Beyond These Walls (The Walls Duet #2)(66)

“You’re waiting for the anvil to drop?” she asked, knowing my answer.

“Yeah. I know that sounds bad, but I just keep expecting something bad to happen. I’ve spent hours researching on the Internet. I mean, something has to go wrong, right? So, I just sit around, sucking in my breath, waiting for it to happen.”

“And how does Lailah feel about this?” she asked, opening the refrigerator to pull out a casserole she’d made for dinner.

I watched her peel off the layer of plastic wrap off the top and walk it to the oven. Seeing her do such domestic tasks was still so foreign to me. She’d learned to fend for herself so much in the last few years as Dad had grown sick, and they’d cut back staff to hide his illness. Watching her and Molly put together Christmas dinner had been like seeing a rare bird in flight. It wasn’t that I didn’t think she could cook. I’d just never seen it.

“I don’t know. I feel like we’re just skimming the surface with our conversations. Neither one of us are willing to delve too deep into the future—too scared by the possibilities and the what-ifs. I’m trying to stay positive, trying to keep things as calm and tranquil for her and the baby as possible . . . but here”—I pointed to my temple—“it’s an endless loop of nightmares. I can’t stop them. I wake up, drenched in sweat, trembling, night after night. I can’t stop thinking about what might go wrong, what could go wrong. Jesus, Mom, I could lose her. I could lose them both.” Every emotion I’d kept bottled up for months spilled out of me.

She rushed forward, dinner forgotten, and held me. I purged every worry, every single fear, in the tears that fell onto her shoulders as I clung to her.

Her tears meshed with mine. “Oh, my dear sweet boy. You’ll never lose them. They’re tied to you forever—whether it’s in this life or the next. But I know a thing or two about that girl you married. She’s a fighter, Jude. She might look small, but her heart is ten times the size of most. She’ll battle to the death for this life she’s worked so hard to achieve.”

I nodded, knowing she was right.

Lailah was a fighter, strong and willing to stand her ground against any foe—even death.

“You’re right, Mom. I’m not giving her enough credit. And I’m jumping to conclusions. We’re nearly to five months now, and she’s had nothing but good news from the doctor. I just can’t stop worrying.” I shook my head against her shoulder.

“It’s normal,” she soothed. “When I was pregnant with you, your father insisted I call the office three times a day to check in.”

“Did you?” I asked.

“No.” She laughed. “But then, he got sneaky and started having the staff do it for me without my knowledge.” Her eyes became glassy as she looked down toward the floor. “He was always one step ahead of me.”

“He loved you, more than anything.”

“I know he did,” she answered, smiling. “Let’s get this dinner made.” She quickly swiped the tears from her face, moving toward the refrigerator to pull out items for a salad.

I jumped to my feet to help her. Within a few minutes, we were both chopping vegetables and tossing them into a large bowl when my phone rang.

Wiping my hands on a dish towel, I pulled my cell out of my pocket and saw Molly’s number flashing on the screen.

“Hello?” I answered, my stomach already clenching.

“Jude,” she said, “you need to come home.”

Her voice sounded serious, concerned, frightened.

“Molly, what is it? What happened?”

“It’s Lailah. She’s in the hospital.”

The phone fell from my hand.

The anvil had dropped, and all my fears rushed back to haunt me.

DEAR JOURNAL,

Hey, old friend.

Long time, no talk. No write maybe? Well, anyway, it’s been a while.

I guess I shouldn’t feel bad. You aren’t real. But you were there when I needed you.

A friend when there weren’t any. A gentle listener when I needed to purge everything in my anxious soul.

Yet I do feel bad—that is, for abandoning you.

As life moved on and the world expanded beyond the tiny scope of this hospital, I kind of forgot about the great friendship I’d developed within the pages of this journal—and the many before it.

Long before pudding or placeholders, you were my rock, the only comfort I knew beyond family. You held me together when all I wanted to do was fall apart.

When nurses or patients left the hospital over the years, promising to write and keep in touch, I never held any ill will toward them when the letters or the calls began to cease. I knew life was better outside these walls—or at least, I hoped it was. It had to be. Because what else would I be fighting for?

Turns out, it is everything and more.

Love, laughter, passion, frustration, and the freedom to experience a hundred other emotions in a single minute.

The greatest solace and strength of my life.

Now, I know what I’m fighting for, and I’ve never been more scared, which is why I’m turning to you—my original confidant and friend. Because as much as I love my husband and family, I could never tell them how terrified I am, how every single fear I’ve imagined took one step closer into reality tonight.