Page 35 of The Hidden Daughter (The Lost Daughters #7)

Amalie sat at the table and held the little box. When Hope had first talked to her about making a keepsake for her child to open one day, she’d balked at the thought, but now that she’d begun to accept that she might have to spend her life without her baby, she’d started to warm to the idea.

‘How are you doing?’ Hope asked, her hand brushing Amalie’s shoulder as she passed. ‘Have you decided what to put inside?’

Amalie sighed. ‘Yes and no,’ she said, staring down at the ring that was still sitting on her finger.

‘I want to leave my ring for the baby, it’s the only thing I have that is connected to both me and Oskar, but I can’t bear the thought of taking it off.

’ She’d worn the ring from the moment Oskar had slid it onto her finger, and she’d never imagined not wearing it.

‘But then sometimes I’m so angry with him for leaving me, even though I know that’s completely irrational, that I want to take it off and throw it away. ’

‘Well, all I’ll say is that whatever you choose to put in there, the box will be hidden away safely in my office,’ Hope said. ‘You can change your mind at any time, and if you’d like, you could even wait until after the baby is born. There’s no hurry.’

‘I just have this feeling that I want to finish the box today,’ Amalie said.

‘I’ve had it beside my bed for so many days now, and I want to know that it’s done.

That if something happened to me during labour, or if, heaven forbid, I do have to make that decision to part with my baby, that I did this while I was happy, with love in my heart, still believing that a miracle might happen.

’ Thinking about the box was a constant reminder of the decision she was going to have to make.

Being with Hope felt like she was in a little cocoon, feeling safe and protected, but she knew that there was only so long she could stay there; only so long she would have there with her child after the birth.

‘Mother knows best,’ Hope said. ‘I’ll give you some privacy.’

‘Actually, Hope, could you stay?’ Amalie asked.

‘Of course I can,’ Hope said. ‘I could do with a minute off my feet.’

Amalie opened the box and took a deep breath, but she knew what she had to do.

She slowly slid the ring from her finger, holding it in her palm and closing her eyes as she remembered the day Oskar had asked her to marry him.

She could still feel his warm breath against her skin, still remember the way his lips had felt against hers and the comfort she’d felt with his arms wrapped tightly around her.

Tears began to slip down her cheeks as she opened her eyes and placed the ring in the box, knowing in her heart that it was the right thing to do.

Oskar was gone now, and if she was going to leave something behind for her baby, she needed it to be a reminder of him.

Today she felt strong enough to take it off, but perhaps another day she wouldn’t.

‘Have you thought of anything else you’d like to put in there?’ Hope asked, her voice as reassuring and gentle as always. ‘I think two or three things are nice, it makes it a special collection of mementos.’

‘I’ve cut this from a blanket I brought with me,’ Amalie said. ‘It’s an emblem of Norway, so the baby will know where he or she comes from.’ She passed it to Hope.

‘It’s perfect,’ she said.

‘What have other mothers put in their boxes?’ Amalie asked, before realising that what she really wanted to know was how many little boxes just like this Hope had tucked away somewhere for safekeeping. ‘How many times have you sat here and helped someone like me make this decision?’

Hope sat back, and for the first time since she’d arrived, Amalie noticed that she looked weary.

‘You know, it’s the boxes that I find the most emotional of all,’ Hope said.

‘Once a mother makes one of these, it’s as if it contains all her love, all her hopes and dreams for her child, and the belief that one day her child will come looking for her.

’ Hope gazed out of the window, as if she were lost in thought, but when she looked back, Amalie could see the emotion in her eyes.

‘The women who choose to leave these boxes are the ones who truly don’t want to be parted from their baby.

They’re the ones with broken hearts, and that’s why I find it so hard. ’

Amalie was fighting her own tears again now. ‘Not everyone feels the way I feel?’ she asked.

‘There are some young women who come here and they’re only girls.

They have their whole lives ahead of them, but a boy convinced them to go all the way and they’ve paid the ultimate price.

They don’t want to be mothers, they just want the chance to start their life over again and pretend that it never happened.

So they don’t leave anything behind because they don’t want to be found.

They don’t even want to remember they ever gave birth. ’

Amalie nodded, understanding what she was saying.

She could already imagine that type of girl, barely a woman, and certainly not ready to become a mother, because it might have been her perhaps, if she’d made a mistake and ended up pregnant.

But nothing about being pregnant with Oskar’s child felt like a mistake, which was the reason it felt so hard.

‘Then there are the mothers, like you, who have faced great loss. Women like you are making the biggest sacrifice of all to give their child the life they believe they deserve, even though it breaks their heart to do so. They’re the ones who will do anything to make sure their child might be able to find them one day. ’

‘I’m sorry you have to go through this with me,’ Amalie whispered. ‘I can see how hard it must be for you.’

After another long pause, Hope spoke again.

‘Amalie, I was like you once, but I had no one who cared enough to help me. I vowed then and there that if there was ever anything I could do to stop another young mother from feeling the way I was made to feel, that I would do it. And I’ve ended up dedicating my life to doing just that. ’

Amalie’s eyes widened. ‘You, you were—’

‘Pregnant? Yes,’ Hope said. ‘And these boxes, they’re something I wish I could have left for my child, because I truly do understand the sense of helplessness you’re feeling.’

Amalie went to ask another question, but Hope shook her head.

‘That’s more than enough reminiscing for me today. Now, shall we tie this box, or do you have something else to add?’

‘I do actually have one more thing,’ Amalie said. ‘It’s in my room. I won’t be a minute.’

She stood, stretching her back out before walking down the hall and up the stairs to her bedroom. Her back had been aching by afternoon every day lately, and she’d had some painful contractions only the day before, but today, despite how weary her body was, she felt good.

Amalie went to her bedside table and took out the photograph of her and Oskar, the one that had been taken of the two of them outside the front of the hotel.

He’d given it to her as a reminder of their summer, and she’d treasured it ever since.

Now, though, she had the most overwhelming feeling that she needed to leave it behind.

At least this way, when their child was old enough, they would be able to see what they both looked like, and she preferred that to leaving some mysterious clues in a box that would be almost impossible to solve.

Hope had told her that she would endeavour to have the box gifted to her child once he or she reached adulthood, and Amalie wanted to make sure the items inside were worthy of such an occasion.

She turned to go back downstairs just as a sharp pain sliced though her abdomen.

Amalie cried out and gripped the doorframe, holding on tightly until the pain subsided.

She placed her hand to her side and breathed through it, worried that something was wrong.

As soon as it passed, she quickly went back downstairs, holding the handrail tightly for support and shuffling towards the kitchen.

‘Hope,’ she called out once she was closer. ‘Hope!’

Hope appeared, just as another pain sluiced through her. Before she knew it, there was a dampness between her legs that turned into a steady trickle.

‘Something’s wrong,’ she whispered, terrified.

‘No, my darling, nothing’s wrong. Your baby is on its way.’

‘But it’s too early!’ Amalie cried.

‘It’s not too early, it’ll be just fine.

Besides, babies work to their own schedule,’ Hope said, patting her shoulder and taking the photo from her hand.

‘I’ll put this photo in the box for you, and you start to make your way back to your room.

Take it nice and slow, don’t forget to breathe, and I’ll put some water on to boil and get some towels. ’

Amalie froze, too scared to move, not wanting to be without Hope for even a second. ‘I don’t think I can do this,’ she whispered. ‘I’m not ready.’

‘No one’s ever ready to birth their first baby,’ Hope said. ‘Just trust me and trust your body, and everything will be fine. It’ll take a while for things to progress, so try to stay calm for now.’

Amalie nodded, knowing that now was not the time to start worrying. She was having this baby whether she wanted to or not. ‘That’s my Oskar,’ she murmured, as a wave of pain made her stomach go taut.

Hope held up the photo and smiled. ‘And how handsome he is,’ she said. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to keep the photo a little longer?’

Amalie shook her head, both hands on her stomach now as she braced herself for the next wave of pain.

‘Head up those stairs nice and slow, and I’ll be up in a minute,’ Hope said, her voice so soothing, her experience obvious. ‘Just remember you’re going to meet your baby soon, Amalie. That’s all you need to think about.’

Almost two hours later, and Amalie realised that the pain she’d felt earlier was nothing compared to the deep, rolling pain that kept coming in waves now.

She groaned and gripped the sheet beneath her just as a loud knock echoed out from downstairs.

Hope brushed her hair from her forehead and held a damp cloth to her skin, ignoring whoever was at the door, soothing Amalie with her words and her touch.

‘It doesn’t matter if the Pope himself is standing on my doorstep, I’m not leaving you,’ she said.

But as the knocking became more and more insistent, Hope eventually wavered, and in between contractions dashed down to see who it was. Amalie hoped it wasn’t an emergency, because she was in no state to be moved from the bed.

Another wave of pain clawed at her stomach, and she cried out just as Hope returned. But she could tell something was wrong the moment she saw her standing in the doorway.

‘Amalie, you have a visitor,’ Hope said.

‘A visitor?’ Amalie gasped, barely able to catch her breath. ‘Now?’

‘Amalie?’ A voice she’d never imagined she’d ever hear again reached her, as an impeccably dressed woman with a handbag tucked beneath her arm appeared behind Hope.

Pain clutched her again, the time between contractions so short now that the pain was beginning to feel as if it never stopped.

Hope rushed back to her side and lifted the sheet that was draped across her for modesty, her eyes meeting Amalie’s as if to ask if it was all right to have this woman in the room with her.

But as she closed her eyes from the pain, wondering how much longer she could cope, a hand clasped hers. And when she finally opened her eyes, she saw Oskar’s mother sitting there beside her, gripping her hand as if her life depended on it.

‘You came,’ Amalie whispered.

‘I’m here, Amalie,’ she said. ‘After receiving your letter, how could I not?’

Hope’s hand touched Amalie’s knee then, and Amalie heard the words she’d been waiting for, the words she needed to hear before the pain became too much to bear.

‘It’s time to push,’ Hope said. ‘With the next contraction, I want you to grip that hand and push with all your might.’

Amalie gritted her teeth, staring up at Oskar’s mother.

She’d never noticed before, but his mother had the same beautiful dark eyes as Oskar, and as their eyes met, it was almost as if it was him looking back at her.

Telling her she could do it, that he would always be there with her, and it gave her the strength she needed.

Amalie gripped Oskar’s mother’s hand then, pushing and pushing until she felt as if her lower half was about to split in two, hearing him in her mind, telling her that she was almost there.

And then a cry that sounded more like a meow rang out through the room.

‘Congratulations, Amalie. It’s a healthy baby girl.’