Lydia died in childbirth. Peter watches her slip away, using her last bit of energy and life giving him the greatest gift he would ever receive. She wasn't really gone, not really. He saw her eyes staring back up at him as he looked at his beautiful daughter. Saw her strawberry blonde hair as a tuft on the top of Abbey's head. Abbey, Lydia's middle name, and also a name she had always loved would forever serve as a reminder of the woman that he loved with all of his heart. She had held his hand through her last breath, a loving embrace he would feel forever. He looked down at his daughter, and all he saw was Lydia. Lydia's dimples. Lydia's eyes, even down to the same cheery sparkle in them. Abbey smiled up at Peter, all dimples. Peter picks her up, cradling her in his arms. She clutches the material of his V-neck, causing him to smile down at her.
"Daddy's got you… You're safe now baby…" He cooes down to her, as she nuzzles into his chest and falls into a light sleep. He sits down in the plush TV chair Lydia had bought him for his birthday last year. He sits, and sees one of Lydia's many shoes on the floor across the room. A shoe she'll never wear again. A shoe that will either sit in a closet or storage unit forever, or would be worn by a stranger through Goodwill. Seeing the shoe makes Lydia's passing finally completely dawn on him, and his walls come down. He feels the grief of not having her with him, a cold, hard grief that replaced the warm feeling in his heart that he got from seeing her every day. His tears flow down his face like a river, and he's shaking from his sobbing. He holds Abby, the last living part of Lydia, closer to his chest. He finds a small comfort in holding her small form. She awakens, felling her father rocking back and forth. She reaches up and places one of her tiny hands on his cheek, as if sensing that's what he needs. Her touch instantly calms him, just as Lydia's had. God, he was going to miss her. He didn't know how he was going to raise Abbey all by himself. It was going to be hard, but he'd manage. He had to. For her.
Later that night he put Abbey down in her crib - what used to be Lydia's crib, in the nursery Lydia had designed. She had insisted on painting it herself, despite Peter warning her not to. He remembered her with sea foam green paint on her shirt, which was stretched out from her pregnant belly. The memory brought a sad smile to Peter's face. He kissed his little girl on the forehead and exited the room.
He immediately fell into bed, his face smashed into the pillow. Lydia's pillow. It still smelled like her – a smell Peter could only describe as "home". He lost himself in her scent, breathing in the smell of his lost love. He was lost in a daze. He was ripped out of his blissful daze by the sound of crying coming from his daughter's room just down the hall. He jumps up, running into her room and over to her, picking her up. He does everything he can think of to calm her down, make her happy again, changing her, rocking her, feeding her, even singing to her. Nothing he does works. After about ten minutes, it dawns on him what she needs.
She needs her mom. She needs the one thing that Peter couldn't give her. She needs to hear her mother's voice, feel the warmth of her embrace. And it absolutely broke his heart that he could never give her that.
But he could give her the gift of her mother's voice. He took her to his room with him, picking up his cell. He had kept all of her voicemails, from the ones asking him to pick up tea from the store to the ones telling him news about the baby. He played a voicemail, putting his phone on speaker. The minute Lydia's voice blared out from the speakers, Abbey stopped crying, and relaxed. She even smiled a little, closing her eyes in peace. Hearing Lydia's voice brought tears to Peter's eyes, already missing it.
The last thing she had said to him was "I love you so much. Take care of Abbey for me." And then she fell into a sleep that she would never wake from.
Once Abbey was asleep again, he placed her back into her crib, and sat down in the rocking chair in the corner of the room. He remembered how they first met, her little dog wandering into his yard. He hated that damn dog. But he tolerated it, because he loved Lydia. When her dog had died, he was the one she went to. He hugged her through her tears, comforted her until she was calm. That was also the night that she kissed him for the first time. After he had consoled her, she thanked him, and kissed him lightly.
They dated for a couple years, and he had finally proposed. They had a winter wedding, a beautiful wedding out in the woods on the Hale property. They went on an Alaskan cruise for their honeymoon, a gift from Derek and Cora.
He dreamt of her that night. He dreamt of her holding Abbey, kissing her cheek and holding her hand. He dreamt of Lydia crying as she dropped Abbey off for her very first day of school. He dreamt of having "Family Night" with Lydia and Abbey, and Derek and Cora. He dreamt of Abbey's graduation, Lydia holding his hand through the ceremony. He woke up after that, the sun filtering through the blinds and into his eyes. He yawned and stretched, his back sore from sleeping in the chair all night. The house felt cold without her presence. The sun was shining but his world was dark. The heat was on in the house but his heart was cold. He had no one to warm it anymore.
He had Abbey, though, and that made it worth it. She made going through life easier for him.
Every day she grew, and every day she looked more and more like his love. The only reminder he had left of her. He was there for her first day of school, and he cried as he drove off. He was there for Family Night, with Abbey and his Niece and Nephew. He watched her proudly as she walked across the stage in robes, receiving her diploma.
He never dated again. There was only two women in his life. His heart was only big enough for two. And those spots would be forever taken by Lydia and Abbey, the only women he would ever love.