Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 170878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Someone was crying.
Calling my name.
Clara. Clara.
Her face entered my vision, streaked with tears. With fear so visceral it speared through my chest.
My chest. It hurt. A lot.
But that didn’t matter. Clara did. I reached up to her face, to cradle it. My arm only got halfway there. She caught it in her small palm, covered with a glove. I ached to feel her skin against mine. Her mouth was moving.
Someone covered me with something. A coat.
It was Beau. He was there too, his daughter tucked into his side. Had he been there the whole time?
His mouth was moving too. His eyes were wide with terror.
I wanted to tell him it was okay. That as long as Clara was okay, I was okay.
When I found the strength to open my mouth, there were people.
EMTs. I recognized them. I saw them just last week.
We have to stop meeting like this.
Did I say that in my mind or out loud?
They crowded my vision. Beau was gone. Clara was gone. I tried to fight then. Very hard.
Because I knew beyond reasonable doubt, I was dying. And the last thing I had to see in this world was my family.
Hands held me down.
I was too weak to speak but still I thrashed. I caught them in the corner of my eye. Beau standing, holding Clara.
“I love you,” I managed to say that out loud. A croak, barely a whisper but I said it.
Darkness crept into my vision. But I held on to Beau and Clara. The last thing I saw when I left this world.
BEAU
I was finally able to sit next to her. Hold her hand.
It was cold.
Too cold.
“She needs more blankets,” I barked at the nurse checking her vitals.
She jumped at my harsh tone, averted her eyes, and nodded before pretty much running out of the room.
I should’ve been sorry for eliciting that response from someone doing what was often a thankless job, someone who devoted their lives to healing people. But I didn’t have it in me.
I was empty, all that was good in me scooped out. All smiles, all kind words. What scraps remained I reserved for my daughter. My scared, traumatized daughter, who had finally cried herself to sleep two hours ago.
In our bed.
Hannah’s and mine.
Where Hannah should’ve been too. Would’ve been, if not for me.
I’d held Clara’s small, fragile body for an hour after she went to sleep, staring at the ceiling, counting my daughter’s breaths. Calliope was at the hospital, had promised me that she’d call me with any updates. My phone was clutched in my hand. She hadn’t called.
No news was good news. No news meant that Hannah was still alive. For now.
She’d died. Right there in the snow. Right after she’d said “I love you” in a horrifying, wet tone. I’d held Hannah to my chest until the EMTs forced her from me so they could begin compressions.
They got her back. Weak pulse, they’d said.
But no promises could be made. She had been shot in the chest.
Calliope was the right person to be with her if I couldn’t. She would make the difficult phone call the second Hannah’s heart stopped beating, knowing I’d need to know. My family might’ve waited a minute, ten, an hour. To preserve my heart, give me more time to be blissfully ignorant of Hannah’s fate.
Good intentions, but it would be something I’d carry with me all my life.
So Calliope was the best choice. I trusted her to be there when I couldn’t.
And my father and brother? I trusted them to be there for my daughter when I was with the woman we loved. The truest mother she’d ever have.
Though I longed for Hannah, it hurt me physically to crawl out of the bed with Clara. I wanted her with me. I wanted to carry her body strapped to mine, like I had so often when she was a baby.
But she didn’t need the trauma of more hospitals. Not after what she went through that day. Not when there was a chance Hannah wouldn’t make it.
I walked through the room that was still ours, even though Hannah had packed up her things last night. Because of me.
I vowed that her clothes would hang in my closet again. There was no other option.
Elliot was waiting outside my bedroom door. He’d dragged one of the chairs from the dining room over so he could sit right in the hall. He’d been there for two hours, by the look of him.
“She asleep?” He rushed to his feet as soon as he saw me.
I nodded. I wouldn’t speak unless I had to.
Elliot reached out to place his hand on my shoulder. Even though I flinched from the contact, he kept his hand there and squeezed.
“I’ll go sit with her.” He jutted his chin toward my room. “In case she wakes. I’ll call you if she does. Go be with Hannah.”