by T. L. Haddix
My dear, sweet Amelia Rose,
I don’t know where to even begin this letter. With love and a giddy welcome certainly but also with a sense of relief. Unlike your siblings, you rushed into the world much earlier than we were expecting you—and not without a little pomp and circumstance. I can’t say whether your siblings were as enthusiastic as you or not, but you, my sweet girl, were yelling your head off almost from the moment you were born.
Your mother calls you feisty. I can’t disagree with her. You aren’t the least bit fussy, but you already have your eyes on everything. I imagine what you can see is quite blurry, but that doesn’t seem to matter.
You had your first official weigh-in this morning, and you came in at a very respectable six pounds, thirteen ounces. That puts you squarely in the middle of the weights of your siblings. You’re twenty inches long, and your little fingers are so cute and perfect it isn’t to be believed.
You look like a doll, perhaps more so than any of your siblings. I suppose that’s only fitting as you’re the baby in the family and will remain so. No more little Campbells after you. I’m sure as you all grow up, you’ll tease your brothers and sisters that we had to stop with you because we’d reached perfection. You have my permission and encouragement to do so as long as you are not mean about it. After all, a little sister needs to keep her older siblings on their toes.
Your unexpected arrival did lead to some rather uncomfortable pointed questions from your brother John and sister Emma about where babies come from. Fortunately, your mother answered those questions with aplomb, all the while laughing at how flustered I was. Very soon—too soon—I’ll be having the “birds and bees” talk with John. He’s nine already, and that leaves me maybe three years before we have to have a frank discussion. Don’t let anyone tell you this parenting gig is for wimps, Amelia. Trust me on this—it isn’t. I’m up for the challenges though. I’ll gladly take them on.
As you grow up, you’ll be sure to hear the story of how you came to us in a blizzard. By the time you’re in school, hopefully I’ll have calmed down from the fear and worry I’ve felt the last few days.
I fully expect that we’ll spoil you rotten because you are the baby. I hope we can do that in a way that doesn’t hurt your siblings. Maybe we’ll have to spoil them rotten too. So long as you all feel loved and you’re well-behaved and kind, I don’t see a thing wrong with that.
The childhood we’re giving your siblings, the one we’ll give you, is so far from what my own childhood was I’m hard-pressed to put it into words. From talks with your mother, it’s similar to how her upbringing was, and given how much I admire your grandmother Eliza and your aunt and uncle Kathy and Jack, I’d say that’s high praise indeed.
I hope you know how much you’re wanted, how much you’re loved. Despite your harrowing arrival into this world, I’d not trade you for an instant. I look forward to seeing who you become, young lady.
With love,
Your father
“Did you finish it?” Sarah asked quietly as he folded the letter.
“Finally. I think maybe I needed to hear that you two were all right before my mind would let me settle.”
“Maybe. She’s so different from the other kids—the way they were in their first days, I mean. I wonder how much of that has to do with who she is and how much of it comes from how she was born.”
Owen stood and crossed to her, then got on his knees beside the rocking chair. “I don’t know. I’ve wondered the same thing. Personally, I think she just takes more after her mother’s side of the family than her father’s. Us Campbells are quiet, peaceful… you Brownings are the troublemakers.”
Sarah pinched his side. “Give me a few weeks, and you’ll be paying for that remark, sir.”
He grinned at her, his heart full. “I’ll hold you to that, madam. I love your ‘punishments,’ you know.”
Ducking her head, Sarah blushed. “I know. I really am sorry I scared you.”
Owen closed his eyes as she touched his face. “I realize that. I’m also not ready to talk about it. This was too close. Give me a few years.” Kissing her palm, he stood and took the baby. “Let’s go to bed, wife. You need your rest.”
“Rest sounds good. Want me to take her while you do a walk-through to secure the house?”
He shook his head. “I have her. I’ll meet you in the bedroom, then go up and check on the rest of the gang.”
As he went through the downstairs, all he could think about was how well things had turned out, how lucky they’d been. He’d owe Jack and Gilly for the rest of his life for what they’d done, and he could never hope to repay them. As he finished his circuit, he found himself standing beside the front door, gazing out at the barn in the distance. For a man whose home had once consisted of that barn, having been driven away by a father who’d considered him a monster, to have what he had now was nothing short of a series of miracles.
Gazing at the baby who was sound asleep in his arms, he had to admit that part of him was sad his father had never seen what he’d become. That Hank Campbell hadn’t been able to see him as anything other than a monster, that he’d not understood Owen’s abilities or seemed to want to. Owen was grateful beyond words that he had had a fine man who’d stepped into Hank’s shoes, and that was Owen’s uncle Eli.
“Without him, I wouldn’t be here,” he told Amelia. “I never would have made it through life without his influence and Amy’s as well. Without their love. I hope someday I can be as much of a good influence for someone as they’ve been for me. That I can make a difference to someone like they have. That I can help. That and love are really all we can ever hope to achieve, Amelia Rose. I don’t care if you kids turn out to be rocket scientists or brain surgeons or garbage collectors so long as you’re happy and loved. If I can see that come to fruition, I’ll know I’ve done good in this world.”
He placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. “Now, let’s go find your mama. She’s probably wondering what happened to us.” He stopped by the row of portraits in the hall that Sarah had placed along the side of the stairs. “You’ll be up there soon, young lady. You’ll grow so fast it’ll take our breath, watching the time pass. Guess I’d best enjoy you being a baby while I can, huh? Tomorrow you’ll be walking, seems like, and the week after that, you’ll be all grown up. For tonight, however, you’re my baby of babies, and I’m going to cherish every minute with you.”
And that was exactly what he did.
Also by this Author
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