sweetie."
She crooned to the baby a bit more until Sam was back with the bottle. Grace reached for it the minute she saw it, and soon she was sucking away, quite happily tucked into her spot at Rachel's side.
"She's really adorable, isn't she?"
Sam stood there awkwardly and said, "Yes."
"Emma told me Grace is almost one, so she must have been born around Christmas."
"She's not a present, Rachel."
"I'm sure she was to somebody."
"Somebody who abandoned her at a cheap motel on the edge of town."
"We don't know what happened. " Rachel was torn. She wanted these children to have someone to love, but worried they'd be left again someday in another motel, in another town. Who would take care of them then?
"If you and I had children, you would never leave them anywhere, no matter what happened to you. You'd defend them to your last breath."
Yes, she would have. She would have done anything for them, just like she would do anything for these children.
"I know it's an awful thing," she said, "to have left them there. I'm not going to defend their mother for that. But they seem to be such good kids. Kind and gentle and loving. I think someone must have taken good care of them along the way. That was all I was thinking in saying we shouldn't judge this woman without knowing anything about her. I want to believe there's someone who cares about them, someone who wants them."
"If there is, Miriam will find her."
Rachel nodded. He didn't want her to get too attached to the kids. She knew that. She was telling herself that about once every minute. And that she could do as Miriam said—give the kids what they needed now.
Which made her think about Sam and what he needed. It had been a long time since she thought of what Sam might need or want from her, but he was here now. Suddenly she didn't want to let him go this morning. Time was ticking away. She didn't know how many more times they'd have to talk. Suddenly there were so many things she wanted to know.
"Why did you start sleeping somewhere else?" she blurted out.
He paled, his jaw clenched tight all of a sudden. He glanced in her direction and quickly looked away again. "It seemed like the thing to do."
"What does that mean? You didn't want to be with me anymore?"
He didn't answer for the longest time, finally saying, "Sometimes it's easier. To keep some distance between us. You told me that. You felt it, too."
He was right. Sometimes everything hurt. Seeing his face when he saw her too caught up in her own pain to do anything for anyone. Seeing that same kind of pain in him and not knowing how to fix it. Did he think he was fixing it? By walking away? Did he think it too late to do anything else?
He must. He was going.
Rachel started shaking. Come here, Sam, she thought. Just come to me.
"I miss you," she said truthfully, painfully.
He flinched, his jaw going even harder than before. "Well I thought if it bothered you—having me sleep somewhere else—you would have said something about it. Honestly, it seemed like you didn't even notice at first."
She stared back at him.
"Do you even know, Rachel?" he said bitterly. "Do you know when it started? Or how long it's been going on?"
Rachel started to cry, thinking with something akin to panic, How long had it been? She dipped her head down low, over the baby's, trying to hide from him, because he hated it when she cried.
"Too long?" she asked. Too late to change things?
"Three weeks and five days," he said.
Rachel closed her eyes, thinking, That long? It seemed like a lifetime. Her marriage had all but died, nearly a month ago, and she hadn't even noticed. How could a woman miss something like that?
"I'm sorry," she said. "But I do miss you."
Sam stood there and stared at her. She could feel anger radiating from him and a strong sense of self-control. Even now, he wasn't going to tell her. He was going to bury it. Ever since the baby, they'd buried so many things.
"I'm sorry," she said again. Sometimes it
She crooned to the baby a bit more until Sam was back with the bottle. Grace reached for it the minute she saw it, and soon she was sucking away, quite happily tucked into her spot at Rachel's side.
"She's really adorable, isn't she?"
Sam stood there awkwardly and said, "Yes."
"Emma told me Grace is almost one, so she must have been born around Christmas."
"She's not a present, Rachel."
"I'm sure she was to somebody."
"Somebody who abandoned her at a cheap motel on the edge of town."
"We don't know what happened. " Rachel was torn. She wanted these children to have someone to love, but worried they'd be left again someday in another motel, in another town. Who would take care of them then?
"If you and I had children, you would never leave them anywhere, no matter what happened to you. You'd defend them to your last breath."
Yes, she would have. She would have done anything for them, just like she would do anything for these children.
"I know it's an awful thing," she said, "to have left them there. I'm not going to defend their mother for that. But they seem to be such good kids. Kind and gentle and loving. I think someone must have taken good care of them along the way. That was all I was thinking in saying we shouldn't judge this woman without knowing anything about her. I want to believe there's someone who cares about them, someone who wants them."
"If there is, Miriam will find her."
Rachel nodded. He didn't want her to get too attached to the kids. She knew that. She was telling herself that about once every minute. And that she could do as Miriam said—give the kids what they needed now.
Which made her think about Sam and what he needed. It had been a long time since she thought of what Sam might need or want from her, but he was here now. Suddenly she didn't want to let him go this morning. Time was ticking away. She didn't know how many more times they'd have to talk. Suddenly there were so many things she wanted to know.
"Why did you start sleeping somewhere else?" she blurted out.
He paled, his jaw clenched tight all of a sudden. He glanced in her direction and quickly looked away again. "It seemed like the thing to do."
"What does that mean? You didn't want to be with me anymore?"
He didn't answer for the longest time, finally saying, "Sometimes it's easier. To keep some distance between us. You told me that. You felt it, too."
He was right. Sometimes everything hurt. Seeing his face when he saw her too caught up in her own pain to do anything for anyone. Seeing that same kind of pain in him and not knowing how to fix it. Did he think he was fixing it? By walking away? Did he think it too late to do anything else?
He must. He was going.
Rachel started shaking. Come here, Sam, she thought. Just come to me.
"I miss you," she said truthfully, painfully.
He flinched, his jaw going even harder than before. "Well I thought if it bothered you—having me sleep somewhere else—you would have said something about it. Honestly, it seemed like you didn't even notice at first."
She stared back at him.
"Do you even know, Rachel?" he said bitterly. "Do you know when it started? Or how long it's been going on?"
Rachel started to cry, thinking with something akin to panic, How long had it been? She dipped her head down low, over the baby's, trying to hide from him, because he hated it when she cried.
"Too long?" she asked. Too late to change things?
"Three weeks and five days," he said.
Rachel closed her eyes, thinking, That long? It seemed like a lifetime. Her marriage had all but died, nearly a month ago, and she hadn't even noticed. How could a woman miss something like that?
"I'm sorry," she said. "But I do miss you."
Sam stood there and stared at her. She could feel anger radiating from him and a strong sense of self-control. Even now, he wasn't going to tell her. He was going to bury it. Ever since the baby, they'd buried so many things.
"I'm sorry," she said again. Sometimes it
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