Never Let You Go (a modern fairytale) (36 page)

“Oo-rah,” said Holden softly.

“Damn, Holden. Good for you. That’s . . . that’s really great. Yeah.” He paused. “But what about Gem?”

“I’ll be sending my checks to her to help out with the baby. I’ll come home after boot and see them. And come on, Clinton, let’s just be honest here. I think we both know she won’t be alone by then. Not if you play your cards right.”

Clinton’s cheeks flushed, and he turned away, nodding slowly, looking out at the dilapidated gym, where a few guys were still working out. Finally he whispered, “I love her, Holden.”

“I know. Why don’t you fucking
do
something about it?”

Clinton’s head whipped up, and his eyes met Holden’s, searching them, wavering somewhere between hope and caution. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“Hell, no.”

“It’s . . . okay with you?”

“Hell, yeah,” said Holden, taking a sip of water. “Make her happy. Fuck knows I can’t.”

“But your kid?”

“Will always be
my
k-kid,” he said tightly. A moment later he relaxed, nudging his friend in the side. “But if
my
kid’s going to grow up with some other guy in the picture, I know I’d want him to be you.”

Clinton grinned at Holden, then looked back out at the gym. “If she’ll have me, I promise I’ll love that kid, Holden. I promise you. Won’t treat it no different even if me and Gem have more.”

Holden nodded, something aching inside him as he realized that his child would likely grow up knowing Clinton better than him. But he’d still be the child’s father, and he’d still know that once upon a time he’d broken his own heart to bring that child into the world. He’d changed the entire course of his life. He would never tell his child the threats Gemma had made, but he’d always know that he alone had stood between his child’s life and death. Him . . . and Gris. And no one could ever take that away from them.

“When are you telling Gem?” asked Clinton.

“After the ultrasound,” said Holden. He took another swig from his water bottle. “She’s going to be p-pissed.”

“It’ll hurt her. But she’ll come around.”

In the pocket of his gym shorts, Holden’s phone buzzed.

“I’m gonna head out,” said Clinton. He stood and placed his hand on Holden’s shoulder. “Good, uh . . . good talk.”

Holden bobbed his chin at Clinton and watched him walk away before swiping the screen on his phone, his breath catching with a simultaneous burst of love and fear when the alert said he had a new text from Griselda. Was she okay? Was everything okay?

As his heart quickened, he tapped on the messaging icon.

Only there was nothing to read—just a picture she’d sent. On the delicate, white underskin of her wrist, the letters “H+G” had been tattooed.

He stared at the small picture, happiness making him warm, longing making him ache, his breath catching and heart pounding.

A moment later, another text appeared under the picture:

Keep your fingers over the letters.

IMYLCILYF.

***

Griselda knew she wasn’t supposed to text him. Hell, she’d been the one who asked him not to contact her, but something inside her had overruled that agreement just this once. She needed him to know that, in spite of the long month since they’d held each other, her love for him was as real as ever. She’d marked her body to prove that her love for him was undying.

Her heart thundered as she stared at the screen. It had been a risk to text him, of course. He might not write back because she’d asked him not to. He might not write back because Gemma was sitting next to him, or because he and Gemma had gotten closer. Glancing at her phone every five seconds, she stood in the upstairs hallway of the McClellans’ house while Prudence sang nursery rhymes in the bathtub. Sabrina and Roy were at an embassy event tonight, and Griselda was only too happy to babysit for them.

With sweaty hands she slipped the phone back into her pocket just as it buzzed. She fished it out again so fast she almost dropped it.

I love it.

I love you, angel.

IMYLCILYF.

She sighed, closed her eyes, and leaned against the upstairs hallway wall. She let the marvelous feeling of connecting with her love infuse her body. Her innermost muscles clenched with longing, remembering the feeling of him buried deep inside her, the touch of his lips, his fingers, his body moving against hers. Her breathing became shallow and quick, and her heart throbbed. She missed him every moment of every day. Oh God, how she missed him.

“Zelda?”

Griselda’s eyes snapped open, and she peeked into the bathroom at her sudsy charge.

“Your face is all red,” Prudence said.

Griselda knew her smile must be blinding because Prudence looked surprised, then returned it, her eyes lighting up in excitement.

“You look like the happiest girl,” said Prudence, her toothless, uneven smile making Griselda laugh softly.

I
feel
like the happiest girl,
thought Griselda.
Right here, right now, for one small second, I
am
the happiest girl.

He still loves me.

He misses me like crazy.

He loves me forever.

“What do you need, Pru?”

“Can we watch
Tangled
after my bath?”

She chuckled because it had become her and Pru’s favorite movie that summer. For Griselda, it had come to mean much more than just a children’s cartoon. It was the unlikely pairing of two kindred spirits who fall in love, who change in order to be together, who almost die so the other can live, who finally secure their happily-ever-after. They shouldn’t find each other. They shouldn’t end up together. It shouldn’t all work out, but it does, and Griselda loved it.

“Of course,” she said, helping Prudence out of the tub and drying her off with a warm, fluffy towel. “Hurry up and get your jammies on. I’ll make us some popcorn.”

As she popped two bags of microwave popcorn, Griselda’s eyes lingered on the brochure from the University of the District of Columbia that Sabrina had affixed to the refrigerator. Griselda grinned, proud that she would be going there in September. She had filled out her application with Sabrina’s help, and just yesterday had been accepted into the College of Arts and Sciences. To celebrate, Maya had taken her out last night for a glass of champagne and to get the “H+G” tattoo on her wrist.

To distract her from the needles, Maya had, well, needled her.

“Girl, for the record, I think this code of silence is crazy.”

“I miss him so much, Maya,” she said, wincing as the little needles punctured her skin. “But I don’t want to influence him one way or another. If he wants to be with me, I’ll get that letter in a few weeks. If not, I’ll just have to move on with my life.”

“And you’ll be okay with that?”

“If he wanted to give his baby a family with a mother and father?” She took a deep breath, her heart hurting. “I won’t say it wouldn’t hurt. It would. Badly. But if that’s what he wants, that’s what I want for him.”

“I’d fight for him.”

“Come on, Maya. What would you have given to have your mama and daddy happy together? I can’t take that away from someone else.”

“You mean the baby.”

“Yeah,” she said, unable to keep the sadness she felt out of her voice. “If Holden and Gemma want to give their baby a family? I won’t stand in their way.”

“And you were also the one who insisted on leaving so Gemma wouldn’t abort it.” Maya shook her head. “You’re too good, Griselda Schroeder.”

“No,” she argued. “I’m not so good. But I know how it feels not to have a family. I wouldn’t wish that on any kid.”

“So part of you hopes he stays with Gemma?”

“No!” she said. “No. I can’t lie. I hope he writes to me. I hope he chooses me. You see? I’m not such a good person, Maya.”

“Yeah, you are. Most girls? They wouldn’t give a shit about some other woman’s baby. And they wouldn’t give him the space to figure out what he wants.”

The needle stung like hell, and her skin felt so hot, like sunburn. And this was just a small, quarter-size tattoo. Griselda winced, thinking about the huge tattoo on Holden’s chest, the angel wings that spanned his whole body. How had he borne the pain? The answer came quickly: Because it had been nothing next to the pain of losing her.

“I just want to be sure he doesn’t ever regret being with me.” She sighed. “It was really emotional seeing each other again, and we sort of jumped into a . . .” She blushed. “An intense relationship. I think we need a little time to be sure it’s what we want.”

“You need
time
?” asked Maya, raising her eyebrows.

“Maybe a little,” Griselda confessed. “I hate being away from him, but I think that’s good. It tells me this is real. It tells me it isn’t all about impulse and sex. It’s . . .” She shrugged. “It’s real. It’s what I want.”

Maya looked impressed. “Look at you, being all wise and shit. My little girl’s growing up.”

“It hurts to be apart,” said Griselda, laughing softly at her friend, “but it’s not all bad.”

“Oh, no? Most days it looks like it sucks.”

“Give me some credit! I got rid of Jonah. I’m enrolled in college. I’m taking help from people,” she said, giving Maya a pointed look. “You’re right. I’m . . . I’m growing, I guess. But all of that happened because of Holden. He was the . . . spark.”

“That started a fire,” teased Maya, thrusting her hips suggestively. The tattoo artist stopped what he was doing and stared at her. “I’m taken,” she said, giving him a look. “So while you’re doing all this growing, what about Holden?”

“He’s growing too. He’s going into the Marines. He’s not going to keep fighting other men in a field or working somewhere he hates. He’s got a plan, a purpose. Direction. You should have seen his face when he told me about it. And you know what? All of that happened because of me. You see, right? We’re good for each other.”

“I see,” said Maya.

The tattoo artist slathered his work in Vaseline and told Griselda to stay seated for a few more minutes while he wrote up her bill and found a sheet of instructions for tattoo care.

“When will you see him again?” Maya asked.

“If everything goes according to plan? November.”

“Thanksgiving,” said Maya, grinning back at her friend.

Thanksgiving
.

Her longing and anticipation for her future—for
their
future—made her heart race as she waited for the tattoo artist to return with her bill. She’d have so much to be thankful for this year. If he chose her. If he chose them.

Prudence bounded down the stairs just as Griselda poured the popcorn into two bowls. She then filled two sippy cups of lemonade since Sabrina didn’t allow Prudence to have an open cup in the media room.

As the movie started, Prudence snuggled against Griselda on the couch, and Griselda dropped her eyes to the tattoo on her wrist, thinking,

Keep your fingers over the letters, Holden.

I will too.

***

It was a girl. He was having a daughter.

What an awesome sight to see her there on the screen, the outline of her body and the bubbles that rose from her mouth as she bobbed around inside Gemma. He’d seen her skull, her spine, her legs and feet, heard her little heart thumping, galloping like a race horse. She was a living miracle, and she was his.

He and Gemma hadn’t said much to each other in the way to the clinic, or in the waiting room, but as the technician turned up the sound on the monitor, Gemma grabbed his hand, and he squeezed it, grinning down at her. Whatever differences they had, this little baby belonged to both of them, and Holden already loved her.

In the truck on the way home, Gemma looked at the pictures they’d been given, and turned to Holden with a smile.

“I’ve been thinking of names,” she said. “What do you think of Karisma?”

Not much
, thought Holden, saying nothing.

“Or Destiny? Or Jasmine?”

Holden swallowed, fighting the urge to tell her that he didn’t like any one of those names.

Gemma sighed loudly, obviously annoyed with him. “Clinton likes Hannah.”

“‘Hannah’s good,” said Holden.

“Yeah?” asked Gemma, placing her hands over her belly. “What do you think, l’il one? You like Hannah? You want to be named by yer Uncle Clinton?”

“
Uncle
Clinton?”

“It’s what he calls himself. I don’t have no sisters and brothers, and neither do you, so we may’s well take family where we can find it.”

“Hannah what?”

“Hannah West?” asked Gemma.

“My real last name’s C-Croft.”

Gemma shrugged. “Okay. Hannah Croft.”

Hannah Croft. Hannah Croft. The name was so magical, so amazing, he almost felt like laughing.

Gris, I’m having a baby girl, and her name is Hannah. Hannah Croft.