Chapter 19
We left the courthouse and walked out into the sunshine.
Sarah was waiting for us, holding Poppy.
Poppy ran to me and threw her arms around my legs.
"Mommy! Is it over? Is Grandma gone?"
I knelt down and hugged her tight.
"It's over, baby. Grandma can't hurt us anymore. We're safe."
Lena stood beside us, rubbing her stomach.
Suddenly, she gasped and doubled over.
"Lena?" I said, standing up. "What's wrong?"
She looked at me, her face white.
"The baby," she said. "I think the baby is coming."
Sarah drove us to the hospital.
Lena was in labor for twelve hours.
I held her hand through it all. Sarah sat in the waiting room with Poppy, who was so excited she could barely sit still.
At three o'clock in the morning, Matthew Poppy Bennett was born.
Seven pounds, eight ounces. Ten fingers. Ten toes. Perfect.
The nurse brought him to Lena. She held him in her arms, crying.
"He's beautiful," she whispered.
She looked at me.
"Do you want to hold him?"
I nodded, my own eyes filling with tears.
She placed him gently in my arms.
He was so small. So warm. So alive.
He looked like Grant. I could see it in the shape of his nose. The curve of his chin.
My throat tightened.
But it wasn't a bad feeling. It was a feeling of... hope.
Poppy came in a few minutes later, Sarah right behind her.
"Can I see him?" Poppy whispered, standing on her tiptoes.
I knelt down and let her see the baby.
Her face lit up.
"He's so little," she said. "Can I hold him?"
I sat down on the bed and helped Poppy sit beside me. I placed Matthew carefully in her arms.
She held him like he was made of glass.
"Hi, Matthew," she whispered. "I'm your big sister Poppy. I'm going to take care of you forever. I promise."
I looked at Lena. She was crying.
I looked at Sarah. She was smiling through her tears.
I looked at Poppy and Matthew.
And for the first time since Grant died, I felt whole.
We stayed in the hospital for two days.
When we came home, the house felt different. Fuller. Happier.
Matthew slept in a bassinet in Lena's room. But most nights, he ended up in our bed, between Poppy and me, while Lena slept on the other side.
We were a family. Not the family I had expected. Not the family I had planned.
But a family nonetheless.
Bound together by tragedy. By loss. By love.
Lena decided to stay. She had found a job at a local bookstore. Part-time. Something to do while Matthew was little.
We talked about her moving out eventually. Getting her own place.
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But for now, this was home.
And it was good.
