Page 150 of Nineteen Letters

“Iwant to stay with my baby brother,” Grace huffs with a cute little scowl as I lean over and strap her into her car seat. I roll my lips to mask my smile when she crosses her arms over her chest in defiance. She may look like me, but she inherited her stubbornness from her mother.

“I know, princess, so do I, but Bailey and Mummy need their rest. I’ll bring you back to the hospital first thing in the morning, I promise.”

She doesn’t speak another word, but when I see her bottom lip quiver and tears fill her big blue eyes, it tugs at my heart.Poor thing. I hate seeing her upset. Although she’s almost four, she’s still too little to understand. She’s been eagerly awaiting her brother’s birth … just like Jem and I have.

Bringing my face forward, I plant a soft kiss on her cheek. “Don’t cry, baby girl,” I plead, raising my hand to gently wipe away the lone tear that leaks from her eye. “Two more sleeps and mummy should be able to bring your baby brother home.”

“Forever?”

“Yes … forever.” I smile when I see the corner of her lips curve up. “And tonight you get to sleep at Ma and Pa’s. You’llhave lots of fun. Ma even baked your favourite cupcakes.” Christine and Stephen love having her stay over.

“Yay! Cupcakes!” she squeals, clapping her hands with excitement. It makes me chuckle. She has a sweet tooth, just like me. “Can my baby brother sleep in my bed with me when he comes home?”

“No, he’ll have his own bed.”

My words make her scowl return. She looks so cute when she’s angry. Her facial expressions say so much. “Can he sleep with me sometimes, Daddy?”

“I guess so, but you’ll have to wait until he’s bigger.”

She’s going to be a great big sister, I can tell.

Christine has prepared dinner for us. We are on our way there now. I’ll stay until Grace is settled before heading to the beach house to shower and check on my father. Jem begged me to stay home tonight and get a good night's sleep, but without her beside me, I know that’s not possible. I feel like a part of me is missing when we’re apart. I’ve felt like that our entire life, but even more so since the accident. I no longer take anything for granted. Every second of our time together is precious.

I don’t mind spending the night in a recliner. I’ll be able to help her with the night feeds and be there to settle our son if he gets restless.

I can’t help but smile as I pull out of the carpark, heading towards the exit. Unlike that lost and empty feeling I used to get every time I left the hospital after Jemma’s accident, my heart now feels so full it may burst. We’ve come so far, and that horrible time in our past is a distant memory. I have my wife who loves me, and our two beautiful children …our pigeon pair. Just like Jem had wished for all those years ago, but she wouldn’t remember that. Apart from scattered dreams, or random feelings of familiarity, her memory still hasn’t returned.

I recently wrote her a letter about that day, but I haven’t given it to her yet. She was too emotional in the weeks leading up to Bailey’s birth. Her hormones were out of whack, was her reasoning for the mood swings or sudden outbursts and tears. She was the same when she was pregnant with Grace.

I was worried the contents of the letter would upset her more, so I held off giving it to her. I must remember to grab it while I’m at the house. She removed her jewellery, including her memory bracelet, before we left for the hospital. I’ll be able to add the charm I bought—the one that accompanies the letter—before I leave.

Letter twenty…

Dearest Jemma,

The eighteenth of January, 2013. It was a Friday and five days had passed since we’d found out you were expecting our first child. You were still suffering from morning sickness, and I was so concerned about you. Sometimes the vomiting would last until early afternoon. Although the doctor assured me it was natural, I hated seeing you so sick.

Like your pregnancies with Grace and Bailey, apple juice or peppermint tea were the only things you could keep down in the mornings. By mid-afternoon, you’d be famished and certainly made up for the food you hadn’t eaten earlier that day.

I was outside watering the small garden bed you’d planted along the front of our shack, when you walked down the front stairs and made your way towards me. “I’m thinking about what to cook for dinner,” you said. You had a mouth full of food, and a half eaten chocolate bar in your hand. It made me smile.

“I’m easy. I’ll have whatever you feel like,” I replied, turning off the hose. I reached for you, pulling you into my arms. “As long as you’re eating, I’m happy.”

Leaning into me, you placed your lips on mine. “I’m so lucky to have you,” you whispered.

“In my opinion, I’m the lucky one!”

You slid your arms around my waist, resting your head on my chest. “I can’t wait to meet our baby, Brax. I hope it’s a boy.”

“A boy?” I asked, drawing back from you. “I thought you would’ve wanted a little girl.”

“I do eventually. I ultimately hope to have a pigeon pair … one of each, but it will be nice to have a boy first. Especially if he’s like you. He can look after his little sister, just like you have always looked after me.”

“I’ll need to have a little talk to my boys and make sure you get your wish.”

“Very funny,” you said, giggling. “I want our daughter to have someone like you in her life.”

“She will, she’ll have the real deal. That’s even better than an imitation of me.”