Dust rises as I run to meet the car. My legs burn, and I’m gasping for air, but I keep running, only stopping when my hands find the hood of this truck and Major has to hit the brakes abruptly not to run over me.
He hops out of the car with an angry expression, rounding to find me, both of his hands cupping my cheeks. “Veda, that was dangerous.”
I don’t care. I shake his hold away, the only question that matters bubbling from my throat. “Do you have her?”
As I ask, a click of a door opening rips my attention from him to a woman I’ve never seen coming from the back seat. I fall apart when I see she has a baby in her arms.
“Oh god,” I cry out and go to her.
There are no questions. I extend my arms, and she gives me the baby, so easily as it should have been before. I curse the tears blurring my vision. I want to look at Mirasol, but all I can do is cry and hold her to my chest in the middle of the road.
I sway, but a hard chest behind me keeps me in place. I’m not surprised to find Jesse there. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t try to move me or tell me it’s best if we go inside. He just stands there and lets me lean on him as I hold my daughter for the very first time.
She’s so perfect, I can’t breathe. The mass of dark hair now is loose in beautiful curls framing her chubby face. Her eyes are brown like mine and alert. She watches attentively, as she’s very aware of what is happening around her. She has a button nose, and even her ears are the cutest.
“Hi, Mirasol,” I try not to sob too hard. I don’t want my tears falling over her face. “I’m your mommy.”
“She doesn’t need introductions. She knows who you are.”
The comment makes my eyes flick from my daughter to the woman, and I'm confused when I find her crying, watching us. She has a melodic accent, something really pretty that makes my heart happy. It’s like every word ends iniein her mouth, yet it sounds right somehow. It fits a hole in my chest, while I can’t understand how, because I’ve never seen this woman before.
Clutching Mirasol against my chest, I turn to Major. My eyes beg for explanations, but all he does is shake his head.
“Let’s go in. We have a lot to talk about.”
I hear how tired he is; it’s impossible to miss his tone. I nod and start my way to the house, but he chuckles and leads me to the car, making sure I’m comfortable in the front seat before driving us to the house.
The woman hops in, too. I don’t miss that. Not that I didn’t expect her to follow, but her presence brings a lot of questions when all I want to do is be with my daughter.
“I never even got a baby seat,” I say, holding the baby against my chest as Major drives extremely slowly.
“Yeah, I never thought about it,” he confesses. “We can get one now.”
I nod. We need to get her everything. A crib, clothes, diapers, and everything babies need. Now that Mirasol is here, I realize how little I know. Grandpa was always making sure I didn’t learn to take care of the baby, reminding me I wasn’t keeping her, and for a while, even watching a video of a mother with their child made my heart hurt. The nine months I should have been learning, I was burying my head in the sand.
Never again.
We stop at the house, and Major jumps out to help me. He’s careful with me, as if I’m just as fragile as the baby in my arms. He’s right with me when he guides me to the living room, finding the most comfortable chair for me to sit.
Mirasol whines as we sit, her little arms and legs kicking out with a lot of strength. She’s complaining, but I smile. I know I’ll smile at anything she does for the rest of my life.
“It’s feeding time,” the woman says. “I brought some of the formula I had, but we’ll need more soon.”
She jumps into action, and I can only assume she is going to find her bag with the formula. I’m left with more questions, but I ignore them for now and keep watching my daughter. I kiss her temple, breathingin her baby smell, and I do all I can not to start crying again. She needs me to be clear-minded so I can take care of her. She doesn’t deserve a crying mess of a mother after all she’s been through.
I’m not sure how long it takes, but the woman comes back in with a baby bottle. She hands it to me, an encouraging smile on her lips as she nods to the baby.
Mirasol kicks off a cry, her little face scrunching and turning red, so I forget all about my insecurities and offer her the bottle. Though clumsy, she takes it quickly and sucks hard. She was very hungry indeed.
As the baby relaxes into my arms, I look at the woman in front of me.
“Who are you?”
It doesn’t sound polite, but it’s a fair question regardless.
“I was taking care of her.” She nods to my arms. “You called her Mirasol?”
I nod, and she smiles tenderly. I don’t miss that she didn’t really answer.
