Chapter 14 - THE NIGHT MY SON WAS BORN
The ambulance arrived in less than ten minutes.
I was already in active labor.
The pain came in waves.
My father looked terrified.
Noah looked calm.
Ethan stood near the police car, handcuffed.
He watched as the paramedics loaded me into the ambulance.
“Amelia!”
I turned.
For the first time, I saw genuine fear in his eyes.
Not fear of losing money.
Not fear of prison.
Fear of losing me.
“Please.”
I stared at him.
“Please what?”
“Let me come.”
I looked at the police officer.
He shook his head.
“He's not going anywhere.”
Ethan looked at me.
“I need to know you're okay.”
I stared at him.
“You should have thought about that in the elevator.”
The doors closed.
The ambulance drove away.
Hours later, my son was born.
His first cry filled the delivery room.
I burst into tears.
The nurse placed him against my chest.
He was tiny.
Red-faced.
Angry.
Perfect.
I kissed his forehead.
“Hello, baby.”
His fingers curled around mine.
For the first time in months, I felt something that was not fear.
Peace.
My father came in.
He cried.
I had never seen my father cry.
He touched the baby's tiny hand.
“Your grandmother would have loved you.”
I smiled through tears.
“She still might.”
Two days later, my mother came.
She entered the hospital room slowly.
She looked older than I remembered.
Her hair was silver.
Her face was thinner.
But her eyes were the same.
I stared at her.
She stared at me.
Neither of us spoke.
Then she began crying.
I did too.
She walked toward me.
“Can I see him?”
I nodded.
She looked at my son.
Her hand trembled as she touched his cheek.
“He's beautiful.”
I watched her.
“You missed everything.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I know.”
“You missed my wedding.”
“I know.”
“You missed my pregnancy.”
“I know.”
“You missed me.”
She looked at me.
“I missed you every day.”
I wanted to forgive her.
I wanted to hate her.
I wanted to be a little girl again.
Instead, I said:
“You should have come home.”
She closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
We cried together.
It did not fix twenty years.
But it was a beginning.
That evening, Ethan's attorney called.
Ethan had been released pending investigation.
He wanted to see his son.
I said no.
Then I changed my mind.
Not for him.
For the baby.
Ethan entered the room alone.
He stopped when he saw the child.
His face changed.
He approached slowly.
“Can I?”
I nodded.
He picked up his son.
For a moment, he looked like the man I had married.
Then I remembered the elevator.
The ring.
Claire.
The lies.
I took the baby back.
Ethan looked at me.
“I love him.”
“I know.”
“I love you.”
I said nothing.
He reached into his pocket.
Then he pulled out a small box.
My wedding ring.
The one I had given Noah.
The one Noah had returned to me.
I had kept it in my purse.
Ethan had somehow gotten it from the evidence bag.
He held it out.
“I don't want this.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because I don't deserve it.”
For the first time, he said something I believed.
I took the ring.
Then I placed it on the table.
“Neither do I.”
He looked at me.
“What?”
“I don't want to wear the past.”
He nodded.
Tears filled his eyes.
“I understand.”
“No, you don't.”
He looked down.
“Maybe I don't.”
I held my son closer.
“But one day, you will.”
Ethan left.
I watched him disappear through the door.
My mother stood beside me.
“You loved him.”
“Yes.”
“Do you still?”
I looked at my son.
“Some part of me probably always will.”
She touched my shoulder.
“But that doesn't mean you have to go back.”
I smiled sadly.
“No.”
It didn't.
May you like
Love could survive.
And still end.
