Redemption(74)

I’d sealed my fate.

Dan hadn’t said a word. His breathing remained smooth, but the vein in his neck pulsed a rapid rate. He hadn’t let me go, but I figured he was trying to figure out how to get out of this unscathed. The truth was, I hadn’t given him that option. I hadn’t presented him with the truth early enough for him to make an informed decision because I never imagined we’d get to this point. Then once we were here, I was so afraid of losing him, I believed I could hide my demons.

I didn’t know how long we sat there. I didn’t know how Dan resisted asking questions. I didn’t know what he told his friends about our absence from the rest of their day. The only thing I did know was Dan had taken us both back to our house. He’d helped me inside and up the stairs where he drew me a bath and helped me undress. He turned to leave the room, but I stopped him.

My fingers spun the ring on my hand nervously. It seemed like déjà vu. Except he wasn’t Matt, we weren’t in the kitchen, this wasn’t Texas, and I hadn’t just murdered my son. But the agony in my heart was the same. I pulled the diamond over my knuckle and held it out. “I need to return this.”

“Why? Do you not want to marry me?”

“I do. But I need to know you want to marry me.”

“How about I go get us some towels and a bottle of wine. And we can talk about it together in a warm bath?” He left the room without taking the diamond.

I slid the ring back on my finger and waited. “Um. Yeah, okay.” I stood there like a daft duck, naked with my arms by my side. I reached up to tuck my hair behind my ear and wondered how on earth I’d ever tell this story.





20





Chapter Twenty





I stood in the spot he left me in when he returned with towels from the dryer. He set them on the counter, turned off the water in the now full tub, and removed his clothes. I watched in a trance until he was before me with nothing on. With my hand in his, he stepped over the side of the bathtub and then helped me in. The garden tub was made for two, and I nestled myself between his legs while he leaned back. The bubbles created a cover, hiding our bodies except for the parts of us not under the water. My fingers fidgeted nervously with the white foam until he took my hand and wound his fingers between mine.

He might have been waiting for me to start, but I didn’t know what to say. The silence was painful, and I ran through the scenarios of how this might play out…none of which ended well.

“What was his name?” The words of inquiry fanned out against my skin like a warm blanket. They were gentle and softly spoken, inviting me to open up about a piece of me I hadn’t shared with anyone in years.

“Joshua.” His name passed my lips like a prayer.

“What was he like?” Dan’s fingers left my hands to stroke my forearms. It wasn’t erotic. His touch soothed an ache I longed to rid myself of.

I sighed wondering if this was a safe place to share. Not the bathroom, but Dan’s attention. There were no longer any other options. I either answered his questions, or I left—there was no in between. “The way most babies are I suppose. Sweet. Gentle. The way he smiled always left me in a puddle.” It wasn’t easy to describe someone I’d had so little time with. He couldn’t talk, he couldn’t walk—he just was. “Everything about him was perfection. But I guess most mothers feel that way about their children.”

He hummed against my ear in appreciation, as though he understood exactly what I meant.

“I used to love putting him to bed and watching his bright eyes grow weary and hooded. The way his lids would drop with exhaustion. He was too young to fight sleep, but a lazy grin always took over just before he was out. Those moments, that little blip in time, was always perfection.”

Dan allowed me to savor the memory. He didn’t push for information or demand answers. He acted as though he were truly intrigued by the part of me he’d missed out on. I wanted to love him more for his understanding but kept anticipating anger. But Dan knew me well. He knew if he waited, gave me the time, the words would start to flow without his prying.

“He was three months old when he passed away. I didn’t save much when I moved from Texas. I went through the three boxes I had left when I packed my house to move in here. There were only a handful of things I saved. A couple pictures, the porcelain box, and the gown and rosary. That’s all that’s left in this world to remind me he ever existed.”

His hand traveled up my arm, across my collarbone, and between my breasts. With his pointer finger, he traced tiny circles just above my heart. “Every bit of him is still here, Lissa. And his memory can live on through other people if you’re willing to share him.” His suggestion lingered in the thick silence. “I know I’d love to hear everything you want to tell me about him.”

I didn’t know what to say about Joshua. I couldn’t tell Dan about the time I took him to Disney world, or his first day of Kindergarten. There was no first Christmas, no birthday. All of my memories were of the way he looked at me, his coos, how he changed my life. None of which I could adequately express with words. Three months was nothing. Less than a hundred days from life to death. People went on diets that lasted longer than that.

Even Dan couldn’t contain the curiosity. I’d never had to admit to anyone other than Rob what took place. Everyone in Wimberley, and hell all of Austin knew. Most of them had known before I had.