Page 63 of Two Weeks
“Have I told you lately that I love you?... Have I told you there’s no one else above you?”
She sang every line till the very end of the song. And when it ended she leaned up from the backseat, her hands on their shoulders. “That’s exactly how I feel about both of you.” She grinned at Theo and then at her mother. “Whenever you hear it, remember that!”
Alma dropped the fight. She looked out her passenger window, and when the song ended she reached over and turned off the radio. “Please, Theo. I need to think.” She looked at him and her expression eased up. “I don’t know how to do this.”
“Me, either.” He wanted to take her hand but this didn’t seem like the time. None of this was her fault. But he knew something for sure. If they chose to grieve separately, in their own silent worlds, then in time it would hurt them. Their marriage.
One of the pastors who had talked to them after the accident told them to see a marriage counselor. Or a grief counselor. “Most marriages don’t make it a year after a loss like this.”
Most marriages. Theo had heard that before and he had scoffed at the possibility. No one would want to lose a child, but such a tragedy would surely make a couple closer. Not more distant.
Now, though, the tragedy was his and Alma’s, and he understood. The silence was strangling the life from the two of them. Even when it was the last thing they wanted. As if the loss was too great to get around or over. Too deep and dark to walk through.
Like overnight they’d become blind to each other. All they could see was themselves, their own heartache and loss. Their separate memories of Vienna.
No wonder so many marriages didn’t survive this.
Help us, God. Vienna wouldn’t want us this way. We need You.
There was no immediate answer to his silent prayer. But halfway through the recital, Alma reached out and took his hand. Nothing about the action would’ve seemed unusual to anyone watching. But Theo knew differently. They hadn’t held hands since they came home from the second memorial.
He took a sharp breath. Then he wrapped his hand around Alma’s and held on tight. As if his next heartbeat depended on this one single connection. The whole time he kept his eyes on the stage. A girl in the front row was tall and thin, beautiful brown skin like Vienna. Theo watched her dance, watched her perform all the numbers Vienna had known by heart. Especially the last number. The encore.
The one Vienna had helped choreograph and had been so excited about minutes before...
Theo couldn’t finish his thought. If he squinted just so, he wasn’t watching someone else’s daughter. He was watching his own. His precious baby girl. His Vienna.
Alma didn’t let go of his hand after the recital, even when so many girls and their parents came up and hugged them. Jessie Taylor presented them with another framed picture, one of herself and Vienna taken at the last practice before the accident.
They were halfway home—not talking, but still holding hands—when Alma’s phone rang. She answered it on the first ring. “Hello?”
No telling who was on the other end. Theo listened and kept his eyes on the road.
“Yes, this is she.” She gasped under her breath. “Who... who gave you our information?” She looked at Theo. “The state? Okay, wait, so what’s the situation?”
For a long time Alma listened. Then she took a deep breath and seemed to hold it. “Mr. Green.” She exhaled. “I truly appreciate the call. Can I...” She paused, clearly bewildered. “Can I call you back tomorrow?”
A few more seconds and the conversation ended. Alma set her phone down and turned to him. “Theo. That was a private adoption attorney.” She blinked, like the conversation was still hitting her. “Mr. Green. He said he usually didn’t make these calls on a Sunday night, but he needed help.”
“With what?” Theo had no idea where she was going with this. “What did he want?”
“The state gave him our names. Said we might do a short-term foster care of an infant. For two weeks.” She leaned back in her seat for a few seconds and turned to him once more. “While the birth mother decides whether to go through with an adoption.”
Foster care of a newborn? For two weeks? Tears blurred his eyes. He blinked a few times so he could still see the road. “Why would they call now? Of all things?”
“There’s a girl. She keeps changing her mind about placing her child.” Alma went on to explain the situation. “It’s possible they won’t even need us. He just wanted to know if we were open.”
Theo wiped his hand across one cheek and then the other. Sure, their file was still active, their license to do foster care still valid. But a few years ago they had asked the state to stop calling until further notice. “How in the world?”
“Someone must’ve made a mistake.” Alma searched his eyes. “The state never should’ve given him our name.”
Theo was quiet, letting the reality wash over him. “It was all Vienna talked about before...”
Alma’s voice filled with purpose for the first time since the accident. “We should tell him yes, right?”
“Absolutely.” Theo heard the catch in his voice. “Only God could’ve done this, Alma. Only God.”
“Definitely.” Alma was crying now, too. They might’ve struggled to find each other this past week, and the road ahead was nothing but steep hills and sharp dropoffs. But right now they didn’t need words to know what the other was thinking.
