Page 27 of Everything We Left Unsaid

Ama covers all of Chloe’s exposed skin in SPF fifty, even though she wiggles and fights her the entire time. I smile at the white smudges across her cheek and nose. Chloe bolts as soon as we step foot on the porch and deftly navigates the wooden steps on her descent into the yard. We follow as she toddles toward her swing set.

We spend a couple hours outside, enjoying the sunshine. I push Chloe in her swing and revel in the melody of her sweet laughter. Every time she swings upward, she lets out a tinkling giggle and I find myself smiling so hard, my damn cheeks ache by the time she’s done and cries to get out.

It’s snack time when we finally come back inside. Ama offers me a bottle of water and I accept it graciously. Sweat drips down my face and soaks the hair at my temples. The day has grown uncomfortably warm and humid, and my clothes cling to my damp skin. I’ll have to run back to my room at the inn for a shower and a change of clothes before we go out this evening. It’s only a few miles away, so it won’t take long to get there and back.

Ama hands Chloe a sippy cup of juice and opens a yogurt for her, placing it on the tray of her highchair. She spoons a couple of bites into her mouth before Chloe demands to feed herself and reaches for the utensil.

“You wanna try, Chloe Bug?” Ama offers, handing it over. Chloe dips her spoon into the yogurt and brings it to her mouth, turning it over at the last second and dropping it on her shirt. “Best let me take over or you’ll be needing another bath,” Ama adds in a playful tone. She reaches for the spoon, but Chloe pulls it back and screams. After some gentle prodding, Ama speaking to her in the gentle tone only a grandma with an abundance of patience can muster, Chloe launches her spoon at her great-grandmother. It splatters against the side of her face, leaving a glob of strawberry yogurt on her cheek.

“Chloe Peyton Harris, that wasn’t very nice,” she scolds gently. Chloe continues to scream and kick, but I don’t hear any of it. All I hear over the blood rushing in my ears is the sound of her name repeating in my head over and over again.

Chloe Peyton Harris.

Peyton.

I run out of air. Or maybe the room runs out of oxygen. I don’t know, but suddenly I can’t breathe. Standing from the table, the floor rocking from side to side as though the world is tilting on its axis, I stumble toward the door.

“Jacob?” I hear in the distance. At least it sounds like it’s from far away. I reach for the handle and twist, throwing the door open and sucking in a much-needed breath. Bright sunlight momentarily blinds me and I throw my hand up to shield my sight. I manage to stumble down the stairs without falling flat on my face, and as soon as my shoes hit the grass, I run. I head for the woods, compelled to get away and just be by myself for a moment. My mind is flooded by too many memories and emotions to handle right now.

Before long, I find myself at the creek, Abby’s moss-covered rock beckoning me. Easing myself to the ground, I brace my arms on my knees and pull in a few ragged breaths. As images of my ailing baby sister flash through my mind, it takes every ounce of strength in my body to keep the tears at bay. Visions of Peyton losing her hair, her skin turning thin and pale, her shrunken body wasting away to nothing from her treatments play on a continuous reel.

Abby knew how much Peyton meant to me, how much losing her still affects me. Even though she believed I wanted nothing to do with Chloe and that I would just as soon get rid of her than raise her, she still gave her a little part of me. She may not have my name, but she has Peyton’s. That means more to me than anything else she could’ve done.

I sit for a while, watching the water carve a lazy path over the creek bed. My thoughts morph from my sister to the woman who stole my heart on this very rock, coupled with the two weeks I spent with her falling faster and harder than I ever thought possible. I remember every second of the time we had together. Every kiss, every touch, every time I was inside her. Oddly enough, thinking of her now calms me. Before, when all the turmoil simmered between us and we both believed we’d suffered a great betrayal, thinking about Abby would’ve flared my ire and resentment. But now, all I can think about is fixing us and putting our family back together. I’ll do whatever it takes to make her mine again and prove to her that I can be what she needs me to be: a friend, a lover, a good father to Chloe.

I can make them happy. I know I can. All I need is a chance.

---