“It’s amazing how she left you so many notes.”
“Some I’ll never read.”
“Why not?”
“Say I didn’t have kids—I’d have never known about this one.”
“So your aunt and uncle have a vault of these letters somewhere, waiting for certain things to happen? That is so cool. I wish I could have met her. She sounds like someone I’d want to know.”
“Me, too.” I gesture to the envelope. “Go ahead.”
She opens it like it’s a priceless piece of art. I read over her shoulder.
Aaron,
You’re going to be a daddy! I may not know what it feels like to become a man and do things men do. I may not know what it feels like to do a lot of things I write about in these letters. But one thing I do know is how it feels to find out you’re going to be a parent. It’s indescribable. It’s scary. It’s miraculous.
I hope this news makes you happy. But even if it was unexpected, that doesn’t mean it’s wrong. However it happened, remember to trust in fate. There is a plan for you, sweet boy, and you don’t always know what that plan is.
Have faith it will take you where you are destined to go. This child, planned or not, will change your life in ways you never thought he would. Even before he or she is born, you will look at the world differently. Trees will seem greener. The moon will be brighter. At the same time, the world will become more frightening because now you have someone to protect. Someone you would give your life for.
I hope with all my heart that you are reading this with her—the one you’ve chosen to spend your life with. Reassure her often. Compliment her daily. Be her sunshine when she’s weathering a storm. And don’t be afraid to let her be yours.
Life doesn’t always go the way we want it to, so embrace every day. Live to the fullest. Don’t be afraid to take your baby in the snow. He may be cold for a few minutes, but the snow angels you make with him will last a lifetime. Don’t be afraid to run along the shore. She may slip and fall, but the sandcastles you build together will heal her more than a Band-Aid. Take him to Disney World, even if you don’t think you can afford it. He may catch a cold, but the pictures of him with Mickey Mouse will be something you’ll always treasure.
Remember this: Storms pass. Wounds heal. Scars fade.
And if all else fails, there’s always chocolate. Especially peanut butter cups—those are my favorite.
Your guardian angel,
Erin
Epilogue
Devyn
Four months later…
I’m up before dawn again. I can’t sleep… again. Having a stubborn seven-pound cowboy sitting on my bladder twenty-four seven isn’t helping. He’s gotten so big, and my back has been in almost constant pain these past few days. I pad through the cabin, taking in the expansion. He added two bedrooms, a sitting room, and a loft. There’s a huge porch around back. I heard him telling Quinn once that it would be easy to expand further in the future. I know he eventually wants more kids. Me—I just need to get this one here.
I sit in the rocking chair and look at the date circled on the calendar. It came and went three days ago. I’ve been ready for weeks. The bassinet is by our bed. Baby clothes are arranged in the drawers. Diapers are stacked by the changing table. Everyone is ready for Casey to come into the world except Casey.
Part of me can’t blame him. This world can be ugly, cruel, and unforgiving. Where he is right now is safe and quiet. If I didn’t look like a whale and feel like a punching bag, I’d want him to stay inside, too.
I hum a song to him. One of Kasey’s favorites.
Arms wrap around me from behind. “How are my two favorite people today?”
“Miserable. I’m as big as a house, and he barely has any room to move.”
“We’ve done everything the midwife recommended to help move things along. He just likes where he is. Who can blame him?” He kisses my head, then cups my breasts. “We could do it again if you want.”
“Ugh. I love you, Aaron, but if we have sex one more time, I may start to think of it as not such a good thing.”
“All right. No sex. Eggs with tabasco it is.”
“I’m sick of that, too.” I hunch over. “Will you please come out already?”
I feel a pop, then a gush and stiffen.
“Dev?”
“I think my water just broke.” I feel between my legs. “Oh god, it did.”
He laughs. “Let’s pray our kid always listens to you that well.”
“Stop laughing. We have to call Suzy.” I freeze with fear. “I thought I wanted this, but suddenly I’m terrified.”
“We do want this. Look around; we’re ready.” He kneels down and holds my stare. “Now let’s do this and meet our son.”
He calls Suzy, our midwife. Everyone thought I was crazy for not wanting to have him in a hospital, but I know how much Aaron hates hospitals. Waiting there for days to see if his best friend would live or die. Seeing him lifeless on a ventilator. I wasn’t about to do anything to bring up those memories on a day that should be happy.
He pulls the phone away from his ear. “Are you having contractions?”
I shake my head. He relays the information.
“She wants to know if the water is clear.” With his help, I stand, and we assess the wet cushion. “Looks clear,” he tells her. He listens and nods. “Okay. Yes, all right. We’ll talk later, then.” He hangs up.
“Later? What do you mean later?”
“She said if you haven’t had any contractions, and you’re not in any distress, you probably have a while. We’re to call back if you start bleeding or when your contractions are five minutes apart.”
“What the heck am I supposed to do until then?”
“We talked about this, Dev. Take a warm shower. Play cards. Walk around.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“First, let’s change you out of those clothes. Then I’m going to let everyone know.”
“You can call them, but I don’t want anyone coming over here and watching every move I make.”
“Understood.”
While I change, he calls Maddox, Quinn, Joe, Owen, and his parents. “Don’t forget to call Shannon.”
“Oh, right.”
Shannon is someone I met at prenatal yoga. We hit it off from the beginning. Although I’m very selective about who I let into my circle of friends, knowing not everyone would accept me as they have, she didn’t judge me, and we’ve become close. She’ll be one of my bridesmaids in May. She’s going to be a single mom. The father didn’t want anything to do with her. I wanted to introduce her to Quinn, but he laughed, saying a baby was the last thing a helicopter-flying, bronc-riding cowboy needed.
Aaron is walking me around the house from room to room by my elbow. “I don’t need an escort,” I say. “I’m having a baby, not a hip replacement.”
He holds up his hands. “Sorry.”
A contraction hits me, and I clutch his arm, feeling like my body is going to rip apart. It’s like a huge muscle cramp combined with the worst indigestion combined with being kicked in the back—all at once. When it’s over, I need his help to sit. I glare at him.