The McRae Series 01 - Twelve Days Sam and Rachel

children needed their own beds, which meant Rachel would need that room for one of the children.
    He was still trying to decide where to put his things when Rachel came into the hall and caught him standing there with a handful of clothes. Her cheeks flushed, whether with anger or embarrassment, he couldn't tell, and the look she gave him made him feel like a thief, like he'd stolen something from her, something personal and very important, by walking away without a word from the bed they'd always shared. This after nights of making sure he was gone from the house before she woke up in the mornings and didn't go to bed at night until she was already asleep. So they didn't have to say anything about the fact that he slept somewhere else.
    "I'll, uhh... I can sleep on the sofa in the family room," he said.
    She nodded, keeping her head down, not letting him see anything else that might be in her eyes right now. He understood. He didn't want to have to look Rachel in the eye and talk to her about where he'd be sleeping now or maybe about why he'd started sleeping somewhere else in the first place.
    He didn't even want to think about it now. It made him remember how alone he was, even in the same house with his wife. Right now, he felt more alone than ever. Watching her with the children tonight, he couldn't help but think that this was the way things should have been, the way things would never be for him and Rachel.
    "Do you need anything?" he asked. "For the kids?"
    "No," she said, still not looking at him. "We're fine."
    Which he took as a dismissal, which still stung. Suddenly, he felt like a stranger here, as if he were on the fringes of something he wanted desperately, staring at it from the outside looking in, knowing he'd never have it, the way he'd felt most of his life. But never with Rachel. It was only with her that he'd ever imagined he might belong anywhere.
    But not anymore, Sam reminded himself. Then, like the coward he'd become, without another word to her, he slipped downstairs and went back outside to his workshop. To his space, where nothing had changed.
    Sam made himself wait until after ten o'clock to go back inside. He found a plate of food Rachel had left for him and heated it in the microwave. Then he took it into the living room, thinking he'd watch the early news before going to bed. But there was Rachel sitting in the rocker, the garland that had been around her neck now draped across the back of the chair, the baby in her arms.
    He felt hot color rising in his cheeks, embarrassed that he'd walked away earlier without even showing her the courtesy of telling her where he was going and when he'd be back.
    "Is the baby okay?" he asked, sitting down on the sofa across the room from her.
    "Probably just unsettled by being in a new place," Rachel said, not looking at him, either, her attention focused fully on the baby. "She fussed a bit after Emma put her down, so I brought her down here and rocked her. She went right to sleep, and then... Well, it's not exactly a hardship to hold her."
    "I heard you talking to Emma about shopping."
    Rachel nodded. "Miriam gave me some money but it won't go far. They have so little. She suggested I try the church thrift shop—"
    "Buy whatever they need," he said. "New. Heavy coats, gloves, hats, boots. Whatever they need."
    "Sam—"
    "We can afford to buy the kids coats. And get the girls some nice things. The boy, too. Not hand-me-downs." He knew all about hand-me-downs.
    "Okay," she said. "Thank you. I know you don't want to do this. I know you think it's a bad idea, but..."
    "It's what you want. We'll do it."
    She sighed and looked back at the baby. Grace had caught the tip of Rachel's finger in one tiny fist, holding on tightly, and Rachel was running her thumb over the baby's tiny hand, mesmerized, lost. Sam looked at the garland Zach had given her earlier. He remembered the way she looked, all sparkly and glittery, her hair glowing golden as well. She'd laughed, and he'd been startled by the sound. He didn't remember the last time he heard Rachel laugh, and he missed it. He missed so many things about her.
    Sam couldn't help but think of how perfect she looked sitting in her great-grandmother's rocking chair with a baby in her arms.
    "I know it's silly," she said, "but today, when Miriam came... It was just like in my dream. The baby dream. I was sitting here all alone, and the doorbell rang, and she walked up to me and handed me Grace. I'd given up on