Page 61 of Save Us
“I didn’t have a choice!” Beth finally cries out, making everyone suddenly stop and return to silence. “It was kill me, or take Rosie to be brought up as a Mayfield child. So, I gave her up. I left the man I love and the child I had just brought into the world so they could be safe and free! I’ve lived the past five years in hell, Casey!” My sister remains silent but still looks unconvinced, especially now that her arms are firmly crossed and she’s sporting an obvious pout. Beth begins to gain back some of that spark she once had; I can tell by the emotions that are beginning to intensify as she holds my sister in a challenging stare off. “Would you like to see the scars? Really? Because I have plenty to show you if you want physical evidence of how painful it’s been.”
“Beth, I’m-” Casey begins, but Beth, who is now feeling just as angry and just as hurt, cuts her off by raising her hand in the air.
“Where is Rosie?” she asks, suddenly sounding worried. “I don’t want her to see me like this, to have the first glimpses of her mother looking like a complete wreck.”
“She’s out in the garden, digging for worms,” Casey says matter of factly, but is at least looking a little guilty over her outburst. Beth, however, has a small smile on her face, probably over the thought of her daughter rooting around in the dirt like any five-year-old should be doing. “Beth, I’m sorry. It’s a shock, that’s all.”
“Don’t worry, your brother was just as unforgiving, to begin with,” she says with a small wink thrown my way. I can’t help but kiss her again, no doubt with a sappy grin all over my face. “A few harsh words aren’t going to break me after everything I’ve managed to survive.”
“I’m going to go and talk to Rosie first,” I tell her, “Mom will look after you.” I then look at Mom who immediately smiles and gets up to come and show Beth that she’s more than welcome in their home. “I’ll call you when we’re ready.”
Beth nods anxiously, knowing that I need to talk to our daughter first. Beth is still a stranger, no matter what her relationship is to her. This is going to be huge for our little muck monster.
When I finally get outside, I have to laugh over the state of Rosie. She’s covered head to toe in mud and is still rummaging through the dirt for minibeasts like she’s Bear Grylls in the depths of the Amazonian Rainforest. She’s even got her tongue poking out while she concentrates on the job at hand. Being that I’ve been away from her all night, and have some epically huge news for her, I decide to creep up on her. When I get to within inches of her little grubby body, I grab her arms and tickle her until she’s snorting with giggles.
“Daddy, you’re silly!” she laughs, then smears mud all over my face; she is definitely her father’s daughter and likes a good wind up as much as the next person. “Where’ve you been?” she asks in a nonchalant kind of way, then begins to try and brush at the dirt on my cheeks with her little chubby fingers that are as equally as muddy as my face.
“Hey, baby, I’ve been busy with someone,” I explain to her while perching her on top of my knee, where her bony butt instantly begins to wriggle. “Someone very special.”
“Have you got a girlfriend?” she asks with wide eyes and a completely shocked expression, looking so much like Beth it’s uncanny.
“You could say something like that.” I can’t help but beam and look back toward the house where said girlfriend is.
“Wow! Is she pretty? Is she nice?” she rushes out as she wraps her tiny arm around my back, letting her hair run over her shoulder as she looks around to face me.
“Yes, and yes,” I reply while continuing to grin at her. “Rosie, she’s someone important to you too.”
“Have I already met her?” She suddenly pauses to take a large gulp of breath at the same time as widening her eyes in shock. “It’s not Mrs Granger, is it? She’s a married lady, Daddy, her husband might come and beat you up!”
Her words have me tipping my head back with laughter because she’s such a five-year-old, always ready with a quick route to every explanation, no matter how ridiculous it might be.
“Hey, who could possibly beat your daddy up and win?” I reply jovially. “But no, it’s not Mrs Granger.”
“Oh,” she says, then screws her face up with in confusion, like the idea of it being someone else is completely perplexing to her. “Then who is it, Daddy?”
I look at her for a moment, considering how to put this into words which she’ll understand, but seeing as Rosie has always been a very visual person, I decide to take a risk.
“Hang on a sec,” I say before giving her a quick kiss on her head, “I’ll go get her.”
Poor Beth is completely stunned when I go back in and reach for her hand, probably with mud still all over my face. By the time we reach the kitchen back door, she is looking positively green with nerves. She begins to pull back on my hand, as though she is reluctant to go any further.
“You ok?” I ask gently.
She closes her eyes, takes in a deep breath, and finally nods with confidence. I kiss her and smile, suddenly feeling so proud I could burst. Once outside, I lead her in the direction of the flowerbeds where a smaller version of her is still rummaging around for worms and snails, probably giving the poor creatures the shock of their lives when she casts them inside of her yellow bucket. Beth looks at me, then Rosie, then back at me again, all the while gripping my hand tightly with anxious anticipation. I can’t imagine what this must be like for her, but something tells me the build-up is worse than the actual moment, so decide to rip the band aid away.
“Rosie, sweetheart,” I call out to our little girl, who then turns around to face the mother she thought she’d never have. I instantly smile, holding my breath as I watch it all unfold before me.
Beth
Wow!
Never in all my imagination did I expect my little girl to be this beautiful, even covered in mud and grime. In fact, it makes her all the more perfect. I hold my breath the whole time we take one another in, with me watching her eyes dart around for an answer to probably about a thousand questions inside of her head. She narrows her eyes while she begins her unapologetic study of the strange woman now standing before her.
When I finally let out my breath and really look at her, I realize she’s not a stranger to me at all; I know this girl. She’s the tiny baby I carried around inside of me, the one who would kick me whenever I had a shower or a bath. She’s the baby I held to my breast when I finally woke up to see her for the very first time. She’s the baby I cuddled and tried to hang onto when Oliver ripped her away from my arms. She’s the child I have dreamed about since I lost her all those years ago, only having her baby hat as a connection to her.
“Hey, I know you,” she says confidently, “you’re the girl in the photo at home, hanging in my bedroom; the one that makes Daddy cry.”
“That’s right, I’m Beth,” I reply, a little taken aback by her words. I begin to wonder if my voice sounds good enough for her, like a mother’s voice should. She looks even more confused than before, and I instantly worry that I’ve said the wrong thing. I look at Xander in a mild panic, but he just gives me a nod of encouragement to continue.