Page 18 of Destined for Eternity
Chapter 7
Cori
Cori sat on the floor in the nursery, holding up a light green onesie. She’d forgotten how small babies were when they were born and marveled that anyone could ever fit into such tiny clothes. Considering her daughter had been over eight pounds at birth, and this child would likely be larger, she’d skipped newborn clothes and gone for the bigger sizes. There was still plenty more to buy, but she’d gotten a good start. Her nesting instincts were kicking in, and she felt the strong urge to have everything ready sooner than later.
Putting away baby clothes reminded Cori of her first pregnancy with Faith. She’d had everything ready to go two months before her daughter was born. It had been amazing to bring her home and put her in the crib for the first time. Faith had been a sweet, cuddly baby who rarely cried except when hungry. Everyone had told Cori how lucky she was for that.
A tear rolled down her cheek. She still missed her little girl and didn’t think she’d ever get over that loss. It had been more than five years, but the grief hadn’t lessened much. The only difference between now and when her daughter had died in the accident was that Cori had gotten better at blocking out those memories. It worked most of the time, but this pregnancy had brought a myriad of emotions out no matter how hard she tried to stop them. Sometimes, she wondered if she could even love a second child as much as the one she’d lost, and then sometimes wondered if it was fair to do so.
Was she replacing Faith? Would she somehow forget about her? It was so silly to think that way, but she couldn’t help it. Her daughter had been her whole world for those short five years of her life. Cori had wanted to die when she lost her little girl and had spent months drinking and crying her way through her grief. Only when her mother and sister came to town to knock some sense into her did she finally find the will to live again.
But now a new little person would be coming that she’d be responsible for protecting and nourishing. This baby was innocent too and would need her. She couldn’t give this child less than what he or she deserved.
Cori swiped at her damp cheeks. There was no right answer to her questions, and she knew that, deep down. The best thing to do was preserve Faith’s memory while giving her coming baby plenty of love and attention.
She put away the tiny clothes in a dresser drawer, smoothing her hand over them. It was still hard to believe she’d have a new child to take care of and love. She’d been single and alone for so long. Now, suddenly, her life had changed into something totally unexpected. She was going to be a mother again and needed to be strong. Her child was going to face some difficult obstacles in their life—ones Cori tried hard not to think about as she waited for Bartol’s return—and would need strong parents to protect them.
Gazing around, she had to admit the baby’s room was perfect thanks to her mother. Last Christmas, Joy had painted the walls a pale yellow, put up teal curtains, set up a crib and changing table, and placed a rocking chair in the corner near the window. There was a shelf as well, filled with books and baby toys.
It wasn’t all from her mother, but also from Cori’s sister and other relatives who lived throughout the state of Alaska. They’d been sending packages over the last few weeks or so. Joy was making a big fuss about this new baby and telling everyone who’d listen. It was her way of being supportive of her daughter. Cori appreciated it even as she wished her mother didn’t have to meddle so much. She expected the woman to show up on her doorstep sometime soon as the birth date neared—even though she’d been asked to do the opposite. Cori and Bartol hoped to have some time alone after the baby came to adjust first.
A feeling of warmth flowed through her body, and she turned to find Bartol watching her from the doorway. She hadn’t heard him come into the house. “When did you arrive?”
“A few minutes ago.” He paused, his expression turning concerned. “You didn’t answer the door when I knocked, and it looks like you’ve been crying.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “It’s nothing. Just pregnancy hormones.”
He took a few steps toward her and reached for her hand, gently taking it. “Let’s go talk downstairs.”
Something told her she wasn’t going to like what he had to say. It was in the tone of his voice and the fact that he was touching her without her instigating it first. She pushed down her worries and nodded. He led her down to the living room and waited until she was settled.
“Do you want something to drink?” he asked, hovering over her.
Cori narrowed her eyes. “Stop avoiding the subject. Tell me what Lucas and Mel said.”
“I also spoke with Kerbasi and Ariel.”
Her jaw dropped. “You spoke with Kerbasi?”
“He knew of Jeriel.” Bartol ran a hand through his hair. “For our child’s sake, it was necessary to find out all I could—no matter the source.”
In some ways, he could be very protective over Cori and their child. He’d talk to his worst enemy if it helped them. Yet he couldn’t show up to doctor appointments or make the commitment to move into her house. He’d promised back in December he’d work on moving to her place, but it never happened. Bartol thought staying the night occasionally was enough.
“What was the verdict?” she asked.
He averted his face. “They believe we’ve been given the best deal we can hope for and that we should take it.”
Cori struggled to her feet. “What? How could they say that? We’re talking about an innocent baby here who has done nothing wrong, but whose life is going to be controlled for idiotic reasons. That’s bullshit!”
“You should watch your language.” He gave her a reproving look. “The baby might hear you.”
“Do you remember your time in the womb?” she asked.
“No.”
“Then it’s not a problem.” She was too angry to care about anything at the moment except protecting her child’s future.
Bartol worked his jaw. “I don’t like this situation either, but the others made good points. No other parents of nerou have ever been allowed to raise their child to maturity, much less keep them on Earth. We’re getting both, and we’ll still get to visit our son or daughter once they’re working as an enforcer. A century is a long time.” He shuddered, no doubt thinking about the hundred years he’d spent in Purgatory. “But it is not forever, and it could be much worse.”
