“You know how much I love scrapbooking, photo books, and so on. Well, I thought this would keep you busy for a while, gathering everything, and it’ll give you something personal to hang up in her room.” Grace stepped forward and held out a large deep frame. “It’s a shadow box. You can put everything in it that reminds you of her—announcements, hospital bracelets, pictures. When she gets older, she can look at it and see just how much she was loved from the very beginning.”
“I love it,” Lailah replied, her fingers slowly tracing the edge of the frame. “It will be perfect in her room.”
I heard her take a deep breath behind me, trying desperately to keep her emotions in check. I knew her struggle. I was battling the same internal war myself. With each gift, I felt the lump in my throat grow bigger and bigger.
We’d expected to come home to an empty dark house, and instead, we’d found it full of warmth, love, and family.
I would never be able to repay them for this.
“We’re next,” Molly said, taking a step forward. Their gift was in a large pink gift bag with matching tissue paper streaming out the top.
Always one to enjoy watching others open gifts more than receiving them myself, I handed it over to Lailah once again and watched her toss pink tissue paper to the floor.
I chuckled in amusement when I saw her face contort into a mixture of horror and bewilderment as she pulled out several large balls of yarn.
“What am I supposed to do with these?” she asked, looking at the soft pink yarn like it was on fire.
“You’re going to learn to knit,” her mother said simply.
“I am?”
“Yes.”
“Do I have a choice?” Lailah looked at the yarn with contempt.
“Well, of course you do. But I think it will be a good hobby to pick up. It’s easy to learn and occupies the mind, and when you’re done, you’ll have a beautiful blanket to keep Meara warm.”
I saw her expression soften slightly as she gazed down at the basic with curiosity.
“Okay, deal. But you have to teach me.”
“I wouldn’t want it any other way.” Molly smiled.
Lailah set the yarn aside, and I tried not to laugh. Honestly, I couldn’t think of a better gift from her mother. It was thoughtful and caring, and it’d give Lailah a purpose during the time Meara wasn’t with us.
A deep voice bit through the lingering laughter. “I guess it’s time for my gift,” Nash said.
I’d barely had time to greet my old friend since seeing his face as we walked through the door. I was sad to say I hadn’t had many opportunities to see him over the last few months, but seeing him here now meant a lot.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I said, taking the plain brown bag from him with gratitude.
“I know, but I wanted to.”
I peeked in the bag and found an empty glass Mason jar. Picking it up, I glanced up at him for hints.
“Look again,” he urged.
My eyes fell back to the bag, and there, underneath where the jar had been, was a square pad of paper. Still having no idea where he was going with this gift, I looked up for further instructions.
“Here,” he said, pointing to the jar, “is where you will put all your hopes, one for each day she is not here in this house.” His accent grew thicker with emotion. “And when she finally comes home, you will seal it up and save it for when she’s older and needs it the most.”
“Beautiful,” Lailah whispered, having little experience with the unwavering romanticism that was Nash Taylor.
He’d won over the hearts of half of America with his overwhelming talent to turn words into melting chocolate with the flick of a wrist. His last stint in the hospital seemed to have tamed him slightly, and he hadn’t made a single inappropriate comment since we arrived.
“Me! I’m next! I wanted to go last, and now, it’s my turn!” Abigail bounced off the couch and handed Lailah a wrapped present that looked much like a book.
Their eyes met, and I could see this held special importance for Abigail. She watched every movement as Lailah pulled away the wrapping paper, exposing the pink leather below.
She flipped it over in her hands, and her eyes met Abigail’s.
“It’s a journal. The last time we talked, you mentioned you started writing in yours again, and I thought you could use another one, a nicer one. Also, I thought while the baby is still in the hospital, you could write her a list.”
“A list?” Lailah asked.
“Like yours,” Abigail said. “A Someday List. It won’t be just like yours because she’s a baby, but maybe you can add things in there that you guys can do later. I thought it would be cool if you had some things to check off right away, like take a walk on the beach or her first diaper change in her room. You know, things like that.”
I got up from my spot on the floor and joined Lailah on the couch, her eyes already misting with fresh tears.
“Thank you, Abigail,” she cried, her hands opening wide for the young girl. “I couldn’t have asked for a greater gift.”
They held each other tightly before we made our rounds, going from person to person, hugging and holding one another. Soon, dinner was ordered, and laughter filled the house.
There were no tears of sadness and no cries of loss, only the sound of hope and the promises of great things to come.