“Yeah, yeah.” She rolls her eyes. “Gray’s a boy and doesn’t like girly things like we do.” She leans forward and lowers her voice. “Girl things are so much better.”
I lower my own voice and wink at her. “I agreee.”
Her girlish giggle warms my heart.
I get back to the point I was trying to make. “Youuu knooow how I alwaysss wear thiss?” She nods. “It’sss because it’sss my favvvorite. Excepppt the timmmes Daddy’sss had to replaccce the chain, I’vve neverrr taken it off befffore.”
“Wow,” she breathes in wonder. “You must really love it then.”
“I doo.”
“But why did you take it off now?”
Scooping the shell up in my weak grip, I close my fingers around it for a moment. I slowly lift my hand and press a kiss against the white shell before looking back at Gemma.
“Beeecause I wannnt you to wwear it nowww.”
Her eyes widen. “But, Momma, it’s your favorite. I don’t want to take your favorite necklace.”
“It’ss okaay. I waaant you to wearrr it now. Buut you have tooo promissse to always taaake care of ittt for me annnd your daddy.”
Her head bobs up and down and a serious expression pulls her lips down. “I will. I’ll never take it off just like you.”
“Thankkk you, baaaby. Noww help me puuut it on youuu.”
Pushing her hair over one shoulder, she turns around. I try so freaking hard to find the strength to open the clasp, but my fingers aren’t working properly. I hate that I can’t even put a necklace around my daughter’s neck.
Gemma must sense my frustration because all of a sudden, she turns around. “I can do it, Momma.”
She takes the necklace from me, handling it gently, and puts it on backward before clasping it. Spinning it around until the cockleshell lays against her chest, she looks down at it before lifting her head and beaming proudly at me.
“It lookkks sooo pretty onnn you. Like you’rrre supppose to wearrr it.”
“Do you think Daddy will be okay if I wear it?”
“Offf course, heee will.”
She lifts the shell and examines it like she’s never seen it before.
A throat clearing has us both looking toward the door. Lincoln’s leaning against the frame, a small smile stretching across his face. “What’s going on in here?”
Gemma jumps up and rushes over to him. She lifts the necklace up as far as she can to show her daddy. “Look what Momma gave me. She said she wants me to take care of her special necklace from now on.”
He drops to his knee and looks at the shell. “Did she really? It must mean she trusts you a lot. I know how much your mom loves that necklace.”
She nods, looking at me over her shoulder and offering me a smile, before looking back at Lincoln. “Yep. I promised I’d never ever take it off. I’ll wear it forever.”
Grabbing her cheeks, he pulls her head forward and plants a kiss against her forehead. He gets to his feet but keeps his head bent to look at her. “I think your brother’s looking for you. He said something about playing Roblox.”
“Awesome!”
With that, she takes off out of the room. Lincoln approaches the couch and takes the cushion beside me. Slipping an arm around my shoulders, he pulls me to his side, and I snuggle against his chest.
“Why did you give Gemma your necklace?” he asks, combing his fingers through my hair, sending shivers through me. “I thought you never took that thing off.”
I shrug. “I thinnnk she shooould have it noow. Whenn I… die, I want her tooo havvve it to remmmember me by.”
He takes a moment to reply, and when he does, his voice is deeper than normal. “She doesn’t need a necklace to remember you, baby. Believe me, she’s never going to forget.”
“I knooow. But I likke knowinggg she’ll alwaysss be wearring somethinnng of mine.”
“Are you sure? I know how much you love that necklace.”
I kiss the center of his chest and peek up at him. “I’m surrre.”
We sit in silence for several long moments, and I enjoy listening to his heart beating beneath my ear. Remembering the last journal entry I read, my thoughts move to what Lincoln would think of the coincidence.
“I readdd more of Claraaa’s journal. You’lll never guesss whaat I found out.”
He kicks his feet up on the coffee table and reclines back further into the cushion, bringing me with him.
“What’s that?”
“Claaara and Charlesss use the sammme specialll word we ussse. Forevermore.”
His fingers pause in my hair. “No shit?” The way he says the word shit makes me giggle.
“No shiiit,” I say with a laugh.
“Uhh…. That’s kind of freaky, don’t you think?”
“Yes, buuut I alsooo feel like it’sss sweet. I’vvve always loved ourrr special word. Claraaa and Charllles remindsss me sooo much of us.”
His fingers begin moving in my hair again and his chest rises and falls with his even breathing. “Do you realize you’ve said that about each of the women’s journals?”
“I do. I dooon’t know. It’sss strange. All three couplesss have reminddded me of uss. Therrre are sooo manyyy simmmilarrities.”
“Wouldn’t it be wild if we were reincarnations of them?” he suggests playfully.
I snort. The idea is beyond crazy, but if I really think about it, it would be weirdly cool.
“Caaan you imagine?” I play along with his silly remark. “Livvving over and ovvver again. Alwayyys findinggg and loving each otherrr.” I sigh. “It’s sooo….” My mind blanks on coming up with a strong enough word. “It woulddd beee amazing.”
“I don’t know. Would you really want to be with me over and over again, lifetime after lifetime? Seems kind of boring to me.”
Using the last bit of strength I have left in my arms, I push myself up so I can properly see his face. I stare deeply into his eyes. “A thousssand lifetimes with youuu wouldddn’t be enough.”
His smile is gentle and the kiss he gives is even more so.
“Eternity with you wouldn’t be enough for me, Molly. I could be with you in every lifetime there’s ever been, and I’d still want more. There’s no beginning or end to our love. It’s simply always existed, and it always will.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
LINCOLN
I lean against the back of the clawfoot tub with Molly between my legs resting against my chest. She’s lax, and I look over her shoulder to find her eyes are half closed. She’s been tiring more easily lately, and it terrifies the shit out of me. She’s getting weaker by the day. I’m not ready to let her go—I’ll never be ready—but I’ve been given no choice.
I still haven’t heard back from Dr. Doscher, the doctor in Africa. It’s been three weeks. I’ve sent numerous emails, and the more time that goes by without a reply, the more hope I lose.
I’m lost in a sea of hopelessness; a place no person should be.
I try so hard to put on a brave face for Molly, but it’s getting harder and harder to hide the grief that’s slowly killing me. Late at night, after she’s asleep, I watch her. I watch the slow rise and fall of her chest. I lie close enough that I can hear her breathing. I’m deathly afraid I’m going to wake up one morning and she’ll be gone, withered away into nothing.