Page 107 of Harper

“You know what this means?” I whisper into her ear.

“It means I’m your girl,” she says, an echo from a lifetime ago.

“You’ll always be my girl, Harper Stewart,” I tell her.

“Always,” she promises, leaning back in my arms so I can kiss her again.

Chapter 13

Harper

I moved into Joe’s place right after New Year’s with the full blessing of my family…but without the full blessing of Joe’s. Sandra remains a hold-out on whether or not Joe and I will succeed as a couple. I don’t like it, but I get it. I’ve hurt Joe many times over the years, and Sandra was always there for him, to help pick up the pieces.

I’m hoping that with Wren’s arrival in a few weeks, Sandra will come around. I know it’s important to Joe to have his cousin in his daughter’s life. And families have a way of mending when babies arrive.

In the meantime, I’m making Joe’s house our home little by little and with tons of help from my siblings. Parker and Reeve repainted the spare bedroom a light peach color for Wren, and McKenna stenciled little birds around the ceiling. Tanner moved the nursery furniture from the lodge in Dyea to Joe’s place in Skagway and got everything set up just so.

I love sitting in the rocker in the corner of Wren’s room as my belly grows rounder. I sing her the same songs I once sang to Raven, and I dream of my girls meeting in person one day.

Denise and Howard have never kept Moriah Raven’s adoption a secret from her; the fact that she was adopted at infancy from a college student has always been part of her personal history. She accepts the fact that she has bio parents somewhere in the world and doesn’t seem at all troubled by Joe’s and my existence…or interested in meeting us.

This is one hundred percent normal.

From my own research, I’ve learned that most experts advise holding off on suggesting a reunion until the adoptedchild is curious, mature, and ready. Sometimes that moment arrives in a child’s teen years, but other adoptees prefer to wait until they’ve cleared eighteen, or even later in life. We’ve told the Calvins that whenever Moriah Raven is ready to meet us, we will be ready to meet her, too. In the meantime, we will watch her grow from afar, and when and if we meet her someday, we will already have a reassuring trove of memories that include her.

Valentine’s Day finds Joe and me in Anchorage for Wren’s 32-week ultrasound, and we are given the most amazing news from Dr. Kim.

“Oh, my gosh!” she exclaims, gliding the transducer over my abdomen. “I didn’t expect that.”

“What?” I ask. “What’s going on?”

“The placenta migrated,” she says, leaning closer to inspect the grainy TV screen. “It’s moved higher.”

“Wait! It did?”

“It sure did. It’s no longer covering your cervix completely. Good job, Wren!”

This is fantastic, unexpected news. It means that although I will still have a c-section, it’s possible I won’t require further surgical intervention like a hysterectomy.

“I was sure the old scar tissue would lead to problems,” says Dr. Kim, “but everything looks good. Really good. Better than expected.”

Joe, who’s standing by my head, squeezes my hand. When I look up at him, I can tell from his face that he’s too emotional to speak. Relief can do that to a person. Fear and love aren’t the only emotions that can bring you to your knees.

“Happy Valentine’s Day from baby Wren,” quips Dr. Kim, wiping off my belly and printing out some images. “We’ll talk in my office once you’re dressed, okay?”

She tells us that because of my history, the c-section should still happen as planned in late March, and I should continue totake it easy, but that we don’t need to return to Anchorage again until delivery day, which is an amazing gift. I feel so big at this point, and traveling to and from Skagway to Anchorage is tiring.

We walk back to the Marriott hand in hand.

“Six weeks at home, and then she’ll be here,” says Joe. “It’s a miracle, Harp!”

“I can’t believe it,” I say. “I thought we’d be flying up here every two weeks. It’s such a relief.”

“And now we have plenty of time to get married,” says Joe.

Wait. What?

“What are you talking about?”

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