Joe doesn’t matter. He never did. But her? She’s everything, and he’s going to take her away.
“You’re a disgrace, Veda.” Grandpa spits the rehearsed words I’ve heard many times before. “But I’ll fix it for you, as always.”
His chest puffs with self-importance as his eyes land on the baby. My whole body shakes and rebels. I try to get up because everything inside me screams that I should fight, but strong hands hold me to where I am, and I have to watch Grandpa make his way to my child.
He has been controlling every appointment and answering every question for me. How many times has he told me this is for the best? He says I won’t make a good mother, but right now, I can’t understand why. I want my baby.
“Grandpa, please, listen to me. Can we talk?”
He doesn’t spare me a glance. His arms reach for the baby, expecting everyone to just hand her to him, no questions asked.
“Can I hold her?” I croak, and he stops in his tracks. “Just once.”
That he heard just fine. His face hardens, and I know the answer before he spills it for the room. “No.”
The pain breaks me in two, and hollow emptiness blossoms like a black flower from my chest. It takes root quickly; its blackened edges spread around, taking all the space my daughter once occupied. I break like glass, and the small shards of who I was scatter around the labor room for everyone to see. Grandpa doesn’t get what he came for right away. The nurse holds my daughter to her chest, a warrior protecting us, but the doctor intervenes and tells her what to do.
The baby cries when Grandpa takes her. She’s only a few minutes old, yet she knows this is wrong. Her little feet kick the blanket off, and Grandpa makes a disgusted face. He doesn’t like it when we disobey.
Her cries take a turn. She’s desperate now, and I match her, unable to hold back. Our sorrows become one, twisting and forever linked. My arms reach for her, even though I know, rationally, he won’t let me hold her. Still, my body urges me to try.
“Don’t embarrass yourself, Veda,” he says harshly before turning away and leaving the room with my baby.
He takes her away.
Dumb, dumb Veda. I knew it was going to happen, but I wasn’t prepared. The cries turn into shrieks weighted in pure, untamed sadness. I don’t know how to stop this pain. I am not sure if I ever want to exist without the unbearable pain of losing her. My kind stranger squeezes my hand, and when I gaze her way, I realize she’s crying too.
“It’s okay.” I find myself soothing her. “I agreed to give her away.”
There’s very little truth to my statement. I was told it was the best for the baby. All I want is to do right by her, so I accepted. Grandpa is the mastermind of this whole thing, though. I was barely aware while he planned the saddest day of my life.
That’s why Grandpa chose this small hospital instead of the fancy one in Dallas. I thought he was just embarrassed that people would see me come and go with a big belly, but in reality, he can pay his way todo exactly what he just did. My eyes move to the doctor, and he’s the only one unmoved by the situation. Every gaze burns in rage as they take him in, and for a moment, I feel vindicated.
It doesn’t bring my child back.
“The placenta,” a nurse at the bottom of my feet says.
“What?”
The one beside me squeezes my hand again, and her eyes carry all the hurt to mirror mine. “I’m sorry, honey, I need you to push again. Just one more time.”
But how can I? There’s nothing left in me. Numbness takes over, spreading from my heart down to my fingertips. It feels so physically real that I almost think something went wrong, but I wiggle my toes and realize this is just my body tired of fighting the sadness he put me through.
Like an obedient girl, I push. Nothing matters, but I push knowing that there won’t be a little girl at the end of this pain. I’m a mother without her baby. A shell of who I was.
After it all, I’m finally left alone and curl into a ball with the empty hospital walls watching me. I cry through the night, and only her name echoes inside me.
Mirasol.
two
Major
Champion's eyes are half closed in contentment while I brush his brown coat until it shines under the soft light of the morning. My brother’s horse sure likes to be pampered.
“You’re spoiled rotten.” I chuckle.
As if agreeing, he lowers his head and nudges me until I pat his muzzle. He misses Derrick. They were inseparable once, but now things are different. Sadness weighs on me, and I absently rub my chest. I don’t want to think about that right now. With a fortifying breath, I avert my eyes to the sun breaking the night. The soft pink makes the golden acre, a romantic name for our sunflower patch, look even better from here.
