My eyes drift past them to the center of the lake. Gilbert and Lucy come gliding smoothly across the water. The mated geese pair have been occupying the lake for over twelve years now and have become quite famous with the locals. Molly has always been fascinated with them and would compare our love to the bond that Gilbert and Lucy share. Geese mate for life. If one dies, the other mourns the loss. Some so much that they never take on a new mate.
It’s absurd, but I’m actually envious of them right now. I want what they continue to have. My mate healthy by my side.
When we walk into Molly’s room later that evening, an older nurse is switching out one of her IV’s. I’ve been here so much that I know a lot of the staff by name now. This nurse’s name is Terry.
She looks at us and offers a kind smile. “Hey.”
All I can give her in return is a grunt. Gray completely ignores her and goes straight to his mother’s bedside. Gemma smiles, but it’s not the natural one she normally gives. I’m sure the three of us look grave, but I don’t have in it me to care at the moment.
Once Terry is done, she messes with Molly’s blanket for a moment before she picks up a clipboard, rounds the bed, and approaches me and Gemma.
“You know,” she begins, smiling down at my daughter. “I couldn’t help but notice how pretty you are and how much you look like your momma.”
Gemma’s eyes light up with interest. “Really?”
Molly and I have told Gemma plenty of times she looks like her mother, but I know she enjoys hearing it from someone else. Especially someone who isn’t family or friends.
“Absolutely. Your beautiful red hair looks exactly like hers.” Terry bends over and looks closely at Gemma’s face. “And it looks like you got the same unique freckle right here.” She taps the apple of her cheek. “It’s sort of looks like a heart. I noticed your mom has one too, in the same spot.”
Gemma touches her cheek, and her mesmerized eyes fly to her mom. When she looks back at Terry, her lips are tipped up into a genuine smile.
Terry lowers her voice. “And I bet your brother would like knowing he has his mom’s chin and eyebrows. Maybe you can tell him sometime.”
Gemma nods rapidly. “I will.”
Expression soft with a smile, Terry pats Gemma’s head before she turns to leave. Seeing the joy in Gemma’s eyes, I call her name before she walks through the door.
“Thank you,” I say gruffly when she looks back at me.
Her smile turns sad when she nods and exits the room.
Spinning on my heel, I find Gemma already sitting on her knees on the chair beside Molly’s bed. She’s leaning over looking at her mom’s cheek, and when she finds what she’s looking for, she smiles bigger.
I approach the bed and come to a stop behind Gray. He has one of Molly’s hands in his, and he’s looking at her face. I know he’s silently wishing she’d open her eyes.
I pray for the same thing every night.
Chapter Thirty-Four
LINCOLN
Six Weeks Later
Just as I get to Molly’s doorway, both of my parents are stepping out of it. Their expressions are solemn, but as soon as they see me, they morph into fake smiles.
“Hi, honey,” Mom says, pulling me into a hug.
“Hey, Mom.” I hug her back, holding on a little longer than normal. I may be a grown man, but even men need the comfort only a mom can give them.
She cups my cheeks when I pull away, her eyes sliding back and forth between mine, assessing me. I know she and Dad are worried about me—what good parent wouldn’t be in this situation? No matter how many times I tell them I’m okay, I’m sure they don’t believe me. I’m not sure I believe it myself.
“You two leaving?” I ask. I shuffle my feet to the side so I can see inside Molly’s room. I get anxious anytime I’m away. Being so close but not being inside the room has my nerves quaking.
“Yeah. Your dad has a doctor’s appointment we need to get to.”
My eyes fly to Dad. “Why do you have an appointment? What’s wrong?”
“Calm down, Son,” Dad says, gripping my shoulder. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s only a regular six-month checkup.”
Nodding, I let out a deep sigh of relief. I can’t even contemplate something being wrong with one of my parents right now.
“Are you and the kids still coming over this week for dinner?”
I want to tell her no. The kids get away from the house when they stay with family while I’m at the hospital, but I don’t. When I’m not here with Molly, I’m usually at home with them. People will come to our house, but I never go anywhere. I don’t have the mental capacity or the desire to go places. I haven’t even gone grocery shopping. Between my mom and Nancy, our house is constantly being filled with food.
“Yeah, Mom, we’ll be there,” I tell her.
A look of relief washes over her face, and she smiles. “That’s good. It’ll be nice having you at the house.”
I nod, not feeling her enthusiasm.
They leave a few minutes later, and I step through Molly’s door. Each time I walk in this room, my heart feels like it’s breaking into a thousand tiny pieces.
“Hey, baby,” I say gently, bending over to press a soft kiss against Molly’s forehead.
I take my spot in the chair I always use, which is in the same spot I left it yesterday, and pick up Molly’s cool hand. I smile when my gaze snags on the blue fingernail polish Gemma and Jenna painted on Molly’s nails a few days ago. When she came to me with the idea last week, I wasn’t sure if the doctors would let her, but they did. They did her fingernails blue and her toenails purple. It was so heartbreaking, yet endearing, to hear Gemma babbling to Molly, like she was awake the whole time. Gemma does that a lot. She likes talking to her mom. I encourage it because I think it helps.
I’ve caught Gray doing it a few times too, when he didn’t know I was listening. It’s mostly of him telling her he misses her and wishes she would wake up. Those times I want to fall to my knees and beg her to give Gray what he wants. Again, I let him do what he needs to do too. I think it’s become sort of his outlet.
“Gemma did a really good job on your nails the other day. You’d be proud of how well she stayed on your nails,” I tell Molly. “Well, most of them. I wouldn’t look at your left thumb.” I chuckle. “There may have been a mishap when she sneezed.”
The kids aren’t the only ones who speak to Molly. Each time I come up here, I tell her about my day or something about the kids I know she’d enjoy hearing. It may seem pointless to some, but I haven’t given up on the notion that she can hear me, or that she won’t eventually wake up. Despite the last EEG test that showed minimal brain activity, my girl is strong. And she loves her family too much to leave us. When I tell people this, their eyes fill with sympathy. I hate the looks. They make me want to punch a hole through the wall.
“School starts soon. Gray’s excited about starting high school. It’s still hard to imagine we have a child that’ll be in ninth grade.” I gently rub my beard against her palm. She used to love touching it. “The years have gone by too fast. I’d give anything to go back in time to when they were babies.” Not only because the kids have grown too fast, but because it would give me more time with Molly.