The Military Wife (A Heart of a Hero, #1)(78)

She didn’t know Darren and Allison back then, but they looked happy. Their love had been tangible the first time Harper had met them. Anything could die, though, no matter how strong.

She ignored the rest of the pictures scattered on the dresser and nightstand and focused on the practicality of packing a small bag with several changes of clothes, underthings, and toiletries.

When she was finished, she stopped in the doorway of Libby’s room first. Libby met Harper’s gaze in the mirror. “We’re not leaving for good, are we?”

In that moment Libby reminded her so much of Bennett. Not in any physical way, of course, but her soul was eons older than her years. The same life experiences yoked Bennett. Hardships faced when they were too young.

Harper sat on the edge of Libby’s bed and gestured her over, but the girl stayed planted out of reach. Lies would only drive Libby further into a shell. “I think you’ll be back. I hope so. Your parents—”

“Are they getting a divorce?” Libby’s voice was mechanical, but her hands were clenched into tight balls at her sides. “My friend David’s parents divorced and he moved away.”

Harper swallowed. “I don’t know, but I do know they love each other despite what’s going on right now.”

Libby dropped her piercing gaze and gnawed her bottom lip, her shoulders slumping. Years sloughed off and she was back to being a kid again, her voice tinny. “Will Sophie really be okay?”

Harper closed the distance and hugged her. Libby’s stiffness melted away and her skinny arms came up around Harper’s back with a grip that squeezed the air out of her. “Once she wakes up, we’ll know.”

“What if she never wakes up?” Libby whispered near Harper’s heart.

“She will.” Like with Darren, Harper abandoned truth and lied for hope. Imagining sassy, sweet Sophie forever locked in sleep was no fairy tale; it was a tragedy.

They stood there until Libby pulled away. “Don’t tell Ryan about Mom and Dad or Sophie. He wants to believe everything is okay.” Libby’s adult-like resignation made tears spring to Harper’s eyes. It wasn’t fair, but life never promised fairness. Life promised nothing.





Chapter 19


Past

The pain, sharper now and drawn out, extended beyond what was tolerable. Harper grabbed hold of the kitchen counter with one hand and pressed at her lower back with the other, her distended belly tight and hard. She was in denial, but she wasn’t an idiot. Ready or not, the baby was coming.

The pains had woken her up in the middle of the night, but she’d done her best to ignore them, attempting to re-create a dreamscape with Noah waiting to hold her and talk to her about the baby and their future together.

That future had been full of promises Noah had broken when he’d gotten himself killed. Underneath the grief was a wellspring of anger that felt all kinds of wrong. She’d known the risks of marrying a SEAL. Except those risks had seemed abstract and unable to touch them. Instead, luck or Fate or God had drawn Noah’s number, and she was left to suffer.

Other women nodded in that special way and murmured a similar message: Noah would live on in the child she was carrying. Harper had wanted to scream at them to get the hell away from her. They didn’t understand. No one understood.

A guttural groan hit her ears as if it had come from someone else. But no, that was her. A few choice words overlay her short bursts of breath.

The shock of losing Noah had faded into an ambivalence about the baby the last month of her pregnancy. The baby was a distraction from her grief, and not a welcome one.

The past few days, Allison and her mom had to remind her to eat and drink. “For the baby,” they’d say. “Think of the baby.” Like she could forget. She had to pee constantly, her back ached, and she couldn’t see her feet. The baby was a constant reminder of what she’d lost.

Her due date had come and gone. Harper had convinced herself she was willing the baby to stay put, but apparently, nature didn’t take cues from Harper’s emotional state.

Another contraction. Dawn light suffused the sky as she puffed and groaned through the strongest one yet. Harper shuffled out of the kitchen. Her mom and Allison were asleep upstairs. She stopped at her mom’s room first and knocked.

The door jerked open. Her mom was already awake and half-dressed, her nightgown bunched around her waist over a pair of jeans. Her face morphed from worry to determination. “It’s time.”

Even though it wasn’t a question, Harper nodded. Her mom jerked her nightgown off and finished dressing in a T-shirt, half tucking it in. Nimble fingers braided hair that was streaked with gray. Tears pricked Harper’s eyes. She’d played in her mom’s hair countless times as a child or sat still while her own hair was braided by those same fingers.

Harper had the urge to crawl under the covers on her mom’s bed and pretend she was ten years old again, her responsibilities at zero and an endless summer of discovery stretching to the horizon.

A contraction had her scrunching around her stomach and grabbing the doorjamb for support. The pain weakened her knees and left her trembling. Her mother brushed Harper’s hair off her sweaty forehead.

“I can’t do this,” Harper gasped in the aftermath.

“Of course you can. And you will. You have no choice but to go forward, sweets.”