“Hey, lady,” I offered her a hand. “Lemme show you a trick. Worked with Eileen every time.” It was almost too easy to pull her to her feet, and even her fluffy pink robe couldn’t disguise her skeleton frame.
Watching my face, she sighed. “I know, I look like hell.”
“No, you look like a woman who’s been through hell. You’ll be yourself again soon. You have all those cute clothes you get to wear, remember?” I patted Traveler’s fat little hand on her head. “Mommy must eat! She made sure you were healthy; now it’s her turn.”
Traveler gleefully whopped her lank hair several more times, eventually bringing a smile to her face. She brought his hand to her check and held it there for a moment until he wriggled in my arms.
“Okay, okay, big guy . . . bored already?” With a twist, I shifted him so he faced outwards, tucked into the natural swing I’d made of my arms. Adam was looking at me a little worriedly, but I knew what I was doing.
“See how my hands are laced together under his thighs? It keeps him safe against me, and when I round my shoulders just a bit to curve around him . . . ” I started slowly swinging my arms side to side like an elephant would swing its trunk. Traveler’s joy was immediate; his chubby little legs pumping at the air as if he wanted me to go faster, higher.
“Eileen was always on my hip or in her Mommy-swing. If I had to sit down, she stood in my lap. She could stand at three weeks old.”
“What?”
“Not by herself!” I laughed and nestled Traveler high against my shoulder, “But she would push her legs against my lap, and if I lifted her up, she’d clutch my thumbs and stand there, happy as a clam.” I wiggled the sleeve off his other arm and he drooled in gratitude.
“He likes you.” Adam reached out to smooth Traveler’s one tuft of dark hair, and I swallowed hard, thankful that I hadn’t made Eileen come.
“You swing him now.” I held his son out to him, but both little fists were gripping my rope of hair and Cara had to help us. Laughing, Adam took the baby while Cara and I tried to free my hair; Traveler yanking and slobbering at the fun game.
“Oh! What happened?” Cara touched my hand where a bandage had slipped.
“Nothing!” I managed to coax the baby’s fingers from my braid and stepped back. “I was a klutz with a knife—that’s what happens when I try to cook.”
“Looks like a bad burn!”
“Nah, just needs more peroxide.” I pretended to check it and repositioned the bandage to hide the scar.
“We have some ointment, don’t we, Adam?”
“I’m fine, thanks. I’ll fix it at home.” I could feel Adam’s stare as I kept my attention on Cara. “How’s Traveler sleeping? Are you getting any rest?”
“He slept better with—” she stopped herself and glanced at her husband. “He sleeps better than most babies. Better than the ones I babysat, anyway.” She blushed and looked down.
“Betty needs to go out.” Adam snapped his fingers, and the Lab looked up from where she’d been curled near the bed. “Come, girl.”
She trotted obediently after him, sniffing at Traveler’s foot dangling above her, but I turned to Cara in surprise. Her arms wrapped around herself as she considered the empty doorway.
“I think it’s harder for him than he thought it would be.” Her smile was small and sad. “He believed I wasn’t coming back.”
There was no accusation in her eyes, but there didn’t need to be.
“Cara . . . I didn’t know what to do.”
“I know.”
“If I’d told him the truth . . . if he’d even believed me . . . I didn’t know what might—” I couldn’t finish. She deserved more than excuses. “I-I’m so sorry!” I sobbed, “I d-didn’t know what t-to do!”
We reached for each other at the same time, and I cried with an abandon that shook us both. She was so tiny that I folded her against me like she was my daughter, yet she was the strong one; her thin arms tight around my waist.
“I don’t blame you!”
“B-but I shh-should’ve—”
“No . . . they told me everything. You wanted me back . . . it’s not your fault.”
I pulled away. “He wanted you back. You know that, don’t you?”
She nodded, tears welling in her big brown eyes. “I know he did. Does.”
We hugged again and cried in shared anguish until our tears were spent. When we separated, I wiped my eyes on my shirt, and she handed me a wad of tissues from her robe pocket.
“I’m prepared. All I’ve been doing is crying.”
“Oh, Cara . . . it’s going to be okay, I promise.”
“That’s what my mama used to say,” she shook her head, “But how is this ever going to be okay?”
“It just is.” I hugged her one more time, “You and Adam are meant for each other. Your precious little baby is the proof.”
“You really believe that?”
“Absolutely.”
My conviction brought a faint blush to her cheeks, and I was grateful for any morsel of reassurance I could give. Everything would be alright. Somehow.
With nothing left to say other than goodbyes, she linked her arm through mine and guided me back into the hall. “I hope Eileen can come next time . . . ?”
I mumbled a vague response and feigned interest in the room we were passing. The door had been closed again when I’d arrived, but was open now. A scattering of color caught my eye, and I stopped, my pretended distraction now all too real.
Or unreal.
The large bedroom was unexpectedly defined by strikingly masculine teak furniture. A set of tall, arched glass doors led to a balcony, and warm morning light poured into the room. I shivered.
“The view of the waterway is spectacular . . . want to see it?”
I shook my head, fixated on the massive four-post bed.
“Oh.” She took a shaky breath. “It just hasn’t seemed
