Page 45 of Save You

This time when the thunder claps, he remains limp, snoring softly in my arms, content and protected from the wildness all around us.

Chapter 18

Casey

I’ve been awake for nearly an hour now, so goodness knows how long my poor brother has been up with little Rosie. The tiny girl has lungs like an opera singer and is not afraid to let the whole house know that she is not ok with the world. I’ve already heard someone get up to go to the bathroom from my parents’ room, so I know they’re up as well. It’s amazing how one small, fragile, human being has the ability to keep the whole family awake with only her voice.

None of us move from our rooms, from our beds, because Xander is the parent, and he needs to know that he can do this. He needs to believe we have faith in him to look after his own daughter, even if he has lost the one person who could have been able to support him more hands-on. I silently pray to Beth to give him the strength to go on, because she’s the only one he would listen to right now. It’s all I can do to stop myself from running in there to save him, to let him know that he’s enough because that’s the last thing I should do. He needs to work that out for himself; to succeed and come to that conclusion on his own.

Xander’s room is next door to mine, and the walls are thin enough for me to hear him quietly sobbing as he tries so desperately to soothe his angry little girl. Eventually, I can’t bear to hear his uncontrollable cries any longer, so I get out of bed and tip toe to his room, all the while promising myself to not go in. I’ll just wait here and somehow give him strength from behind this door.

“Come on, Rosie,” he whisper-shouts with a mixture of frustration and panic, “I’ve tried feeding you, I’ve changed you, I’ve cuddled you…” He pauses to gasp for breath, to try and calm himself down, while poor little Rosie continues screaming at the top of her lungs. It dawns on me that she is after the one thing none of us can give her.

“I know,” he breathes out slowly. Through the crack of his door I see him rest his forehead against her tiny one as though having come to the same conclusion as me. “I know who you want, baby girl, I can’t-”

His voice cracks and it’s almost too much for me to bear. My hand flies to the door handle, ready to push it open and run in to take over and give him a break, but with what little self-restraint I have, I stop myself just in time to hear him speak again.

“I know you want, Mommy,” he sighs, then sniffs back another loud whimper before he continues, “I want her too, Rosie, I want her for you, and I want her for me too.”

My heart breaks as he begins to cry, giving into the same pain and sadness his daughter is no doubt feeling too. He lets out a few, loud, gut-wrenching sobs, trying so hard not to give into it, but is no longer able to control his grief. I silently cry with him and clasp a hand over my mouth to silence my own whimpering. We’ve never shared the whole ‘twin connection’ thing, there’s no mystic sixth sense between us, but seeing him fall apart feels like a knife twisting inside of my own heart. My poor brother. My poor baby niece.

All of a sudden, he opens his mouth and begins to gently sing. It’s an older song my parents used to listen to once upon a time. I only remember it because I was in love with Shakespeare plays for a short period after I had watched a modern remake of Romeo and Juliet. I had had romantic notions of falling in love with someone as dreamy as Leonardo DiCaprio. As he sings about Romeo calling out to his Juliet, trying to woo her with his serenading, I notice little Rosie beginning to quiet down.

I smile as I listen to him continue to sing to his daughter, greedily spying on this tender moment between them both, but I’m unable to tear my eyes or ears away from it. Her cries seem to have become nothing more than muffled moaning until eventually, she is silenced altogether. Xander laughs with disbelief, still singing, and still rocking her in his arms.

When he finally turns to see me standing at the boundary of his room, I am relieved to see him smiling. He’s so delighted to have calmed Rosalie by himself, and no doubt relieved to finally have the opportunity to get some sleep, he can’t begin to feel angry with me for spying on him.

By the end of the song, he’s looking back down at her with the biggest, goofiest smile, and leans in to gently kiss her little forehead. We collectively hold our breaths when he ever so slowly places her back inside of the Moses basket, which Mom had retrieved from the attic earlier on today. When she remains sleeping, he comically backs up like a cartoon ninja until he’s by my side. His whole body finally slumps with both exhaustion and relief. I grab hold of him and share one of those rare brotherly, sisterly hugs that leave you feeling awkward for a while afterward.

“I always liked that one,” I whisper. I smile over his shoulder before we pull away from one another with the aforementioned embarrassment, only because we dared to show we actually care.

“It was…er,” he flusters, looking down to the floor while shaking his head and emitting a sad laugh, “it was kind of the last song Beth and I danced to before…”

He can’t even finish that sentence without taking in a deep breath and squeezing his thumb and forefinger deep inside of his eyes to try and cut off any tears that may be hiding there.

“I know,” I reply softly and place my hand over his shoulder, giving him that tiny bit of strength he needs to shake off the pain for a bit. “You’re doing great, Xander, I promise.”

“Thank you,” he says with a nod.

We look at one another one last time before I leave him to try and get some much-needed shut-eye.

Beth

Looking in the mirror, at my natural blonde hair, I feel even more lost than I did before. Returning to my former self in image, if nothing else, makes it seem like nothing ever happened. It’s as though my life with Xander in the cabin in the woods, and the birth of my daughter never even took place. The memory of her being ripped away from my arms and begging for Carol to tell the person I love that I am no longer living, causes me to take a large intake of breath if only to steady my nerves.

By the end of it, I am feeling so low, I find my eyes darting across to the nail scissors sitting in plain sight before my fingertips. They look at me like a tempting siren, telling me that they can make it all feel better, can numb the pain if I let them. I don’t know what I would do with them – cut my wrists, hack off my precious hair- but whatever it is, it will be to cause as much damage as possible. I even pick them up and hold the silver blades within the palm of my hand, just squeezing them against my skin in the hopes that I can find the courage to do something, anything, with them.

“I think I should have those,” Oliver says casually as he walks behind me, grabbing them on the way over to the bathroom. “We wouldn’t want you to do anything stupid, now would we?” He wanders inside of the bathroom to pick up a few final items to pack, then walks back over to kiss me on the cheek. “The cars will be here in an hour, darling, make sure you’ve packed up the rest of your things so we can leave on time!”

“Yes,” I call out robotically, still with my eyes on the seemingly unchanged reflection inside of the mirror. After a little while, I notice his face in the corner of the glass, staring at me with a soft smile.

“Still bleeding?” he asks, curling his lips into a more suggestive smirk.

I shudder and instantly look away before making my way to the bathroom so he cannot see how much his suggestion has disturbed me. It’s only been three weeks since I gave birth, so I think even he knows the answer to that question. He’s merely reminding me that as soon as I am able to fulfill his needs, we will be married and I will become his Stepford wife in all its glory, whether I like it or not. Besides, I’m almost certain Doctor White is giving him daily updates, for he certainly doesn’t trust me to be honest with him. I can’t blame him on that front, but I’ll try to live off my post-pregnancy bleeding for as long as I can.

“Yes,” I reply bluntly and with a tight smile on my face.

By the time I walk back out of the bathroom, his smile has dropped, and he is already making his way out into the hallway, instructing me to remain here until they are ready for us to leave.

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