The Child Who Changed Them (Parent Portal 5)

She didn’t react to the light. Didn’t turn to look at him. Or turn away, either.

And he knew they weren’t done.

He couldn’t leave her in the tragic place she was occupying. There was more. There had to be more to this story.

Not for him. Not even for their baby.

But for the sweet spirit that she was.

Elaina would see that their baby was happy. She’d tend to it. Shower it with affection and discipline, too.

She’d even do everything she could to give Greg anything that was in her power to give.

But unless something changed about the way she dealt with her tragic past and her grief, she’d never be able to give either of them the only thing they really needed from her—her whole self. Heart and soul. All of her. Open to all of them. To whatever life had to offer any of them.

“Tell me about the accident.”

She’d put it out there and he’d bet his life it was the first time she’d ever even really talked about it. He had a feeling she hadn’t said a word about this before. Not to a counselor. Not to Wood. Or her friends. She’d put it out there to him. Trusted him with it for some reason. He had to help her manage this memory.

“Peter had achieved his goals, the list of things we’d said we would accomplish before I went to medical school. I’d taken all of the mandatory courses. Had even put in the clinical hours. I wanted to be a doctor as badly as he did. But he’d felt strongly about going first, because once I started having kids, I wouldn’t be able to take on him in school, too. I would support the household first, taking care of household details, the bills, fixes, cleaning, shopping...so he could focus fully on school. And then he’d support us for the rest of his life.”

From what she’d said earlier about Peter’s scholastic career, he translated the most recent insight into meaning that in order for Peter to successfully master med school, he’d had to be able to focus on nothing else. Having been to medical school himself, Greg could see that.

“That day, the accident... I’d just been accepted to medical school, was so ready to begin my turn. He’d just been awarded his license, had a new practice he was starting with some others, and my time had come.”

Relieved that she’d recognized that she had a time of her own, Greg made himself sit still, leaning back on his side of the couch as though he was in any way relaxed. He readied himself to listen to what she had to say. Listen so that he could understand her. Not so that he could change her.

If she ever wanted to make any changes in her life, she’d have to do it herself. First, because he knew she wouldn’t let it be any other way. And second, because he knew that unless any maturation came from within, it wasn’t real. And though personal developments could last for years, it could also unravel at any moment—any particular point of stress.

“Except that, from Peter’s perspective, my time hadn’t come yet. Or rather, it had, but what ‘my time’ was to entail had changed—to fit his needs. He told me he was giving me the world. A lovely home. A life in which I would never need to go to work and do the bidding of any boss. To stress over classes or tests or deadlines. He’d worked so hard for so many years and was ready to enjoy the fruits of his labors, not have to go to work, and help out at home, too. He told me that I didn’t need to go to school or get a degree that our family didn’t even need me to have.”

Greg’s skin tightened as he grew hot. And then cold. Sometimes a clearer vision wasn’t pretty. Or even palatable.

“He wanted to start a family.”

Greg almost stopped her. Could see at least somewhat the explosion that was to come. He didn’t know about the actual crash that took Peter Alexander’s life, but he knew all he wanted to know.

And still sat quietly. Because he wasn’t listening for himself.

And more than what he wanted, what he needed—the desire to be a real friend to Elaina—was holding him silent.

“He wanted to be young enough, after the kids left for college, for us to learn to sail and spend a year on a yacht, to travel all over the world, maybe do some volunteer work in countries where medical attention isn’t as readily available as it is in the United States...”

The more she talked, the more his heart sank. If Peter had been evil, perhaps Elaina would have better hope of ever getting herself to the other side of guilt. But Peter Alexander had apparently had some great qualities. Enough so that they masked his innate narcissism. Not that he was in any position to diagnose a dead man. Nor would he ever do so out loud. But the picture was so clear to him that it wouldn’t disappear, either. Peter had consistently neglected Elaina’s needs in favor of his own. Instinctively, Greg knew that he’d never make the same mistakes. Elaina and their child would be his world.

“He wanted me to put off my own medical school until after we’d had the kids. And I suddenly knew that when that time came, he’d have me put it off again, then, too. Putting if off while he was in school was a given—we needed money coming in. But when he passed the boards and used kids as a means to stall me, I knew he didn’t see me as a doctor at all. He never had.”

Greg had reached the same conclusion. Didn’t make a sound.

“In the car that day, I told him that I was going to medical school. He’d brought the subject up first. But I was glad he was driving when I had to tell him, so that he couldn’t go off on me as badly. That way, he wouldn’t be able to give me his full attention. But he did. He raised his voice to me in a way I’d never heard. Told me that medical school just was not an option. That he was not going to support me through it because our family didn’t need it.”

Oh, God.

“I screamed back at him.” Tears still fell slowly. Intermittently. He wanted to wipe them away, to kiss them, to hold her until she exorcised every negative emotion and she could start over.

But he knew better. Life didn’t work that way.

Talking about a traumatic event was good. Probably even miraculous, given what had happened to Elaina. But even that wouldn’t be a miracle cure.