The McRae Series 01 - Twelve Days Sam and Rachel

loved her, and life still held all the promise she'd ever imagined. She was still so young, so hopeful, so sure that everything would work out just as it was supposed to.
    Then she woke up and remembered it all once more. She lay there for a moment, almost feeling justified in feeling so bad. She remembered telling Miriam she felt like one of those punch-toys, with no bounce left in her, and Miriam saying, "Then you can lay there, Rachel. Are you ready to just lay there on the floor forever?"
    Rachel sensed that she was at a crossroads—her last chance to decide what she was going to do with the rest of her life. At the moment, it seemed certain that things were about to get worse, and there didn't seem to be anyone ready to pick her back up again. It was all up to her.
    Surely she wasn't so weak that she couldn't save herself. Surely she wasn't ready to just lay here and wallow in her misery for the rest of her life.
    Grace stretched and cooed and started to fuss once more.
    "You're not going to let me fall apart, are you, sweetheart?"
    Grace seemed to agree. She burst into a grin and tried to grab on to Rachel's cheek with one pudgy baby hand.
    "Then I guess it's a good thing you're here," Rachel said.
    After all, she didn't have time to fall apart. There'd be time enough to dwell on all the bad things later, if she simply couldn't help but do that. For now, she had things to do.
    Get up, Rachel, she admonished herself. Move.
    * * *
    Rachel got up. She got Zach bathed and dressed, and Emma took care of herself. Then Rachel and Emma bathed Grace.
    At Emma's suggestion, they put her in the deep sink in the kitchen. Rachel just about worried herself to death over something as simple as giving the baby a bath. There was the water temperature to consider—baby skin was so sensitive. The temperature in the room; she didn't want Grace to get cold. It was nearly impossible to hang on to a soapy, squirming baby, she discovered. Grace loved the water and patted her hands on the surface, dousing the front of Rachel's clean shirt, but the baby giggled and looked so pleased with herself, Rachel just smiled and decided to live in the moment.
    She worried over getting soap in Grace's sensitive eyes and worried over how to get her hair wet and rinsed and about Grace trying to eat the washcloth again. Emma hovered right behind Rachel, and Rachel thought Emma's devotion to the baby was adorable.
    "I have three sisters," Rachel told the girl. "All older than I am. My oldest sister, Ellen, claims she spent all her time taking care of me when she was a teenager."
    "I don't mind taking care of Grace," Emma volunteered.
    Rachel smiled. "I didn't think you did, and you're very good with her, Emma. She's lucky to have you."
    They got Grace out of the tub and wrapped in a big blanket, then took her into the living room and laid her on the sofa while Rachel wrestled with her over the business of getting her dry and dressed. Grace cooed and swung her arms and legs and kept rolling over and trying to crawl away.
    "Is she always like this?" Rachel asked.
    "She's always busy, and she doesn't like to be still anymore," Emma said, staring at the pictures on the mantel. "Is this you and Sam?"
    Rachel picked up the wriggling baby and glanced over her shoulder to the photograph. Oh, God, she thought, feeling another big tug on her heart. Sam.
    "That's from the summer we first met," Rachel said.
    "He's kind of cute," Emma offered.
    Rachel laughed. "You're going to be twelve soon, right? I was about your age when I saw Sam for the first time."
    Emma said nothing, just blushed, and Rachel sensed that she was shy at the idea of boys as Rachel had been when she was almost twelve. Seeing Emma now and that old picture, Rachel remembered so clearly being thirteen and absolutely breathless at the sight of Sam McRae.
    "He was the first boy I ever really noticed. The only one, really. You know what I mean? When I was just discovering boys and deciding there was something wonderful and interesting about them."
    "Yes," Emma whispered, wide-eyed.
    "Do you have your eye on a certain boy?" Rachel asked.
    "No," she said, too quickly. "Well, maybe, but I don't think he even knows I exist."
    Rachel nodded. She knew how that was, and she would bet Emma didn't have a lot of time to waste admiring boys. Poor Emma probably spent her time taking care of her brother and sister. She wouldn't have lazy afternoons to spend wandering through the mall with her friends, giggling