Page 132 of Even After This
“The good news is we’re in a restroom, so there are plenty of supplies for cries like this,” I say, pointing to the toilet paper. My attempt at humor is lame.
She offers a small smile. “I couldn’t have planned it better myself.”
“How long until I need to go to the airport?” I wipe the tissue under my eyes.
“Two hours.” She releases her hold and smooths her skirt. “I wanted to reroute you to Colorado Springs to salvage the realestate deal, but I called Prissy first.” Her movements stop. “You lost the house, Meredith. I’m sorry.”
The pain is acute, and I swallow it down. “When does Olivia get here?”
“After you leave.”
I try to toss my toilet paper into the trash can, and it bounces off the side. “That’s for the best, I think.” Leaning over, I pick up my missed shot and drop it in the metal container. “Thank you.”
The next two hours pass with encouraging developments. While making morning rounds, Alex’s doctor evaluates her progress. They test her without the ventilator, and she attempts to breathe on her own. Now her medical team will lower the medication dose in increments to see how she reacts. With a decrease in brain swelling and a fully functioning little body, all indicators point to a calming storm. Everyone sits easier after learning the positive prognosis.
The second breath of fresh air comes with the arrival of Harlan’s brother and mother. William doesn’t plan to stay in town long but didn’t want Mama Lee to travel by herself. Gracie, still sick from pregnancy and home alone with the boys, is eager for her husband’s return.
Much to everyone’s surprise, William brought his guitar. Sitting on the end of the bed, he strums a few of Alex’s favorites. Harlan leans against the wall, arms crossed, eyes on his child. Mama Lee holds her granddaughter’s pudgy hand in her weathered one. As I consider each person in the room, I’m reminded of the warmth of belonging.
But I no longer belong to the Holcombes, and the ache is almost unbearable.
When it’s time to get to the airport, Penelope glances at me.
I move to the door, and William asks, “Taking a breather?”
“No, actually.” After readying my purse and luggage, I turn back to him. “I’m heading back to Texas.”
He slides a glance to Harlan, then back to me.
“I was just the backup.” My gentle words are meant only for him. “You’re the ones Alex needs now.”
His piercing gaze is unnerving. “I’m not sure that’s right.”
Mustering up a gracious exit, I square my shoulders. “Good to see you again, William. Keep playing your guitar.” I point to the monitor next to Alex’s bed. “Her heart rate slows down withthe music. And please give Gracie my best.” As I step past him, I squeeze his arm.
Mama Lee reaches across the bed for me. With our arms linked over Alex, I dip down to kiss the sweet girl on the forehead.
In heavy silence, Harlan and I trudge to the elevator.
“I don’t feel right about this.” He speaks his quiet words to the floor.
“Penelope will update me. I’ll keep praying for each of you.” Looking away, I try to gather my resolve. I finally lean in to push the down button. “My presence will cause unnecessary stress.”
He stops my arm. “Not for me.”
“Mostly for you. And for your daughter.” I shrug. “Alex needs her parents here. She needs Olivia to be the best version of herself. And she needs consistency.”
“I just... This is wrong.” With a sigh, he shifts his weight. “I needed you. I didn’t know how much,” he says almost to himself. He takes my hand, caressing it with his thumb. “I know it’s not fair to ask. But everything in me wants to beg you to stay.”
Tears sting my eyes. “I’d do it, Harlan. You know I would. Because I love you, and because I love that little girl in there.” My voice wobbles as I stare into his deep brown eyes. “It will cost me. But I will stay if you ask me to.”
With a tortured expression, he pulls me in, wraps his arms around me, and presses his forehead against mine.
A tidal wave of regret crashes over me.
I should have given him time. The thought steals the breath right out of me.Please,make this excruciatingpain go away.I should have given him more time.
I’m such a hypocrite. I walk around asking everyone else to give me time and space to grieve, but I couldn’t give him more than one night to figure out the rest of our lives.
