Beyond These Walls (The Walls Duet #2)(76)

I held her steady and tried to calm the dog. She and I took a minute to look around the room. Grace, Brian, and little Zander stood by the kitchen. Molly and Marcus sat at the kitchen table beside my mom. Rounding out the group were Nash and Abigail sitting on the couch, smiling at us, as we approached.

“We didn’t want you to feel alone,” Molly said.

“And we thought you might need some things,” Grace added excitedly.

“But you already threw me a shower,” Lailah protested. “Besides . . .” She looked around, the obvious missing bundle in her arms weighing heavily on her heart.

Grace stepped forward, taking Lailah’s hand. “We know you have diapers and a breast pump and everything else you might need when Meara comes home—and she will come home, Lailah, soon.”

Lailah nodded, a deep breath filling her lungs, as I stepped forward to wrap my arm around her waist.

“But I thought you might need other things—for this.” Grace pointed to Lailah’s heart. “To help make the days more bearable.”

With a tug of her hand, Grace pulled Lailah to an open spot on the couch as Sandy followed, placing himself protectively by her side. Grace motioned for me to sit down next to Lailah, so I took a spot on the floor by her feet.

“We all came up with something. I hope you like them,” Grace said.

My mom went first, stepping forward with a simple gift basket, accented in pink. I gave it to Lailah to disassemble. Inside was an assortment of bath products and lotions along with some sort of art kit.

“I remember feeling very . . . well, not myself, let’s just say,” my mom explained, pointing to the bath gel. “I thought these would help you relax when you’re not at the hospital. It’s not always easy to spring back after giving birth, but a little pampering never hurts.”

“And this?” I asked, pointing to the small art kit.

“I had a friend whose granddaughter was in the NICU last year. She told me her daughter made a little name tag for the incubator. It helped make it feel more like home and less like a hospital, I guess. I thought it might be worth a try.”

“Thank you, Mom,” I said, squeezing Lailah’s hand.

I set down the basket in preparation for Grace’s gift.

“You know how much I love scrapbooking, photo books, and so on. Well, I thought this would keep you busy for a while, gathering everything, and it’ll give you something personal to hang up in her room.” Grace stepped forward and held out a large deep frame. “It’s a shadow box. You can put everything in it that reminds you of her—announcements, hospital bracelets, pictures. When she gets older, she can look at it and see just how much she was loved from the very beginning.”

“I love it,” Lailah replied, her fingers slowly tracing the edge of the frame. “It will be perfect in her room.”

I heard her take a deep breath behind me, trying desperately to keep her emotions in check. I knew her struggle. I was battling the same internal war myself. With each gift, I felt the lump in my throat grow bigger and bigger.

We’d expected to come home to an empty dark house, and instead, we’d found it full of warmth, love, and family.

I would never be able to repay them for this.

“We’re next,” Molly said, taking a step forward. Their gift was in a large pink gift bag with matching tissue paper streaming out the top.

Always one to enjoy watching others open gifts more than receiving them myself, I handed it over to Lailah once again and watched her toss pink tissue paper to the floor.

I chuckled in amusement when I saw her face contort into a mixture of horror and bewilderment as she pulled out several large balls of yarn.

“What am I supposed to do with these?” she asked, looking at the soft pink yarn like it was on fire.

“You’re going to learn to knit,” her mother said simply.

“I am?”

“Yes.”

“Do I have a choice?” Lailah looked at the yarn with contempt.

“Well, of course you do. But I think it will be a good hobby to pick up. It’s easy to learn and occupies the mind, and when you’re done, you’ll have a beautiful blanket to keep Meara warm.”

I saw her expression soften slightly as she gazed down at the basic with curiosity.

“Okay, deal. But you have to teach me.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.” Molly smiled.

Lailah set the yarn aside, and I tried not to laugh. Honestly, I couldn’t think of a better gift from her mother. It was thoughtful and caring, and it’d give Lailah a purpose during the time Meara wasn’t with us.

A deep voice bit through the lingering laughter. “I guess it’s time for my gift,” Nash said.

I’d barely had time to greet my old friend since seeing his face as we walked through the door. I was sad to say I hadn’t had many opportunities to see him over the last few months, but seeing him here now meant a lot.

“You didn’t have to do this,” I said, taking the plain brown bag from him with gratitude.

“I know, but I wanted to.”

I peeked in the bag and found an empty glass Mason jar. Picking it up, I glanced up at him for hints.

“Look again,” he urged.

My eyes fell back to the bag, and there, underneath where the jar had been, was a square pad of paper. Still having no idea where he was going with this gift, I looked up for further instructions.