“Never,” he vowed, tightening his hold on her.
The tears fell harder, sliding from her face to his chest. “I need to go, Lincoln.”
Cursing, he released her. “Why?”
“Because…” She sat up, holding the blanket against her nakedness.
“Because this was wrong, a mistake, and you regret it? Is that why?” Lincoln pulled himself into a sitting position. “It wasn’t, Sara. You know that. It was right. And that’s why you’re scared.”
“I can’t…I can’t think about this right now, Lincoln.” Sara moved from the bed, clutching the blanket to her as she searched for her discarded clothes. Her heart began to pound with remorse. She’d betrayed him. She’d betrayed their love. Sara was hunched over, staring at her pale blue shirt, when the anguish mounted and became too much. She went to her knees, sobbing.
“Dammit, Sara, stop this,” Lincoln pleaded, tugging on his boxers and going to his knees before her. “Stop this. When are you going to stop hating yourself so much?” He grabbed her forearms and held them tightly, forcing them down when she went to cover her face. “Don’t hide from me, Sara, and don’t run away. Please.”
Sara stared at him, wishing his image would blur and disappear, but it didn’t. Lincoln stared back, his features fierce and immovable. He wasn’t going anywhere. But she’d thought the same of her husband, hadn’t she? Her soul shriveled, died a little more, at the realization.
“I can’t stand this emptiness inside me anymore when you’re gone, Sara,” he said raggedly.
“I need to go, Lincoln,” she repeated, softly but firmly. That much she knew. Sara didn’t know a lot of things at the moment, but she knew that.
She hurriedly gathered up her clothes and tugged them on; feeling his eyes burning into her the whole time, speaking so loudly her ears rang, telling her all his thoughts and feelings with just the heat of his gaze. It didn’t matter what he was saying or thinking or feeling, or even not saying; Sara couldn’t deal with it. In the quiet it was so loud.
When she was almost out the bedroom door, his words stopped her. “You’re still living, Sara.”
Sara took a shaky breath, her chest squeezing and squeezing until she thought it would explode. “Maybe I shouldn’t be.”
The air crackled with his angry strides and then he was yanking her around, glaring down into her face with his expressive eyes. “You don’t get to die with him. I won’t let you.”
“How do you know…I already didn’t?” she choked out, spinning around and running down the stairs, trying to run from that stricken look she’d glimpsed on Lincoln’s face, trying to run from the past, from Lincoln, even from him.
***
The past lived in the closed doors of the house, in the house itself. She knew that. She knew what she had to do, though the thought of it made her palms sweaty and her heart race. Sara stared at the door to the nursery, just looking at it making the air thick, stifling; making it hard for her to draw air into her lungs.
Sara opened the door, sorrow hitting her immediately at the lingering scent of a little life taken too soon. Baby powder and lotion. She trailed a hand along the dresser, touching a pale green stuffed horse. At first she’d thought it was a mistake. It had been impossible to go from one minute of joy with a soul blossoming inside her to unbelievable emptiness when it was taken away. It hadn’t made sense. She’d forget at times, touching her slightly rounded stomach that hadn’t yet returned to its normal flatness.
He’d watched her, hurting for her, for him, for their child. The pain in his eyes mirrored Sara’s. It had been a dark time in their marriage; a time when if they hadn’t fought to keep it, their marriage could have been lost. Sara gathered the toy in her arms and pressed her cheek to its softness. She’d wondered if God hated her. She’d wondered what she’d done to upset Him so much to take her baby’s life. The sight of babies and children had caused grief so strong she couldn’t function. Pregnant women repelled her; Sara had loathed the sight of them. She’d thought of all the children with parents that were cruel and abusive to them and wondered why they were allowed lives they didn’t want, didn’t appreciate, and she, who wanted nothing but to love a little piece of her and her husband, was denied.