Chapter Thirteen
Sandra sat on the swing seat in the back garden of Pine Cone Cottage with the precious photo of Victoria clutched in her hand. Streaks of sunshine patterned the grass, birds sang in the trees, and the fragrance of wallflowers and roses filled her nose. God was determined to cheer her up. But it was no good. The sick ache of loss obliterated all else.
Her only comfort was Miller, her father's black Labrador. He seemed to sense she needed him and had barely left her side since she came home from the hospital. He slept on her bed with her at night, and now he lay on the cushions at her side, his head resting on her knee.
She swung gently back and forth, staring disinterestedly at the colorful display of flowers in the mismatched ceramic pots that dotted the small garden. She didn't want to return to work. She didn't want to see anyone. She didn't even want to think.
Sandra glanced down at the photo of her tiny girl and fresh tears filled her eyes. She'd cried more in the last three weeks than she ever had before. It felt like the meaning of her life had been snatched away.
Without her baby, everything was pointless. Leaning her head back on the cushions, she closed her eyes and released a hopeless sigh.
The sound of voices came from inside the house. Her mother was talking to someone. Her mum had invited her grandparents and a few other people to visit, probably hoping to cheer Sandra up. The only one who'd helped a little was the vicar who'd said a prayer for Victoria. She didn't mind if he came again. But she didn't want to see anyone else.
A deep masculine voice answered her mother and recognition jolted Sandra. George was home safely. In the last three weeks she'd convinced herself she'd probably never see him again. Opening her eyes, she raised her head and focused on the back door.
"I'm so glad you're here," her mum said. "We don't know how to help her get over this loss. I've never seen her like this before."
"She's bound to need time to grieve." George was the voice of reason, as usual. Her mother had once said he had an old head on young shoulders, and she was right.
He strolled out of the back door and glanced around. Tall, lean, and handsome, he was a commanding presence in camouflage pants and an army sweater. His gaze found her and she averted her eyes, aware of him striding across the lawn towards her.
She was relieved he was home safely, but the passionate emotions that normally filled her at the sight of him barely struggled out of the mire of her grief. It wasn't his fault, but he hadn't been here when she'd needed him so desperately. She wasn't sure she could ever get over that.
"Hello, Sandra. I'm so sorry about our baby. I only found out when I docked this morning." George glanced at the dog taking up the two seats beside Sandra and pulled up a lawn chair to sit in front of her. He didn't try to kiss her or touch her. His mother had obviously given him the engagement ring.
"I'm glad you're back safely." If he'd returned before she lost her baby, she would have jumped into his arms and cuddled him, asked endless questions about what he'd done, and whether he'd been in danger. Now her grief smothered every thought and emotion, as if she had fallen into a trance.
The awkward silence stretched between them, the singing birds and rustling leaves filling the gap. "Do you want to tell me what happened?" he said softly.
Sandra shook her head.
"I visited Victoria's grave on the way here."
Sandra's gaze jumped to George's face, and she really looked at him for the first time. Was it her imagination, or were his eyes red?
He stretched out a hand to her. After a moment's hesitation she slipped her fingers into his, a sliver of awareness piercing her apathy.
"I'd like to know what happened. She was my daughter, too, and it might help you to share."
Sandra's throat tightened and she concentrated on breathing to hold back the tears. He was right. She thought about Victoria endlessly, but she hadn't talked about her with anyone.
In halting sentences, she explained the events of that awful day from the moment she realized she was feeling unwell, to the doctor's diagnosis of what had gone wrong.
George squeezed her hand to encourage her, his lips pressed in a thin line as he listened. When she'd finished, he cleared his throat. "I wish I'd been with you."
"So do I." Sandra pulled a tissue from the box on the table and wiped her nose. "I needed you so much."
"Oh, darling. I'd have been here if I could. You know that, don't you?"
"I don't know anything, George. I can't even think anymore."
He rose, pushed Miller to one side, and took the seat beside her. Then he lifted her onto his lap and wrapped her in his arms. Sandra curled against his strong chest, the tight fist of pain around her heart loosening a little. She held up the photograph of Victoria. He took it, staring at the image for long moments. "She was so tiny, so pretty, like you."
After a few minutes he passed it back, and Sandra tucked it in the pocket of her sundress.
"Thank you for showing me. When I visited her grave, I kept thinking that I'd missed my only chance to see her."
He rocked the seat slowly, back and forth, stroking her hair, his lips pressed against her temple. Gradually, she relaxed and her love for him rose up out of the dark fog of grief and soothed the pain.
"I know you can't imagine it now, but we'll have another baby, sweetheart," he said.
"We're not engaged anymore. I gave back the ring." Sandra pressed her face against his neck, wishing she hadn't done that. During the funeral, she was so hurt and bitter that George wasn't there, she had taken off the ring and given it to Mrs. Knight.
George pulled something out of his pocket. He lifted her left hand and slid the glittering diamond back in place on her ring finger. "There. Now we're engaged again. How about we rearrange the wedding for the end of August?"
"Are you sure you'll be here?"
"Yes." Alex had told him he'd have a home posting after his deployment to the South Atlantic. If the army didn't follow through with that, he'd hand in his resignation. He loved being an army doctor, but he wouldn't miss his wedding a second time.
"So how does August sound to you?"
Sandra cast her mind forward, and for the first time since she lost Victoria she found she could imagine a future. A tiny ray of hope penetrated her thoughts as she imagined standing beside George in Saint Cuthbert's in her beautiful wedding dress with their family and friends looking on. If she concentrated on that and looked forward, not back, perhaps she could get through this terrible loss and move on.
"I love you." George touched a finger to her chin and eased up her face so he could see her. She managed a weak smile, and his eyes glowed with affection as he pressed his lips to hers.
Sandra put her arms around his neck and hung on as if he were a life preserver. "I love you, too."
"I can't promise I'll always be here, darling, but I can promise that you and any children we have will be the most important things in the world to me. I'll do my best to make you happy and keep you safe."
That was all she could ask of him. They'd had a tough start, but she knew wherever in the world he was posted, he'd always come back to her.
• • •
Sandra's father climbed out of the back of the silver Bentley and offered her his hand. Steadied by his grip, she lifted the long, lacy skirts of her wedding dress and stepped out into the brilliant August sunshine.
He smiled at her, a look full of love and relief. "You're a beautiful bride, Sandra. George is a lucky man."
"The most beautiful bride ever." Her mother hugged her tightly, then set about straightening her veil and smoothing out the back of her dress as a small group of villagers gathered to watch.
She knew her parents had been desperately worried about her after she lost Victoria. For a few weeks she'd almost given up the will to live.
Then George came home and took her in his arms. That afternoon in the quiet garden, locked in the loving support of his embrace, she realized she did have something
to live for, and she turned a corner.
Her eyes still filled with tears when she thought of her baby, but she could now go for a few days without that happening.
George had suggested they get married somewhere else, obviously worried that Saint Cuthbert's Church held sad memories that would spoil their wedding day, but Sandra wanted Victoria close when she and George got married. It seemed right somehow. Their baby girl would not be part of the rest of their lives, but she could share this celebration of their love.
"Look, Auntie Sandra. Look at me." Her cousin's three-year-old daughter skipped around, clad in a yellow flower girl's dress with a matching bow in her dark hair. She held up a small posy of violets that were already wilting in the heat.
Sandra stooped and kissed the little girl's cheek. "You're such a pretty flower girl." One day she would have another child, a little girl or boy. She and George would have a family. He'd promised her.
"Okay. Come here, poppet," Sandra's mother said. "You walk behind Auntie Sandra and be careful not to step on her dress."
Sandra slipped her hand in the crook of her father's arm and they passed through the kissing gate, and along the old flagstone path towards the church door. Her mother followed, supervising the excited three-year-old.
Memories of the funeral hovered on the edge of Sandra's thoughts as she entered the cool sanctity of the church. Then the organ started playing Mendelssohn's "Wedding March," and she caught sight of George standing near the altar. The sun slanted through the windows, bathing him in a pool of gold, gleaming off his dark hair and the newly minted South Atlantic medal on the front of his dress uniform.
He was tall and handsome, but so much more than that. Strong and considerate, he had encouraged her to continue her career without pushing too hard. He brought out the best in people and the army obviously saw that, too. They had promoted him to major when he returned from the Falklands.
She smiled at their friends and relatives as she progressed down the aisle, saving a special glance of appreciation for George's mother, who had turned out to be such a wonderful help and support.
But even as she acknowledged their guests, her gaze kept returning to George. He watched her approach, a warm smile stretching his lips and twinkling in his eyes.
Happiness and love swelled in her chest and she increased her pace, eager to reach him.
Her father kissed her cheek and her mother took her bouquet. They moved to their places in the front pew, while Sandra slipped her fingers into George's hand and stepped up to his side.
As the vicar uttered the words of the ceremony, she stared at the stained-glass window above the altar, jewel bright in the sunlight, and thanked God for giving her this wonderful man.
"With this ring, I thee wed. With my body, I thee worship." George slid a gold band on her finger. Then she spoke her words, pushed a ring on his finger, and the vicar pronounced them husband and wife.
George smiled. "Hello, Mrs. Knight," he said softly. He drew her close and pressed his lips to hers. Sandra closed her eyes and sank into the warmth and security of his embrace. This was where she belonged.
It had taken a heartbreaking loss to make her realize that whatever happened, she could survive if she had George in her life. Sometimes he would be away, but she must accept that. He was a patriot with a strong sense of duty and obligation. The army was his passion. But he would always come back to her and never let her down on purpose.
"I love you," she whispered, brushing a finger over his shiny medal, won for service to his country. "You're my own personal hero."
"Wherever I'm sent, you'll always be in my thoughts, darling. You're the most important person in the world to me. You're my anchor. You're what pulls me through when things get tough out there."
"When you're away, I'll always be with you in my heart," Sandra said. But she couldn't resist adding, "Just try to stay at home as much as possible."
George chuckled. "Being at home with you will always be my favorite posting." Then he kissed her again. The organ music rose into the rafters of the church and Sandra's heart soared, her spirit so light and joyous on this special day, the first day of the rest of their lives.
Epilogue
One year later
Exhausted and overjoyed, Sandra leaned back and cuddled her newborn boy in her arms. At eight pounds, he seemed so big compared to Victoria. With a tuft of dark hair and a healthy pink flush, he was perfect. His tiny hands curled into fists and he pressed his face against her chest.
George sat on the edge of the bed at her side and laid his large, tanned hand on his son's back. "He's so tiny."
"He didn't feel tiny when he was coming out." Sandra pulled a face.
George chuckled. "There were a couple of times you squeezed my fingers so hard I thought they might break." He slipped his arm around her shoulders and rested his cheek on her hair. "Can you believe we have a son?"
They both stared down at the precious boy in wondrous silence. Being a doctor, she normally had a scientific perspective, but this tiny replica of George seemed like a miracle.
Another miracle was that George had made it home in time for the birth. He'd promised he would but she hadn't dared depend on that. Yet he'd kept his word and managed to fly home just in time from Cyprus where he was on a tour of duty.
"So, what are we going to call him? Did you think about Conrad, after my grandfather?" George raised his eyebrows.
"He doesn't look like a Conrad to me."
"Well, what about your grandfather's name?"
"Finley." Sandra frowned as she gazed down at the wriggling pink angel in her arms. "He's not a Finley, either."
"How about we combine the two names and call him Conley."
Sandra laughed. "Why is this so difficult? Nothing seems right for him."
George tapped the plastic bracelet on the baby's wrist that gave his name and hospital number. "He can't remain Baby Knight for the rest of his life. How about Radley?"
"Are you a Radley, sweetie?" Sandra slipped the end of her finger in her baby boy's tiny hand and smiled as he gripped it.
"I think he likes that name," George said.
The midwife bustled in with a diaper in her hand and pushed a bassinet up to the side of the bed. "Time for Baby Knight to have some clothes on. There are four eager grandparents in the waiting room lining up to visit."
"We're going to call him Radley." Sandra's gaze rose to George, and he touched his fingers to her cheek. After sharing the experience of Radley's birth, there was a new tenderness between them, a deeper bond. Her heart danced at the love and approval in her husband's deep brown eyes.
He stood and lifted his son into his arms. "Hello, Radley Knight. Daddy's going to put your diaper on, and you need to be a good boy because I haven't done this before."
With infinite care, he laid his son in the bassinet. The midwife offered directions, and George fixed on the diaper as if he'd been doing it all his life, then gently eased the baby's sleep suit over his thin arms and legs. When her work was done, the midwife slipped out of the room.
Sitting on the side of the bed, George settled Radley in one arm and put his other around Sandra, holding them both close. "You two are the most important people in the world." He kissed his son's forehead and Sandra's lips. "We'll make sure our boy has only the best and grows up to be happy and successful."
"I know you'll be a wonderful father." She snuggled closer to her husband as her parents and the Knights came into the room, all talking at once in their excitement.
"Oh, he's beautiful. Can I hold him?"
The grandmothers took turns to coo over their new grandson, and finally Mrs. Knight passed Radley back to Sandra. "He is the most beautiful little boy," she said.
"Adorable," Sandra's mother agreed.
They were right. Sandra clasped her sweet angel close and kissed his downy head. Her little Radley was the most wonderful baby in the world.
She leaned against her darling husband's chest, a sigh of conten
tment slipping between her lips. She would never forget Victoria, but now that she had Radley, the baby-shaped hole in her heart was finally full of love again.
If you enjoyed The Army Doctor's Forever Baby, you might also enjoy these other books by Helen Scott Taylor
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The Army Doctor's Baby (Army Doctor's Baby #1)