Laurel looks up at the sky, the clouds moving quickly overhead, casting shadows of the sun trying to pry itself out, instead shielded by grey that seemed to soak into every facet of her life lately.
She trudges up the hill, having memorized the steps, each painful one reverberating up her leg, stabbing her heart with every visit.
The baby in her arms gurgles up at her, her eyes tightly closed, but her hand waving wildly out of her blanket. Her dark hair peeking out from under her little hat, and her face scrunched with dimples at the disturbance of movement.
"Are we going to see Daddy?" She whispers down at the baby, her voice soothing the small girl, her skin brand new, never kissed by the sun, and unlikely to do so today with the weather.
"Almost there," she says, more to herself than her daughter. She spots the tree, the indicator of where the headstone lay, and she makes her way to the placer, her boots sinking into the grass, causing her steps to move heavy, ripping from her her strength, making her work for the journey.
She she stops in front of the stone, the engraved words stare up at her, as if etched onto her skin, each mark piercing her with a scar that bears the burden of what happened.
Kneeling down, she rests on her heels, precariously dangling between standing tall and sinking to the ground in a heap. Caught in between dealing and making it through, walking a fine line of drowning into the abyss.
Her hand reaches out, the baby resting in her left, and her fingers trace the letters, her index finger placing itself in the crease of the stone, the defined edges demanding not all of her could fit, separating her from the one whose name she felt.
Bowing her head, she sees her daughter's eyes are open, only briefly, not focused on her mother, but instead the object of her mother's tears, that drip down her face. When they began, she's not sure, but they streak her face, cascading down onto her baby's blanket.
She'd been making her way out here for quite some time, in various stages of her pregnancy, the hike up the hill having become more difficult in the later months, but she couldn't stop. They had predestined meetings, times she couldn't let go of, pieces of mind that lent her the bit of strength it took to get through the rest of the week.
This was the first time she'd brought the baby, terrified that it was unsafe, not wanting to jeopardize the infant, so innocent, so tiny, so fragile and unaccustomed to the life she'd been brought into.
Her hand comes out to the top of the headstone, using it to lift herself up, before circling around, presumably checking the flowers placed in the small vases on the sides, blue adorning the otherwise grey slate.
Her hand grasps the object, quickly moving to place it in her daughter's blanket, fighting back the smile.
Laurel glances back, seeing if anyone is around, before rocking the baby, hunching over closely, carefully taking out the small piece of paper she'd grabbed. Her actions from afar, looking like she was settling the baby, up close she carefully unfolds the paper with her right hand, settling the note over the girl's stomach.
This time she lets her smile shine, placing a gentle kiss on her baby's forehead, before turning around, sinking to the ground, her back leaning up against the stone, extending her legs, letting them cross at the ankle.
For the first time in almost forever, she allows herself to feel the joy that had been knocking at her door nine months ago, doom threatening to steal her grin, and locking her emotions in a pendulum of waiting, wondering, with a level of facade only mastered from the professor that had taught her everything.
She couldn't explain the logistics, the plan having long since been more about when he was coming back as to how he went away. But she knew that these meetings once shrouded in grief, had warped into something full of hope.
The paper words of someday, someday, maybe not standing well with her, the time passing by with the expansion of her waist, only to drop back to a flat zero of heartbreak after the birth. He'd missed it. The birth of their daughter. Her first breath, the first sight of a pair of dimples adorning her face, matching his own.
She sits there, humming a soft tune, before she hears a rumble of thunder approaching them. She moves her head, her hair sliding against the stone, getting stuck in the engraved areas, as she glances up with a scrunched face, brows furrowed.
Looking back down, she sees her daughter becoming restless, hunger winning out.
"Okay, say, 'Bye, Daddy. We miss you.'" She murmurs into her, her words whispery soft against her.
Carefully, standing, she places a kiss to her hand, before waving goodbye into the wind.
A knowing smile ghosting her face as she makes her way down the hill, cradling her daughter closer.
The eyes of Wes trailing her down the hill, having decided to risk the chance of someone seeing him, hoodie pulled over him, the trees and brush hiding his location, for a just a glance, one look at his daughter up close. The picture he'd been given not doing justice to the beauty she carried at such a young age, no doubt from her mother.
A shy smile beams from him, as Laurel checks over her shoulder, the smile he hadn't seen in some time emanating from her, the note buried in their daughter's blanket, resting deeply in her heart.
"It's real. Soon."
