~~Author's note~~
In previous chapters, Christian found out that Grace gave birth to twins, one of which Elena hid in the garage/ basement. One of the clues I left pointing to their identity was their hair color. The twins reflect the two contrasting looks of Mia Grey in the trilogy and in the movies.
Songs I used as inspiration for this chapter: I Believe I Can Fly & In The Arms of an Angel.
The following song by Abba is perfect for Ana. This song, full of hope and positive vibes, has been a great source of inspiration for this story. This is how I imagined her when she first decided to become a mail-order-bride. Here are the lyrics in English, although I do prefer listening to the Spanish version.
I have a dream, a song to sing
To help me cope with anything
If you see the wonder of a fairy tale
You can take the future even if you fail
I believe in angels
Something good in everything I see
I believe in angels
When I know the time is right for me
I'll cross the stream, I have a dream
I have a dream, a fantasy
To help me through reality
And my destination makes it worth the while
Pushing through the darkness still another mile
I believe in angels...
Final chapter
While we try to teach
our children all about life,
our children teach us
what life is all about
~~Angela Schwindt~~
ANA
Life is never perfect, but that doesn't mean we can't fill it with perfect moments.
The second Christian stepped out of that elevator with Olivia, I glided toward him with little awareness of time and space. In a way, it was as if I was watching myself acting in an academy award-winning film. The kind of movie that you just know is going to change your life forever.
I wasn't aware I was crying until my gaze broke away from Christian, and I gazed at her perfect little face for the very first time. My heart skipped several beats as Christian gently placed her into my arms. She looked so tiny; I thought she might break. I cradled her close to my body in awe, almost in desperation. I wanted to hold on to this moment forever and never let go.
Olivia uttered a cry that sounded very much like a greeting. I pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. And once again, my eyes locked with Christian's.
"I can't believe she's finally here," I kissed him, and he kissed me back. Time froze. We gazed down at our little girl, and our eyes met joyfully once again.
"She's gorgeous," Gail murmured, looking over my shoulders. I turned a little so that she could stroke Olivia's cheek. I held my baby tighter, not sure if I would ever let go. "Congratulations to you both," she beamed as if she knew exactly how I was feeling.
The days that followed went by in a blur of activity. Between learning how to breastfeed, midnight feedings, and diaper changes. I was sometimes in tears, overwhelmed; new motherhood brought on unexpected challenges. Initially, I had problems breastfeeding. During the time of our separation, my milk supply dwindled, and I had no choice but to supplement with commercial infant formula.
At first, I also struggled a bit with feelings of inadequacy as a mother. This came a bit as a surprise. I had plenty of experience caring for babies, and yet, I was putting a great deal of pressure on myself. Eventually, I coached myself into letting go of ridiculous notions of perfection; I learned to take each day at a time.
Thankfully, both Christian and Gail were there to help with general childcare and alternating night time duties. Gail was a godsend, especially during those times when I needed a listening ear. She never judged me for needing this extra support. She acted like the mother I never had, for which I am eternally grateful. Yes, she even 'spoiled' me by insisting I take naps, especially if I had a rough night.
"I'm sorry," Christian murmured one day as we lounged around in bed. I was nursing Olivia, I had her propped up in one of those rounded nursing pillows. Christian lay beside me on the bed. Every few minutes, he would turn to stroke the top of our baby's head. "I'm sorry for what I put you through the last few months."
I looked into his eyes. I knew this was a big step for him. Saying he was sorry.
Christian's gaze dropped to the baby nestled against my bosom. "I've been a jerk. I let jealousy consume me."
There was no need for him to further elaborate; my mind immediately went back to one of our last conversations before the baby was born.
"Do you ever think about him?" Again and again, Christian had asked me every possible variation of this same question. We could be having dinner together, watching TV, or driving into town. He'd always managed to drop the bomb when I least expected it.
HIM. In all these months we've been together, Christian had developed the habit of referring to Jose this way; it was his way of depersonalizing him.
I've tip-toed around this issue so many times. I've tried denying having any feelings for Jose. I've avoided bringing up his name. But nothing seemed to satisfy him.
"Okay, fine, I do think about him sometimes," I finally admitted, tired of his questioning. I wished Christian wasn't so insecure. Why did he feel the need to repeatedly question my love for him? It was like he was trying to catch me in a lie, which was insane because I was committed to him completely. "Jose is part of my past, so yes, I do think about him sometimes," I told him, annoyed. "Just like I think about my mom and Maria," I exhaled deeply. "Thinking about Jose doesn't mean I don't love you."
"So...you still have feelings for him," he accused. I started shaking my head. "Tell me in all honesty that you don't care about him. I want to hear you say the actual words."
I couldn't deny I would always care about Jose. We were together for three years. But that didn't mean I wanted a relationship with him. But I sensed this was the wrong thing to say. Christian would never change as long as he CHOSE to feel threatened by Jose. And nothing I said would ever convince him of the contrary.
"I hate him," I said instead.
Christian stared back at me, confused. Obviously, this was not the answer he was expecting.
"No matter what I say, you will never be happy," I told him. "So there you go. I hate him! I hate Jose. Are you happy now?" I asked bitterly.
There was a long silence. We both knew I didn't hate Jose and that I only said that out of anger and sheer frustration. And we still haven't made any headway.
"What about you?" I suddenly challenged him, and he stared at me in surprise. "I'm sure you've had other relationships before you married me. But, you never want to talk about that... it's always about me and Jose. The spotlight is always on me."
….
Christian
That day I decided to tell her a cleaned-up of my sexual past. In all the time we've been together, I hadn't shared anything about my subs or BDMS. Before her, there were never kisses or any face to face closeness. It wasn't until Ana came into my life that I finally knew what it was like to be in a committed intimate relationship.
I confided in her. I told her my innermost fears, and she'd listened without judgment. She did, however, had a thing or two to say about Elena's behavior. The problem was, back then, we didn't make any headway.
"I love you, Ana," I presently told her. It was time to leave the past behind us. "You're the best thing that's happened to me. Yes, there were other women before you, but none of them made me happy," I went on. And it was true. I didn't miss the lifestyle in the least.
Our sexual relationship during the first few months of our marriage had been mutually satisfying. Ana gave herself to me with no reservations, and I aimed to please. We engaged in occasional light bonding and orgasm denial. And to me, that was all just icing on the cake. I loved Ana's responsiveness, her willingness to try new things.
"The last thing I remember is you not wanting to touch me," she said, the hurt in her voice palpable. I had rejected her during the last month of her pregnancy. Admittedly, I'd slipped into one of the lowest points in my life. I was bitter and angry over the hand life had dealt me. "Was I not good enough for you...sexually?"
She lowered her gaze. I lifted her chin and met her gaze.
"Ana," I exhaled deeply. "You have always been perfect for me...in every way," I murmured, and she lowered her gaze again. "And that means sexually too," I added just in case it was not clear enough. But I knew it was going to take more than just my verbal reassurance. I had to show her I meant it one hundred percent. "If you will it ever find it in your heart to forgive me, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you."
"Oh, Christian," she sighed. My beautiful angel smiled like the beautiful soul that she was, taking my breath away.
Ana lowered her gaze again, except that this time she focused on Olivia, who needed to nurse from the other breast. I wordlessly lifted her onto my shoulder, and I patted her back until she rewarded my efforts with a burp. "Of course I forgive you," Ana put the nursing pillow around the back of her head and leaned back comfortably. I then carefully positioned the baby at her breast.
I leaned in and pecked Ana's lips. I marveled at the level of closeness and intimacy that we shared. While the old me would have been insanely jealous of the time Ana spent nursing, the new me cherished moments like these. Love didn't have to be exclusive or limiting. To my delight, Ana could still converse, be affectionate, and share herself with me while nursing the baby. It was the best feeling in the world, watching Ana nurturing her dual relationship as a wife and as a mother. Both relationships involved loving and giving, and neither one detracted from the other.
I smiled as I scooped the sleeping child into my arms and placed her into her bassinet. When I returned to our bed, Ana was waiting for me in all her naked loveliness. I removed my clothes, climbed beside her, and wrapped her into a full embrace. My hands moved down to her smooth curves and then onward until they rested on her inner thighs. Parting them wide, I placed my tongue over her sweet little bud. My tongue worked her until she was whimpering and needy. I didn't deserve her, but when I was with her, I believed I could fly and touch the sky.
...
Days later
Stephanie called me to give me an update on Elena's condition. She was in tears. Despite what Elena had done, Stephanie loved her. Grace was her birth mother, but she was nothing more than a name on a piece of paper.
Some things were still unclear. For one, officially, Grace had died from post-partum hemorrhaging. But I was convinced Elena was directly responsible for my mother's death. Of course, I had no way of proving this.
Secondly. Why did Elena keep one child and give the other one away? In time, I came to realize that it really didn't matter what reason she had for separating the girls. Elena Lincoln maliciously took advantage of the situation. Carrick, in a state of traumatic grief, gave his daughter away without looking back. It grieves me to know that Carrick never knew the existence of his other daughter (Jane). And that neither he nor Grace got to celebrate the birth of their twin daughters.
Part of me still wanted some form of closure, partial revenge. That's why I went to see Elena at the hospital. I wanted to see her face when I got everything off my chest.
Firearms injuries to the abdomen produced damages to the organs they enter as well as in the surrounding tissues. And so, Elena developed surgery complications, specifically, necrosis after 24 hours after the injury, gangrene of the colon, and hemorrhaging. Her third reconstruction surgery of the colon happened a couple of weeks later.
As a result of all this, she ended up needing the creation of an ostomy site below the belt. I could only imagine what a striking blow to the wretched woman's vanity to end up having to wear an ostomy bag ( a type of drainage bag for waste).
We paid a visit to the hospital to show Stephanie our support. I hated seeing her so upset. If I had my way, I would erase Elena from her memory. Better yet, I would erase her from everyone else's memories.
During one of our visits, Stephanie also talked about our sister Jane. Stephanie repeatedly pleaded with me to testify on Jane's behalf. I did end up testifying, but my testimony more was more condemning than favorable to her cause. I couldn't, in good conscience, let Jane get away with what she did to Ana.
Ana and Gail came with me that day that we visited her at the hospital. We brought Olivia in her baby carrier. I wanted to show Elena she'd failed miserably in her efforts to destroy my family.
Of course, I wished things had turned out differently for my family. For one, I now wished dad had gotten to meet Stephanie months before he died. I could have done more to make it happen, yet, I took comfort in the fact that the odds were against me. If I had wanted to, I wouldn't have found her any sooner. Elena had made sure to cover her tracks well. No one but her knew that Grace had given birth to twins.
As time went on and I got to know Stephanie better, I realized my assumptions about her were wrong. Stephanie wasn't capable of hate. And while initially, she would have been upset to learn that her birth father had given her away, she would have eventually forgiven Carrick. Just like she'd forgiven Elena.
"Hi, mom," Stephanie kissed Elena on the cheek.
"Who...who's there?" Elena asked, peering over at Ana and me. Gail had decided to wait outside the room with Olivia. "No!" Elena panicked.
Just as Ana and I greeted Elena with a cold and hollow hello, a disgusting smell filled the air. And the nurse hurried to change Elena's waste bag.
"Get them out of here! Get them out of here!" Elena shouted, her eyes wild and mortified.
Ana and I remained in the room and stared while the nurse tried to get Elena to calm down while she continued to work on emptying the foul-smelling bag. Ana gagged, and I turned away in disgust. Yet, we stayed. It was a bit like watching a car wreck. We couldn't help but peek at what unfortunately transpired.
A few more agonizing moments passed before the nurse turned to ask us to leave. But by then, Elena had begun thrashing about, shouting obscenities like a madwoman.
We didn't leave in a rush, on the contrary. I, for one, was more than satisfied witnessing Elena's complete humiliation. This was the woman who had dragged my father and me into a twisted love triangle. I was only fifteen when she seduced me, whipped me, and locked me into a lifestyle of her choosing under the guise of teaching me how to control my emotions. But in reality, Elena Lincoln only wanted to destroy us.
ANA
Christian and I were looking forward to justice being served. We could hardly wait for her trial. We had her death bed confession of how she singlehandedly sealed the twins' fate by separating at birth. She maliciously kept one of the girls while keeping the existence of the other one a secret all these years.
In the days that followed, Steinberg informed us that he had a crucial handwriting expert who could prove that Elena had forged his signature on my father's will. As to the marriage itself, we could only speculate as to Carrick's frame of mind when he married Elena on his death bed. Or whether he understood the property consequences of such marriage.
Soon after, we learned that Elena suffered complications after her third surgery. I acted like a good sister-in-law and listened, although I found the graphic details that Stephanie shared with us more than a little disturbing. As for Christian, I could tell his mind checked out during these discussions. We were there to offer Stephanie sisterly support. That's all there was to it.
We later learned that Elena suffered a long agonizing death. Stephanie was there to hold her hand. So she didn't die alone, which apparently, was her greatest fear. According to Stephanie, she died shortly after learning that the judge had ruled in our favor, canceling the will she'd had Carrick sign under false pretenses.
I believe some would call this Poetic justice.
Later, Christian made an interesting comparison. He said the evil witch's dominion succeeded only for a little while, just like when in Macbeth, Lady Macbeth's plotted to kill the king. In the end, both of them perished; one felt compelled to confess her sins on her deathbed, and the other killed herself haunted by her own conscience.
…
Six months later
As soon as Christian took full possession of his inheritance, and we moved back to the house where we got married. We both thought it was the perfect place to raise a family.
Olivia was growing into a lovely baby with gorgeous eyes that resembled my own. With all the difficulties I had experienced with my pregnancy, part of me feared we wouldn't bond well. But I was dead wrong about that. To my delight, I was very much able to love my new baby girl. It was a joy to wake up in the morning, listen to her cooing in her crib, and call her endearing pet names.
After dressing Olivia in her cutest outfit, Christian and I headed for the airport.
The minute I spotted mama and my sixteen-year-old sister walk through the airport gates, I cried and laughed at the same time. It had almost been two years since I'd seen them last, but at that moment, past and present melted into one.
The three of us hugged. It was the most emotional moment; tears were rolling down like a river.
After pulling myself together, I turned to Christian, who was holding Olivia, and introduced them. Both of them gave Christian shy smiles before saying hello.
After a few rounds of hugging, kissing, and welcoming, we started moving toward luggage claim. Mom's arms went out to Olivia, all grins and smiles. But my baby girl buried her head on my husband's shoulders, her little arms clutching him for dear life. Both Mom and Maria cooed and ahhed when she eventually rewarded them with a shy toothless grin. I was beaming with happiness, proud of my husband and child, proud of the life I had built in my new country.
Carla smiled a smile that said it all. There was a glimmer of hope in her eyes that wasn't there before. The last time we'd seen each other back home was coming back to me full force. She'd kissed me good-bye on Sunday afternoon under the shadow of Saint Paul's cathedral, too weak to see me off at the airport. She didn't need to say any words. I knew how she felt. I knew she hoped I'd find a better life and doubted when or if we'd ever be reunited.
Today we had defied the odds, making this one of the happiest days of my life.
Maria was talking up a storm, and I smiled at her teenaged exuberance.
Christian spoke to them both in Spanish. I was proud of his efforts to make them feel welcomed. That my husband could speak their language was a profound relief since neither one could speak any English. In preparation for this day, he'd enrolled in Spanish class, and I became his conversation partner.
As soon as we started driving through the city, Maria oohed and ahhed over everything she saw. From buildings to the magnificent toll bridge, private homes, and navigating hills and narrow streets in the rain. I've heard Christian say that one of the best things about Seattle was the number of beautiful homes. It's one of the few cities in the world that can boast of having more fine residences in proportion to its population. Not only that, but every home is distinct with artistic taste and individuality.
I couldn't wait to show them our beautiful home with its beautiful gardens and the cozy breakfast nook. I already pictured us gathering there, having breakfast. Olivia, sitting in her high chair, stuffing a handful of cheerios in her mouth. The sound of laughter. A hummingbird poised in front of the windows as if viewing itself. Olivia, pointing and shrieking with excitement.
Four months later
"You can do this, Liv," Christian encouraged our little one as he knelt and shuffled his feet across the grass. For the past week or so, he had devoted time to helping Olivia how to walk.
Our baby girl was beyond excited. She clutched her daddy's hands as she began taking baby steps. I stood behind her, ready to catch her in case she fell backward.
"You're doing great! Come, baby, come!" he continued to encourage her with a big smile.
"I'm going to let go now!" Christian warned her softly as he slowly pulled his hands away. For a few precious seconds, our little one stood there grinning, immensely pleased with herself. My eyes burned with unshed tears of happiness.
But then, Olivia lost her balance and stumbled backward. Luckily, I was able to catch her and prevented her fall.
"Did I let go of her hands too soon?" Christian asked me.
"I don't think so," I answered him. My dear husband was such a wonderful daddy, so sweet and overprotective. I couldn't wait for us to have more children.
Olivia fell again and again. Remarkably, she kept on trying with single-minded determination.
After months of standing practice, Olivia was finally walking; two chubby legs, standing far apart. She took a step or two and fell. We held our breath. At one point, Christian decided it was enough practice for one day and swung her into his arms. Olivia shrieked in protest. She wanted to keep going. Christian and I exchanged a look and a smile.
Watching her took me back to that moment in time when I first walked through the dating agency's doors. Everything in my life up to that point had been a struggle. I was feeling the pressure of putting food on the table, the shame of not being able to make ends meet. Jose was behind bars, and we didn't have the money to hire a defense attorney.
My weary eyes darted to the artwork above the main reception area and dared to hope for a better life.
The first step to living the life you want is leaving the life you don't want.
Taking the first step forward is always the hardest.
But then each step forward gets easier and easier.
And each step forward gets you closer and closer until eventually, what had once been invisible starts to be visible.
And what once felt impossible starts to feel possible.
Looking back, emigrating to this country and marrying Christian had been a gamble for sure. Yes, sometimes, I hated my own honesty. But then again, Christian always tells me that my honesty was the very thing that set me apart from the bunch.
In the Disney adaptation of the Little Mermaid, Arial becomes fully human and, through a series of lucky turns, ends up marrying the prince. Some would call it luck; others would call it destiny. I didn't know. The only thing I knew for sure was that marrying Christian was the best decision I'd ever made.
I smiled as I watched Christian as he scooped up Olivia and started blowing raspberries into her tummy. Babies love it all-the closeness, the vibration, and the chance to grab a handful of your hair.
Nothing made me happier than the sound of Olivia's squeals and my husband's husky laugh.
Yes, this was one of life's perfect moments, and I was planning on living it to the fullest.
THE END
~~Author's note:
Thanks to everyone who has ever reviewed, favorited and/ followed this story. Special thanks to T Traveller for her great support. Words cannot express the depth of my gratitude. I couldn't have written the second half of this story without you. Thanks for making this such a great journey!