If Forever Comes (Take This Regret #2)(24)
Author: A.L. Jackson

I folded it up and placed it back in the box. “Well, I’ll tell him this is compliments of you.” I smirked right back. Then I smiled. “Thank you, Nat. Honestly.”

I was thanking her for so much more than simply her gift. She’d put in countless hours planning for this wedding, taking her role as Matron of Honor seriously, almost to the extreme. I was grateful for every second of it. It would never have turned out so perfectly without the work she and my sisters had put into it.

“You’re welcome.” Sincerity transformed her face.

“Okay, next one,” Sarah said. She was perched on the floor at my side, feeding me gifts just as quickly as I could open them.

She set on my lap a small silver gift bag with a beautiful mess of black and silver tissue paper sticking out the top. I fumbled for the card.

Selina.

I slanted her a smile as I pulled out what was nestled inside.

A plain white coffee mug. I rotated it a little, unable to contain my grin as I found the personalization on the front.

Mrs. Davison.

I turned it toward my guests. A round of oohs and aahs and that is so sweet rose up over the room.

I couldn’t help but agree.

“I love this. Thank you, Selina.”

“You’re welcome.”

Really I couldn’t wait for that to become my name. I was more than ready. The date had become like this beacon, a signal for our future. Even though Christian and I had already begun our lives together, it didn’t make the day any less important.

“Here, open mine next.” Carrie came forward and grabbed a white gift bag that overflowed with black tissue paper. “Here.”

“Well, aren’t you in a hurry,” I teased as I situated the bag on my lap. “You better not have gotten me something that’s going to embarrass me,” I warned.

She scoffed. “Don’t act like such a prude.” She inclined her head toward my stomach that poked out above my fitted jeans. “Because not one of us in this room is going to believe it.”

I swatted at her and laughed. “You’re terrible.”

She just grinned. “Open it,” she prodded, anxious.

I closed my eyes and reached into the bag, expecting the worst. If anyone in this room would leave me blushing, it was Carrie.

My fingers grazed across something firm and covered in smooth fabric.

Frowning in question, I opened my eyes and pulled out her gift.

I blinked up at my little sister. She’d always been prone to selfishness, the youngest child, the center of attention. That didn’t mean I didn’t love her with every ounce of my being. But this…this was kind and thoughtful.

I ran my fingers over the handmade album before I flipped it open to the first page. Pictures were glued to the decorative paper, faded and worn, the colors bleeding away from the youngest days of our youth. My sisters and I were in our mother’s backyard. The three of us were in nothing but our underwear, covered in mud, wearing the biggest smiles you’d ever seen three children boast. In another, Christmas had come, and my sisters and I were dressed in footed pajamas, our excitement palpable as we hung our stockings on the mantel. A third was from Easter, frilly pink dresses, a mess of fake, green grass, eggs brimming over the top of our baskets.

The last was our beach.

Tears welled.

I couldn’t stop them.

Through glistening eyes, I looked up at my little sister. “This is…perfect.”

I turned the pages through the years of our lives, school pictures, plays, soccer games, and sleepovers. We grew and haircuts and styles changed, a progression of time shared, but through all of them was a projection of our joy.

Toward the back, I stood in the football field after receiving my high school diploma, flanked by my mother and my sisters. Our arms were wrapped around each other as we all leaned toward the camera, the four of us grinning like we were preparing to have the greatest tomorrow.

And on the last page of the album, I’d grown. The lines of my face hinted at the woman I would become, though I still wore the innocence of a girl. The picture had been snapped just before I boarded a plane for the first time in my life. I could almost see the wonder that had filled my eyes, the fear and the anxiety all mixed up with the greatest kind of anticipation as I’d set off for New York City.

I could almost feel it now, exactly the way I’d felt then. I knew my life was about to change. I just never imagined how much.

Just days after this picture was taken, I met Christian.

On instinct, my hand sought out my stomach where Lillie kicked me, her little foot jutting out at my side.

Today I felt the same.

My life was about to change.

“Thank you. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

Carrie leaned down and hugged me in a way she never had before. “I just wanted you to see yourself through my eyes…the way I see you. These are my memories of my big sister who I looked up to my entire life. I’ll never stop,” she promised.

The tears I’d been trying to hold in fell. Sniffling, I wiped them with the back of my hand. “Love you.”

Quietly, she spoke. “Love you, too.”

“Okay, next one,” Sarah piped in, breaking up the heaviness, all smiles as she searched the pile of gifts.

She set a beautifully wrapped package on my lap, silver paper with black and white ribbon. I opened the card. I read the words written in delicate script inside.

My Dearest Elizabeth,

I find myself at a loss to express my joy, my gratitude, and my love for you. They are bountiful. Profuse. Unending.

The only thing a mother ever wants is for her children to be happy. There are so many ways I believe I failed my son, mistakes I made that I can never take back. But I look at him now and see the way he loves you and Lizzie, the way he loves this new baby, and I know I had to have done something right.

And it’s you, Elizabeth, you who brings this light out in him, you who makes him shine.

For this, I will be forever grateful.

Never have I told anyone this, but for all of my life, I longed for a little girl to call my own. Christian may have been the only child I bore, but you are my daughter.

I love you, and I wish you and Christian a lifetime of happiness. Be good to each other and never forget what is important in this world.

Yours,

Claire

My heart clenched. Shakily, my eyes found her across the small room, where she just sat there, watching me as if she’d been projecting each word of that letter to me.

Soundlessly we spoke, a thousand words voiced in silence. Claire was one of my lessons in life, a testament that people may not always be who they seem, and sometimes the purest hearts are buried beneath their own mistakes.