Two Weeks (The Baxter Family #5)(65)

Mr. Green seemed to think about Aaron’s question. “She could try to get the baby back, but she wouldn’t win. No lawyer would take her case.” He sighed. “As long as we place the baby in foster care during the waiting period.”

It was a lot to consider. Mr. Green gave them a few minutes to talk about their wishes, whether they would be okay with the two-week foster care, or whether they’d rather back out and make their profile open to another birth mother.

In the end the decision was an easy one. Aaron still believed God had led them here, still thought this baby was supposed to be theirs. Still trusted that Elise would change her mind again and want the two of them to raise her child. If that happened, then they couldn’t let two weeks of foster care scare them.

They signed the final papers acknowledging they approved this newest plan. The meeting had taken their lunch hour plus some, and now they had to get back to the hospital.

In the attorney’s parking lot Aaron took Lucy in his arms. “Thank you.”

“For what?” She gave him a tired smile.

“I was losing it.” He searched her eyes. “And you were there for me.” He kissed her forehead. “You’ll never know how much that meant to me.”

His compliment felt wonderful. She was glad he’d noticed. “All this time, you’ve never wavered.” She stepped back and took his hands in hers. “You believed God would do this, and you still believe. It’s time I have that sort of attitude. Especially now.”

“Yes.” He looked serious, troubled again. “But what if God’s will is for Elise to keep this baby?”

“Then He has a different child for us.” Her strength had to be coming from heaven. It certainly wasn’t her own. “I really believe that, Aaron.”

“Amazing.” He hugged her again. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.” They held each other for another minute before climbing in the car and heading to the hospital. There they took the elevator to their separate floors. Lucy signed in to the maternity ward and checked the charts. She was needed in the NICU again. The heroin-addicted baby had somehow survived, but she was sicker. Pneumonia. Probably from the weeks of morphine. The painkiller meant the infant wasn’t moving much, and the stillness had most likely caused fluid to build up in the baby’s lungs.

Poor thing.

But there was good news, too. Baby Nathan, the preemie born at twenty weeks—just like their little Sophie—was going home today. He had finally reached five pounds! He would need oxygen at night and a monitor to make sure he didn’t stop breathing. But they all agreed Nathan was going to be fine.

Later that afternoon the baby’s parents came with his grandma and grandpa, aunts and uncles. The whole family was crying as they loaded Nathan into his car seat and thanked the nursing staff.

Lucy watched them go, smiling through eyes blurred with tears. God had given Nathan’s family a miracle.

Now she could only pray along with Aaron that God would give them one, too.

? ? ?

THEO COULDN’T REMEMBER the last time they’d had music in their house.

When Vienna was alive, there was always a song playing in the background. Theo had talked to Alma about it the other day. Neither of them had noticed how often their daughter had a playlist on. Dance beats coming from her bedroom or Christian songs from the computer in the den. Sometimes it was just a pop list on her phone.

But their daughter loved music. Most of the time it wasn’t just the song playing, it was Vienna singing along. And Theo and Alma had figured the melodies would last forever. Not for a minute did they think there would be a time when their home would be silent.

The way it was now.

Vienna had only been gone a week but everything about their lives was utterly different. Alma had taken a leave of absence through the end of the school year and Theo had asked for time from his company.

They gave him just three weeks. As if a man could recover from losing his daughter in less than a month.

Theo and Alma had somehow survived two memorials. One at the church and one at Clear Creek High. Alma had found a dozen photos of Vienna—some from dance, some from cheer. One of her just sitting at the dinner table smiling. Her eyes bright and innocent and brimming with a limitless future.

In the days after the accident, Alma had worked on those photos like her life depended on it. She had several of the pictures turned into ten-by-fourteen prints, framed in white vintage wood. At each of the memorials, she set them up on a long table covered with lace. Sarah Jane’s mother did the same thing for her.

Theo remembered watching his wife work, seeing her comb through photos on the computer and on Vienna’s phone, which had been recovered from the accident scene. He caught himself thinking that his wife wasn’t supposed to be doing this until Vienna was a senior. The pictures were supposed to be part of a video they’d play at her high school graduation.

Not her funeral.

A thousand people must’ve hugged them and prayed for them and cried with them in the days after Vienna died. They spilled out the back door of the church and into the hallways at the school. Most of them signed the guest books set out on each of the girls’ tables.

Theo wished he could remember everything they said about his little girl, the compliments and anecdotes and declarations of her sweet spirit and bright light at Clear Creek High. But looking back at the memorial, all he could remember was positioning himself near the table of photographs and convincing himself just for a moment that she was still there.