Here's the next update to my story :)
It's frightening how much a page and a half of writing can take out of a person. I AM EXHAUSTED. I just read this update to Zac and sobbed. While I was writing it, I only read it in my head. But when I burst in the room, sat with Zac on the bed, and read this newest scene, I couldn't hold back the tears. In fact, I had to stop reading at one point.
So here goes nothing...
:)
Once a heart begins beating for another person other than the body it was originally intended, that heart beats twice as fast or twice as slow, with double the power and double the life. A heart of such depth and intimacy is fragile in its beauty. If that heart is cared for, cherished, and nurtured, two lives become one. If that heart is broken, two people die. Two souls rip in half. Two bodies are buried. What was once “one” in rhythm and purpose is now coldly separate and dissonant. Such is love.
The first time Faye held her daughter, Faye’s past was buried and she was resurrected. Her heart beat for the miniature human being in her lap. Through the haze of the epidural and the distorted hospital room around her, Faye found clearness in her daughter’s eyes. Faye’s chest burned, her eyes grew wet and the love she felt for her daughter blossomed into tears. The baby’s cries came to Faye’s ears as the sweetest song she’d ever heard.
Faye was only nineteen.
An elderly woman dressed in nurse’s scrubs bustled to Faye’s bedside, “She’s beautiful.”
Faye grinned warmly at the nurse, “Thank you.”
“You did very well today. I had my doubts.”
“Oh, so did I. But we made it.”
Both the women gazed at the pink bundle in Faye’s arms, “Is the father on his way?”
Faye froze, “He couldn’t make it.”
“Would you like to call him?”
“No.”
Slight pause, “Is anyone coming?”
“No.”
A whisper, “Does the father know?”
Faye lifted her eyes from her daughter and stared at the nurse, “No.”
The nurse nodded and turned away from Faye’s bed. Faye watched her walk away and knew exactly the thoughts running through the nurse’s mind. “It’s a shame, to be so young and so alone” and “Why did she have sex with a man who couldn’t be a father?” But what hurt the most was the pain brought by the doubt in her mind, “Why am I so stupid?”
Her daughter's breath was warm and comforting on Faye’s neck.
Faye cooed at her daughter, “What’s your name, huh? What would you like?”
Her daughter got an arm free from her pink blanket and grabbed a handful of Faye’s hair. “Oh, you’re a little tough guy, aren’t you?”
Her daughter smiled and Faye’s breath caught in her throat. Closing her eyes, she relived the way her daughter’s green eyes lit up when she smiled over and over again. Fresh tears of a different nature broke free from Faye’s eyes, spilling down her cheeks. Avery’s father didn’t understand beauty. He didn’t understand love. Faye would teach her daughter both, no matter what. Her daughter would have what she never did: Understanding.
“Avery.”
Faye waited for a miraculous moment signaling she had the perfect name, but nothing happened. The hospital room had settled down a bit, most of the nurses gone. The doctor placed her in this bed specifically so she could enjoy the fresh air, but Faye preferred to think she had this bed because it had the best summer smells. Sunset pinks and oranges brought the white curtains to life and she gasped when the light suddenly splashed across her daughter’s features. Her little fingernails, her whispers of eyelashes, her soft downy hair all glowed. Faye knew then.
Avery Wright.
Her daughter.
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