I place my bag on the floor, and with every room I pass through, my heart hurts a little more until I step into one room that completely shatters it. The room at the end of the hall is a nursery. Intricate fairy tales painted on the wall, the ceiling covered with stars, and in the corner of the room, a crib with gossamer netting.
He should be here, doing this with me. I hate that any trace of happiness I feel is countered with the sad thought that Jude isn’t here to experience it with me. He’ll never put his little girl down in that crib or spend hours cradling her in the chair.
“I can’t believe he did this,” I whisper.
The floorboards creak as Marney steps into the room. “He wanted to surprise you.”
I swallow the lump in my throat, remembering the words he wrote in that letter. I have to accept it and move on, both for my sake and our child, and yet, I don't think I ever truly can. Part of me thinks it would be easier if Jude were dead. It would be the worst pain imaginable, but I would grieve and be forced to carry on. Knowing he's there but never being able to touch him again, it's the worst kind of torture.
Marney’s hand squeezes my shoulder. “Come on, little darlin’, why don’t we go sit on the porch? Take in the view?”
Tor
Two months later...
I'm lying on the beach, reading a book when I hear the rumble of a car engine in the drive. I get up, the fine sand slipping between my toes as I walk toward the house.
"Marney!" I shout as soon as the door closes behind me.
"In here," he grunts. Then curses under his breath.
I round the kitchen corner as he pulls a large box from one of the plastic bags and tosses it onto the counter. "Diapers. Might as well go ahead and buy those." He looks at me and smiles. "Now, close your eyes for this one, little darlin'." I do as I’m told and hear the bags rustling. "A'ight. Open 'em up." When I open my eyes, I see Marney standing there holding out a onesie. A pink camouflage onesie. I press my lips together, trying not to laugh. Where the hell did he even find that outside of Alabama?
"That's cute. Thanks, Marney." He smiles wide, the corners of his eyes wrinkling.
"I liked it. Hell, I couldn't find one with a gun on it. So I thought this was just 'bout as good." He tosses it on top of the diapers. "What do you want for dinner?"
This has become my life. I can't complain. It's beautiful here, and Marney is like a father to me in an odd way. Well, apart from the fact that he's spent his entire life killing people, but I like to think that doesn't define him as a person. Beneath his rough exterior, he's as soft as they come. He looks after me, and in a strange way, he makes me feel close to Jude.
A few moments of awkward silence pass before Marney clears his throat. "You thought of any names for her yet?"
I shake my head as he dumps a box of noodles into the pot.
"You're gonna have to name it. What about Marlene?" he chuckles to himself.
I cough, trying to cover my laugh. "Um, yeah, maybe. I kind of think I'll know when I see her." Honestly, the entire concept is still a struggle for me. At the moment, I have this thing inside me, this bump, but it will be a little person. My mind can't quite grasp the fact, so until that little person is here, which will be any day, she shall remain nameless.
The phone rings. Marney reaches across the island to answer it. "Hello?" His eyes set on me, and he smiles. "Well, 'bout damn time boy. How ya been?" He stands there just listening for minutes, then clears his throat. "Yeah, hang on just a second." He pulls the phone away from his ear and holds it out to me. "Take it," he nods.
I press the phone to my ear. "Hello?" I ask tentatively.
There 's silence. Just breathing. “Hey, Tor." His voice is so low, so raspy.
"Jude." For a second I choke, my heart racing, and then I remember his letter, and I get angry, really angry. "You fucking asshole. ‘This is the last time you will hear from me’. Really? Well, fuck you."
He laughs. "So feisty..."
"I swear to God, Jude, I would kill you myself..." I take a deep breath. "You don't get to make that choice for me. You didn't even call."
"Look, Tor," his tone has gone serious, dominant, typical Jude. "I had to fucking do it. You need to move on."
I pause for a moment, absorbing the words that I know are right. "I can't," I whisper.