Page 103 of The Rejected Wife

I wrap my arm about my wife’s shoulders and pull her close.

Lauren seems to shrink further into herself. She looks miserable, but she’s not getting any sympathy from me. She’s responsible for the upheavals in my daughter’s life. I can’t forgive her for that.

My wife urges me to the side, out of earshot from the other woman. "I don’t understand or agree with any of her actions." She reaches up and cups my cheek. "But it doesn’t change the fact that she gave birth to Serene. Our daughter will want to know that. She’ll likely want Lauren in her life when she’s older."

I want to deny it. I am tempted to use all the power I have to ensure this woman has nothing to do with my daughter. But I know my wife is right. She has more perspective on this situation. She understands how important it is for Serene to have contact with all three of us. Overcome by emotions I can’t quite put a name to—and don’t want to, at this stage—I settle for lowering my chin and kissing my wife, hard. I take comfort from her nearness. Her scent. How she opens herself and allows me take from her. How she feels like a rock in this shifting landscape that my life has become.

The sound of someone clearing their throat cuts through the turmoil in my mind. I lift my head and turn around to find the doctor waiting. This time her expression is one of relief.

"Mrs. Davenport’s blood type is compatible with Serene’s."

49

Priscilla

"Mama?" She searches the room until she finds me. "Mommy." Her lips tremble.

It’s the first time she’s calling me Mommy. She must be really upset.

The doctors stitched her up and completed the blood transfusion with the blood I donated. They also conducted a few tests on her. They told us she's going to make a complete recovery. Thank God.Thank you, universe, for showing up for my daughter.

"I’m here." I sit down in the chair next to her bed and carefully put my arm around her. "How are you, baby?"

She sniffs; tears roll down her cheeks. My heart squeezes in on itself.

"Oh, honey." I kiss her forehead. "Does it hurt?"

“A little.” She cuddles closer.

I use a paper napkin to wipe off her wet cheeks.

She sniffs again. “I’m tired.”

I take in the dressing on her forehead. It seems innocuous enough, but the doctor told us the cut was deep. Enough for her to have lost a significant amount of blood, and to receive fifteen stitches. They promised us that they were careful when they stitched her up and that the scar should, hopefully, fade with time. Also, it’s close enough to her hairline that it shouldn’t be too noticeable.

Though she didn’t fall from a great height, she lost enough to warrant a transfusion. I’m so glad I was on hand to help. I take her hand in mine. "I’m not going anywhere."

She looks into my face. Whatever she sees there seems to reassure her. "I love you, Mama.” She yawns, then closes her eyes.

"I love you too, sweetheart," I whisper. My heart swells so much, I’m sure it’s going to burst out of my rib cage.

In a few minutes, her breathing deepens. I cradle her hand gently between both of mine. Her skin is cool, her complexion washed out, and deep shadows bruise the delicate skin beneath her eyes. My chest tightens at how fragile she seems—like the smallest gust of wind might carry her away.

And that fall she took, I swallow. When she hit her head against the edge of the pool, my heart seized up. And when she fell into the pool, my entire body froze. My brain couldn’t begin to comprehend what had happened. But my body was already reacting. My feet didn’t even seem to touch the ground as I raced toward her.

And seeing her lifeless body made me feel like I was about to die. I recovered quickly enough to begin to resuscitate her. And thankfully, Tyler was able to revive her. I am so grateful the EMTs reached us so quickly, and that I could save her by donating my blood.

Thank God, our blood types are compatible.

Serene’s going to be fine. Tears squeeze out of the sides of my eyes. My poor baby. Shewillbe fine. I place my head on the bed next to her, and for the first time in hours, allow myself to relax.

The next thing I know, a hand on my shoulder has me snapping my eyes open. I look up into the gorgeous, mismatched eyes of my husband. He urges me to my feet.

"You look exhausted." His gaze lingers. "Are you okay?"

I nod. "Andshe’sgoing to be okay, thanks to you." I glance toward our daughter. "If anything had happened to her—" I tremble. He pulls me close, and I let him draw me into that wide chest of his. Pressing my cheek into the warmth of that solidness, I continue to look at her features.

"It’s my fault. I should have ensured there was more security who would have stopped that woman from approaching us.” His Adam’s apple bobs.

---