36. Jemma
Chapter 36
Jemma
T ears trickle down my face as I sit on the edge of my bed and stare down at the small black blob on the ultrasound image in my hand. The picture of my baby, … our baby. I hate that I can’t remember this.
There’s a tightness in my chest, and the loss I’m feeling right now is heartbreakingly painful.
I reach for my phone. I feel compelled to call Braxton, but I know he’s at work and I don’t want to disturb him. He’s the only one who can understand what I’m feeling. He lived through this as well.
Me: Hi. I just wanted to say thank you for telling me.
A few minutes pass before I get a reply.
Braxton: It’s something I thought you’d want to know. Are you okay?
Me: No. I feel like my heart is breaking all over again.
A few seconds later, I’m startled when my phone rings. “I’m sorry, Jem,” is the first thing he says. “I should have waited until I was around to give you the letter. I’m stuck in a meeting and I can’t leave.”
“It’s okay,” I reply, sniffling. “I didn’t expect you to. I just wanted to say thank you. I’ll be all right, honestly.”
I survived this tragedy once. I’m sure I will again. I’m just hurting … with good reason.
“I should be finished here in about half an hour. I’ll come straight over when I’m done. We can talk then.”
“You don’t have to come, Braxton, but thanks for offering.”
After ending the call, I wipe the tears from my face before opening the lid of my treasure box and tucking the ultrasound picture safely inside. I pick up the smaller envelope that housed the letter and find a small engagement-ring charm inside. Although my heart is still hurting, I smile. He also included something else in the parcel, which I took out next.
I draw in a sharp breath once I open the lid of the white velvet box and see my engagement ring housed inside. It looks shiny, like new, which makes me wonder if he had it cleaned before sending it to me.
I slide it onto my finger and admire my hand. It’s not overly big, but it’s beautiful. Though I’m pretty sure I would have loved a piece of wire if it was from him.
I leave the ring on my finger for the time being and lie down on my bed. Closing my eyes, I will my mind to remember …
“Did you remember to grab the tomatoes, babe?” I call out when I hear a door close in the distance.
I’m standing in a tiny kitchen I don’t recognise, stirring something on the stove. I peer into the pot … it looks like spaghetti sauce. Looking out towards the window on my right, I see a row of shells along the windowsill above the kitchen sink. I find myself smiling as I get lost in the ocean view beyond.
“Yes, I got the tomatoes.” I jump when a pair of strong hands slide around my waist.
Glancing over my shoulder, I see Braxton’s handsome face smiling back at me. His dark-blond hair is a tad longer than it was when I last saw him, and curls slightly at the ends. He plants a chaste kiss on my lips before letting me go.
I continue to stir the sauce as I watch him unpack the groceries onto the countertop. “Lettuce, cucumber, tomatoes, red onion and an avocado. Is that everything?”
There’s a sweet grin on his face as he turns towards me. My eyes zero in on the cute little indent on his cheek. I love that dimple.
“Yes, that’s everything I asked for,” I answer.
He looks down into the bag he’s still holding. “I also got these.”
He reaches in and pulls out a pair of tiny white socks with a pink trim around the band. Tears rise to my eyes when he holds them out towards me and I read the inscription on them: I love my mummy .
“Braxton, they’re so sweet,” I say, taking them out of his hands.
“And these,” he adds, pulling out another pair. They have a blue trim and say: I love my daddy .
I sniffle as I take both pairs of socks in my hands. “I love them so much. I still can’t believe we’re going to be parents.”
“You’re going to make the best mum, Jem,” he says, his eyes shining.
As he inches his face towards mine, I feel a hand softly skim over my hair. My eyes spring open with a start, and I find I’m no longer in the small kitchen, wrapped in his arms. I’m lying on my bed in my room at my parents’ house, and Braxton is sitting on the edge of the mattress, looking down at me. There’s a sweet grin on his face, and again I gravitate towards his dimple.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I must’ve fallen asleep.”
“You must have been having a pleasant dream because you kept smiling.” I sit up, but when I don’t reply, he clears his throat before adding, “I’ve missed watching you sleep, Jem.”
He has? Did he do that often?
His gaze flickers down to my hand, to the engagement ring that’s still adorning my finger.
“I was just trying it on. It’s so pretty,” I say, lifting my hand and moving it from side to side so I can glimpse the sparkly diamond. When I go to remove it, he places his hand over mine.
“Please don’t take it off,” he pleads.
“I …”
“Please. I’m not trying to pressure you, and don’t worry, I won’t get the wrong idea about you wearing it. I just want to see it on your hand. Whether or not we live together as husband and wife again, I bought it for you to wear … it’s yours.”
He glances down at his lap, and the sadness I see on his face hurts my heart. I raise my hand and run it down the side of his face. “I’ll leave it on,” I whisper.
Braxton’s eyes keep moving between my face and the ring on my finger as I eat breakfast. I’m glad I kept it on because I can see how happy it makes him. There was a part of me that didn’t want to take it off, but despite what he said, I still worried he’d get the wrong idea.
There’s no denying that I have feelings for him … he’s on my mind all the time, especially when we are apart.
When we’re together, I feel happy, and when we’re not, I miss him. But I still have a long way to go before I’m ready for anything like that. What I feel isn’t enough. I want to feel the way I did before the accident.
He was so sweet when he came to my house last night. He asked me how I was feeling and when I said sad, he told me to scoot over and then lay down beside me. We stayed there, me wrapped in his arms, and it made me wonder if this was how he’d held me the first time I went through the loss.
I ended up falling asleep again, but this time there were no dreams. I desperately wanted to ask him whether he had given me those baby socks, but I’m not ready to disclose that information just yet. A scattered dream here and there isn’t enough to warrant that. I don’t want to get anybody’s hopes up until I’m sure.
After I helped Braxton clean the breakfast dishes, we visited his father before he dropped me back at my mum’s.
“I have another letter for you,” he says as we sit in the driveway. “There’s nothing sad in this one, I promise,” he adds with a gentle smile.
Sliding his hand into my hair, he pulls my face towards his. I part my lips when his mouth meets mine. I can see why the old me wanted to kiss him so much. I’m officially addicted to his lips.
He draws back slightly. “I hope you have a nice day. Call me if you need anything.”
“I will,” I whisper.
Neither of us moves. It’s getting harder and harder to leave him.
Letter eighteen …
Dearest Jemma,
The thirty-first of December 2014, and the clock had just struck midnight. I slid my arms around your waist from behind. “Happy New Year, Jem,” I said, as I planted a soft kiss on your cheek. We were standing on our back deck, watching the fireworks in the distance. I loved how the neon colours in the sky reflected in the water.
“Happy New Year, Brax,” you replied as you turned your head and brushed your lips against mine.
We’d been living in our dream house for almost six months. We loved it, but there was a part of us that missed our tiny shack. You cried your eyes out the day it was demolished.
We ended up moving in with your mother for five months, while the new house was being built. It was trying at times, because she was in the depths of depression. Her parents had long since passed away, and your father had already moved out. It was incredibly hard to watch the shell of a person she had become.
“This year is going to be an amazing year,” you said, turning in my arms. “Just think, in nineteen days, I’m going to be Mrs Braxton Spencer.”
“Say that again.”
“Mrs Braxton Spencer.”
“It has a nice ring to it,” I said, gently brushing your hair back from your face. “I can’t wait for you to be my wife.”
“I can’t wait for you to be my husband.”
We had only one more week of work, then we were off for an entire month. I was eager to spend every second of that time with you.
Life was good … it was perfect, actually. Sometimes I worried it was too perfect. My parents had been happy, right up until the moment my mother died. Your parents had been happy too until everything fell apart.
Even though our future looked bright, something niggled deep inside me. It was a deep-seated concern for what possibly lay ahead. It seems so ironic now.
The nineteenth of January 2015. Lucas placed his hand on my leg as we sat in the front pew at the church. “Will you stop that,” he complained. “That bouncing is making me edgy.”
I wasn’t nervous, I was excited. In a matter of minutes, you would arrive. I looked down at my watch and smiled. Two minutes, to be precise. You’d promised me the day before that you wouldn’t be late, and you’d never broken a promise.
When the priest took his place in front of the altar, he signalled for Lucas and me to stand. “Good luck, son,” my father said as I passed him. I didn’t need luck. I was already the luckiest man on earth because I had you.
Chills ran up my spine as the music played. ‘Endless Love’, sung by Stan Walker and Dami Im was the song you chose. You told me you’d heard it on the radio, and it made you cry. “It’s like it was written for us,” you had said.
Rachel appeared in the doorway first. She looked beautiful in a jade-green dress that she had designed herself; she designed your wedding dress too. I had yet to see it, but you’d told me how much you loved it.
I leaned slightly to the left, trying to catch a glimpse of you, but all I could see was a flash of white.
I smiled at Rachel as she slowly walked down the aisle towards me. She was a quarter of the way down before you came into full view. My heart skipped a beat as soon as my eyes locked with yours.
Even though the veil was over your face, I could see that your eyes were trained on me. I’ll never forget the look on your face as you made your way down the aisle. You looked so happy, as happy as I felt.
My gaze didn’t leave you until you were standing before me.
“Who gives this woman’s hand in marriage today?” the priest asked.
“I do,” your father replied.
He reached out and shook my hand before taking a seat beside my dad. Your mother had put up quite a fuss about him attending the wedding. She insisted we keep him as far away from her as possible. You were still hurting from the break-up, but there was no way you were getting married without him present, so we compromised.
I reached for your hand, lightly tugging you towards me. “You look beautiful,” I whispered.
“So do you,” you replied.
I helped you pull your veil back and then interlaced your fingers through mine. I wanted to kiss you badly in that moment, but I knew I had to wait.
Surprisingly, we both held it together as we exchanged vows and rings.
“I love you, Mr Spencer,” you whispered hours later as I pulled you into my arms on the dance floor at the reception for our first dance as husband and wife.
“I love you too, Mrs Spencer,” I replied, placing my lips on yours.
The twenty-first of January 2015. It was the day we arrived in Kauai, on the shores of Tunnels Beach in Hawaii, and took refuge in our beautiful ocean villa.
We made the most of our honeymoon, enjoying every moment of our time together. We took long walks on the beach, and ate exquisite food that was brought to our villa every day via a canoe. We swam in our private ocean pool, and we made love into the early hours of the morning. We were so far removed from the rest of the world, and neither of us wanted it to end. If I’d known the horrors that awaited us after our return, I would have kept you on that island forever.
They say that after you marry someone, things don’t change, that it’s just a piece of paper. I don’t agree, because things were different for me. I felt closer to you than I ever had, if that was even possible. You were no longer just an extension of me; you were a part of me.
What we had is far too beautiful to be forgotten.
Yours always,
Braxton
I found two things inside the envelope: a small car charm that had the words ‘Just Married’ on the back, and my wedding band. I slide it onto my finger next to my engagement ring. Braxton said that there was nothing sad in this letter, but sad … broken, or maybe lost, would be the best way to describe how I’m feeling right now.
I wish we could go back in time … before the accident. I want to be the old Jemma. The woman who loved Braxton with her entire heart, and was loved just as fiercely in return.