Operation Baby Rescue. Beth CornelisonЧитать онлайн книгу.
so glad you came tonight,” she said, placing a hand on Elise’s arm. “I hope you’ll come back. Talking about your experiences and your feelings gets easier with practice, and having the support of people who understand what you’re going through is invaluable.”
How could anyone really know what she was feeling? Her grief seemed so personal.
Elise forced a smile. “Thank you.” She made no comment on whether she’d return. The jury was still out on that. Even the little she’d said tonight had been painful to share. She drained her lemonade quickly, hoping to make a hasty exit before any other members of the group caught her in an uncomfortable conversation. Tossing her empty cup in the trash, she spun on her heel to leave … and almost collided with a broad chest belonging to a man with dark brown, soulful eyes.
“Hi,” Jared said with a quick flash of a lopsided grin.
“Oh, uh … hi.” Elise’s heartbeat performed a stutter-step. He was much taller than she’d expected, and this close to him, she could smell a tantalizing hint of sandalwood.
He rubbed his palms on his jeans once before sliding his hands in his pockets. The rattle of keys told her he was fidgeting. “I’m sorry if I … made you uneasy or caused you more pain tonight.”
She blinked at him and furrowed her brow. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected him to say, but an apology was not on the list. “Pardon?”
“Talking about my daughter.” He gave an apologetic wince. “When the Harrisons joined the group.” He hitched his head toward the young couple still chatting with an older lady at the circle of chairs. “.Kim would get upset when I talked about Isabel. I thought, maybe, since you’d lost your baby … hearing about my daughter would be … especially difficult.” He pressed his lips in a taut line of regret. “If it was, I’m sorry.”
Elise could only stare for a moment. His sensitivity to her pain was thoughtful and also … frustrating.
“I, um …” She shook her head in disbelief. “Thank you, but … I don’t expect you to censor yourself to protect me. Sure, it hurts to hear about other people’s kids and think about what might have been, but … that’s not your problem.”
He shrugged and frowned. “Maybe, but I’d hate to think you decided not to come back because my stories about Isabel upset you. Losing my wife was hard enough. I can’t imagine how hard it would be to have lost Isabel, how difficult it must be for you and the Harrisons.”
Pain shot through her chest, and she murmured, “It’s been hell.”
He pulled one hand out of his pocket and flipped it up in a gesture that said she’d proved his point. “And I don’t want to make it worse.”
She nodded, swallowing hard to force down the knot of emotion that had worked its way up her throat. “I appreciate that. But how selfish would it be of me to expect you not to say what you needed to about your daughter, if it helped you work through your own grief for your wife?”
He lifted his chin and cocked his head as if her comment caught him off guard.
Before he could say anything, she raised a hand. “Besides, I get a little tired of people avoiding mention of babies, and especially Gracie, my daughter, as if pretending she never existed would be easier for me, when really it’s their own awkwardness they want to avoid.”
She heard the bitter edge in her tone and bit the inside of her cheek. She hadn’t meant to snap at him. Her frustrations with her coworkers and neighbors weren’t his fault. But instead of taking offense, he smiled and nodded.
“Exactly. I get the same thing from my friends concerning my wife. As if any talk of spouses is suddenly taboo. I hate it.”
His response surprised her. Something warm unfurled in her chest, releasing a bit of the pressure that squeezed her lungs. When was the last time someone had actually understood the tangled emotions she had over losing Grace? Even this tiny connection to Jared made her feel a little less alone. “Your wife must have died recently if Isabel is only a year old.”
He nodded. “Nine months ago. Isabel was five months old when Kelly was killed by a drunk driver.”
A spark of outrage fired through her. “A drunk driver. It’s bad enough to lose someone to disease or an accident, but when another person’s carelessness is to blame … that’s—” She shook her head, fumbling for the right word to voice her dismay.
“Yeah. It is.” He gave her a bittersweet smile, telling her he understood what went unsaid.
Empathy pricked her heart, and she felt another thread of connection form between them. His grief might be different, but they faced similar struggles.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered, knowing how trite the words sounded. How many people had told her they were sorry for her loss? Enough that the platitude felt empty to her. Judging by his expression, he’d heard a lot of hollow phrases in the past nine months, as well. Well-meant words that did nothing to ease the ache in his heart.
Elise groaned and raised a hand to her face. “Ugh, did I just say that? Not that I’m not sorry about your loss, but—”
He chuckled softly and gave her an understanding look. “I’m sorry for your loss, too. There. Now we’re even on banal expressions.” He shrugged. “Although I’ve decided to cut folks a break. I don’t think I’d know what to say to any of my friends if their wives died, either. Other than, Man, that sucks.”
They shared a wry grin. The flicker of humor in his dark eyes mesmerized her, and after a moment, she realized she was staring at him. He had the kind of face that held a woman’s attention—square jaw, full lips, straight nose. As she shook herself from her trance, her pulse fluttered.
She adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder and sidled toward the door. “I should be going.”
“Right. Well—” He offered his hand. “—It was nice to meet you, Elise.”
“You, too.” She took his hand, and his long fingers and warm palm folded around hers in an encompassing grasp. Firm. Strong. Dependable.
She let her hand linger in his, puzzling over the words that had sprung to mind. Thinking she could tell anything about his character from his handshake was preposterous. And of all the traits a man could be, why was his dependability what came to mind?
“Will you come back next week?”
His question roused her from her sidetracked thoughts.
Would she be back? Coming tonight had taken her weeks of preparation and building her nerve. “Maybe. I, um …”
He squeezed her hand before releasing it. “Maybe is good enough. No pressure. Just think about it.”
And think, she did. All week. But not just about whether she’d return to the grief-support meeting. She thought about Jared Coleman. The way he’d lost his wife. His one-year-old daughter, who was walking. His dark, compassionate eyes.
When she weighed whether she wanted to return to the support group, her reluctance to open herself to the pain of rehashing Grace’s death was tempered by a desire to see Jared again. The connection she’d felt with him had been real. Hadn’t it? But was her interest in Jared about feeling less alone in her grief or about the flutter of attraction she’d experienced when he’d held her hand? She wasn’t looking for a boyfriend, especially not one with his own baggage and a daughter who’d remind her every day of Gracie. So why did his lopsided smile keep drifting through her mind?
“Goodbye, Princess.” Jared kissed his daughter on the top of her head as he moved toward the door the next Thursday night. “Be good for Grandma.”
“She’s always good. Aren’t you, Isabel?” his mother asked as she helped guide Isabel’s spoon to her mouth. Which was progress. “Will you be late?”
“Shouldn’t