When I heard the news I'd wanted to cradle her in my arms as some sort of consolation, to tell her she would be okay and that she could face the long journey ahead of her. But I couldn't; I just did as I always had to and sat back, watching as everyone else stepped in instead. This was my job, taken away to be handled by everyone else. Tears pooled in her eyes the day it was confirmed as her husband squeezed her hand with an attempt at confidence, sealing the deal that it'd be okay.
But I could see it in her eyes; I knew she didn't think it was because of one grave mistake.
No one else could understand her, I figured, and that was what made it so hard not to just appear with words of advice. I shadowed her every move, feeling the burst of excitement, anticipation and extreme trepidation all puddled into one. This unexpected freedom scared me as much as it did her, but I knew that if she was truly mine, she'd just grow from the experience, as I did.
It still showed though, the constant lingering fear that she'd never be ready.
When the day came though, nine months later, the baby was beautiful. Ten fingers, ten toes and soft curious eyes that stared up into the eyes of her mother and my daughter.
She cried, like the early days where a nightmare would plague her dreams and she'd come running to me with eyes turned cherry red and fraught with fear, like the day she'd realized she was pregnant. Except this time her tears were found not in sadness, but pure joy.
They placed the tiny infant in her arms and it all came flooding back, the memory of her first day washing over me. I felt myself floating down next to her and staring at this newborn with some new sense of hope. She turned her head my way and a smile crept across her face; that's when I knew I'd been caught. She said nothing though, just a nod of acknowledgment and then her eyes returned dotingly to her first daughter.
Prudence Ryanne Halliwell. For me, for Prue's father. I never realized what an honor that was until now.
At her age the thought of being a mother had petrified me, how could I take care of anyone other than myself, much less do it successfully? When she realized the truth that she was really pregnant at the same age I had been, she quivered at the notion of dying young and leaving her baby girl as I had her.
Old wounds never really heal, you know.
Leaving her was the most difficult thing I was ever faced with in life, but being able to watch her grow up so steadily with such courage and faith has been a gift. Death taught me to look at the bigger picture, the benefit from the loss. I look at her knowing there's far more ahead than she can imagine, positive that we've both learned from our past and she will have the chance that I did not, to grow with her daughter.
Prudence's crying begins to cease as my daughter rocks the child in her arms, humming the tune I used to sing to her when she was an infant. I never told her the name of it, she's doing this instinctively.
The folded note is stuffed into an envelope and resting on the nightstand adjacent to her. She reads the letter as her husband cuddles his first daughter, so careful to make sure she will not break. Words I wrote years and years ago spark a greater inspiration to be the wonderful mother I know she will become.
My Pattie, the apple that doesn't fall far from the tree.
So yes, that was obviously Prue narrating if you didn't get it the first time around. A walk into the future, a look at the next generation. It seemed like a good end. You're going to review, right? I know you will, because this is it. I have officially finished Second Chances. The prequel, Blessing in Disguise and sequel, Mind Over Matter are coming and I will write them simultaneously. Your opinions matter to me, make my last words in Second Chances count!