Page 121 of A Moment for Us
“I’m not . . . I don’t want it.”
He’s quiet for a beat, and I turn to see if he’s still there. He watches me, concern etched on his beautiful face. “Youdon’t want coffee?”
His tone causes me to wonder if I just imagined that exchange. Maybe he’s fine, and I’m reading into everything. God, I’m such a mess. I’m so sad and angry that I can’t think straight. Josh has been wonderful. He’s been by my side the entire time, holding me as I cried and never once pulled away. I’m just such a riot of emotions right now. I can’t unravel where one feeling starts and another begins. Each time I think I’m okay, I start sobbing again.
I shake my head and let the truth slip out. “Not even coffee can soothe my broken heart today. Nothing can. I think I’m going to be a mess for a while.”
The defeat in his eyes is heavy. “All right. Want me to send someone in to sit with you?”
The last thing I want is another person consoling me. They have nothing to say that I want to hear. “No, I’ll be fine, I’m not a child.”
“Well, I hope I’m excluded from that since you are my child,” my mother says from the doorway. I turn, instantly feeling the urge to cry again.
“Mom.”
She enters and rubs Josh’s arm. “I’m so sorry for you both. I came as soon as I heard.”
Mom was visiting her friend in Charlotte, and we got in touch with her late last night. Josh pulls my mother in for a hug. “Thank you. We’re both . . . trying.”
“That’s all you can do.”
He looks to me and then at her. “I’m going to grab coffee. I’ll give you both some time together.”
Mom nods once and then sits in the chair beside my bed. She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t have to. My mother has always been able to test my mood and then do whatever I’ve needed.
Her beautiful green eyes are filled with love and understanding. She has felt the pain I’m in. She was pregnant and lost that baby four weeks after my father died. “We gave her a name. The day before my appointment. We sort of agreed on what to name her. How stupid were we? So hopeful and thinking it would all be okay.”
“And what name did you agree on?”
“Gina.”
My mother’s lip trembles and a tear falls, but she brushes it away quickly. “For your dad?”
“Yes.”
The warmth of my mother’s hand slides around my cold one. “I’m sure she would’ve been beautiful, like you.”
“I don’t know how to feel,” I confess.
“I know.”
“I’m still pregnant and yet I’m not.”
“I know.”
I close my eyes. “I just want to cry.”
Mom’s hand squeezes a little. “Then cry.”
The permission that comes is freeing, but the tears don’t follow. I want them to come, to let myself drown in them. “I don’t have anything left.”
I am struggling to come to terms with the reality of my life. How can I be both happy and utterly broken at the same time? It doesn’t make sense. My son kicks at that moment and I move my other hand there.
“Your son still needs you, Delia,” my mother says, pulling my attention. “He is still in there, needing his momma to take care of things. You can be sad. You can be angry, but you still have a son who’s growing. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling. I know the devastation of losing a baby, but not when I was still pregnant like you are. I lost your father and that child within a few weeks. I was . . . well, devastated doesn’t begin to describe how I felt, but I had you. I had to get myself up and dressed to make sure you were cared for.”
“You’re stronger than I am.”
“Oh, sweet girl, I am definitely not.Yousaved me, Delia.Yougave me a reason to go on with my life after feeling so lost. You’re in pain and things look bleak, but there is always light. Tomorrow, the sun will rise again, the birds will chirp, and you aren’t alone. You have Josh.”
