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“I mean every word of it.”

She nods. “I know you do, that’s what’s so incredible about it. I…”

“What? Please tell me what you’re thinking.” Here I spilled my heart out to her, and she’s leaving me with bated breath.

“I like you, but I need time and I’m not sure how much. I’m still coming to terms with the fact that I’m pregnant again.”

“I guess it wasn’t planned,” I say even though she said last night it wasn’t a planned pregnancy.

“You’d guess right. There was never an instant when I wanted to have his baby, but that doesn’t mean I won’t love it. I already love him or her.”

“I never doubted it for a second. You’re a good mom, and I’ll give you the time you need as long as you can tell me I’ll eventually have a chance.”

She doesn’t say the words as if she’s too afraid to say them, but she gives me a timid smile and nods. That’s all I can ask for in that moment. I need to show her I’m someone she can trust and someone who will be good to her, her son, and her unborn baby.

I wish I knew the magic spell that would help me break through to her. I may have seen glimpses of her softening to me, but there are more times than not she’s had her walls up around me.

7

Delilah

“Mama,”Beckham shouts from the back door of Max’s house, “there’s a dog out by the creek and I think it’s hurt.”

He sounds so sad that the poor puppy might be hurt that I set down the dish I was washing, and head to the door where my son stands. His eyes are transfixed on what looks to be a German Shepherd. A big German Shepherd, and even from here I can see there’s blood on its hindquarters and it’s limping.

“Stay right there while I get a few supplies,” I order him. Beckham has never met a dog in his life that he doesn’t instantly fall in love with, but he’s never encountered one that’s hurt either. Neither have I, but I’ve heard stories and I know we need to be cautious.

I run back to the kitchen to grab a towel, and the bowl of leftover taco meat from dinner to make the dog want to be near us when it’s hurt. When I get to the door, I don’t see Beckham there, and my heart begins to sprint in my chest as I search for him.

My feet take off the second I find Beckham skipping toward the dog like they’re going to be the bestest of friends after they meet. I want to scream, but I’m afraid I’ll startle the dog. Instead, I try to run as stealthy as possible to stop my son before he reaches the injured animal.

Only I’m too late. To my horror, Beckham reaches out his hand to pet the dog, and I see my life with Beckham flash before my eyes. From the moment I held him in the hospital to his Little League game last Saturday.

I scream bloody murder while my feet seem to slow. I feel like I’m stuck in cement as I watch in horror as the dog bares its teeth and lunges for Beckham.

It all happens so fast. There’s crying and blood. So much blood as I take my son in my arms and run back for the house. Tears stream down my face as I watch blood pump from the wound on the top of his head with each of his cries.

As I start to make my way up the steps to the upper deck, I’m stopped by an ashen faced Max. He tries to take Beck from me, but I can’t let go. If I do, then I know something bad will happen to him.

“Delilah,” Max says in a low voice, “let me take him.”

“No,” my voice is broken with tears as I clutch Beckham closer to me. “I can’t. Please, you have to do something. Please,” I beg.

“Head to the garage while I get a clean towel to place on his wound.” At the word wound, I sob, nearly falling to my knees. “We’ll take him to the hospital, and he’ll be fine.”

I look up at him, but all I see is a blur. “Do you promise?”

“I promise. Now let’s go,” he orders.

I take a step and nearly fall, unable to see through my tears. Max catches me and picks me up with Beck still in my arms. “I’ve got you.”

All I can do is hold him closer as Max races around his house before he sits us down in his truck. Unwilling and unable to let Beckham go, he buckles me in with my son in my lap. He hasn’t stopped crying the entire time, which makes me cry harder. The pain he has to be in nearly cripples me.

“We’ll be there in less than ten minutes. Just hold on there, little buddy,” Max says while I hear the engine of his truck rev.

I try to blink away the tears so I can assess his wound, but they won’t stop falling. I start to chant, “Please be okay, please be okay.”

In what feels like a blink of an eye and also an eternity, I feel the truck come to a screeching halt in front of the hospital. The next thing I know, my door is thrown open and Max is lifting us both out of the truck.