Page 95 of Feel Me

His words drill down to my soul. I try pull away, too afraid to believe what he says.

Declan won’t let me, keeping his arm fastened around my waist.

He lifts my hand and places it over his chest. “If you don’t believe me, feel me. Feel my heart. It hasn’t been the same since you left me.”

Beneath my palm, the strong steady beats increase in speed, matching mine as it races ahead.

“I’m tired of being apart,” he tells me. “Of trying to be something, when I’m nothing without you.”

I pull my hand away. “Declan, I’m never going to be everything you need.”

He shakes his head slowly. “You already are, Melissa.”

I breakdown, and it’s that ugly, awful cry that women hate. Declan doesn’t care, bending forward and kissing my lips. “I know you’re afraid you’ll lose your family if you lose your dad,” he says. “But as so long as you want me, I swear to Christ you’ll never be alone.”

When his mouth again meets mine, the walls I so carefully solidified come down in one mighty crash. I reach for Declan’s sweater, pulling it off. My pants follow as he yanks them down. I barely finish peeling off my sports bra when he pushes his hard length inside me.

My spine bows back and I bite back a blissful scream.

“I love you,” he says, thrusting hard. “I’ll love you forever . . .”

Epilogue

Melissa

The wrap securing our newborn infant keeps her close to my skin. But as the hearing screener continues to fiddle with her portable laptop, I feel the need to clutch my baby closer and protect her from what I’m certain the screener will say. Allanah is content against my skin, having had her fill of milk. Declan sits beside me, his thumb smoothing over my hand as he patiently waits for the test to finish.

I’m not so patient. I’m scared.

I release his hand and sign,I think there’s something wrong.

I’m not familiar with the device the screener is using. I only know it’s measuring our daughter’s ability to hear and it’s taking too long to get the results. This machine, as high tech as it’s supposed to be, is incapable of predicting how other children will treat her if she’s hearing impaired. It won’t help her through her struggles when she tries to learn to speak with her hands. Nor will it shield her from the stares cast her way. It won’t protect her from harsh words or explain to her why people can’t seem to understand her.

It will only tell us one thing, and despite that I’ve prepared myself for the possibility that she may not hear within normal limits, my fear remains.

Declan doesn’t seem worried. He shifts his position in the hospital bed, angling closer. There’s not much room, but as always, he knows when I need him close.We don’t know that yet,he signs.But if there is, I promise we’ll get through it.

His motions aren’t smooth. He’s still learning ASL. But I understand him, and sense his devotion behind every gesture.

There’s no flicker of doubt in his expression, nor does he show any fear. That’s good. One of us needs to be strong and I’m not feeling very strong at the moment. Did I survive my childhood? Yes. I did. That doesn’t mean I want my child to face the same struggles I did.

“I’m sorry, Mayor and Mrs. O’Brien,” the screener says. “I have to adjust the probes. I don’t think they’re in the right spot based on these readings.”

She repositions the circular devices on our baby girl’s head. I kiss her cheek when she fusses and whimpers. “It’s okay, sweetie,” I whisper.

The screener smiles when Allanah settles against me. “That’s right, peanut,” she says. “Just cuddle with your mama.”

Declan looks to where Curran and Tess sit by the window. “Curran, it’s late. We’ll catch up with you guys tomorrow, all right?”

Curran exchanges glances with Tess. The entire family arrived to meet Allanah, but they’re the only ones who remain.

“Okay,” Curran says. He adjusts Fiona and Clodagh where they’re fast asleep on his shoulders, and stands. “Call us if you need anything. Otherwise, we’ll see you at your place tomorrow.”

Like Dad and Mae, and the rest of the O’Briens, they hesitate to leave. I love them for it, I do. But as soon as the hearing screener announced who she was, it’s like all our worries clouded the room and thickened the air with tension. They piled out quietly at Declan’s request for privacy. Curran and Tess stayed when I insisted she finish feeding Curran, Jr.. Initially, I stayed positive and hoped for the best. But now . . .

I barely notice them, too worried about our little one.

“It’s going to be all right, love,” Declan tells me softly.

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