I stood at the window, peering out into the
night, rocking in a slow sway. Waves rushed in, crashed on the
shore. A contented sigh flowed from me as I rocked from side to
side.

Myles squirmed in the safety of my hold,
cradled in my arm. It was a writhe, the little guy worming around
with a restless roll, extending his head back.

I couldn’t hold in my smile.

I’d been right.

My son was stubborn. He knew exactly what he
wanted and when he wanted it.

Stretching his free leg, he flexed his foot,
digging his toes into my skin. Tight against the side of his face,
he clenched and unclenched one tiny fist. He jerked his open mouth
toward my chest, his tongue jutting out between his lips as if he
were searching, hunting.

But of course he was.

He wanted his mother.

Jerking the other direction, he fought with
his fist, trying to stuff it into his mouth. He was making all
these little noises, rattled sounds that were not quite a
cry.

“Shh…” I rocked him a little, the softest
bounce. “Let’s let mommy sleep just a little longer. Do you think
you could do that? It’s not quite time for you to eat
yet.”

At the sound of my muted voice, he looked up
at me with his wide, storm-blue eyes.

Love consumed me, filled every crevice of my
being as I looked down at his perfect face.

My son.

Elizabeth insisted those dark blue eyes would
turn the color of mine. She said Lizzie’s had been so much the
same. I wasn’t sold on it yet. His hair was light, a thin layer
that didn’t even cover the cap of his head, like maybe he was going
to take after his mother, this beautiful child that had completed
our home.

He fussed a little more, and I began to pace
the floor, hoping to give Elizabeth a few more minutes
sleep.

I lifted him to nuzzle his cheek. “Why don’t
we go check on your big sister?” I murmured at the softness of his
skin.

I chuckled low when his mouth bobbed at my
cheek, rooting, seeking, exploring. Tiny fingernails scratched at
my face, their dig like an embrace that went straight to my heart.
I kissed the tips of his fingers as they tugged at my
lips.

I crept from mine and Elizabeth’s room,
through the living space, to the other end of the house. Lizzie’s
door sat partially open, the nightlight that glowed from within
illuminating her precious face in subdued light.