by H. M. Ward
“After a few moments, they told me what happened. My placenta had detached and they didn't know. My babies couldn't get oxygen, and then they were gone. That morning, I could feel them kicking inside me, and by that night, they were gone."
His arms tighten around me. "Oh baby," he whispers. "I'm so sorry."
I clutch his shirt in my hand, keeping him close to me as I sob.
"Come on, baby, let me take you to my flat."
"No, I can't." I shake my head back and forth against him. "I need to get this out now, like ripping off a band-aid."
Oliver strokes my hair as he agrees. "Okay. Finish it so I can take you away from here."
"There was no rhyme or reason for what happened. How can I be mad when there's no one to blame? The doctor and nurses all assured me it wasn't something I did, that I didn't cause any of it, but do you know how much harder that made it? There was no one for me to be mad at but God.
“And then I got to hold them. It was such a surreal experience. It was the first time I'd ever witnessed death, and I didn't handle it well. They told me I could have as much time as I needed, that they would come as soon as I called. I got to trace their little features, to hug them tightly and tell them I loved them. The hospital brought in a photographer to take pictures of both the babies, and of me holding each of them so I'd have a physical way to hold onto them.”
“That’s what was on your phone?”
I nod. "My mom and sister were my rock during those horrible few days. I don't think I could have left the hospital with my empty arms without them. They took me home, intent on staying with me, but I just wanted to be alone. I wanted to wallow in my misery, and I wanted to be by myself. It hurt them, I could tell, but I just needed time.
“After they left, I went into the room that was going to be the nursery. The room was bright and cheery, everything a baby—or two—could ever hope to want, but it was going to be empty. My babies would never get to see this room, never wear the clothes in the dresser. I would never look down into the crib and see them."
I suck in a shaky breath and wipe the tears away.
"Suddenly, I couldn't take it anymore. I put everything I could into one bag, grabbed the little bit of money I had saved, and left. I didn't tell anyone where I was going, I didn't tell my mom or my sister goodbye. I've been avoiding them for four years."
I look up at Oliver and ask, "What kind of mother doesn't stick around for her own children's funeral? Who does that? Do you see now why I didn't want you to know? I didn't want you to see me differently, to see me as the monster I was back then."
He kisses the top of my head and holds me tight.
"Oh, sweetheart, you were never a monster. You're the strongest person I've ever met." I scoff, and he says, "I mean it. Going through that, especially when you were alone in a new city afterward, I can't even begin to imagine how hard that was. I would never think less of you for handling that situation the best way you knew how. It only makes me love you more."
I look up at him, seeing the love shining out of his eyes, and know he's telling me the truth.
"I love you, Oliver." I'm finally able to say the words, and I want him to know that I forgive him. I forgive him for not telling me about owning the hotel, and I'm ready to move on, to finally live.
"I love you too, my American Girl." He leads me back to the cab where the meter has been running all this time and gives the driver his address.
The next thing I know, we're pulling up outside his building, and he's paying as he helps me out. Oliver grabs my bags and directs me inside and up to his flat. It's been such an emotional day, and I don't know how much more I can handle.
Leading me straight into his room, Oliver sits me down on the edge of his bed before kneeling in front of me and pulling off my shoes. He pulls me up so that I'm standing once more and unbuttons my jeans, sliding them down my legs and helping me out of them.
When he stands in front of me again, I place both hands on his chest. He stops in the middle of taking his own pants and shirt off to stare down at me.
"I'm not ready to have sex, Ollie," I say sarcastically.
One side of his mouth tips up in a grin, and he shakes his head. "That's not even on the table right now. You just told me your life story on a sidewalk in London, and you look like you're asleep on your feet. I just want to hold you, Kayla. I want to know you're here with me, that you aren't going to leave as soon as I turn my back."
His words make me realize how much I've hurt him, and I flush. "Sorry."
"Don't be sorry," he says with a shake of his head. "I want that too. You owe me tons of makeup sex. For now though, let's take a nap before we talk about anything else."
I nod. As soon as he’s next to me and pulls the covers up over us, I turn to lay my head on his chest. He wraps an arm around me, kissing the top of my head. I'm warm and comfortable, and exactly where I want to be. The emotions catch up with me, and I'm asleep before I can say another word.
CHAPTER 43
When I wake up the next morning, I'm lying with my head on Oliver's chest, his arm wrapped around me and one of my legs in between his. I've barely moved since we laid down last night.
Oliver's fingers trail up my arm, notifying me that he's awake too. I lift my head to look at him, almost gasping at the amount of love in his eyes. There's something else there too, something that looks like trepidation.
"What is it?" I ask fearfully.
"Kayla," he starts, stopping to clear his throat. "Where were you planning to go yesterday?"
I look back down at his bare chest.
"I don't know. I just wanted to get away." Looking back up, I tell him, "A private detective called the flat yesterday. He's getting too close."
"Okay," he says, drawing out the word because he doesn't understand what the problem is.
"He could show up at the flat...or worse, my mom and sister could." The ache of missing them is painful, but there's no way I can look in their eyes.
"Baby," he murmurs, tugging my hair until I'm forced to look back up at him. "You need to go home, even if it's just to visit your daughters' graves, and talk to your mum and Shannon. Those ghosts you're running from? They probably only exist in your mind. If your family is looking for you, it's not because they're angry or upset with you. I imagine your mum is worried out of her mind about you and wants to know you're safe."
I shake my head. "No, I can't go home. I can't face them after what I did." My voice is rising, turning shrill in terror.
"Shh," he whispers, leaning up to kiss my forehead. "You can do it, I promise you can."
He pulls back to study me. "Can I tell you something?" I nod. "Remember I told you how my mother took my sister and left my father? After Dad died, my mum came to get me, and I lived with her until I left for University. My sister blamed me for my father's death, saying that if I hadn't acted out, he wouldn't have done what he did."
He sounds so sad. How could she say that to her own brother?
"I blamed myself for his death for a long time, because of her words and I've never been able to bring myself to reconcile with her. My mother says Evie is sorry, that she didn't mean it and wishes she could take the words back. But every time I think of her, I hear the words she said and the ones I said in return. Don't let that be you, don't let it get to the point where you can't reconcile with your family, because you can't forgive yourself. You need to go back for your peace of mind. If your family is anything like I think they are, they'll just be happy to see you, they won't care what happened before."
"I don't know if I can," I say in a small voice, afraid to hope he's right, laying my head back on his chest.
Oliver kisses me again, this time on the top of my head, and I can feel the rumble of his words when he says, "I'll go with you if you'll let me. You don't have to do it alone. You don't have to be alone again."
CHAPTER 44
I can't believe I'm back here. After a nap and a round of "make-up sex," I told Oliver I
wanted to go home. We left two days later, and we just got off Oliver's plane. Yeah, he owns a private plane. I tried to protest, saying we could fly commercial, but he wouldn't have it. There's also a bit of a fight over the hired car, but he says he's used to driving on the left side of the road and prefers we don’t crash a rental. Of course, Oliver wins, and we make it to the hotel in one piece.
He didn't tell me where we were going to stay, so when the car pulls up at a building next to Central Park, I can't do anything but gape at it in awe. He's booked the Ritz Carlton? I don't know why I'm surprised...I mean, hello - private jet, hired car. It figures he'd come to New York City and stay in the Ritz.
I've never stepped foot in a place like this. We walk inside and, much like when we entered the chocolate store or the pub where he took me for our first date, I don't know where to look first.
The lobby is very plush with pale walls and marble floors. Even the sconces on the wall look like they're worth more than I made the entire time I worked at his hotel. The decor and furnishings are expensive, dark wood highlighted by what looks like Tiffany lamps and a piano sitting in the corner of the room. The staff is very polite when Oliver checks us in, but I don't hear anything they say, because I'm so busy gawking at everything.
Being here is a little unbelievable. I never thought I'd see New York again. Part of me can't wait to see mom and Shannon, but the rest of me is scared to death. He urged me to tell them I was coming, to give them a heads up, but I couldn't. I haven't talked to either of them in so long, and I have no idea what it's going to be like to see them again.
I left them to do everything alone. They had to plan the funeral, pick out caskets and do all the things I should have been here to do. Now I have to live with the consequences.
It's ironic that today is the fifth anniversary of the day I found out I was pregnant, and it's the first time I'm going to visit them. After a quick shower, we head that direction.
When we walk into the cemetery, my heart begins to pound, and I feel lightheaded. God, am I doing this? I'm going to the graves of my daughters for the first time. It's surreal.
Oliver's hand squeezes mine, letting me know I'm not alone. I don't think I would be able to do this if he weren't here. We visit the cemetery office to find out exactly where the grave is, but it's easy to find once marked on our map. The attendant also tells us my girls are buried together in one grave. Oliver gently squeezes my hand, understanding how much it bothers me that I didn't know.
A mother should know something like that.
The cemetery has a section that's specifically for children, and strangely, knowing they rest among other little ones makes me feel better. We walk through the tiny markers until we find the one that has the names of my daughters.
Sarah Lynn O'Mally & Selena Maire O'Mally
September 2
I walk toward their marker and trace their names with a finger. My heart squeezes when I read the single date. Most of the time, markers have two dates, one for birth and one for death. My daughters weren't that lucky.
Neither of us speaks. Oliver keeps an arm around me to comfort me, as I stand here trembling. There are so many things I want to say to them, but I don't know how to begin.
"Just speak from your heart, Kayla," he murmurs into my hair.
I take a deep breath before wrapping one of my arms around his waist to let him center me.
"Hi, baby girls. I'm so sorry." My shoulders start to shake and Oliver hugs me tighter. "I'm sorry my body couldn't keep you safe, that you weren't able to see the world. You would be almost five years old now, getting ready to start kindergarten and keeping me on my toes."
I have to smile at the image in my head of two dark-haired little girls wearing tiny backpacks.
"I love you both so much, and I wish you were here right now. I wish so many things were different."
Oliver and I stand in front of the grave for another few minutes. He pulls me into his embrace and holds me, letting me cry for the babies I never got to know, for the adults they'll never grow up to be, and the injustice of it all.
When the tears stop, he lifts my chin, cupping my face in his hands and dropping kisses on each of my cheeks before lightly kissing my mouth.
"I love you, American Girl."
"I love you, too."
He leads me back to the car, helping me inside before he gets in himself. Once we're back in the hotel room, he leaves me sitting on a couch in the living area of the suite and heads into the bathroom.
I'm lost in my head, in thoughts of what could have been, what should have been, and what now is. I have a feeling visiting the cemetery will be the easy part of this trip. The dead don't speak, and I know my mother and sister will have plenty to say.
"Kayla?" Oliver's voice is soft and cautious.
I look up, seeing him standing in the doorway to the huge bathroom. He looks tired, and I hate that I'm the cause of that. When he sees my face, he walks over to kneel in front of me.
Brushing the hair from my face, he frowns up at me, "Talk to me. What’s going through that mind?”
I try to tell him, "Nothing," but he doesn't buy it. He just raises an eyebrow while keeping his eyes on me. Finally, I sigh, "You look like you could use a nap."
"Are you worrying about me, American Girl?" He smiles, leaning in to press a kiss to my forehead. I nod. "Don't worry about me, baby. I'm fine. I'll be even better if you let me take care of you." He stands, holding a hand out for me to take and pulling me in front of him. "I drew you a bath. Why don't you relax a bit and then we can decide if we're going to go see your family tonight or if you want to wait until tomorrow."
He leads me into the bathroom where the huge tub is full of fragrant bubbles.
"You did this for me?" I love the way he takes care of me.
Oliver doesn't say anything; he just shrugs as a faint flush crosses his cheeks. No one has ever loved me the way he does. I just hope I'm worth it, worthy of him. After he helps me undress, he takes my hand once more to help me get into the tub. Once I'm settled, he turns to leave the room, and I stop him.
"Where are you going?"
"Just out there," he says, gesturing toward the suite's bedroom. I hold my hand out to him.
"Please, stay." Looking uncertain, he doesn't move, so I continue, "I don't want to be alone."
"All right." Oliver undresses quickly, and I scoot forward to make room for him to get in the mammoth tub behind me. Once he's settled, I lean back against his warm chest, finally able to relax.
We sit in the tub until the water turns cold and our skin is all wrinkled. It's not sexual, but it's comforting. Oliver helps me out of the tub, wrapping me in a fluffy towel and drying me gently before wrapping a towel around his own hips.
When we leave the bathroom, I'm feeling much better, more relaxed and at peace.
"I think I want to go see them tonight. Get it all over with now."
I don't know how they are going to react to seeing me. I don't know if they are still upset with me for running away, for ignoring their phone calls and letters all this time, or if they've forgiven me for being a scared, broken girl.
We get dressed, taking extra time to calm my nerves before heading over to the house I haven't seen in years.
CHAPTER 45
Oliver has the car pull up to the curb in front of the small house my mother has lived in most of my life. Taking one of my trembling hands in his, we get out.
"Are you sure about this, Kayla? We don't have to do this tonight. In fact, we don't have to do this at all. If you'd rather, we can go back to the hotel and call them from there. Maybe calling first is better. It will let you gauge how they feel."
"No, I need to do this."
Pressing a kiss to the back of my hand, Oliver nods. I have a moment of panic and start to tell him I changed my mind, but he puts a finger to my lips to stop me.
"Stop fretting, love. It will all be fine. Now, let's go meet your family."
I swallow hard,
my stomach turning flips as we walk up to the door. Just before we reach the steps, the door flies open, and my mother is standing in front of me.
"Kayla O'Mally," she whispers, lifting a shaking hand to her lips as tears fill her eyes. I can't tell if her reaction is good or bad until she wraps her slim arms around me. "I was beginning to think I'd never see you again. Is everything...are you?"
Answering her unspoken question, I say, "I'm fine mom. It was just time to come home."
"Past time, sweetie." She narrows her eyes as she meets mine, and I know she hasn't forgiven me for leaving.
Before she can speak, I owe up to my mistakes. "I'm sorry I left you. I’m sorry I ran and didn’t say anything. I couldn't deal with everything, and I didn't know how to handle all the emotions. I broke, Mom."
My mother's eyes turn glassy with tears. Cupping my cheeks in her hands, she kisses first one and then the other.
"Darling girl, you should have talked to me. That's always been your problem. Shannon will talk to anyone; she's never met a stranger. But you, you internalize so much, letting it fester and hurt. I've been waiting for you to come to me." She laughs a little. "If it were up to your sister, we would have followed right behind you to force you to talk to us. But, you needed time. Time to deal with what happened." Mom searches my eyes, smiling finally at whatever she sees in them. "You're at peace now." Acknowledging Oliver, she says, "Is this because of you?"
He looks away, unsure how to answer.
"Yes, Mom, a lot of it because of him."
His eyes fly back to mine, shining with love for me, and he steps up on the porch to stand with me. He holds out a hand to my mother, but she doesn't take it right away.
"My name is Oliver Jackson and I'm in love with your daughter." I can do nothing but stare at him in shock. He just put it all out there, claiming me in front of my mother. It doesn't bother her a bit.
