Chapter Fifteen
“What are you three doing?” A smile stretched Ian’s lips as he took in the scene in Arabella’s room. She sat in her bed along with two of Esme and Brodie’s girls. He couldn’t remember their names, but he knew they were the two oldest. Though at four and three, still not very old. Each girl had a baby doll, and they were currently feeding them… naturally.
“We’re feeding our babies, Dr. Ian,” the oldest Hunte girl informed him.
Smothering a laugh, he nodded. “You must be doing a great job. They all look healthy and happy.”
“We have to burp them now,” Ara reminded her friends.
The little girls propped their babies against their shoulders. Ara and the older sister patted their babies lightly on the back. But the youngest girl slapped her poor little baby doll so hard, Ian feared it might not survive the feeding. Finally, Ara let out a loud, long “burp,” and all the little mothers went back to cuddling their babies.
He would miss this when he left. Already he knew leaving Cameron may prove impossible, but he hadn’t thought about the other parts of the island he’d leave behind. Somehow, Arabella had wormed her way right into his heart.
“Okay ladies.” He clapped his hands to get their attention. “I know a little girl who really wants to go home today. But first, I need to check her out and make sure she’s healed up.” Or at least on the way to being healed.
Arabella’s green eyes lit up. “Me? Is it me?” Abandoning her doll, she clasped her hands together in a sign of prayer and scooted closer to the end of the bed.
He bopped her on the nose. “It’s you, but I need to look at your stitches.”
“We’ll go see the baby and Mami.” The older girl hopped off the bed, then reached up to help her sister down.
Ian didn’t have much experience with kids, but he was pretty sure these three were extra special.
“I get to go home today?” Ara turned those eyes on him again. Now they were open wide, gazing up at him like he was a superhero.
“You do. Your mom and dad are all ready for you.”
The excitement on her face dimmed. “Who will stay with Uncle Brodie and Auntie Esme?”
“Dr. Wes and I will watch over them. I promise they’ll be safe.”
“So, you won’t be my doctor anymore?” Her lower lip trembled.
The slight movement made his heart ache. “No sprite, you’re all better now. You get to go home.”
“And then you’ll go home?”
Her wobbly voice broke his heart. Had Ara grown as fond of him as he had of her?
“Yeah, but maybe I can come back and visit.” Hopefully, Cameron would allow at least that much. Although they hadn’t finished their earlier conversation, he knew they weren’t over. Now, more than ever, he was convinced Cameron had never stopped loving him.
“You need to go home and see your little girl, don’t you? She’s probably sad when you leave to take care of everyone else.” The serious tone of the girl’s voice made him think she spoke from experience.
“I bet you’re a good daddy.” The little girl beamed her wide, dimpled smile at him.
One day, she’d break hearts just like her mama. Already, she was breaking his. “I . . . I don’t have any little girls.” Was that his voice sounding so clogged with emotion?
“Why not? Don’t you have a wife?”
If only life were that simple: graduate—check, get a job—check, wife, kid, happily ever after—check, check, check. He’d been so close though. For a moment, he’d almost had everything.
“No. I almost had both once, but not anymore.”
Ara squinted at him and cocked her head. “How did you almost have both?”
“There was a lady once who was going to be my wife and we were going to have a baby,” he informed her.
Ara’s eyes lit up. “Was she pretty?”
“Beautiful and smart, and funny, and so sweet.”
“Like Mama?”
“Almost.” He sat on the side of her bed, leaning closer as if to share a secret. “Promise you won’t tell anyone?”
Nodding eagerly, she waited for what he’d say.
“I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as your mama.”
Ara’s eyes got impossibly brighter as she beamed at him. “Me neither,” she whispered. “Everyone thinks Mama is pretty.”
He chuckled. “I bet they do.”
“Do you miss your almost-wife?”
Her words surprised him, but he didn’t have to ponder an answer. “Every day.”
Ara slipped her tiny hand into his. “Do you miss your almost-little girl too?”
Unable to speak, he nodded.
“What happened to her?”
He cleared his throat. How to explain this to a child? “When she was in my almost-wife’s tummy, she got hurt, and so she went to Heaven before she was ever born.”
“Did your almost-wife go with her?”
In some ways, yes. But that wasn’t what the little therapist meant. How did he explain that a part of her had died with their child?
“No. She moved on to a better life.” After all, if it weren’t better, she would’ve come back to him, right?