Chapter 14: Another Sunrise
The next day passes in a blur and it's Friday night before she knows it. The events of Thursday with Dominick showing up again and conversing in her living room about the picnic with Elliot slowly ramble through her mind as she gently tosses and turns in bed.
The day had begun as usual, the early morning air and sunlight creeping into her bedroom just as the sun peered from over the horizon. But, as the hours went on, she had turned over on her side away from the window, alone in her bed, letting golden light hit her back and provide a warmth that seeped through her white night gown.
Before she knew it, the day was half gone. But she didn't care, she just wanted to lay there, sleep.
Last night, after the baseball game Elliot had been watching went off, they had watched black and white movies on one of the old time movie channels until two this morning, neither wanting to go to sleep, yet not exactly knowing why. They had curled up on the couch in their respected corners after finishing their dinners and conversations about the next day.
Maybe it was that lingering fear in the pit of their stomachs that this whole thing, this time spent together could possibly come crashing down without warning. Maybe that had kept them up past midnight. They're always waiting for the other shoe to drop. It's just the way things are with them.
He wants to stay. She wants him to.
It's past 11 p.m. on Friday evening and Olivia still dreads going to the town picnic in a few hours, just a little. Elliot has never openly admitted he'd like to do things with her, or go places with her, well at least he hadn't in the past. During the many police functions they'd attended, they would make their rounds with colleagues and friends before finding their way together at some point then leaving together or separately.
Something like the town picnic is out of their realm though. It'll be attended by people she barely knows, but who knew Brady and they tend to always ask her questions she doesn't feel like answering with his death still fresh in her heart.
Something about having Elliot hear about things that have been going on, have gone on in her life, without her initiating the conversation scares her a little. She's not hiding anything from him, it's just, she's not ready for him to know how much she had thrived without him. She didn't want to, it just happened. When she really thinks about it, she realizes she's going to need all the rest she can get. Mentally and physically.
Since the night before, the night of movie watching with her former partner, best friend, she's been in bed all day, with the exception of pulling herself up, grunting and groaning, so she could go the bathroom several times through the night and early morning.
Elliot had peeked through her door at around noon asking if she was ever going to get up. She had shook her head no and had pulled the cover over her head and slumped down even more underneath the comforters. After getting enough sleep to make up for staying up the night before, she still hadn't wanted to get up and move.
She just felt, melancholy, exhausted.
She'd heard him chuckle softly and then say, "I didn't want to either. Sleep, rest as long as you need. I'm gonna make some coffee though."
When she had pulled the cover down to raise her eyebrows in question, he'd grinned. "Doesn't matter what time it is to me. Gotta have some caffeine." Then, she had known he'd slept just as long as she had in his own room. She'd been fluctuating between coffee and green tea in the months before she'd gotten pregnant, but since she found out she was expecting, she hasn't been able to drink either one. She would have given anything to have had some coffee earlier, to perk up a bit so she could go down and spend time with him.
She then remembers last night again, wanting to grab his hand in the hallway when he'd helped her up the steps and down the hall after they'd finished watching television. They'd stayed perched on the couch together until neither could sit still any longer on the sofa, her head near one arm of the couch, body sprawled out and feet resting on his legs as he sat against the other corner of the couch.
He'd absentmindedly rubbed her lower leg with this thumb all throughout the evening, as the wide television illuminated the dark living room, casting shadows across his face at each scene change, or commercial break. And she'd, in turn cast numerous glances his way, prompting him to angle his head toward her a few times and smile, before turning back and watching the TV with a small grin on his face. She had wanted to reach her hand over and run her palm down his cheek as the bright light washed over her hand on his skin, but she hadn't, as she was still trying to figure out where they stood and what now stood between them.
She's still not used to seeing him like that. So, open and carefree. Uninhibited when it comes to her. He'd been so closed up and timid when it came to his feelings back in New York.
He'd never put his hands on her in any capacity or ever let his eyes linger on her for too long. He'd been right earlier, he's changed and no one can see it as clearly as she can.
She'd been with him for nine years. Seen him at his worst and at his best yet not knowing what he truly felt unless he let her read his eyes, his posture and then again she'd never really known then either, she'd just known something of what he felt because, in most instances, she had experienced it too. But he'd never allowed her to see how he deeply felt as plainly as he does here. He's different, but he's better.
Nothing is holding them back anymore, besides the obvious obstacles. They aren't holding back anymore. It's hard feeling comfortable with it at times, but it's easier to accept in this air, this place and time. It feels freer, it certainly seems that way and she likes it. Likes what that could mean, but it also renders her speechless sometimes, because she never thought she'd see the day where Elliot would be lying next to her in bed, holding her face, gripping her hand in his, grazing her lips with his, cradling her body against his, holding her feet in his lap, tickling her flesh with his thumb, ever.
It had been so easy to touch him when he'd shown up days ago. There was an excuse, emotions, time and distance. But now, a few days later, despite the touching they've done, the touching she'd just recounted to herself, she worries that they're working their way back. Boundaries. And she's not sure she likes them. Of course, she'd had boundaries up all around her throughout her life. They were a safe zone, protection, barrier from emotions, from getting hurt.
Although here, the boundaries haven't existed but only in the recesses of her mind when she remembers who they were as detectives, colleagues, just friends. Friends who hardly touched. That's where the invisible boundaries stood and she appreciated them to an extent, until she had nothing left but a shell of herself trapped behind them.
Of course they still touch more than they used to since he's been here. But in the last day or so, despite the moment on the couch, most of the rest of their caresses are smaller, less bold than they were when he arrived. No mountains are moved in their touches. Not since that morning in her bedroom. And yet…. She again reverses her thinking as she realizes that they're still there, the small moments, and she hopes that they'll build into something more once again.
If she is being honest with herself, she never really liked those boundaries. Yes, they were safe, contained and helpful at times, but she's tired of safe. She wants, needs more and it's frightening.
She wants him to do what he did that night in her room. Touch her, hold her, kiss her, again. She couldn't stop thinking about it all night while they'd rested on the couch but, when her lower back had started cramping due to the fact that her shoulders were pressed against the arm of the piece of furniture, she'd bent her knees and planted her bare soles against the softness of the white cushions and just sighed.
He'd clearly gotten the hint because he had slowly reached for the remote and clicked off the television, letting the room soak in a hazy light coming from the only light source at 2:24 a.m, the moon. As the silver gleam had washed over their darkened forms in the living room, he'd held out his hand for her to grab as he stood up in front of the sofa.
She now remembers thinking that the darkness could envelope them forever because it felt so surreal that he was with her that late at night, in the dark, just there... waiting.
He wasn't there waiting in the confines of a squad car, or a darkened squad room as she was used to at this kind of hour. He was inside of her home, her comfort zone and breathing her air at an hour both should have been sleeping.
Once they'd gotten up the steps and down the hallway a bit, she'd really, really wanted to pull him with her into her own room and close the door behind them, to just pull him toward the bed and wrap herself around him and hope he did the same as they curled up together beneath the thick blankets, sheltering themselves from the outside.
But something had held her back.
Maybe it was because of the way they'd hardly talked after the discussion about the picnic, about Dominick or their brief conversation in the living room about what they could be, which though vague in sentiment, had still been apparent in meaning. Or maybe it was the thoughts of what it meant by him staying or what he'd said that morning in her bedroom.
They taunt her a little. The possibilities.
She hasn't readily admitted she feels it too, but she knows one thing, and it is love. It always comes down to that little four letter word. Maybe she hasn't let him know verbally that he's inside her heart so deeply she can't stand it sometimes, but he's there in the way that means she can't stand to be without him now. Every time she touches him she's hopeful that he understands that that's her coded way of telling him that he's made her life better by coming back to her when she almost ruined what they had by leaving him in the dark. Manhattan.
She may not be able to be as open as he's learned to be, but she's getting there.
Brady is still a fresh wound in her recent past. He's gone but her feelings for him are always in the back of her mind. The love, compassion, trust and sincerity she'd felt with him is still burning within her soul. But her feelings for Elliot come to the surface again as she remembers all the days, and months and years she had spent with him.
It hurts she can so easily push those of Brady back when his child is growing inside of her, and yet, those feelings for Elliot, always flit to the forefront of her mind when she thinks about her past, recent and long ago. It's not her childhood as much anymore or her drunken mother, college missteps, or past romances that come to mind when she thinks of her life in Manhattan.
It always comes to Elliot. It always comes down to the harshest of moments they'd endured during fights and rough cases and the few and far between tender moments they'd shared.
She'd loved him then, difficult as it had been to live with not knowing if he'd ever feel the same feeling she had in the pit of her stomach.
And she loves him now.
It's intensified since he's been here. He'd felt the tension ignite too when he'd stepped across the threshold that night and into her room, she knows it. He'd already admitted that much the next morning, but what he didn't say was in the fire in his eyes that night that let her know, this was different. They were different by being in a different place, in a different time.
This was their chance.
She may not be able verbalize her love for him right away, but her love is there and in due time, she'll be able to show him. She thinks it may be sooner than not. She can't stop thinking about him and that tells her something. Something deep and meshed inside of her soul that it's obvious to her.
If she knows Elliot at all and if he knows her at all, he'll know she feels for him in ways she always had. She just needs him to also understand that as much as she needs him right now she needs a little space and he needs to be sure.
She knows though that above all, he's all she has and in reality all she ever really had before finding her way here.
People come into our lives and leave indentations in our soul, our future, our hopes and dreams and sometimes leave, forever impacting our life.
She believes this holds true for Brady and Elliot.
One thing that makes this whole situation slightly more bearable is that Elliot was the one to come into her life first, leave an imprint on her soul, take it out, rip it open and then sow it back together with just his presence, his love for her.
She remembers thinking right before she started to grab his hand to lead him into her room last night, that she'd have some more time to bring him back inside of her room and that she didn't have to do it right then if she didn't feel ready.
They had time.
He'd been there already of course, but that had been in a haze of emotion. It had happened against all regular inhibitions they'd normally have on a normal day of their lives. And even last night, what they were doing, what she was feeling was anything but normal outside of her hormones, anything but what they were used to.
So instead of acting on instinct while still standing out in the hallway, she had turned to him, squeezed his hand and smiled lazily. "Goodnight, El."
He'd slowly lifted their hands, squeezing hers gently, then leaning forward and whispering against her knuckles. "Goodnight, Liv. Sleep well."
Unfortunately, however simple the words were, that wasn't a simple task. She had wanted to sleep well with him beside her, but he walked past her door and then through his own, quietly shutting it behind him. She'd silently thanked him for letting the moment pass as she realized she'd wanted it, but that it all could wait.
The soft click of the door jamb had elicited that silent admission from her and she had taken a deep breath, walked into her own room and closed her door halfway.
She'd thrown on a clean night gown and tentatively slipped under her covers, never really anticipating sleep.
He did know her, he understood. She'd lain there all night looking at the rough textured ceiling wishing all that had been lost could somehow help her future.
At five o'clock in the evening she still hadn't wanted to leave her bed but she'd eventually gone down to the living room, resting her back against the padded back of the sofa while Elliot cooked them something to eat.
The sun hadn't been as prominent as the previous day. Thicker, billowy, white and gray clouds lined the horizon and she could sense rain because her joints were aching all throughout her body.
After Elliot had brought her a sandwich and some of her pre-natal vitamins and medicine for the mild cramping, she'd fallen asleep again on the sofa, this time with her head resting against the back in an uncomfortably, slumped position.
Elliot had come in from outside and tapped her thigh at roughly eight p.m. telling her to go lay down in her bed. She'd begrudgingly awakened again, getting up and easing her way upstairs and back into her spacious, soft, waiting bed.
But just like the night before, she stared at the ceiling, waiting for the continuance of rest to happen. But it hadn't. The shadows became more apparent and the light diminished as the soft orange afterglow of dusk became true night.
That's when the shadows on the ceiling had become her muse.
Now several hours later, she looks now at the dark silhouettes against the ceiling, thinking about the lazy day she's had. Elliot's awake. She'd heard him come upstairs and walk toward the bathroom right next door to his room a few moments ago. It's silent now but she waits and then the toilet flushes and then the faucet runs for a few seconds before she hears him pad back down the wooden floor.
He doesn't stop at her room but she hears the door creak as though he's looking in on her. She isn't sure though because her eyes are closed, she wants him to think she's sleeping. Again.
She just wants to think. In her mind, she tells herself, she'll have plenty more time with Elliot tomorrow. Unlike the night before, the fluttering in her stomach tells her something differently. Though she's still fearful of this time with him crashing down around her, she slowly realizes not everything goes right in life, but this doesn't have to end badly if at all.
He wants to stay, she continues to tell herself. He'll find a way. It's okay to be selfish once in awhile. You can want him here, it's okay. But, she's still uncertain and hesitant no matter how many times she tells herself it'll all be okay, even if it is written in the stars. She's stubborn, she knows this is true of herself, but she can't help it. This is her past converging with her present life and possible future, so it's difficult for her to process.
Her mind trails off as she glances back up toward the scattered shadows on the ceiling. Some are skinny and jagged from the branches outside, others round and smooth reflecting the shape of the glass vase on her dresser beneath the window. The marionettes of the darkness play against the ridged surface of the ceiling, forming shapes and figures to fit one's imagination.
She watches as the black figures take shape into an array of abstract objects, figures and night art. She lets her eyes drift closed for only a split second and then they pop open again, catching the next set of shadows filtering though the window. A soft breeze flows in through the small opening at the bottom sending the thread curtain into the air, the branches outside gently scraping the glass pane. As she watches the next set of shadows takes shape, she's almost convinced one of them looks like that of a bear.
The round reflections from the vase send a shiny ven diagram shape across the ceiling. A big circle in the middle for the head and the two smaller ones, as ears. A jagged shadow juts in from the left side and sticks out like a snout and she swallows. The curtain flows through the light casting a black background to the visual and then it's apparent.
A teddy bear.
One in which a child may carry around, or a balloon animal with a big head and small stick body.
The thought makes her look down at her swollen abdomen. A baby is growing inside of her and sometimes it feels as if she's in an alternate life. Because, she hadn't ever thought anything like this would happen for her.
She feels a sense of pride, elation and tenderness wash over her. Her chest swells with a tingling emotion she's never quite felt before. A little girl, just like she'd been once, is growing inside of her.
The roundness of her belly is a cocoon protecting the life she'd helped create only a few short months ago. She shakes her head in wonderment and gazes down at her baby, sheltered for now.
As her eyes linger over her body, she feels her throat begin to tighten as she tries to swallow back the waiting emotion boiling from inside. Her body, her soul, her life is within this child.
She'd never once thought of what she'd pass on when she and Brady had made love. She had only thought of her genes, her past, her faults when constantly reminded of it back home, back there.
This child hadn't been planned. Olivia hadn't one day decided she wanted to forego contraceptive and wait and see. She'd just felt innately comfortable with Brady, immeasurably at home that she didn't worry if it happened or not because she felt she'd be ready for anything if she did end up pregnant one day. And then it had happened.
And she hadn't worried then either, she had money from her mother, from her job. She had a steady relationship, a honest man, a lover who wanted her more than anything. She had Brady. She was taken care of. There were no concern, no ties, no job, only her new found sense of self and a companion whom she loved more than anything at the time.
At first though, she does remember being scared to tell him. Scared that he might feel tied down, but then she'd remembered all that he had been to her and then she had just really been excited, aside from that small fear all expectant mothers feel at first and of course that lingering doubt about her own upbringing. But she had forced herself to push that aside so he could feel that elation of knowing too and share those moments with her.
But he'd never had the chance to know and understand and sometimes she wonders what he really would think of her giving birth to not only her first child, but his as well. Both of them, in their forties, first time parents, she wonders how it all could have been...
Olivia lifts her right palm and places it on her lower belly, pressing down with her fingertips against the expanded skin. Nothing happens for long moments so she moves her fingers higher, gently grazing her skin with her nails until she reaches her navel. Her middle finger grazes her belly button as her palm soothes.
Her other hand gently rubs her left side as the first one continues to cradle the front. As her mind drifts elsewhere, she peers down at the bump only realizing then how much bigger it's going to get. She worries what it will feel like in those coming months. She already feels like she has a thick, round pillow constantly tied to her midsection, weighing her down. It's only the size of half a basketball now, but she can't imagine what she'll feel like when it grows out to a full bump, nine months along.
Staring at the swell in awe, she slides her left hand down the side and rests her other hand ontop, just beneath her breasts. The thumb of her left hand glides over the edge her gown, hitting a small patch of bare skin, sending chills over her body and goosebumps over her stomach. It still comes as a shock sometimes that this is her body. She's slowly realizing that she'd gone the first few months of pregnancy not really believing something was still actually growing inside of her while she mourned.
It hadn't hit her until she had stood in front of Elliot, the man with five beautiful, healthy children, jaw dropped and eyes buzzing as he took in her physical state. Then it hit her even harder in his bedroom when he couldn't not look at her differently because he could tell. He was the one with four pregnancies, five births under his belt.
Elliot had known everything. In his eyes, she could see his instant knowledge. Known what she had done, how she had gotten this way and the emotion and physical repercussions of it being her first time as a pregnant woman. He understood everything and nothing at the same time.
Sometimes she feels guilty because she hadn't realized that even though Brady was meant to be in her life, and even though it nearly hurt to breathe some days after his death, being a mother first was more vital despite it all. She feels guilty for thinking the baby inside wasn't enough. It should have been enough to keep her whole. It had happened so fast, the pregnancy, his death, moving . Even though she'd been so used to being left alone, it had hurt more this time, but that's no excuse.
On the first day she became a mother, protecting this baby should have been the most important thing, that's what she needs time to think about, alone. She has everything with Elliot to deal with, but, like she remembers telling herself, she needs to learn to take care of this baby by herself.
She knows she can if it comes down to it, but the fact that Elliot's downstairs now makes it easier to open her soul up and cherish these moments alone with her daughter. She's not alone anymore, but when it comes down to it, these past months, she never really was.
Continuing to rub small circles on her stomach with her hands, she takes deep breaths and then holds one in every few times seeing if the baby kicks. She feels her stomach gurgle and vibrate against her palms but never anything too out of the ordinary. She waits for the thump against the walls of her abdomen, waits for that moment of truth reiterating the connection she'll ultimately feel with the one thing always tugging at her heartstrings, the insane amount of love she'll feel, no, that she does feel for the being inside of her.
It's slowly seeping through her pores. The incredible love, connection she has only just realized radiates from within for her daughter. Tears brim. Her facade slowly crumbles, and her eyes blur from the tears pooling and then spilling down her cheeks as she caresses the cocoon encasing her baby.
She can't touch it enough. She can't feel it enough. These will be the only months in her entire life that she will have this ability to feel what it's like to be with her daughter in this capacity. She knows that one day, this little girl will be born, will grow up, will talk, walk, hold a big girl cup instead of a sippy, throw her binky in the trash and say she's a big girl now, go to her first day of preschool, make her first friend, start elementary school, join her first sports team or be a ballerina, have her first period and become a woman like mommy, move on to middle school, find a hobby she likes, maybe play an instrument, get braces, have her first boyfriend in high school, take the ACTs, graduate, go to college and start the cycle all over again.
Olivia's eyes well with tears again as a sob escapes her throat. She lets one hand detach from her belly to cover her mouth as she cries. She just cries from all the possibilities she's finally bringing into the world, all the experiences she's going to have with her daughter.
A soft cry escapes into the room and echoes off the walls and drifts away with the sound of her heart thrumming against her chest. As she releases a shuddering breath, she wipes away the moisture from her eyes and takes a few seconds to breathe.
After those few seconds pass, she looks down at the hand still around her belly and... and her lips tremble again. The tears pool quickly, easily and then she brings both hands to her face, covering her eyes and just letting it all go. Letting it all pour forth.
Nothing has felt so freeing as the ability to sob quietly into the silent space of her bedroom. Her chest and stomach contract and she has to remind herself to breathe. To just grasp some air so she can get back to the most important thing in her life right now.
Taking her hand and running underneath her nose, she swipes away the residual moisture and then grasps the fabric at the top of her night gown and runs it under her eyes, drying the pain, the loss, the hopelessness and leaving the freedom, the love and hope in the irises of her eyes as she glances back down at her stomach. Everything she needs is right there.
Clearing her throat quietly, she sits up as best as she can in her position, propping a pillow upright against the head board. She pulls herself up slowly, tentatively before pulling the blanket up just underneath the swell of her stomach.
She runs her hands down the expanse of her belly until her hands meet the warmth and softness underneath the blankets. Her fingers grasp the material and gently pull upwards, her knuckles running across the underside of the comforter until she can feel the cool air hit them again.
The nightgown bunches at the juncture between her legs as she sits back against the pillow, propping herself up. She thinks about turning on her small lamp but decides against it when she looks out the window and sees that the moon is especially bright tonight.
A steady stream of silver light peers through the cross section of the window and flows across the end of her bed in a soft glow. It lights her room just enough to see without the added addition of a lamp. In the dimness, she reaches down for the fabric at her waist and pulls it up slowly, letting the air wash over her bare skin. She shivers slightly as the fabric rides higher and higher.
The cotton tickles her skin as she pulls it just beneath the mounds of her growing breasts, her nipples slightly peaked under the material from the cool night air.
Olivia takes a deep breath and watches as her belly rises and falls gently. After a moment, she places both hands on her bare stomach and rubs up and down, side to side reveling in the feel. The texture is firm yet soft. It's round yet uneven. It's quiet yet perfec-
She stops her ministrations as a small vibration occurs beneath her left hand. Her breath catches as she looks down and presses down a little on the area just above her hip bone.
Her eyes squint and lips part as she tries to feel it again. A few moments pass as she gently presses on the area around the vibration and she's about to lay back against the pillow with tired resignation when it happens.
A firm thump against her hand makes her breath hitch once more. She purses her lips and holds her breath, waiting for it again, but nothing happens. Her breath releases and she rests back against the pillow. She clenches her eyes closed as she holds each side of her belly in realization.
"There are you are baby. I thought you were mad at me," she breathes out quietly. The breath slowly becomes a soft hiccup as emotion builds up inside of her again.
She curses the hormones again as another tear escapes, trailing down the side of her nose and stopping at the top of her lips. She licks it with her tongue as she blinks away further moisture. Adjusting her position to where she can slightly lean over herself, she sniffles before whispering into the night.
"I'm glad you're doing okay. You gave Mama a scare a few days ago. But, the doctor said you were fine, and now I believe him," she whispers to her daughter. "You know, we haven't really talked much. I was hoping to have some time to tell you things, but I guess now is as good a time as any."
She hesitates, glancing out the opened door and then lowers her voice as she looks back down.
"I guess you know that I'm your mom and you're my little girl. I grew up an only child and more than likely you will too. Mama's getting too old for this." She pauses and thinks about her next words before continuing. "I'm going to give you everything you ever ask for. I'll take you wherever you want to go and hopefully be everything you'll ever need as you grow up into a beautiful young lady, woman and mother. I'll tell you anything you wanna know," her breath hitches once more.
"We're going take long trips and see places I never got to as a child. I'll braid your hair and tell you bed time stories and hold you when you don't feel good. You don't know how much I love you already. I want to apologize for not telling you sooner. I love you, I love you, I love you," she whispers over and over, tears apparent in her voice. "More than life itself."
"I want you to know how much joy you'll bring to my life when you come. It doesn't matter what color, shape, form, you come, I'll love you like I love air. There'll be days after you're born where I'll get frustrated but I'll always love you. I've wanted you for so long, I could never not love and cherish everything you'd have brought to me."
She stops speaking for a few seconds to wipe away another stray tear and to adjust her back against the pillow. Sniffling, she pauses a few seconds more and just stares at the quiet mound of her stomach. She eventually continues, and when her voice finally escapes it's a soft thrum in the back of the throat.
"There may be times where it's just you and me, and that's fine. We can do it. I'll take care of you. There'll be times where we fight and you won't want to talk to me... but never forget I love you, I always will. There'll always be a time or two where you'll feel lonely, but don't forget I'll still love you and you can come to me whenever you want. But, more importantly, you'll have family. You'll have Elliot's kids to teach you things that I can never do, I think you'll be closest to Eli because you're only a few years apart." She stops and wipes her nose with the back of her hand.
"You don't even know who Elliot is," she whispers into thin air. Shaking her head she whispers into the silence. "I don't know why I'm telling you all of this now. I'll hopefully, no... I'll definitely have plenty of time to tell you everything when you're born too."
She swallows and stares blankly at the covers at the foot of the bed. The soft shine of the moon's light continues to filter in as the midnight hours march on.
Long moments pass and Olivia eventually sits back, moving her back against the pillow, staring off into space, lost in a future with her daughter. In a future where a toddler is running around, with Elliot. She stops and swallows the lump in her throat as she imagines Elliot picking up her four year old and swinging her around as her little legs kick up behind her. Elliot's face full of joy as he plays with her daughter, loving her, caring for her, protecting her because she's hers. Her heart and soul.
She loses it again. A violent sobs escapes her throat and her chest constricts as more tears spill forth. She can't imagine Elliot never knowing her daughter, her daughter never knowing Elliot. And the more heartwrenching thing is, she can't imagine her daughter never knowing her real father yet she can't think of a better replacement than Elliot.
She wants him to be her little girl's daddy. Brady's gone. He's gone forever. There's nothing she can do, she thinks as the tears blind her. He's never coming back and all she has is the one man who's always been too much and yet not enough, sitting downstairs watching television at one in the morning as they'd done the night before.
"Your daddy was a great man, Baby. I know he would have given you anything. As you get older, you'll learn more about him as you develop his habits, his mannerisms, his features. You'll one day understand how much I loved him for what he gave me. I'll be forever appreciative of the time he gave me of his life. You'll never know him in flesh but one day, one day you'll meet in heaven and understand why I came to love him. But until then, I want you to know and love the one man who's always been with me. Even when I was with your father. I'm not trying to forget your daddy, he'll always be with me because of you. I'll never take you away from him. I just want you to know ahead of time about what you're gonna have, hopefully have for your entire life until our last breaths," she whispers in a shaky breath and her body trembles.
"He was with me on so many nights even when I couldn't call him. He was there with me when I was sad, when I couldn't see him in person, he's ingrained within me. I want him to be your daddy growing up. He has to make some decisions, take care of things, but he said he loves me baby girl, he said he wanted to be with me here, give me what I need and that's all I could ever ask for. I'm not the same woman anymore. You've changed me already. For the better. Any other time, I'd tell him to go back and go to you know where for trying to pity me when, you've helped me see that all he's doing is helping your mama... he gave his heart and soul to me, so I'm not gonna push him away.., He opened up and let me in and all I can do in return is give the rest of my soul to him and let him take care of things. Let him in to me. He's a good man too. He'll love you, take care of you. Put you on a pedestal and cherish you because you're mine. He'll give you just about anything I will. If he wants he can be your father, I want him to be. If he'll take you under his wing and make you a daddy's girl, I'll let him," she cries. "Well, not completely. You're my baby girl. You'll be a mama's girl too. But, if things go right, he'll be your father til the day he dies..." she trails off. "You know, this is hard for me to admit. Especially since you're not even born yet, but I always wondered what it would be like to have a baby with him, one just like you. So I hope you can understand one day why I would always choose him to be your daddy. He'll be good to you. You'll never have to worry. He's a hot head sometimes, but he has the biggest, softest heart in the world and you can always count on him to love you back even if he can't see you all the time. I love him, and I think you will too."
. . .
He's standing outside her door and he can't breathe.
Her soft voice resonates in his mind as he listens to her sniffle on the other side of the threshold.
He's leaning his back against the wall to the right of the doorway, and her voice filters to him like a steady stream of hope.
In any other case, he'd have walked away, leaving her alone and going to sulk on his own somewhere, but he is glued to his position, fearing if he makes the slightest movement, the floorboards will creak revealing his presence.
She sniffles again and he reaches up and rubs his closed eyelids with his thumb and index finger. He's not crying.
Much.
His back spasms as he tries to control the emotion filling his gut. She's silent now but she'd been talking in a soft whisper only a few moments ago. He'd only been able to hear her soft murmurs, not able to make out what she was saying exactly until her last sentence as he'd approached the outside of her door.
He'd come to check on her and had heard her speaking but he couldn't figure out why until right before he'd almost made his presence known.
She'd been talking to her baby. Whispering soft reassurances to her unborn child. The way her tone and words flowed, hit him so squarely in the chest that he thought he was going to explode as her final words came strolling out.
He's a hot head sometimes, but he has the biggest, softest heart in the world and you can always count on him to love you back even if he can't see you all the time. I love him, and I think you will too.
He thinks it was about him. He hopes it was. Not only was she explaining him to her unborn child, she was telling her about a future with him and that ... she loved him. He knew it in the pit of his stomach but finally hearing it come from her mouth albeit inadvertently, takes away all the doubt.
He looks down at his watch and realizes he's been standing outside of her door for nearly ten minutes listening to her quietly sob inside her bedroom. He won't let her know he'd heard her talking to herself in a mother's attempt to connect with her future child. That should be just for her and no one else.
He hadn't even wanted to listen, but just the sound of Olivia in this new life had stilled him.
He sometimes doesn't know who this Olivia is and it scares him, but he can't help but want to know every sorted detail of what she's done out here or what he doesn't know about her.
He waits until nearly a half hour passes, and he thinks she may have fallen asleep until he hears her mumble something and sniffle again. He waits a few moments to be sure she isn't going to start talking again, and then after a moment of hesitation, he raps softly on the wooden door-frame and peers around the corner.
His heart skips a beat when he catches a glimpse of her bare stomach before she reaches for the blanket and pulls it quickly over her. He stays silent as she adjusts in bed, sitting up straighter against the headboard and messing with the blankets all around her. Glancing down at his toes, he keeps his focus downward as he takes small steps further into her room. He stops a few inches from the foot of her bed and then chances a peek up at her.
She's staring back at him with red rimmed eyes, blushing when their eyes meet. She quickly looks down and runs a hand through her long, wavy brown hair. She then runs a hand down her face and then lays both in her blanket covered lap.
"How long you been out there?" she questions in a deep, spent voice.
He shakes his head, frowning a bit in contemplation when he lies a little. "Not long, about five minutes."
She nods her head and then swallows visibly. "I couldn't sleep," she whispers. She glances at him from the corners of her eye. "You done watching TV?"
He nods because the movie channel only plays good movies on Thursday nights, or at least that's what he told himself when he was bored downstairs. The truth is he could have been uninterested in staying down there because she wasn't down there with him. Either way, he's getting tired and they're supposed to head out to the picnic by noon or so the next day.
"I uh, I was getting tired. I came up earlier and it looked like you were sleeping." He watches her quickly glance up and then back down as she nods. He knows she wasn't. "You need some company?" he asks timidly.
She looks down at her hands and doesn't answer right away, fidgeting with her fingernails. She takes long even breaths and then looks out of the window again, seeing it opened an inch from the sill.
He just gazes at her, his arms dropped to the comforter, fingertips playing with the loose threads.
"Yeah," she whispers. "Will you lay with me again?"
Her eyes look up to his and they're bold and glossy.
"You sure?" He swallows remembering how far they went back in time yesterday to grasp boundaries that were obliterated in mere seconds in this same room a few nights ago.
She takes a deep breath and rocks back and forth in a slow, lazy manner before looking at him again. She blinks slowly, the glossiness in the whites of her eyes shining in the dim moonlight. "Yeah, just lay with me?"
Her last words come out hushed and painful, like it's him that wanted to put those boundaries back up. He hadn't. He'd thought she did. Raising his head and glancing down at her, he moves around the bed and sits down by her legs, slowly, skeptically.
"Sure," he breathes out into the air. Before he turns all the way around to look at her, he turns his head toward the window and looks out at the darkness. It's early morning, they both should have been to bed hours ago if they plan on doing anything productive tomorrow. But they had slept all day, her longer than he and he hopes they make it tomorrow. "You cold?" he asks his voice slightly higher in question.
She shakes her head 'no,' and takes a deep breath. "Not if you lay with me," she barely whispers. "I just need you with me tonight. Is that okay?"
Quickly he nods 'yeah,' then just as quickly voices it. "Of course," he voices and it's low and definitive as he worries about her showing vulnerability willingly. He doesn't want to leave any doubt at all as to where he'd rather be. He'd wanted to sleep with her last night but had held back for her. Letting her figure things out in her own head. "This side?" he nods to the right where he had been before.
"Mhm," she nods and then braces her hands on the bed beside her and scoots over to the left. "Can you shut the door a little?" There's no one else here but his heart skips a beat at the request. And, yet, she knows that of course he will, anything for her no matter the reasoning. As if reading his mind, she adds, "It's to keep the cool air in here. I get warm at night, sometimes more than usual."
He nods in understanding. Standing up, he walks over to the door and only leaves a sliver of a gap. "That good?"
"Perfect," and she lays back against a propped up pillow.
He slowly walks toward the bed and sits on the side again, reaching down to pull his shoes off. He'd gone walking around again and collected dirt in the soles of his boots so he'd put on some running sneakers he'd brought with him. After he pulls his socks off and tosses them onto his shoes, he turns around and chances a peek at her. "You mind if I pull my shirt off and, just wear my boxers?"
His voice is low again and unsure and his throat constricts with an odd sensation from the immediate response she gives with her eyes. They widen as her chest obviously pulls in a bunch of air along with the rise of her shoulders. Immediately he regrets asking. He just wants to lay back in his dirty t-shirt and jeans and relax with her by his side.
She swallows behind him and he watches over his shoulder as she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "Sure, but you'll need to use that sheet again," she chokes out laying back in a heap.
He nods, understanding her completely from last time. He stands up slowly and looks at her and she's looking straight back at him with her teeth dragging across her bottom lip nervously. He looks back down at his chest and then pulls the shirt over his head, tossing it to the ground. Reaching for his jeans, a weary eye finds hers again and she quickly glances down at her hands on her lap.
He swallows and waits a few seconds before looking down at this half opened jeans. Quickly, he turns on his heels and reaches for the blanket halfway between the pillows and the foot, pulling it down further so he can slip underneath, deciding to get in with his jeans still on, but half un-buttoned.
Laying back against the pillows, his head sinks into their softness and he reaches for the blanket pulling it up to his abs. Looking over his shoulder, he catches her gazing at the tattoo barely visible above the elastic of his briefs. "Your pants..." she trails off.
A small bubble of laughter boils in his chest but he holds it back. "Mhm," he drawls out slowly. "Decided to leave them on. It's a little chilly to me," he says nonchalantly, quietly as he presses further down into the bed and pillow, seeking the cottony warmth.
He hears her breathe deeply as she slides her swollen and achey body down and closer to him. He feels her hand graze the outside of his jeans. "You gonna be comfortable sleeping in those?"
He swallows and pushes back the way her hand warms the skin underneath the rough denim. "Yea, I'll be fine," he whispers, glancing over his shoulder and into her eyes. "You comfortable?"
She shrugs and licks her bottom lip. "As I'll ever be," she whispers.
"Good." It's all he has and now it's silent in the room save for a small whistle of wind that leaks through the tiny crack in the window. He lays back his head slowly, staring at the shadows. The room is dim, but fairly lit for the hour of night. He scoots himself around a bit under the blankets trying to ease the lingering tension in his body from earlier while he had stood outside her door, stiff as a board, listening to her sweet voice echo softly into the hallway.
The way her voice sounded, at least what he had clearly heard, is one of those things he'll continue to think about throughout the night as he rests next to her.
"We have a big day tomorrow," his voice comes out gravelly, deep.
"Hmmm," she huffs out indescribably. "Elliot, would it be so bad if we didn't go?"
Her turns to her, his shoulder bumping into hers as he looks down at her. "Why shouldn't we?" he whispers. It's a simple question. She hadn't acted like she wanted to go, but then again she had and it's confusing him a little. He wonders what has her doubting this all again.
"I don't know," she whispers as she runs her right hand though her side swept bangs. He watches her eyes drift closed briefly as she stares off in front of her and then as her gaze slowly lifts toward his face, her eyes drowsy, unsure. "I mean I do want to go, I want to spend time out with you… and then I don't, because, I just don't know. It's hard for me sometimes, not only because of my body but the people."
"The people?"
"Yeah," she breathes out. "I just... sometimes I don't want to deal with certain, questions..." she trails off and turns her head on the pillow and stares the blank wall to her right. Her right hand lifts into the air, elbow resting against the bed next to her side as she makes a fist and then lays an open palm against her stomach. "I just don't know how to deal with them..." she says, her voice coming out tiredly.
He doesn't ask her to elaborate. He thinks he understands. If there's anything about her he knows, he knows she closes up when she doesn't want to reveal things and so he stays quiet, letting his eyes drift over her shoulders and onto the same wall she'd been looking. He'll let her take her time.
A few moments turn into at least ten minutes he surmises, as they both lay side by side and revel in each other's silent company. Olivia shifts uncomfortably for the second time in less than a minute and he watches as she grimaces slightly on the second attempt to turn her body in a direction to lessen the stiffness. She'd been in bed almost all day, it was bound to get uncomfortable at some point, he should have made her wake up and walk around a little bit more instead of telling to her to go back to bed but it had made sense at the time, she'd been barely able to keep her eyes open while sitting on the couch.
A soft whimper escapes her lips as she reaches for her side and rubs with widened eyes. "Unh, sometimes I can't wait for this to be all over with," she moans.
He smiles a little at that. She'll be happy to have the weight gone from what he remembers. Though from times before, with his own kid's births, he's learned that many women miss being pregnant once the process is all said and done. "What about the other times?"
She stills then, sits up slightly on her elbows and stares down at him with an odd expression. Not a look of annoyance or sadness, just a look of contemplation, of not really knowing what to say. Her brows furrow and she bites down lightly on her lower lip, making it red and swollen. "I don't know. I don't want it to end either I guess..." she trails off. Lying back down, she turns her head toward his on her pillow and he mirrors her. "I've realized this probably won't happen for me again, so I need to start paying attention, know what I mean?" she asks.
Her eyes enlarge and he can see a little bit of moisture pool in the inner corners of her eyes. He stares into them, shifting between her two irises as he contemplates the meaning of her words. Mentally fumbling for words, he slowly, indecisively, raises his left arm across his body and reaches for her hair. His fingers swipe a loose strand away from her forehead and stop at her hairline causing her eyes to slip closed.
"Why do you think that?" he whispers questioningly.
The question drifts through the air as the minutes tick by. She stays still beside him, her breaths continue in a soft pattern against the cool air. He gently pulls his hand away from her hair and rests it next to her shoulder and that's when her eyes slowly drift open again. He watches as she breathes in through her nose then letting it slowly escape and then she looks down at her stomach, her hand shifting higher and higher until it's planted underneath her chest.
Furrowing her brows, she speaks. "I just have a feeling. I mean, look at me, Elliot. I'm already forty-two years old, and experiencing pregnancy, hormones, mood swings, hot flashes for the first time. But it's not because of menopause, it's because I'm pregnant. I think it's safe to say, the next time I do feel those things, it's going to be too late for more babies. Don't you think?"
He furrows his thick, hairy brows and glances down at his arm resting against her side and pulls it back, resting it against his own abdomen. Chewing on the inside of his lip, he shrugs. "I don't like to put a time stamp on things."
"I'm not, I'm just being realistic. I just, to me this feels like the one and only chance I'll get in this lifetime."
"Things change," he offers while glancing at her with what he hopes is understanding in his eyes, but he feels maybe too much concern permeates them, and he knows it's because he wants to offer her more, offer her more in life. He wants to give her more babies one day if she wants them. He doesn't care how old they are. It's a fleeting thought though, considering they haven't even made love yet.
The thought of that makes him ache because they haven't even discussed what they are yet either. He thinks about making love to his former partner, laying her beneath him and empowering her with his touch, his love. He's thinks of being with the woman who was off-limits for so long, the one who stood toe to toe with him on so many hard cases and during late nights. He swallows, thinking about her as the same woman he would get protective of when he had no right to, only backing down when she'd glare at him and tell him to. The same woman then, who lays next to him now.
He's so in love with her it makes his heart ache. He wants to show her how much he loves her. The words she'd spoken earlier while he'd stood outside the door only reinforce his desire to touch her, love her, make her believe she's his new beginning and he can be hers.
There are still decisions left to deal with, he needs to take care of everything, she deserves that chance. She can't be by herself, well she can if she wants, but she doesn't need to be. If his intuition is correct, he's pretty sure that was the first time she'd connected with her unborn child since she found out she was pregnant. He could tell in the way her voice dipped and rose with each emotion.
Something had changed in her by realizing, she is a mother. Hell, she even looks like one now. Her eyes are red but behind the puffiness, he can see the awareness, the gift of motherhood seeping through in a way he hadn't initially seen when he'd walked in on her that first day.
"Elliot," her deep voice shakes him from his thoughts and he gazes back at her. She's turned on her side a little and now has an arm resting on her side. She's closer to him, burrowing herself into the space next to his right arm.
He waits for her to say more but all she does is glance down at their feet underneath the covers and stare.
"What is it?"
She looks back up to him and he can't read her expression. Her eyes are downcast, but she's not sad or angry, she's just stoic, indecisive about what she wants to say, he guesses. Finally, after a few long moments, she voices what's on her mind and he releases the breath he'd been holding.
"What was it like when you found out Kathy was pregnant? What did you feel knowing that you helped create the life growing inside of her, that she'd be responsible for carrying your child for nine months, that'd she be giving birth that much time later. What was it like? What did you do?"
He raises his brows in surprise, but quickly lets them back down. He needs to answer her because she'd asked but it hits him hard in the gut when he figures out why she'd questioned him.
There is sadness radiating from her eyes when he looks up. She'd never know what it feels like for the father to find out he had impregnated his lover, girlfriend, wife because she'd had someone and he'd been taken away from her. It'd been taken away, this experience with another human being had been denied her, obviously before she had a chance to comprehend she was pregnant at all. So he realizes, he needs to speak up, loud and clear so she knows, can cherish the gift of knowing in some capacity.
Clearing his throat, he sits up a little and looks down at her, watching as she lifts her head on the pillow to look at him in return, her eyes wide and waiting.
"It's indescribable," he starts. He rubs his index and thumb across his chin as he thinks about what it had felt like when Kathy had revealed she was pregnant each and every time. At different times he was shocked, elated, scared, and desperate to find hope that he'd made the right decisions in life. With this in mind, he continues. "I felt this overwhelming emotion boil up from my stomach and settle right in my heart," he breathes out, placing his clenched fist against the left side of his chest. "I felt like I had someone to protect, to love, to cherish unconditionally because from the moment she told me each time, I connected with the already so innocent, so angelic, so precious a life that I had to do everything in my power to make sure I was everything it needed." He takes a moment to remember when Kathy had been pregnant the first time. "I felt this overwhelming love for Kathy. I felt connected to her in ways couples never are any other time, just knowing that we had created this life by one act alone. We'd been kids the first time but it wasn't any different the other times. I wanted to be by her side 24/7 even when I was in the Marines. I would constantly think about going home and laying my head against her stomach and listening for the baby to kick. That's all I could think about. That a baby, I had created, was waiting for me to take care of it. I was scared, of course, with Maureen, of being a first time parent, everyone is. I was scared I wouldn't be enough, my child wouldn't get enough, that I'd mess up but it's normal, Olivia. Every man worth anything feels a sense of pride and love and devotion that far exceeds that of anything else when they know they've created life. It's natural."
He watches her look down at the blankets and then run her fingers across the designs etched in nylon. Her breath catches and she purses her lips sadly before she glances back toward him. He sees the tears in her eyes, the sadness and relief she feels because of what he'd told her.
It breaks his heart that so much can be taken away from someone. That it has to always be her. But he plans on changing that for her if she'll let him. She already has so much more in life now if she looks down at her stomach and he knows she's discovering that for herself. Her voice catches his attention and he looks back connecting his eyes with hers.
"Thank you," she whispers and that's all she says. But, he knows, he knows she was wondering what it'd be like for two people to become parents for the first time together. He'll never take the place of that child's father, literally, but he'd be anything he could offer, if she'd let him and her child when she's born. He knows this but he'll have to show her, he'll let her know what it feels like and she'll be able to feel it when he loves that baby the instant he first sees her, his child or not. He reaches down and skims his fingertips against her knuckles and he watches her watch his hand. Her eyes blink lazily and she yawns letting him skim his fingernails across her hand. "For everything," she trails off as he watches her eyes droop closed.
He thinks they're done for the night, done talking, done thinking as the silence pours through the room. It stays like that, until he closes his eyes intending to sleep. However, it only lasts a second before he feels her hand turn over and intertwine her fingers with his. He hesitates to open his eyes then because he wants to keep feeling her skin on his in any way possible, to just feel and not look for once, to revel in her hand in his and the way it affects him. Then he feels the coolness of her soft lips, moistened by her tongue, pressing against his scarred knuckles with tender care.
His body hums for her. Just her. It's the last thing he remembers before feeling her curl up against his side, wrapping her arm around his stomach and nestling her head against his neck. His arm wraps around her in response and he kisses the crown of her head before tucking her closer to his body. Then, they both succumb to the silence and begin to fall into the darkness behind their lids. There's nowhere else either would rather be, he feels the certainty of that in her even breaths before he dreams.
Tomorrow is a new day for them both. Tomorrow is the picnic. It's only a few miles away, but perhaps it will do them a world of good to get out of this haven of their thoughts.
Lizzie bought a book one day and he'd opened it out of curiosity and the words on the inside cover resonate with him now. Like the author Jonathon Lockwood Huie said, Another Sunrise, Another New Beginning.
. . .
Chapter End Notes:
I forgot how absolutely long this was. And I forgot how I made myself cry while writing it too. LOL. I'm pretty sure I was listening to Half-Life by Duncan Sheik while I wrote some of this. The lyrics spoke so true to my story it gave me chills. Also, I would reallly love to know what readers think. This chapter was a challenge to write and I'm silently proud my beta approved. Only a few more chapters before I start writing new stuff for this again. Thanks for reading. :)