Please remember the name without me having to say Savannah Townsend out loud.
“Hello, Jessica.” The words come out flat and lifeless and leery. “How can I help you?”
The question feels loaded, daunting, and I swallow my frustration at the situation I didn’t ask to be in. I made a mistake in allowing the wrong man into my life, and in the end, I lost everything. Sure, Amelia wouldn’t exist if not for that man, but I also wouldn’t know the sharp pain of loss like I do.
“I’m calling for the same reason I did last time.” I keep my voice friendly and cheerful. No point giving her a reason to end this conversation prematurely. “I’m not asking to be her mother again. I just want to be in her life. To get to see her grow up.” The friendly tone warbles, and an on-the-verge-of-crying tremor slips in.
My daughter’s beautiful voice replays in my head. She sounded so happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for her. “And…and I would love to have a more recent photo of her.”Please tell me that’s not asking too much.
My garden turns blurry, and I close my eyes against the tears.
A strained silence stretches endlessly on the phone. Even the birds in my backyard seem empty of song. I open my mouth to utter something, to beg, to plead, but the words disintegrate in my dry throat.
“Craig is away for a few days. I’ll talk to him once he gets back and see what he thinks.” Her voice is barely more than a scratched whisper.
Please let him be less resistant to the idea than his wife.“Thank you.” The words aren’t whispered, but they are rough like a steel-wool pad, leaving my throat shredded and sore.
Grace doesn’t say anything else. She simply ends the call.
Bailey abandons her game of playing chase with Butterscotch and comes over to my chair. I slide off it, and my knees land on the cobblestones. I wrap my arms around Bailey, close my eyes, and silently sob against her warm body until I’m utterly depleted inside.
I’m being dragged under the surface, and the more I kick to try to break free, the less energy I’ll have to suck in a breath.
What do you see?Robyn’s words from one of our sessions float into my thoughts.
I open my eyes. “I see Bailey sitting next to me, the green grass, pink flowers in the garden. I see the blue sky and the rainbow the sun’s creating through the vase onto the glass tabletop.”
What do you hear?
“I hear a lawnmower, birds chirping, a vehicle driving past. I hear kids giggling and a neighborhood dog barking.”
What do you feel?
“I feel Bailey’s hair running through my fingers, the movement of her chest as she breathes, the warm surface of the cobblestones under my knees. I feel the soft cotton of my T-shirt.” I run my hand over two cobblestones and the long blades of grass poking between them. “I feel the velvety grass.”
I repeat the five-four-three-two-one exercise four more times, repeating one less item for each question with each round. By the time I’m finished, I can breathe easier again.
“Thank you,” I whisper to Bailey and plant my butt back on the chair.
But more than anything, I wish Troy was here to hold me and to kiss away my pain.
An hour later, my phone pings with a text from Grace. There are no words, no answer to my request. It’s simply a photo of a young girl with golden-brown hair and eyes like my own.
I draw in a sharp, hopeful breath.
The picture looks to be fairly recent. Amelia is playing with a black Lab in what appears to be a backyard. She’s not looking at the camera. She’s paying attention to the dog. But the smile on her face, the laughter in her eyes…they’re priceless.
My little girl is more than happy—she’s living her best life.
And that realization brings a new round of tears tomyeyes, my chest two sizes too small.
So many emotions…so many emotions whirl and clash inside me, but I can’t help the grin that tugs on my damp cheeks.
23
JESSICA
August, Present Day
