A few minutes later, everything is set. Taylor will drive me to Eugene tomorrow morning and tattoo my forearm.
“I’ll sketch a few designs based on what you’ve told me, and we can go from there,” she tells me.
I can’t stop grinning, excited at the idea.
“I didn’t realize you’ve been thinking of getting a tattoo,” Simone says after I end the call.
“I hadn’t. Or maybe I had. I fell in love with Troy’s tattoo the moment I saw it. Even more so when he told me it symbolizes his friendship with Colton.” The sentiment behind it is beautiful. The maple leaf tattoo with the mountain scenery is beautiful. “Maybe deep down I wanted to get one but didn’t realize it until now.” I take another bite of my samosa.
“I think it’s a great idea. I have a tattoo on my hip, symbolizing my daughter. That way she’s always with me.” She touches her left hip, and her fingers linger for a beat. Her hand drops away, and she picks up her glass. “You might also consider grief therapy. Lucas and I have been talking to a therapist to help us deal with the grief of losing our daughter.”
“But Amelia is still alive.”
“She’s alive, but given your situation, it makes sense that you’re grieving her. She’s no longer part of your life, but she’s very much with you.” Simone places her hand over her heart. “Grief counseling might help you adjust to losing her.”
“Even though I’m not ready yet to fully give her up?” I know I shouldn’t hold out hope…but today—twenty-four hours from when she turns eight—it seems hard to fathom that Craig will truly keep her from me for the rest of her life.
“I hope your brother-in-law and his wife change their minds. But if they don’t, grief counseling might help you come to terms with that.”
My chest tightens at the thought of Grace and Craig not changing their minds—and a chunk of the hope crumples like a dry leaf. There’s a strong possibility they won’t change their minds, a reality I can’t do anything about even if I wish it weren’t true. I can’t blame Craig for feeling the way he does. I’m not my late husband or his brother, Lincoln, but that doesn’t mean Craig’s feelings are any less real. “I’ll bring it up with my therapist when I see her next,” I tell Simone. I have an appointment to see Robyn in eleven days—on September second.
“It’s helping me and Lucas. I lost my uterus due to the car accident. It means I can’t get pregnant and carry Lucas’s baby. That option was taken from me. Therapy is also helping me come to terms with that.”
“I’m not looking to have any more kids.” Our situations are so different. I hate how that option was stolen from Simone.
“And there’s nothing wrong with that. Focus on grieving the loss of your daughter. Not every woman wants to have kids. And not every woman who wants kids can conceive them.”
I used to dream of having more than one child, but that dream was from before I was married. Back when I dreamed of having a great career and three kids and a wonderful husband who adored us.
Now, I’m left with shattered fragments of that dream, unsure what to do with them.
Troy wants kids. Troy would be a great father.
The memory of Nova playing with him at the beach plows into my thoughts. It’s the same thought I’ve had previously—only now it’s more painful.
More painful because this time I’m in love with Troy.
In love with him, but unable to give him what he really wants…what he deserves.
38
ANGELIQUE
March 1944
France
Spring isa time of hope and new beginnings. This first day of the season is no exception. The French who oppose the German presence are hoping the war will end soon with the Allies the victors. The resistance and SOE agents are hoping D-Day will soon be upon us.
And I hope my baby is all right, and I’ll soon get word from Johann that he is safe.
I gaze out of the flat window, the longing to be out there and doing resistance work strong. Henri recently decided I am not to participate in any more missions. For now, all I’m permitted to do is go for short walks, not get noticed by the Gestapo, and look like every other pregnant woman in France who prays her baby will be all right.
Henri has apprised Baker Street of the situation since he is down one agent. They agreed it’s too dangerous to evacuate me out of France. I need to wait until the baby is born.
The one piece of news Baker Street hasn’t been told about is that the baby’s father is The Wolf—the German soldier Allaire told them about when I had questioned Johann’s loyalty to Germany and Hitler. They also do not know—as far as I am aware—that The Wolf has deserted the German Army.
“Do you need anything?” Lise asks, wrapping her faded silk scarf around her neck. “I won’t be long.”
