Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“She’s dead, Jordyn. All that opening your legs with that old man. You must’ve given the governor children? Yeah, I bet you thought you were special, giving that walking skeleton children,” Rocket had said, holding our baby at arms distance.
“What are you talking about? I’ve never …” I’d clutched the side of the couch. The pain wouldn’t allow me to get up. Take her and cuddle her to my breast.
He’d snarled, “I thought this would be our first baby. It’s my first baby, just not yours. That’s why she came out dead. You know, I was kidding about giving her up. But nothing I ever want goes right, anyway.”
Though it felt like I’d pushed all my insides out onto that couch, the pain in my heart seemed hollower. I stuttered, “R-Rocket, please, just rub her chest softly. Maybe she just needs encourage—”
“Clean yourself up while I take this down to the dumpster.”
Rocket had always ran hot and cold. But that day? The North Pole had nothing on him. And I had never forgotten the chill.
Usually, it was my own, raw, broken sound that yanked me out of the memory of losing our child, snapping me out of the darkness. Sometimes, it wasn’t even the crying that pulled me back—it was the sting of the backhand of a past owner who didn’t want to hear it. Today marked a new dawn. The emotive sobs that cracked through the silence didn’t come from me.
And still, my heart clenched.
A new kind of ache.
A new kind of dawn.
Jamie’s mother cried and hugged her son as if she still saw the frightened little boy we both once knew. I stepped forward and placed my hand on her back. Something fluttered in my chest. I wanted to speak life into the deep pit of despair that surrounded her, and I could imagine that over the years, this broken, sorrowful stance is how she came at him.
Wanting to bring about hope when everything about her screamed, hopeless. A part of me could see why he ran away from his family. Not because of the past that broke this once sweet, innocent kid. But a mother’s desire to make it all better when she couldn’t. People couldn’t change others. Couldn’t wipe away the pain as sure as my palm over her heaving back couldn’t help. As sure as me wanting my legs wrapped around Jamie in tender release couldn’t redeem what I’d lost. A man and sex did not constitute salvation.
Jamie gave me a look of apology.
She needs this, I mouthed.
His eyes said, I know.
As I rubbed a hand over Mrs. MacKenzie’s back, and her legs caved while she clung to Jamie, I felt others watching. My eyes flicked to the open door.
Leith. Camdyn. Brody. And the man who probably regurgitated Brody almost forty years ago, sporting a white peppered beard and the same shoulders that could go to war. Two more men were there. One had a faux-hawk fade, a Dodgers cap in his hands, and the other, who had Jamie’s eyes, had a leaner build. The men, big and strong, seemed brought low by the display.
“I’m okay, Mam.” Jamie, his usual deep voice, was brought low too.
“I’m so sorry, Jamie.” She gained her bearings, though not letting go. She seemed to support her weight now. “I just missed me son, is all.”
“I know.” From over her head, Jamie glanced at me. “Mam, I need to introduce you to someone. Jordyn, you can call my mother Nan. She takes in everyone, so Nan is what the entire neighborhood calls her.”
“You’re one of the weans?” Eyes dripping with tears locked on me. And then déjà vu like I’d never seen it before embraced me tightly. Although I didn’t know a mother’s love, kiss, or hug, I’d felt it a mere moment ago when she hugged Jamie, like she wrapped her arms around me too. Now, I knew this type of love. After another tight embrace, she pulled me at arm’s length. “All I knew … All I knew about was Jamie. I wasn’t in my right mind. Jesus, I prayed like I never had before, but something in me never set right. Instead of questioning Nolan, I focused every effort on my sweet Jamie. I’m so sorry.”
Looking her in the eye, I said, “You were exactly what Jamie needed.”
“I was?” Her eyes lit up. A hunch told me the confident woman had a decades-old sore spot, and I’d just mended it.
“Yes, Mam,” Jamie sighed. “I couldn’t wish for more. Suppose I felt something was wrong too. Therapy wasn’t cutting it. Nothing did.”
“Until you tried …” She shook her head. “I called Tatum. Asked the dear girl why she’d not reached out to us. We’d had that conversation about the man who abused her when she was little, but I called her again. Gave Tatum an earful for getting you involved.”