Page 63 of In All My Dreams

Mr. Harris’s jaw goes slack, his already pale skin draining of whatever color was left.

“No, no, no,” he whispers. “Ian, is that what she believes? That she killed Irene? She thinks that's why Caroline tried to kill her?”

I nod.

“Irene’s death wasn’t Georgia’s fault. It was Caroline’s,” he says solemnly as he struggles to meet my eyes while he twists his hands in the hospital blanket. “And I think...” Mr. Harris takes a deep, body-shuddering breath, almost as if he’s trying to hold his own emotions at bay.

Much like myself.

He finally looks up and meets my confused gaze, my heart pounding hard in my chest while I work on steadying my breathing. I feel like whatever he says next might just break me. And if it doesn't break me, then it most definitely has the chance of breaking Georgia by capsizing everything she’s thought to be true throughout her entire life.

“I think, Ian. That Caroline was murdered because of it.”

I sit up straighter in my chair. “Wh—what do you mean Caroline killed Irene?” I stutter. “Georgia said it was an accident. How can your late wife be responsible for my sister’s death?”

I’m waiting on pins and needles for his response when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I hastily pull it out, seeing Georgia’s name flash across the screen. My hands are shaking uncontrollably after Lincoln’s life-shattering admission, and the call goes to voicemail before I’m able to answer it.

“Hold on, Link. It’s Georgia,” I tell him as I unlock my phone and see several missed calls from her and a pending voice message. I bring the phone to my ear and listen to the message, my eyes widening with fear.

I jump to my feet. “Georgia’s in trouble. I have to go!” I shout at Lincoln as I rush to the door. I don’t wait for his response and throw myself down the sterile hallway.

I don’t know what’s going on, but Georgia’s panicked voicemail replays over and over in my head.

I hope I’m not too late.

27

Caroline

23 Years Ago

Ipeek in on the girls one last time before I head to bed and confirm they are both fast asleep. Georgia and Horton are passed out on her bed, and Irene is asleep on the adjoined mattress next to her.

When I told Lincoln I wanted to get a trundle bed for Georgia’s room last year, I expected to use it for a sibling for her.

Unfortunately, life hasn’t quite panned out the way I had hoped. I rub a hand over my flat stomach. I’m supposed to be halfway through a pregnancy, but I lost the baby at ten weeks.

I still haven't managed to figure out how to feel.

One minute, I’m looking at Georgia and reminding myself how blessed I am to have been gifted with such a beautifully kind little girl.

The next minute, I’m angry and heartbroken that my body can’t figure out how to give me another one.

Seeing Irene, Ian, and Georgia together all the time both hurts and heals something in me. Georgia would make such a wonderful big sister, but maybe it’s time Link and I stop tempting fate.

Three losses in three years, all before the end of the dreaded first trimester.

The pain is still there after every loss, but it’s getting more familiar to cope with. I haven’t decided whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing yet. Nobody wants this type of grief to become easier with time, but unless you’ve experienced it, you wouldn’t know that this form of grief never truly leaves you. You just make room for it.

“Hello, my dear.” Link greets me at our bedroom door with a kiss on the cheek. His appearance catches me off guard. He’s wearing black iron-pressed slacks and a cream-colored button-down shirt with a sports jacket slung over his arm. His hair is combed to the side, making him look devilishly handsome.

“Why are you all dressed up?” I ask him, giving him a swift kiss on the cheek before I head into our bathroom so I can change into my pajamas.

Link follows me into the bathroom and adjusts the collar of his shirt. “Gabe and the boys are all getting together for drinks downat Harper’s,” he says as he pats down a few stray strands of his dark hair.

“You’re getting that dressed up to go to a pub?” I cock an eyebrow at him.

Link wraps his arms around me, placing his chin in the crook of my shoulder, our reflections staring back at each other from the massive vanity mirror. The heady scent of his cologne swirls around me as he holds me close.

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