Chapter 8 - THE LITTLE GIRL WHO HAD ALREADY DONE ENOUGH
Rachel woke at 6:42 in the morning.
A nurse noticed her fingers moving.
Then her eyes.
She could not speak because of the breathing tube.
She became agitated immediately.
Heart rate rising.
Hands moving.
Trying to communicate.
The nurse brought a board.
Rachel wrote one letter.
A
Then another.
M
The nurse understood.
“Amara?”
Rachel nodded frantically.
“She’s safe.”
Rachel closed her eyes.
Tears escaped.
“The babies are safe too.”
More tears.
Rachel stopped fighting the ventilator.
That was the first thing she needed.
Not where am I?
Not what happened?
Her children.
When Thomas received the call, he was helping Amara choose cereal.
He dropped the spoon.
Amara stared.
“What?”
“Your mom woke up.”
The cereal bowl hit the floor.
She ran barefoot down the corridor.
Thomas followed.
“Amara!”
Nurses stopped her outside intensive care.
She screamed.
“Mommy!”
Rachel heard.
Even through glass.
Her head moved.
Amara pressed both hands against the window.
Rachel raised one trembling hand.
It was enough.
Amara sobbed.
Not quietly.
Not bravely.
Like a child.
“I came back!”
Rachel’s hand remained raised.
“I came back, Mommy!”
Thomas knelt behind her.
“She knows.”
The reunion happened later that afternoon after Rachel was stable enough.
Amara approached the bed slowly.
Rachel looked thinner.
Smaller.
Machines surrounded her.
Amara stopped several feet away.
Rachel whispered:
“Come here.”
Amara ran.
Carefully.
Nurses had warned her about tubes.
She climbed beside Rachel without pressing against the surgical area.
Rachel touched her hair.
“You did it.”
Amara cried.
“I left you.”
“No.”
“I left.”
“No, baby.”
“I took Noah and Grace.”
“I know.”
“I was coming back.”
Rachel began crying.
“You were supposed to leave me.”
Amara stared.
“What?”
“You were supposed to get help.”
“But you were alone.”
Rachel pulled her close.
“You were seven.”
That sentence broke something open.
Amara screamed into her mother’s chest.
“I thought you died!”
Rachel sobbed too.
“I know.”
“I gave you water!”
“I know.”
“I tried!”
“I know.”
“I couldn't wake you!”
“I know.”
Thomas stepped outside.
Some moments belonged to mother and daughter.
An hour later Rachel asked about him.
“Thomas?”
Dana nodded.
“He's here.”
Rachel closed her eyes.
“I owe him an explanation.”
“Yes.”
“Does he know?”
“Yes.”
“DNA?”
“Yes.”
Rachel looked toward Amara.
“Does she?”
“Yes.”
Rachel covered her face.
“I ruined everything.”
Dana sat beside her.
“Gordon did plenty of ruining.”
“I hid her from Thomas.”
“Yes.”
Dana did not soften it.
Rachel looked surprised.
“You're not going to tell me I had reasons?”
“You probably did.”
“I did.”
“But Amara still lost seven years with him.”
Rachel cried silently.
“I was angry.”
“At Thomas?”
“Yes.”
“He left.”
“He didn't know.”
“I know.”
“Why didn't you tell him?”
Rachel looked ashamed.
“Because when I discovered I was pregnant, he had already gone to London. He chose his career.”
“So you chose for him too.”
Rachel nodded.
“I told myself I was protecting her.”
“From what?”
“Being unwanted.”
Dana waited.
Rachel whispered:
“But I never gave him the chance to want her.”
There it was.
Accountability without cruelty.
Later Thomas entered.
Rachel stared at him.
Eight years disappeared and remained at the same time.
“You got old,” she whispered.
Thomas laughed.
“You almost died and that's your opening line?”
Rachel smiled weakly.
Then cried.
“I'm sorry.”
Thomas sat.
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“Yes.”
“I should've told you.”
“Yes.”
“You can be angry.”
“I am.”
Rachel nodded.
“But not today.”
She looked up.
“Why?”
“Because today you woke up.”
Silence.
“And Amara needs both of us to behave like adults.”
Rachel smiled through tears.
“She likes you?”
Thomas considered.
“She tolerates my ears.”
“What?”
“Long story.”
Rachel laughed.
It hurt.
She grabbed her abdomen.
Thomas panicked.
“Don't make me laugh.”
“Sorry.”
For the first time, their past did not feel like a weapon.
Only history.
Complicated.
Painful.
But survivable.
Then Rachel asked:
“Noah and Grace?”
Thomas brought photographs.
Rachel kissed each picture.
“Samuel would have loved them.”
“I heard about him.”
“He was good to Amara.”
“I know.”
Rachel studied Thomas.
“Does that bother you?”
“No.”
She looked surprised.
Thomas shrugged.
“I missed seven years. I'm not going to insult the man who showed up during them.”
Rachel began crying again.
“You're making me cry too much.”
“Apparently giant ears make women emotional.”
She laughed despite herself.
Outside the room, Amara sat coloring.
Caroline joined her.
“Your mom's awake.”
“I know.”
“Babies are getting stronger.”
“I know.”
“Thomas is staying.”
“I know.”
Caroline smiled.
“You know everything.”
Amara nodded seriously.
Then Caroline asked:
“So what are you responsible for tomorrow?”
Amara began automatically.
“Check babies, Mommy's water—”
“Nope.”
Amara stopped.
“Try again.”
“Homework?”
“Yes.”
“Brush teeth?”
“Yes.”
“Feed Bunny?”
“Stuffed rabbits don't eat.”
“She does.”
“Fine.”
Amara thought.
“Play?”
Caroline smiled.
“Definitely.”
Amara looked uncertain.
“That's all?”
“For tomorrow? Pretty much.”
She stared at her coloring book.
Then slowly smiled.
“That's easy.”
It should have been.
May you like
She was seven.
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