Looking at the photos told me that the hardy, tenacious-looking Sawyer men of the past had worked the land, but this house spoke to me of the women who had loved them—women who themselves were sturdy but also graceful, with strong backbones and gentle hearts. I wanted to be one of those women. For Preston. For the life that grew in my womb, tiny butterfly wings of promise.
Sadness threatened to overcome me and I moved my mind quickly from that time. That was before. This was now and it was reality—not fanciful hopes, not wishes or dreams of happiness that had never materialized. Just contempt.
I turned around to face Preston and his eyes widened slightly as if I’d caught him unaware. For one heartbeat, I thought I saw pain in his eyes, but then the shutters came down and I wondered if I’d only imagined it. Or maybe it was simply my own pain reflected back at me.
I clasped my hands in front of my body, waiting for him to instruct me on what to do.
He paused, his brow furrowing momentarily before he raised his hand, gesturing to the family room on the right. “Do you want to wait in there for a minute? I’ll go get him.”
I nodded, my heart squeezing at his formal, stilted demeanor. It was as if I was some door-to-door salesperson and he was leaving me for a moment to fetch his checkbook, rather than our son. Our son. Still, I knew it would be better if I let Preston make the calls here. “Sure.”
I walked into the family room and heard his feet on the wooden stairs as he went up to Hudson’s nursery. I sat down on the couch and put my hands between my knees. The temperature in the house was comfortable, but I was cold with nerves.
I heard Preston moving around upstairs, heard quiet murmurings as if he was waking Hudson from a nap. I wondered if his nursery still looked the same, wondered if he’d kept the gray and white décor I’d done the room in as I waited for the baby to arrive, not knowing if I’d accent it with blue or pink. Flashes of that time filled me with a heavy anguish, not just because of the memory of my own deep loneliness, but of the helplessness of seeing deep grief in Preston’s eyes, day after day after day, and not knowing how to ease it for him, knowing that if anything, the very sight of me compounded his stress.
I shook myself slightly. I couldn’t do this now. Not now. The sound of footsteps descending the stairs snapped me completely from the painful thoughts, and I held my breath as Preston came into view, holding our son. My breath released in a loud whoosh of sound and I stood, unable to keep myself from going to him.
Preston had only taken a couple of steps into the room, and he stopped as I approached them, my eyes homed in on the little boy in his arms. My breath caught and I swallowed down the lump in my throat, my heart simultaneously squeezing in pain at how much he’d grown and soaring with joy at seeing him again. How I’d missed him. I smiled and it felt shaky, and though I didn’t want to cry in front of the baby and possibly scare him, I couldn’t manage to stop my lips from quivering.
Hudson eyed me with sleepy interest before putting his head on his father’s shoulder and smiling sweetly. I let out a very small laugh. “Hi, there.” My first words to the boy I’d yearned for every day for six months. “You have four teeth,” I said with wonder.
“The first one came in right after you left. He gave me a hell of a time over it.”
My eyes moved to Preston and lingered momentarily on his face, but I couldn’t read the thoughts behind his eyes or if his words had been meant with anger and blame or not, so I moved my gaze back to Hudson. “They’re perfect. He’s perfect.”
My eyes drank him in greedily from those four tiny teeth to his thick head of dark hair, his eyes—my eyes—thickly lashed and that strange green color I’d always seen staring back at me from the mirror. Eyes I’d almost felt guilty for giving him, as if I’d unwittingly passed on the most unlovable part of myself. But there was nothing unlovable about the baby boy who had been placed in my arms, and unlike my mother who had used my eyes to strengthen her antipathy, the sight of them staring from my baby boy’s face made me feel fiercely protective of him.
Other than his eyes and his dark hair, he was the spitting image of his father—and his uncle. I had had that thought as I’d sat rocking him in the chair in his nursery once but I hadn’t shared it with Preston. I didn’t know if it would be comforting or if it would poke at his grief, so I’d kept it to myself. Had he thought the same thing and never said it to me? We’d both been grieving . . . and yet we’d both been so alone. So painfully alone.
I wanted to ask if I could hold Hudson but I felt strange and insecure doing so. I was his mother, but I didn’t think I had that right. Not after leaving him, and definitely not from the scowl on Preston’s face. I thought I would be prepared for the way that would hurt when he was right in front of me, but I hadn’t. Not really. I took what I could. I ran my finger over his silken cheek and he giggled, batting at me, his grin increasing. Ah, he reminded me of Cole so much when he did that. He’d always been such a smiley baby, easy to laugh, a sweet, little flirt. I smiled back at him, joy filling my heart to know that hadn’t changed. To know me leaving hadn’t stolen the innocent, unabashed sweetness of his personality.
How long had he remembered me? The nights those little teeth were budding, was he crying for his mama? The ache that resided permanently in my chest throbbed.
“Where have you been, Lia?” Preston asked softly and my eyes flew to his. His jaw ticked once, but other than that, I saw no evidence of emotion.
I looked away from him, back to Hudson, pressing my lips together.
“We have to talk. You do realize that. I want to know why you’re back.”
What he meant of course was that he wanted to know what my intentions were as far as our son was concerned. “I . . . yes, of course.” I paused, gathering what strength I could muster. “I’ve . . . been at my aunt’s house in Texas.”
I glanced up at Preston’s face and he was staring at me with a stormy sort of confusion as if my answer had surprised him, and not in a good way. “Texas? That’s over a thousand miles away. You drove yourself all the way to Texas?”
I smoothed a hand over Hudson’s hair. He was looking back and forth between the two of us, his eyes wide, obviously having felt his father’s mood. At my touch, he reached up and caught my hand in his, and smiled again, showcasing those four tiny teeth. I took a deep breath. I saw Preston’s chest rise and fall as if he’d done the same thing. “Yes, I did.”