Beyond These Walls (The Walls Duet #2)(74)

The first thing I noticed were the wires.

There were so many wires and tubes—in her arms and legs, wrapped around her nose, and taped to her feet. It was horrifying at first. Yet I knew from experience that, sometimes, the road to recovery wasn’t pretty, and without it, I also knew she wouldn’t be here.

And neither would I.

The second thing I noticed was her face, her little cherub face.

Jude was wrong. She wasn’t just beautiful. She was breathtaking—the perfect blending of each of us. As my eyes welled up with tears, I reached toward her, my hands touching the plastic separating us.

Ten tiny toes. Ten perfect fingers.

Somehow, we’d managed to do the impossible.

“Would you like to touch her?” a nurse came over to greet us, her voice calm and soft.

“Can I?” I asked, my eyes never leaving Meara’s side.

She was resting on her back, her head cocked to the side. Her little hands lay high above her in a touchdown position. Seeing her like that, in such a baby-like pose, gave me hope that beyond the wires and tubes clinging to her now, I’d see her outside of here—bigger, healthier, and in my arms.

She wasn’t even supposed to be here. We’d done everything to prevent this day from occurring. But no form of birth control could stop this little one from making her presence known. She’d come bursting into the world, like a bright white comet careening into our lives, and there was no way she could possibly be leaving as quickly as she’d arrived.

No, she was a fighter.

She’d fought for her place in this world, and now, she’d fight to keep it.

The nurse helped me sit up a bit in my wheelchair and explained what to do. I was nervous. I was so afraid I’d hurt my daughter or upset her. I wanted so badly to touch her, comfort her, and feel that she was really here. The little nudger, who had been kicking me for so many months, was alive. I wasn’t awake when she’d been brought into this world, and suddenly, I felt overwhelmed by the fear that I might do something wrong.

I could feel Jude’s soothing presence behind me, supporting me.

“Preemies do very well with constant touch,” the nurse explained. “She can’t be held quite yet, but right now, a gentle warm hand on her stomach will let her know that you’re here, that you’re both here,” she added, looking over to Jude. “And believe me, it will do wonders.”

I nodded, still a bit hesitant but now filled with purpose. If my touch could aid her healing, I would be here around the clock if I had to. I put my shaky hand into the plastic holes of the incubator and reached out for her.

The moment my fingers touched the smooth skin of her belly, tears rimmed my eyes.

My little girl.

Every minute of my life, every second spent in this hospital, had been worth it because it’d led up to this precious moment in time. I felt Jude’s firm hand grasp my shoulder. With my free hand, I reached up and gripped his fingers.

Now . . . now, my life was complete.

THE ELEVATOR DINGED, and I took a brief moment before stepping off.

I’d made my rounds over the past few days as Lailah recovered. I’d picked up pudding at the cafeteria and traded jokes with the staff. I’d even stopped by Human Resources and said hello to Margaret, who had somehow managed to graduate from wool suits to more modern attire. When I had seen the picture frame on her desk of her in the arms of a smiling man, I’d guessed the wool suits had been tossed right around the time the diamond ring on her finger appeared.

Good for her.

I’d visited the cardiology staff and even said hello to some of the ER staff I still knew from my days of working here before switching departments.

Now, there was only one more place to go.

I walked down the familiar hallway, looking left and right, as the memories assailed me. They didn’t carry the same punch as they used to, but my chest still ached from the loss. No matter how much I continued to move forward, a part of me would always remember her . . . miss her.

That was why I had to take this journey, this moment, and spend a few minutes alone with Megan.

I’d stopped asking a long time ago why things turned out the way they did, like why Megan’s life had ended so abruptly and Lailah’s had carried on. I stopped wondering what my life would have been like if Megan and I hadn’t gone to that party, and I hadn’t played that stupid game with her, allowing her to drive instead of me.

Life wasn’t about regret. It was about making the most of it after the dust had settled around your feet.

I looked down at the wooden bench, now marked with the bronze plaque I had installed years earlier.

Life: It goes on.

I breathed out a smile, taking a seat on the bench I’d sat in a thousand times before.

My eyes aligned with the closed door where Megan’s last breath had been taken, where I’d thought my life ended.

It was here where I’d begun my self-imposed imprisonment. Little had I known that it would be my road to freedom.

“Hey, Megan,” I whispered softly as my head fell to my clasped hands. “I know it’s been a while since I was here.” A heavy sigh fell from my lips. “But I haven’t forgotten . . . about us, about this place.”

A nurse walked briskly down the hall, nodding to me, as she passed by. I gathered my thoughts as her footfalls echoed against the floor. I looked up at the door once more.