Then he said, “Kiss me, Nan.” Because kisses make everything better.
And he was right. Kisses make everything better. We will be all right.
I look up from the page, and find Henry staring at me intently. “She was pregnant,” I say.
“Yes. And we were poor as two church mice. When nothing else was certain, I was one hundred percent sure that I loved her with everything in me. As long as you know that, you can get through anything.”
I heave out a sigh. “I wish it was that easy.”
“It is. It is that easy.”
He turns the pages until he finds the one he wants to hear next. “Read that one,” he says.
Dear Diary,
The bleeding didn’t start until after Henry left for work. I tried not to be too worried, but inside, I was terrified. What if something happened to this baby? When I first found out I was pregnant, I didn’t want it. What kind of a person has thoughts like that? Me, apparently. I had thoughts like that. Then I felt the first cramp.
I took the kids to Mrs. Barstow, and went to the doctor. It was too late. No matter how desperately I wanted to hold on to that life, it had already left me. I might not have wanted it when I first found out, but I wanted it more than anything in that moment. Sadly, it wasn’t meant to be, and our third child would never be held in our arms.
The doctor called Henry at work, and he came right over. My heart was in shreds when Henry walked into the room. The nurse spoke to him for a moment, and I saw him place his hand over his heart. His knees appeared to wobble, and he reached for a chair to steady himself. He held that pose with his eyes closed, taking deep breaths. Then he straightened his spine, walked over to me, and kissed me. He kissed me right there in front of the doctors and nurses. He kissed me until my toes curled and the hurt was replaced by love.
We might not have held that child in our arms, but we will always hold him in our hearts.
I look up, unable to speak.
Henry wipes a tear from his cheek. “Sometimes, life gives you lemons. All you can do when that happens is pucker up and kiss someone.”
I laugh a watery laugh. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You had to go through your own pain. You think you’re the first woman to be scared of a pregnancy?” He snorts. “I can assure you that you’re not. You’re also not the first one to lose a baby.” He rubs the back of my hand. “For years later, the rest of her life, even after the Alzheimer’s stole all the tiny little memories from her, you could ask my Nan how old that baby would be, and she could tell you the number. A mother never forgets. Never.” He pats the back of my hand. “You’ll never forget, either, but you have to forgive yourself.”
I nod. “I think I’m tired of all this crying.”
“So, stop it,” he says.
And just that simply, I stop it.
He yawns. “I think I’m going to take a nap. Why don’t you sit over there and read?” He pushes Nan’s diary toward me. “Just skip the juicy bits, or I won’t be able to look you in the face tomorrow.” He chuckles, but his eyes are already closing.
I go sit down in the chair Faith was using and lift my feet to rest on the edge of the bed. I begin to read about their epic love story. I say epic, because it didn’t end, not even when she died. It lasts even now. There were no “juicy bits.” There was only love and devotion, and a whole lot of kissing.
Wren
On the way home, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and find a text from Friday.
Friday: I have your tattoo drawn up, if you’d like to come by and check it out.
Me: Are you there now?
Friday: I am. Come on by.
Me: Be there in a few minutes.
I hate to say it, but I kind of hope that Ryan won’t be there. I don’t want to talk to Mick’s brother. I love him, but I need a day or so to process, to come up with a plan. I don’t plan to let Mick walk away from me. That’s the only plan I have so far. I’m not going to lose him, even if I have to swallow my pride and ask him for a second chance. Henry and I had sat and talked for hours, and he gave me some wisdom as only Henry can do. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s been playing cupid all this time, with him getting Mick drunk, and then continually butting in while we were on our trip.
Now that I think about it, I probably should have told Friday that I don’t need the tattoo right now, since it’ll be a couple of weeks until I know how things are going to turn out. I don’t want to get a tattoo while I’m pregnant, or if I could be pregnant. But a tiny little part of me still wants to see what she came up with.
I push through the door of the tattoo shop and find all five Reed brothers staring at me. Logan has Emily in his lap, and they’re listening to Pete tell a story about a boy named Gonzo, while Sam peels a wrapper off a cupcake. Emily reaches over and tries to steal it from him, and he pretends to bite her fingers. Paul intervenes, taking the cupcake from Sam, holding his palm against Sam’s forehead as he pretends to thrash. Then Paul places it into Emily’s hand. She gives it an exaggerated sniff, and then opens her mouth to take a bite, and Matt swoops in and steals it from her. He shoves the whole thing in his mouth and talks around it. “Thanks,” he mutters around a mouthful of chocolate.