Page 153 of Nineteen Letters
“Great … tired … happy,” she answers with a smile.
She looks tired … tired, but beautiful. Motherhood agrees with her. She’s glowing.
After burping our son, Jemma goes to rise. “What do you need? Stay, I’ll get it for you.”
“I want to change Bailey before I put him back down.”
“Let me,” I offer, taking him from her. I’ve missed doing these kinds of things now that Grace has grown.
“Thank you.” I smile when she settles back into the pillow. “I love how hands-on you are. I hear all the mums complain about their husbands at mother's group … it makes me realise how lucky I am.”
After gently laying Bailey down on the change table, I pull the letter out of my back pocket and pass it to her.
“What’s this?” she asks.
“A letter.”
A small gasp passes between her lips. “You wrote me another letter?”
“Yes. You probably don’t remember wishing for your pigeon pair all those years ago, so I thought I’d remind you.”
“You’re the sweetest,” she says, wasting no time ripping into the pink envelope. “I’ve missed your letters.”
My eyes simultaneously dart between her and Bailey as I watch her read my words. This is the first time I get to witness her reactions first hand. It was something I often yearned for when I wrote the other nineteen letters.
I see her smiling one minute, and wiping tears from her eyes the next. It makes me wish that I’d waited before giving her this letter. Maybe she’s not ready to be reminded.
She’s finished reading by the time I’m done. I wrap our son tightly in his blanket before placing him in his crib. He’s already fallen asleep.
“Are you okay?” I ask Jemma, as I walk back toward her bed.
“Yes,” she answers, scooting over and tapping the space beside her. “Come lie with me.” She pulls back the blankets as I slip out of my shoes. “I don’t care what the nurses say. I’m not having you sleep in the chair tonight. I need you beside me.”
Pulling her into my arms, she rests the side of her face on my chest. “I was thinking about our baby this morning. I think about it often and always wonder what if …”
“Me too,” I say, placing my lips on her hair.
“Just because we have Grace and Bailey, doesn’t mean I don’t wish things had worked out differently.”
“I feel the same.”
“I dreamt about those socks, you know.”
“You did … when?” I ask, surprised.
“Years ago. It was after you gave me the letter about the miscarriage. I always wondered if it was a memory or just a silly dream. I even looked for those little pairs of socks when I moved back in, but I never found them. What did you do with them?”
I wince slightly. “I buried them.”
She gasps. “Where?”
“In the blue pot … underneath the rose bush I bought you. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Aww, Brax,” she sniffles snuggling in closer. “I’m touched you did that. That was the perfect place to put them.”
I lean down and place a soft kiss on her hair. “Get some sleep.”
She closes her eyes for a split second, but then startles me when she bolts upright. “My charm,” she says, turning her body and reaching for the envelope she placed on the table beside her bed. Her face drops when she sees the envelope is empty. “There’s no charm?”
