Page 75 of When We Were Young
She could feel his arms around her again, smell the mix of his cologne and the smoke from his uniform. She could sense the touch of his face against hers as they kissed. Life was a rare and beautiful gift and Emily knew—she absolutely knew—each chapter in their story would only get more wonderful.
Clara was Emily’s greatest cheerleader in the months that followed. Emily was sick day and night for the first trimester and well into the second. She would be on the sofa, curled on her side, a bowl nearby just in case. And her sister would know exactly what she needed.
Even with her crutches, she would hobble into the kitchen and find something to help Emily. A glass of orange juice or a box of crackers. A piece of string cheese. Clara would forgo one of her crutches in her effort to bring Emily what might make her feel better.
One afternoon Clara made her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. During that pregnancy, PBJs were Emily’s favorite. One of the few things Emily could keep down. Clara set it on a pretty tray and added a single plastic flower. Somehow she carried it with one hand and set it down on the coffee table.
Then she nudged Emily awake. “Time to eat.” She sounded so sincere, so concerned. “The baby hungry.”
Emily struggled to sit up, the nausea practically crippling her. She wasn’t hungry, but Clara was right. She needed to eat. Noah was always telling her the same thing. At that point, four months in, she weighed less than before she got pregnant.
Emily looked at Clara and realized something profound. How much she needed her sister. All her life she’d looked after Clara, and now Clara was looking after her. Emily took hold of Clara’s hand and lifted it to her own cheek. “You are my best friend, Clara. Do you know that?”
Her sister beamed. “Always and forever.”
Emily and Noah decided not to find out the baby’s gender. Only Clara seemed to know Emily was carrying a boy. She would walk up to Emily in the kitchen or when they were on the porch and she’d place her hand on Emily’s bump. “Sweet baby boy.” She would smile and look at Emily. “What his name?”
The two sisters would laugh, because even Clara knew there was no real way of telling yet. Not without a test. But Clara was sure all the same. So when Aiden was born that fall, Clara grinned at Emily and shrugged her shoulders. “I knew.”
“Yes.” Emily smiled at her sister. “You always know, Clara.”
There was no better daddy anywhere than Noah. From the moment he first held Aiden, he was utterly smitten. That week he asked his boss if he could cut his hours down to twelve a week. By then, their number of followers was at an all-time high. With more followers came more money, more clicks meant more paying sponsors.
“Even if the Internet money dries up completely, I want to work less hours,” Noah told her one night when he was holding baby Aiden. “I love being here with you two and Clara.” He drew Emily into his arms. “Every hour I’m away, my heart is here with you.”
She could still hear him breathing those words against her face.Every hour I’m away, my heart is here with you.When had he stopped feeling that way? When had she stopped believing it?
Every now and then, Clara would make her way to Noah when they were all in the living room. Her eyes and smile would light up and she’d look straight into Noah’s face. “Forever, right?”
And Noah would take her hand and nod his head. “Forever and ever.”
“Daddies don’t... always... leave.” She said it all the time after Aiden was born. Almost like a game, where they each knew the script.
“Not this daddy.” Noah would put his hand alongside Clara’s cheek. “Not ever.”
Emily and Noah had talked about Clara’s need to repeat it so often. Emily was certain Clara remembered what it was like having her father walk out the door. And so no matter what happened, Clara didn’t want that for Emily and Noah. She knew they couldn’t take it.
And Clara couldn’t, either.
A bit of cold air drifted through the office and Emily shivered again. She tucked the blanket in tight around her legs. Why was it so cold?
It was raining outside again, another thunderstorm headed their way. Fitting, she thought. On a day like this. She closed her eyes and let the rest of the story come.
Aiden was the most delightful baby, the happiest little boy. Since Noah was home more, every morning they got him out of his crib together and took him to the front window so Aiden could see the birdies. By the time he was nine months old he would point outside and flap his elbows. “Tweet, tweet!” he would cry out.
And Noah would kiss Aiden’s cheek. “That’s right, buddy.”
Emily would join in. “Good morning, birdies. Good morning, day.” And Aiden would try to say everything she did.
Emily wanted to capture every moment and save it for some far-off day. She couldn’t imagine Aiden growing up and getting married. He was theirs and they were his and every morning began a greater adventure than the one before.
When Aiden was one, they would pile in the car and drive to Lower Cascades Park. “Swing, swing,” Aiden would cry out, his face the purest picture of happiness. Clara would come with them and sometimes she would leave one of her crutches on the nearest bench and join them, pushing Aiden in his swing.
It wasn’t only laughter and love that marked their every day back then. It was the Lord, too. Noah led them in a prayer every morning and every night. Aiden was always first to say “Amen!” And when Clara and Aiden were asleep, Noah and Emily would read the Bible together.
Sure Noah would find a way to make a social media splash of all of it. But Emily convinced herself she didn’t mind. They were being a light to the world, right? Sharing what was good and right and true with a world that desperately needed it. Noah always said that, and Emily tried to believe it.
A post that drew record views was a photo of Clara with Aiden at the bottom of the slide at the park, both of their faces bright with smiles. Noah had captioned it simply, “Sometimes it’s the little things.”
