Chapter 14 Tessa #2
She crossed the room in two steps and dropped to her knees beside the bed. She said Olive’s name softly, again and again, reaching for her hands, her arms, trying to ground her.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” she murmured. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”
Olive didn’t answer but cried on, shoulders trembling, her distress filling the small room.
Standing, Tessa scooped up the child, grateful Olive didn’t resist. If anything, she clung—small hands fisting in Tessa’s T-shirt, her body pressing close as if she’d been waiting to be held.
The crying didn’t stop, but it lost some of its sharpness as Tessa snuggled her close, swaying in a way that seemed freakishly natural, stroking her back with calming words.
“It’s okay,” Tessa whispered as she rocked. “It’s okay. Did you have a bad dream? Does something hurt?”
No response. No words. Just crying.
After a few minutes, certain she wasn’t sick or hurt, Tessa lowered them both to the tiny bed, checking instinctively for signs of pain.
“Nothing hurts? Your tummy? Your head? Your teeny-tiny toes?” She playfully squeezed one of Olive’s bare feet, but she didn’t smile. She just snuggled closer, which was remarkable.
“I bet you had a bad dream, huh?” Cooing about it, Tessa maneuvered carefully and curled herself on the undersized mattress with Olive. The space was small, barely enough room, but she tucked herself around the little girl, drawing the blanket up over them both, creating a cocoon.
On a shuddering sigh, Olive settled more fully against her chest.
The crying softened and the panic seemed to ebb. It was replaced by hitching sobs and a few hiccups that gradually slowed as Tessa rubbed small circles on her back, steady and rhythmic.
“I’ve got you,” Tessa murmured. “You’re safe. You’re not alone.”
She kept talking, proceeding on an instinct she didn’t know she had, keeping her voice low and even, filling the quiet.
“I’m right here,” she continued softly. “Nothing bad is happening. You’re safe in your room. I’m with you.”
Olive’s breathing began to even out, the sharp edges dulling into quiet sniffles. Her body stayed tense, but the terror loosened its grip.
At that thought, somewhere, deep in the recesses of her memory, Tessa flashed back to childhood. Kate used to wake up in the middle of the night with something her father called “night terrors.”
Tessa remembered that the expression scared her, but sweet old Artie—well, Dad was probably pretty young then—always came into their room and whispered a story to Kate to calm her down.
She could hear his voice, remembered the sound of it from the other bed—they had twin beds in a pink room upstairs in the old house in Ithaca—when she’d been awakened by Kate’s unhinged crying.
Dad had always shown up instantly, sat on Kate’s bed, gentle, calm, unhurried. He never got mad, he never reprimanded her for waking the house, he just started with…
Once upon a time.
Maybe not the most original opening, but just hearing his voice in her head made her smile.
“Once upon a time,” Tessa started, realizing—like Artie Wylie probably had—she had no earthly idea where she was going with this story. “There was a little princess named…Olive.”
The shivering eased.
“She lived in a castle,” Tessa continued. “A big, beautiful…sandcastle.” She added the slightest squeeze, hoping to remind Olive of the ones she herself had made. “It had jewels on the walls and a big drawbridge and…handsome knights and one really…big…”
Big what? She winced and dug.
“Mirror! A magic mirror!” Yes, that would work. “In Princess Olive’s room, there was a magic mirror and whenever she looked in the mirror, she…”
Olive looked up, as if she were following every word and waiting with bated breath to see what the magic mirror could do.
“She sang,” Tessa finished, pretty proud of that option. “Her voice was like an angel in heaven, soft and sweet, and when she sang…”
Now what? She looked at the bed, making out the shape of her stuffies.
“All of her stuffed animals came to life.” She spoke slowly, soothingly, letting the words roll out as they came. “Princess Olive was brave,” she continued. “And kind. And very, very smart.”
She felt Olive’s breathing slow further, her small body pressing warm and solid against her.
“The castle had towers and walls and secret rooms. And the sand was always just the right kind—never too dry, never too wet.” She described it in detail, letting herself improvise freely.
Olive shifted slightly, then stilled again.
Tessa kept going, not stopping, letting the story flow. No wicked witch, no Prince Charming. In this story, the heroine had a perfect life, she was always safe, and her animals adored her.
Olive’s eyes widened, giving Tessa the confidence she needed to continue with a story.
Stuffed animals came to life, they danced, they surrounded Princess Olive, and made sure her life was perfect.
And they went with her to the beach and collected shells and made her jewelry, and when she was sad, they made her laugh…
Olive sighed into what had to be sleep about ten minutes into the rambling tale.
Tessa let her voice trail off and shifted slightly, adjusting the blanket, careful not to disturb Olive more than necessary. She felt the little girl’s grip loosen just a bit, her body relaxing incrementally.
Earlier, reading in the lamplight, the domestic quiet had opened old wounds. It had brought regret. Loss. The ache of motherhood she’d never lived.
This—this didn’t hurt at all. In fact, she wasn’t thinking about Roman. She wasn’t thinking about what she’d missed or what she’d never had.
She was here, holding this child who desperately needed her, feeling wonderfully maternal.
Tessa kept stroking Olive’s hair, her back, and when Olive stirred, she continued the story.
Princess Olive exploring her castle. Princess Olive knowing she was loved. Princess Olive safe and warm and protected through the night.
Gradually, Olive’s grip loosened completely. Her breathing became slow and even, the tension draining from her small body.
Tessa whispered until Olive’s eyes fluttered, nearly asleep, her face pressed against Tessa’s chest.
After what must have been another twenty minutes, she eased away, ready to let her sleep. As she did, Olive’s tiny hand reached up and grabbed her T-shirt, pulling her closer.
“Are you still awake, baby?”
Two blue eyes opened and looked right at Tessa, the connection palpable and real.
“Do you want me to stay longer?”
She just stared at Tessa, sleep weighing down her lids.
“I’ll let you go night-night,” Tessa said, leaning over to kiss her head. “Sweet dreams, Princess Olive.”
She snuggled into the blankets, then blinked. “Love you, Tess.”
Tessa’s entire body went still, her breath catching hard in her chest. For a split second, she didn’t dare move, afraid any reaction would break the moment.
Emotion surged up her throat, hot and overwhelming, but she swallowed it down, forcing herself to stay calm.
“I love you, too,” she whispered back, steady despite the way her heart was pounding.
Olive didn’t respond but slipped fully into sleep, her face relaxed, peaceful.
Tessa stayed curled there, holding her, the moment completely and utterly wonderful.
It was only later, when Tessa climbed back into bed and let her head hit the pillow, that she realized two people had professed love for her in the same day.
Now that was a good day.