Angels Everywhere - Debbie Macomber [41]
“I should never have let you go. You wanted to settle matters then and there. I was the one who made everything so difficult.” He brought her into the circle of his arms and sighed as she relaxed against him. “I love you so damn much,” he said.
“I know,” she whispered. His fingers lovingly worked through the tangles in her hair. “I love you too. You’re right, Andrew, I realize that now and I’m so sorry for the way I’ve treated you—”
“Hush,” he whispered, gently kissing her. “It’s forgotten.”
“You’re the most important person in my life.”
“I found the thermometer and record book in the garbage. Do you mean it, honey? Can we stop worrying about a pregnancy and concentrate on each other?”
Leah understood what he was asking. He wanted her to let go of the frantic need she had for a child, to stop looking for a pregnancy to fulfill her as a woman.
She’d cheated her husband out of far more than she realized. All these years she’d been subtly and not so subtly telling him his love wasn’t enough. Every time she’d dragged him to another doctor, to another fertility clinic, through another series of tests, she in essence said she found him lacking and that she needed something more. She tagged a condition onto her happiness, insisting she needed a child, the child he should give her.
Wrapping her arms around Andrew’s neck, Leah slowly nodded. The dream was dead. It had been from the moment she realized what she’d done to him.
“Mom.” Timmy greeted Jody at the door the minute she walked into the house after work Monday morning. “A big package came for me from Grandma Potter. Can I open it?” He was hopping up and down like a pogo stick, following her from one room to the next. “It’s addressed to me.”
“A package?”
“It’s probably for Christmas. You’re not going to make me wait, are you?”
Jody moved into the family room and stopped short. Timmy hadn’t exaggerated, the package was huge. She was curious herself. Gloria was very good remembering Timmy on his birthday and Christmas, but she generally sent a check, claiming he should save for his college education.
“I don’t think it’d do any harm to open it up,” Jody said, curious herself.
“I’ve got the scissors all ready,” Timmy said, racing into the kitchen.
“Don’t run with scissors in your hand,” she warned.
“I’m not a kid!” Timmy chided, walking back with exaggeratedly slow steps.
“Sorry,” Jody said, smiling to herself.
The box had been carefully packaged, as if it contained something of exceptional value. Once the tape had been cut away they were able to peel back the cardboard lid. Timmy immediately starting digging when they discovered the box was filled with Styrofoam packing balls. The material flew in every direction. She laughed, watching her son virtually attack the present.
He bent over the top, his feet six inches off the ground. “There are a bunch of smaller boxes inside,” he called, lifting out the first of what proved to be several.
Jody lined them up on the coffee table and Timmy opened the largest one first. “What’s this?” he asked, bringing out a trophy.
Jody was puzzled herself.
“Look, there’s a letter in here for you.”
Jody took the envelope and ripped it open.
Dearest Jody and Timmy,
You were right, Jody. Jeff is dead and it’s time I accepted as much. Forgive an old woman who can’t bear to believe that her only son is gone. The truth was too painful to accept. Painful for you and Timmy too, I realize.
It came to me the other day that now Timmy’s growing up, he might be interested in having the things that once belonged to his father. Jeff’s childhood treasures are his now and don’t belong to a grieving mother. Take them, and treasure them, but most of all, remember Jeff.
“What’s the trophy for?” Timmy asked, turning it upside down and examining the bottom. “This is weird, the way they put it together.”
Jody could barely speak for the tears in her throat. “Your father won that when he was twelve,” she said, holding onto the