He stops and glances down at the screen again, his brows dipped in concentration.
“I knooow you were jjjoking when yooou mentioneddd it, but whaaat if….” I pinch my lips together. I can’t believe I’m going to even suggest this, but what other explanation is there? “What ifff we reallyy are reeeincarrnationsss of thesse people?”
“I don’t know.” He scrubs his palm over his beard, looking off toward the window. After a moment, he turns his head back to me. “I guess it’s possible. What do we really know about reincarnation?”
“I’ve alwayyys believed whenn we leeeave here, we gooo onnto a better placcce. Like Heavennn. Buuut mayybe we don’ttt. Maybeee we arrre reborn.” Slowly lifting my hand, I grab his fingers as tightly as I can in my weak grip. I smile softly at him. “Annd maybe forrr us, each timmme we do, weee alwaysss find each otherrr.”
Leaning forward, he presses a gentle kiss against my lips. When he pulls back, he only leaves an inch of space between us. “It gives a whole new meaning to forevermore, doesn’t it?”
Goosebumps appear on my arms. “It doesss.”
“Does it surprise you that we always find each other?”
I shake my head and my hair falls into my face. He pushes it back and slides his fingers through my hair so he’s palming the back of my head. He leans forward so our foreheads touch.
“I have no doubt if we’re both alive and breathing, whether in these bodies or others, I’d find you. You’ve always been my soul mate, Molly. God made my soul to perfectly match yours.”
Is there any wonder why I love this man so intensely? Has there ever been one more perfect than him? Not for me there hasn’t. It’s utter madness to even consider what we are. Our family and friends would laugh us out of the room and look at us like we’re crazy as they do it. There’s no way to know for sure if we are reincarnations of these other couples, but now that the thought has sprouted, it makes sense. Insane sense, maybe, but still sense. There have been so many similarities between Lincoln and me and the other couples. Unbelievable similarities, the most being how much we look like them.
I grab the bottom of his shirt and let gravity pull his lips to mine. After a slow kiss, I murmur against his lips. “I reallly love theee thoughttt of findinnng you in the nexxt life.” I look deeply into his eyes. “Maaaybe it’ll maakke this a little easiier for us.”
Except, we won’t have Gray and Gemma. That thought takes away some of my joy. I love Lincoln. I truly believe he’s my soul mate and thinking about finding him in another life to continue our love story, makes me boundlessly happy. But knowing Gray and Gemma won’t be part of our new life sends a sharp pain to the center of my chest. I want to carry them with me to my next life if I’m lucky enough to have one.
“Either way, we’ll be together again,” he says quietly. “Whether it be in a heavenly place or here on earth in another body. Our story doesn’t end when you stop breathing. It’s eternal and everlasting.”
I swallow past the lump forming in my throat and blink away the tears. Lincoln’s right. My body and mind may be giving up on me, but my love for him is never-ending. It won’t cease to exist simply because my body perishes. Just as I know his won’t either.
It will forever continue to live on until the end of time.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
LINCOLN
Leaning my head back against the shower wall, I close my eyes. I’m sitting on the floor with my legs drawn up and my forearms resting on my knees, my hands dangling between them. Hot water beats down on me, mixing with the tears secretly sliding down my cheeks. I’m not a crier. Before Molly became sick, I could count on one hand how many times I’ve shed a tear and still have fingers left over. One time was when Molly went into labor and we almost lost Gemma. Two of those times were when both kids were born.
What I’m doing right now though? It’s become my normal. My internal battles are fucked up. The longer Molly lives, the more grateful I am. But it also gets harder and harder each day. I’d die a thousand gruesome deaths if it meant Molly could be healthy again and live a long life. Not knowing what day will be her last is what makes this so painful.
Would it be better if we knew so we could prepare?
Or would it be worse?
I don’t know. I only know the situation we’re in is excruciating. Like a blade sinking slowly into your chest, and you know any minute, it’ll puncture your heart and rip your life force away.
Nevertheless, I’ll take every single torturous minute I’ve got with Molly, even if it is killing me bit by bit.
My showers have become increasingly longer, because I sit right here on this floor and pour my sorrow out into the drain. Then I have to sit even longer to make sure my face doesn’t give away my grief when I leave the bathroom.
Twenty-five minutes after I walked into the bathroom, I leave the room with a towel wrapped around my waist. My eyes immediately move to Molly, who’s on her side with one of her old journals propped up on my pillow in front of her.
She’s been sleeping more and more lately. Her body is weak and tired. Some days she can barely keep her eyes open for most of the day. On her good days, I’ll carry her out to the living room or one of the loungers on the patio out back, but those days are becoming less frequent. Our bedroom, specifically our bed, has become her new living space. If it were up to me, I’d live right beside her, curled up against her body and simply listen to her breathe.
But I can’t. The kids need me. They come in here and visit her a lot, but it’s not healthy to be in here constantly. Molly enjoys their company, but insists they still do kid things.
My chest feels heavy as I watch a slow smile spread across her face as she continues to read. Her smiles are limited and will be ripped from me soon, so I soak up every one she gives.
Walking to the bed, I lie down to face her, taking care I don’t knock her journal over.
“What are you smiling about?” I ask, reaching out to finger some of her hair that’s hanging over her shoulder.
Her tired eyes meet mine and her smile turns endearing. Her voice is low and raspy when she speaks. “I’mmm at a rrreally goood part in our stooory. I caught yooou singinnng and dancccing with Gray annnd Gemma.”
I chuckle, my mind wandering back to when Gray was a toddler and Gemma was a baby. I went through a phase where I would sing and dance with them in the kitchen while I made us all breakfast.
I grin cockily. “My dancing skills weren’t near as bad as my singing skills.”
“Wwwouldnn’t matterr if it werrre. I feeell in looove with you againnn inn that mommment.”
Slipping her journal closed, I put it behind me on the bed and scoot closer to her. I slide an arm under her neck and one around her waist then pull her closer. The muscles in her body have become so weak, she can barely move on her own now.
With her head resting on my chest and one of my arms tucked around her, I grab a thick lock of her hair and bring it to my nose, inhaling deep.
“Ooonce I’mmm gone, I waaant you tooo read my jjjournalsss,” she rasps out quietly.
I look down at the top of her head. “Those are your private thoughts, Molly. I can’t read those.”