“Be good, little one. I know they’ll find you the best parents possible. And I’ll be praying for you every day. I’ll never forget you. I promise.” She hugged the girl until she squirmed in protest.
“We’ll do our best to make sure she gets a good home, Miss Rosetti. I can assure you of that much.”
She looked up to see Mrs. Linder watching her with sympathetic eyes. The woman waited a few seconds, then held out her arms.
Olivia froze as horrible memories of the exact moment she’d lost Matteo flooded her senses. This time, however, the woman wasn’t snatching the child from her arms. This time she waited for Olivia’s surrender.
Conscious of Ruth and Mark watching her, Olivia forced her wooden feet forward. She kissed Abigail’s cheek one last time, then reluctantly, achingly, handed her over.
She pressed a hand to her mouth to contain the sob building inside her. Her legs shook as she moved backward, away from them, and the air in her lungs thinned, causing a cascade of tiny spots to dance before her eyes. She couldn’t bear to watch Mrs. Linder leave with Abigail. Nor could she endure the sorrowful expressions on Ruth’s and Mark’s faces. She wasn’t ready to accept their attempts to console her—not when the roar of grief had just begun.
With a strangled cry, Olivia whirled around and raced upstairs to the sanctuary of her room. There, she crumpled to the hardwood floor and let sorrow have its way.
30
Olivia lay on top of her bed, staring at the swirls in the ceiling plaster above her. Her limbs felt like lead, so heavy that she wouldn’t be able to move them if she tried. Her eyes burned from hours of constant weeping, and her lips were parched from lack of moisture, as though every ounce of water had been drained from her body.
She glanced over at the window, attempting to ascertain if it were day or night. The days blurred together now, since she slept almost around the clock with no concept of the passage of time. What did it matter? She had no reason to get up, no reason to leave her room. Ruth could manage the home without her, and the girls didn’t need her. They had all the resources they required. In fact, since no one needed her, perhaps if she just kept sleeping, eventually she wouldn’t awaken at all.
Two sharp knocks sounded. “Olivia? Are you up?”
Olivia winced. Ruth’s voice was loud enough to rouse a coma patient.
She kept her eyes closed and ignored her. Hopefully, she’d assume she was sleeping and go away.
“Olivia, you have a visitor.”
She frowned, irritation mounting. Ruth had probably demanded Dr. Henshaw come to try and coax her from her self-imposed exile. But it wouldn’t work. She had no intention of seeing anyone.
The door creaked open.
Olivia steeled herself for Ruth’s inspection. As she’d done every day, Ruth would come in, hover for a few minutes, murmur a prayer, then let herself out again. A tiny part of Olivia felt bad ignoring her friend that way. But she couldn’t summon the energy to convince Ruth that she wanted to be left alone.
The bed sagged under the weight of someone sitting down.
Olivia held her breath. This was something new. And unwelcome.
A hand touched her leg.
She tensed. What if it wasn’t Ruth? What if she’d sent someone else in?
Olivia opened her eyes, her muscles loosening the moment she recognized her friend.
“Good.” Ruth peered at her. “You’re awake.”
Olivia scowled. “I want to be alone.”
“Well, that’s too bad. Because it’s time to return to the land of the living, and I’m not taking no for an answer, young lady.”
Heat surged through Olivia’s chest. She swallowed to force her emotions back down. She would not fall for Ruth’s attempt to goad her into an outburst of temper.
“You have a visitor downstairs. Darius Reed has been by almost every day. I think you should get up and see him.”
“I don’t want to talk to anyone.” She flipped onto her side, putting her back to Ruth.
“We also have a new resident who’d like to meet you. Her name is Monica. She’s about four months along in her pregnancy, I believe, and settling in nicely so far. I’ve told her all about you.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have. I have nothing to say. Nothing to give. Nothing left but . . .” She bit her lip.
“But what, pain?”
Amazingly, the burn of tears built behind Olivia’s eyes. She’d thought her insides too barren and dry to cry anymore, but apparently she was wrong.
“Olivia, I want you to listen to me.” Ruth’s voice had become gentle. “What you’ve been through is more than any one person should have to bear in two lifetimes. If I could take away your pain or bear the brunt of it myself, I would gladly do so.” She sniffed. “But life goes on, whether you want it to or not. Right now, you probably think it’s preferable to shut yourself off and exist in a state of numbness. I did that quite successfully for a very long time. The problem, however, is that you’re not really living.”
A warm hand landed on Olivia’s shoulder. She stiffened, but Ruth didn’t remove it.
“You have so much love inside you, but you’re afraid to share it. I’ve watched you with the women here, the way you hold yourself back from really connecting with them. Holding yourself in reserve, waiting for the pain to arrive.”
Every muscle in Olivia’s body became taut. She did not want to hear this. Did not need to listen.
“With Abigail, though, the real Olivia emerged. I saw how much you loved that baby, saw your incredible tenderness and devotion. You showered her with such love that it almost became an obsession. Yet deep down you knew it couldn’t last. That she wasn’t yours to keep.”
Tremors rippled through Olivia’s body. She held herself tight, hardly daring to breathe, lest the
