“Rebecca wasn’t ready.”
“That was her decision.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t. Because apparently you decided for me too.”
“Carol, I was trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
He hesitated.
“From losing her again.”
I stared at him.
“You let me believe she was dead.”
“I thought if we told you and she refused to see you…”
“Then I would’ve known my daughter was alive!”
My voice echoed through the office.
“Do you understand that? You watched me keep grieving a death that never happened.”
David’s eyes filled.
“I was afraid.”
“So was I. For 36 years.”
Nobody answered.
I looked at Michael.
“How did we get from Rebecca not wanting to meet me to David standing upstairs holding her baby?”
Michael explained.
After their first conversations, he and Rebecca had stayed in contact.
Slowly.
Texts at first.
Then phone calls.
Eventually, coffee.
She was cautious, but she liked Michael.
She’d grown up as an only child, and discovering she had three half-brothers overwhelmed her.
Michael hadn’t told his younger brothers yet because Rebecca asked him not to.
Then she told him she was pregnant.
The baby’s father wasn’t involved.
Michael became her emergency contact.
Yesterday evening, Rebecca had gone into labor.
Early that morning, complications developed.
Michael had called David.
“And Dad came here?”
Michael nodded.
“Rebecca knew he was coming.”
“Did she know he was going to call me?”
Silence.
I looked at David.
“Did she?”
“No.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
One more person whose choice he’d made for them.
“Then why did you?”
David’s voice broke.
“Because I saw Grace.”
He wiped his eyes.
“I saw that little girl, and all I could think about was you.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“I’ve watched you keep that pink blanket for 36 years.”
My throat tightened.
David knew about the blanket.
I’d shown it to him before Michael was born.
I’d bought it while I was pregnant at 17.
After I was told my baby had died, I couldn’t throw it away.
Years later, after marrying David, I’d imagined using it if we ever had a girl.
Michael was born.
Then Nathan.
Then Luke.
After Luke, I packed it away for good.
David continued.
“I knew Rebecca wasn’t ready. I knew you were going to be furious with me. But when they put Grace in my arms, I couldn’t keep doing it.”
“So you called me.”
“Yes.”
“And told me she was ours.”
“I meant our granddaughter.”
“You could’ve started with that.”
A weak, miserable smile crossed his face.
“I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
That made two of us.
