Page 73 of Falling for Grace

“You need to make me understand,” fury contorting his beautiful face. “Why did you make the decision to terminate OUR child alone!”

“I didn’t.” The words erupt out of my mouth, pushing out of his grip and him backwards, his hands falling limpy to his sides as what I said sinks in. “I didn’t have the fucking abortion. Icarried our baby until 41 weeks plus 4 days. I went into labour on the 12thApril, and our daughter was born at 7.12am on the 13th.” I watch as he staggers backwards.

I flop onto the armchair as he wobbles back, his knees hitting the sofa and he falls down onto it, like the weight of the world pushed him.

“She was seven pounds 12 ounces, she looked just like you and she was absolutely perfect,” I say quietly.

“I’m a father.”

I watch as he rakes his hand down his face. Tears jump to his eyes and he looks conflicted.

I reach to where my bag is hanging over the arm, opening the zipper and pull out my wallet, carefully removing the tiny picture of Maya. It’s old and crinkled and I look at it daily and carry it everywhere. I stand up and walk tentatively towards where Brandon is sitting on the sofa and sit down next to him.

“Her name’s Maya.” I pass him the picture after having a quick look at our gorgeous baby girl. He looks at me, then takes it with such care. He shakes his head at me, and as our eyes meet, I know he’s so angry and disappointed at me. But as he glances down at the picture, those green eyes light up, as mine did on the day I finally got to meet her.

“She looks just like you…” his whole attention is on the picture as he strokes it, and we sit in silence as the news sinks in. “What’s she like?” he whispers the question.

I don’t respond straight away, I just look at the floor to that bunched up ball of paper and my body goes rigid. I can’t say the words, I can’t tell him.

“Gracie? Jesus, you’re scaring the shit out of me.” He places his hand on my leg and I flinch.

“I’m so…so sorry,” I manage to push the words out.

“What I don’t understand?” I can feel his eyes on me, but I can’t stop looking at the bunched-up ball of paper. Finally plucking up the courage I look at him, and watch destruction I caused first-hand. I can feel the tears that have pooled behind my eyes track down my cheeks as my chin wobbles as I slowly try to say the words that always threaten to break me all over again.

“She didn’t make it.” The word breaking.

“Gracie.” He looks at me and I will never forget that look or the sound of his voice cracking, whispering my name.

“Oh, my Grace.” His warm palms encase my cheeks. “My poor, strong Grace.”

He pulls me into him, embracing me, his huge arms encircling my body as I lean against him and cry. “Let it out, Grace,” he whispers softly in my ear, his warm breath tickling my neck. And for the first time in a long time, I let it go. I let the grief for our baby girl consume me.

At a small knock on the door to Brandon’s old room where I lie on his old bed, I open my eyes to see Sue’s face appear in the doorway.

“Brandon wanted me to check in on you. How are you feeling, dear?”

“Where…” I clear my throat, my voice a horrible croak. “Where’s he gone?”

Sue sits down on the bed. “He said he needed to sort some things out,” she replies, taking my hand. “May I see the picture?”

My wallet is on the bedside table, Brandon must have put it there when he carried me up. I pull the picture out and pass it to Sue.

“Oh, Gracie. She’s beautiful.” Her eyes well up.

She really was perfect. This is the first time I have shown people the picture.

“She had the most amazing blue eyes.”

She passes the picture back and I look at it.

“I always wondered whether they would go green like Brandon’s. I hoped they would, his eyes are truly magnificent.”

Sue looks at me with those same conflicted eyes that matched her sons and keeps staring at the picture.

“She looked so much like him, Sue.” Sue moves quicker than I thought was possible, her small petite hand whipping up from her lap and striking me hard across the cheek. The sound filling the silence of the room. My own hand flies up to my cheek which is now stinging, shock on my face.

“How dare you?” I wipe at the rogue tear that has fallen, but I deserve this. This is the least I deserve.

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