Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
MORGAN
D avis and I are here way too early. We still open up though.
Davis does what he is doing, and I make my way to the small office. I open the station’s laptop, maybe I can update the website and make it more user friendly.
I’m busy, editing the website and looking for photos, when I hear the tell-tale signs of Molly.
“Look! I lost another tooth.” She smiles her toothless smile at me.
“You’re going to send the tooth fairy broke.” I chuckle.
She grins, pushes a chair next to mine, climbs up, and watches me scroll through photos.
“Oh, that’s my Mum.” She points to the woman standing next to Brent. She was beautiful.
I bop her nose. “You look so much like her.”
She sits up straight at my words. Proud to look like her Mumma.
I’ve gone so far back that I find baby photos of Molly. But then I find a photo of her Mum, Shelly, holding Molly as a baby. Maybe a few months old.
A lump forms in my throat. I try to clear it, and beg the tears to stay a bay.
But that fails when I see a photo of Molly as a tiny newborn, tucked on her Mum’s chest. Shelly has one hand holding her close, while her other one is holding Molly’s tiny hand.
The way she looks at her, with nothing but unconditional love, causes the wound I once thought was healed to crack completely open.
Since being here, the scab has been picked at, but this has just ripped that off.
Once again try to clear my throat, but it won’t shift. Tears fall freely without permission. I stand up to leave. The chair is on wheels, so it rolls back and hits something behind me.
“Morgan?” Molly’s sweet, concerned voice tries to reach me. I look down at her, she reaches her hand out to me, but I step back. Hurt and confusion is immediate in her features, and I hate myself.
“Sorry, Molly. I, uh, forgot I had to do something. Can you watch Esky for me?” I go to reach for her to comfort her, but I can’t seem to close the distance.
She nods, but she still looks sad. I did that. I put that emotion there. And knowing that adds even more hurt.
I make my way towards the exit. “Morgan?”
“I can’t.” I don’t look at Davis. I keep my head down and keep walking.
When I finally stop, I don’t know where I am. No one is around. No one can hear me. Or see how I break apart, mourning the life I almost had.
The emotions I was holding back come flooding out. I choke on a guttural sob and fall to the ground. I don’t feel the impact, I just cry. Sobs wrack my body. With one final scream, I apologise. Something I have been doing for the last three years.
I don’t know how long I’ve been here, or when I laid down in the dirt, but that’s how Rhys finds me. Cried out, in the foetal position, covered in red dirt.
“Oh Princess.” He scoops me up. Eventually we’re back at his house. And he’s carrying me inside.
I’m completely numb.
I barely register when he starts to remove me from my clothing. I don’t know when he turned on the shower, but all I know is the water is running, and he is stepping into the shower fully clothed, with me.
I want to protest, tell him to get out. But I can’t seem to find the words or the energy to push him away. So, I stay and let someone else look after me.
He washes all the dirt off of me, and even washes my hair. He’s so gentle with me. Soft. Caring. Something I haven’t experienced in a while. Something I wouldn’t say he was, but I welcome it.
He makes me feel like me. Like I’m complete. And like I don’t have any broken or missing pieces. Rhys helps me out of the shower, wrapping a towel around me. And once again is carrying me, but not to my bedroom, or his, but to the lounge room.
He places me on the couch, and quickly darts away. I see myself in the reflection of the TV. Fuck I look pathetic. I am weak. I am broken and there are missing pieces.
I tilt my head down. I can’t look at myself anymore.
Rhys returns in dry clothes. He has some clothes for me, but I make no effort to move.
And once again he is helping me. He picks up the t-shirt and dresses me.
It’s oversized and smells like him. Throwing the wet towel to the side, he sits next to me.
Before I know it, he is picking me up again but this time he deposits me onto his lap.
His strong arms wrap around me holding me close.
“Break, Morgan. I’m here to catch the pieces, and I’ll be here to help put you back together.”
I thought I was cried out. I thought I was numb. But knowing someone is here, knowing Rhys is here, to catch me while I fall, I let go of all the control, I let go of all the emotions. I simply just let go.
Rhys just holds me, stroking my back. No harsh words, no harsh hands. Just comfort.
I make no effort to move off him when the tears finally stop. He doesn’t seem to be bothered, but he does eventually ask me, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I shake my head. “No, I don’t know.”
“Feel like sharing?”
I shake my head into his chest, but continue. “About two and half years ago, I had a miscarriage.” His hand stops moving, I half expected that, but it soon goes back to moving, as though he just needed a moment to process what I said.
“Shane didn’t say anything.”
“He doesn’t know. Nobody knows.”
“Why keep that to yourself? You have people that would have helped you.”
“I didn’t want to bother Shane. Ethan did a good job of isolating me from my friends, and Mum and Dad... well they are, you know.”
“Well, you have me now.”
“Yeah, until I go back.” I don’t use the word home. Because I don’t know where home is anymore.
Rhys ignores that. “How did you keep it hidden? ”
“When I found out, I went through every range of emotion. But ultimately, I was scared. Scared of Ethan’s reaction.
Scared to be a mum. Scared to bring a baby into that type of life.
I was waiting until he was in a good mood, which was rare, unless he was—” I pause.
When was he the happiest? The only time I remember seeing him smiling, was while he was menacingly standing over me.
“Anyway, just as I had built up the courage to tell him about the baby, the cramping started. At first, I thought that was normal, but they got sharper, and then the bleeding came. I knew what was happening. So, I kept my little blueberry a secret.”
“Blueberry?”
“That’s the size of a baby at seven weeks.”
He hums. “Did you go to the hospital?”
“No—” I chuckle dryly. “What were they going to do? Tell me what I already knew: that I was losing my baby. And then I would have had to tell him. And that scared me more than telling him about the baby in the first place. I try to forget it ever happened, but being around Molly, and seeing the photos of her as a newborn—that could have been me. I could have a toddler right now. But instead, I have this pain, this emptiness. I wanted my baby; I wanted to be their Mum.”
Rhys tightens his arms around me, somehow pulling me closer to him. “Just because your baby isn’t here, doesn’t mean you’re not a mum. They’ll return to you when you are ready.”
“You think so?” I lift my head off his chest to look at him, although those pesky tears are back.
He cups my cheek. I don’t hesitate to lean into the touch, his thumb trails under my eye, ridding the leftover tears. “I know so. You’ll make an awesome Mum. ”
Rhys slowly removes his hand, and I rest my head back on his chest. And that’s how we stay until there’s a knock at his door.
“Um, well, I’ll let you get that.” I pat his chest and get off his lap, walking to my room.
He starts to follow me, but I close the door before he can get any closer. “Morgan.”
I don’t answer, I have shared enough tonight.