Second Chance with the Single Mom

‘It was hard to think about that. My mum and dad were both devastated. Dad couldn’t even go to Anya’s beside at the hospital without breaking down. And Mum sat with me at her side until she almost collapsed with exhaustion. She didn’t sleep for thirty-six hours.’

‘And you?’ His face seemed soft in the shadows.

‘I made up my mind that I had to be the one who coped. I gave Mum a timetable, and made her go home to eat and go to bed, even though she couldn’t sleep. I kept Dad up to date with what was happening with Anya and gradually he managed to be with her again. They worked through their grief and...they found a way to care for Anya again, without constantly thinking of Andrew.’

‘And now?’

‘They love her to bits. They always have, they just needed a bit of time to readjust. But they’re the best, they’re always there for me and they’ll take Anya without question if I have to go and do something. They help me out if I need something for Anya and I can’t afford it.’

He nodded. ‘So when did you grieve?’

It was a question that Raina didn’t know quite how to answer. ‘I...don’t know. Somewhere in between settling Andrew and Theresa’s estate and working through the adoption process for Anya.’

‘And did you speak with anyone about it?’

He’d asked the question before and she’d shut him down. This time Raina couldn’t. ‘No, not really. If I’d spoken about it, it would all have seemed too much to bear. Keeping it all to myself kept me strong.’

‘That’s not the Raina I used to know.’ Alistair was looking at her thoughtfully.

‘Life has a habit of changing us.’

Maybe he saw the same thing that had just become clear to Raina. That she understood his silence a little better, because it was what she’d just admitted to doing herself. She’d bottled up her own grief because she’d had to help her parents and Anya.

And she still hadn’t told him everything. The grief at finding she couldn’t have more children was hers alone. Alistair was an honourable man, and if she’d told him about that while they were still married he would have felt duty bound to stop the divorce and try again. But there had been nothing left any more to try for.

Everyone had their secrets. Those few things that they never discussed. The more she thought about it, the more her own actions seemed similar to the ones she’d condemned Alistair for.

‘Did you ever take some time for yourself?’

‘The first anniversary hit everyone hard, but afterwards things started to get a little better. Then my own grief hit me and I cried for a long time. Every night, for months. Then I could move forward.’

Alistair said nothing for a long time, seeming deep in thought. ‘I guess...we all need to feel our losses. However painful it is, it helps us move forward.’

That seemed to be all he was willing to venture on the subject. But another chunk of the barrier between them had crumbled away. And the Alistair that she was beginning to see wasn’t so very different from the person she saw when she looked in the mirror.

‘Would you like me to make some tea?’ He spoke again.

An echo of the past. One where they’d get back home, both exhausted from their day’s work, and fall onto the sofa together. Alistair would make her tea and they’d go to bed, curling up in each other’s arms to sleep.

‘Yes, thanks. Tea would be nice.’

* * *

Raina had shown him up to the small spare bedroom, apologising that it was a bit cramped and hoping he’d be comfortable. Right now, all he wanted to do was to lie down and let the day slip away in sleep.

She was braver than even he had thought she might be. When they’d divorced, all their assets had been divided up in a simple fifty-fifty split. It had been enough for Alistair to put a deposit down on a house and start again. Their salaries had been much the same, both young doctors working hard to build their careers. He’d imagined that Raina would have had the ability buy a place much the same as his.

And now he felt guilty. Raina’s small cottage felt like a palace, but that was because it was full of her own little touches. Pictures on the mantelpiece. Candles in the hearth and warm colours for cushions and curtains. Anya’s toys, and Raina’s books. The tiny garden was full of flowers, with plants to attract butterflies and bees, and a bird table. But she didn’t have the room that Alistair’s house provided him with, and it was clear that she’d done most of the decoration herself.

She’d made the decision that he had struggled with. When she’d told him that she was pregnant, he’d worried about how he was going to support her and the baby. His only thought had been how he could keep up with the mortgage and afford to give his wife and child everything. But Raina had taken a different approach. She’d given up work and downsized, counting her pennies and spending them wisely. She’d embraced the life that he’d dreaded and had made a home that was filled with love.

And that home didn’t include him. He could take a look at her life, like a child staring through the window of a toyshop, but he couldn’t be a part of it any more. Alistair turned over restlessly in bed. If he couldn’t give her everything any more, then he could still give her and Anya something.

He slept well and woke early, waiting in bed until he’d heard that Raina and Anya had finished in the bathroom. Then he showered and went downstairs. Anya looked at him wide-eyed, clearly not expecting to see him.

‘You see, I told you that you’d have Uncle Alistair to play with today...’ Raina shot him a smile. ‘How did you sleep? I hope we didn’t wake you.’

‘No...’ Alistair sat down at the kitchen table, greeting Anya, and Raina put a cup of coffee down in front of him. ‘Why were you up in the night?’