The McRae Series 01 - Twelve Days Sam and Rachel

I never did. Can you believe me about that?"
    "I'm trying. I'm trying to take it all in. It's hard to let go of things when you've held on to them so tightly for so long."
    "I know. So many times, you seemed so distant. I thought it just didn't matter that much to you—"
    "Oh, Rachel. It mattered."
    "I could feel you pulling away from me then. I thought you were impatient with the fact that I was still consumed by it at times. I thought you were shutting me out because of that."
    "No," he said. "It wasn't that."
    "And I thought you never really wanted children. Not the way I did. Especially when we started talking about foster parenting... You seemed..." Cold, she'd thought. Unfeeling. And now she knew. He felt too much. "We have to talk about it, Sam. You were one of those children, weren't you?"
    He nodded.
    "And it was bad?"
    "Sometimes."
    "I just didn't understand." Maybe she hadn't paid attention the way she should have. Maybe she'd simply focused so sharply on herself and her own feelings, she'd missed so many of his. "I guess we still have some things to work through."
    He nodded grimly, and she wondered, Would he stay to do that? Or had he had enough? She would promise him anything for another chance. She couldn't imagine her life without Sam.
    But he was talking to Miriam about single-parent foster homes and adoptive homes. The only reason she could imagine him doing that was because he was wondering if she could still keep the children herself if he left.
    She slid her arm around him and held on tight, thinking what an odd triangle they made. Sam holding on to her, her holding on to him, and both of them holding on to the baby.
    A real baby this time, not the memories of the baby they'd lost. They'd both been warned in those early, crazy days after the accident that most couples didn't survive the loss of a child. It was simply too stressful. Rachel vaguely remembered warnings about feelings of guilt—however misplaced they might be—and grief that tore couples apart. She hadn't wanted to deal with it, and neither had Sam, and it seemed they'd nearly lost themselves by refusing to talk to each other.
    Rachel was scared, so scared of what the coming days would bring. She could end up with everything. Or nothing.
    At other times in her life, the changes had come so quickly, so unexpectedly, she hadn't had time to think. But this... She could see it all staring her in the face, and she didn't think she'd ever had so much at stake.
    Her and Sam.
    Her and the children.
    For so long she'd just wanted children, and now when she might finally have them, she might be losing Sam. She felt so foolish now for taking her marriage for granted, for thinking he would always be there.
    Rachel held on to him more tightly, soaking up that heat and the solid feel of his chest, his heart beating beneath her right ear. She was afraid to let go, afraid of what would happen once she did.
    "Will you tell me about what happened after your parents died?" she asked, because it was still between them, and they had to deal with it. He tensed immediately, would have pulled away if she hadn't been holding him so tightly. "Please, Sam."
    "I never wanted you to know. I never wanted anyone to know."
    "Why?"
    "Because I didn't want your pity, Rachel. I still don't."
    "I think I need to know. To understand you. It's part of who you are."
    "Not anymore."
    "Sam, it is. If losing the baby taught us anything, surely it's taught us that we can't run from the past or our feelings. We can't afford to keep hiding things from each other. Look at what it's already cost us," she said. "I'm not going to judge you. I just want to understand. I want to help you. Will you let me help?"
    "I don't think anything helps with this," he said.
    "Please, Sam." She waited. He didn't say anything, and he was tenser than she'd ever seen him. His entire body was as unyielding as a stone, as straight and tall as a statue. "Sam—"
    And then Zach burst into the room with the speed of a small tornado, chattering the whole way. He saw them standing there all together and came up to Sam and wrapped his arms around Sam's legs and grinned up at Rachel.
    "Hi," he said.
    Rachel took a breath and said, "Hi, Zach."
    He really was an absolute joy, and he adored Sam.
    Rachel stepped away from Sam and Zach beamed up at him. Sam ruffled the boy's hair and asked, "What are we going to do today?"
    "Build a snowman," he said.
    Sam nodded. "Let's get to it."
    And Rachel let them both