Love At Last

Four months after my husband nearly strangled me to death, I received a letter from his mother. Standing next to the mailbox, I stared at Marcy Caldwell’s neat handwriting on the envelope, and recalled the lie Trevor had told her about me after our wedding when she’d discovered a bottle of vodka had been stolen from her house. Lily has a drinking problem. When I’d tried to explain to her that it was actually her son who had the problem, she hadn’t believed me.

I hadn’t spoken to her since I’d gone into hiding from Trevor. And I certainly hadn’t been in contact with her since my dog had saved my life by crushing Trevor’s windpipe. Adrenaline pulsed through me as the unpleasant memories assaulted me.

What did she want?

With shaking hands, I tore open the envelope and read the letter as I stood in the street.

Dear Lily,

It has taken me a long time to gather the courage to write to you. I don’t know all the details of what happened between you and Trevor, but regardless, John and I would really like to get to know Trevor’s child—our grandchild.

On the Fourth of July we will be having our annual family get-together and we would like to invite you and your baby to join us. It will be John and me, along with Trevor’s brothers and their families. I’ve included a check to cover the cost of your flight. Please let me know when your flight will be arriving and we will meet you at the airport.

Looking forward to seeing you and the baby,

Marcy

I looked in the envelope and pulled out the check, then felt guilt lance through me. In the six months since I’d had Natalie, I’d never so much as sent Trevor’s parents a picture of their grandchild. In truth, I’d hardly thought about them at all. I’d only met them twice—on the Christmas I’d accepted Trevor’s proposal, and at the wedding. They’d been kind to me when they’d seen me, and I’d had hopes Trevor’s parents could become my surrogate parents. But I’d left Trevor and gone into hiding so soon after the wedding that I’d never had the chance to spend time with them.

I walked back up the gravel driveway to the house and thought about the invitation. The get-together was only a few weeks away, so I needed to decide soon if I would go. I pictured myself and Natalie arriving at the airport, and then seeing the faces of Trevor’s parents. Would they truly be happy to see me? Did they blame me for their youngest son’s death? What if things got uncomfortable and I wanted to leave?

“I could just drive there,” I muttered as I walked into the house, pausing to listen for the sound of Natalie waking from her nap. All was quiet, and I closed the door and locked it—a habit I’d developed since moving there—then sat on the couch. I reread the letter, visualizing Natalie playing with her grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins, and knew I had to go. John and Marcy Caldwell were Natalie’s only living grandparents and it wasn’t fair to them or Natalie to keep them apart. I had fond memories of my grandparents, and I wanted Natalie to have the same kinds of memories.

I grabbed my laptop and pulled up Google maps. It was a seven hour drive to their house in Las Vegas. Not too bad, although with Natalie being only six months old it might be a little more difficult, but hopefully she’d sleep for much of the drive. My decision made, I needed to let Marcy know I would be coming and that she wouldn’t have to pick me up from the airport. I didn’t have the Caldwell’s phone number or an email address, so I decided to write a letter, using the return address on the letter she’d sent me. I would have to buy stamps before I could mail it as I rarely sent anything through snail mail, and decided to drive to the post office after Natalie woke from her nap.

I went into the kitchen to straighten up, and moments later Greta, my sweet German-Shepherd, came bounding through her dog door and into the room. With her tail wagging, she rushed over to me, looking for attention.

I squatted next to her and gave her a good scratching. “Hi there, you good girl.”

She seemed to smile at me as her tail wagged even harder.

“You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” I cooed to her. “I’ll have to see if Marcus will take care of you while I’m gone.” Thinking of Marcus made me smile. Over the last few months he’d grown to mean so much to me and Natalie, but when I thought about the day I’d met him, I felt my face heat with remembrance. 

I’d gone next door to see if Trish’s husband could help me carry in the crib I’d just bought, but a man with the most incredible green eyes answered her door. It turned out that Trish’s son, Marcus, had just come home from Afghanistan. He’d carried the crib into the house, then set it up for me. Since I wasn’t obviously pregnant yet, it had been a bit embarrassing for me to have him discover my pregnancy that way.

After a bumpy start to our friendship, recently we’d become closer. I still regretted that I’d had to lie to him about my real name and the fact that I’d been in hiding from my husband, but I hoped he’d truly forgiven me. We hadn’t taken our relationship past friendship yet, but I felt like we were on the verge of that next step, and I was eager for Marcus to feel the same way.

Greta perked up her ears and I heard sounds coming from Natalie’s room upstairs. I stood, listening to her baby sounds, and smiled, then headed toward the stairs. I paused at the bottom, suddenly recalling the horrible day four months before when Trevor had knocked me unconscious and taken Natalie with the intention of letting his girlfriend, Amanda, become Natalie’s mother. My heart contracted in anger and terror at the memory. That day had been the worst day of my life.

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