He shook his head. Glanced at her and felt the melancholy fade. “Nothing. Just thinking about how much there is to do...”
“If you aren’t ready to get rid of her things, just say so, Jamie. We can pack them up and you can store them...”
Because to hang them in the new house would just be weird.
Thing was, he didn’t even want to.
He was ready to get rid of them.
And felt like crap for feeling that way.
Moving on from grief was not for lightweights.
“I’m ready,” he told her. And added, “I wasn’t, but I am now.”
Standing in the doorway of the closet, he watched as Christine moved hangers along one wall of clothes. “These are some really nice things,” she said. “You sure there’s no one you know who wants them?”
He shook his head. “Emily and I...kind of lost touch with our friends after the accident. People cared, they stopped by, but it wasn’t like we could do much. And after she died...a couple of her closest friends offered to help me clear out her stuff, but... I didn’t want them around. I know that sounds awful, but their pity...and their grief... I didn’t want the first and didn’t know how to handle the second.”
It seemed so long ago now. A different lifetime.
“Is there anything here that you want to keep? Anything that means something special to you?”
It all meant something special. Even the shirts he couldn’t really even remember her wearing. He’d saved a few items, all of the good jewelry, her wedding dress, in case he had a girl who would want it. Or a son whose wife might. Maybe even a granddaughter someday...
“Please, take it all. It would make me feel good to know that other women are taking pleasure from it,” he told her. “I know it would make Emily happy. The shoes, belts, costume jewelry, anything you think they’d appreciate and use.” He grabbed a box. Started taping one end.
He wanted it gone.
He had their baby on the way. Would always love and honor her as the mother in their little family. And as his best friend and soul mate.
But the daily living, with Emily first in his thoughts—that was done.
He was letting go.
* * *
On Friday of that week, four weeks after implantation, Christine had another appointment with the fertility specialist. She’d be followed by both Dr. Adams and her ob-gyn until twelve weeks or so, when the former passed off all care to the latter. Until then, the two were consulting with each other.
Christine liked Dr. Adams quite well. She just wasn’t as familiar with her and wasn’t quite as relaxed as she’d liked to have been when her name was called. Jamie was going to get his first glimpse of his baby with an early ultrasound—something Dr. Adams always did at four weeks after implantation—and Christine had purposely chosen the primary colored flowered skirt and short-sleeved yellow cotton top on purpose because of the elastic waistband and ease of raising the shirt. And maybe, just maybe she’d chosen the outfit because Jamie was going to be there and she felt like she looked good in it. She hoped not, but couldn’t deny that she’d wanted to feel good about herself.
And he’d be the most likely reason. The ultrasound technician sure wasn’t going to care.
Jamie, who looked too—everything—in his tan pants and black short-sleeved shirt, stood as soon as she did.
He walked just behind her as she followed the technician down the hall and into a fairly large shadowed room. This was it.
Visual proof that there was actually a little body forming inside her. Hopefully confirmation that, so far at least, it was growing as expected. Was healthy.
And then came that moment when she had to get up on a table and have her belly bared down to her pubic hair while Jamie was watching.
Not the way she’d like to be getting partially naked with the man. Or have him see her naked.
But the only way that it was ever going to happen.
She wanted to be relieved about that.
* * *