“Did you hide something for me among the roses?” she asked, feeling her way through the room.
“Sort of…” He paused, opened the French doors. The December chill whipped past them.
Tasha shivered. “This better be good, de Laurent.”
“Trust me.” He chuckled. “A few moments from now you are going to reward me for the genius that I am.”
He led her to the exterior of the hidden alcove and stopped. “Can I take off the blindfold now?” she asked.
“Nope.” He shook his head. “You’ll have to squeeze through the hedges, but you can’t scrape that blindfold off,” he warned. “You have to keep it on.”
“I can’t help it if it comes off!” She laughed and felt her way between two of the hedges. The bushes prickly stems poked at it, but did a terrible job of tearing off the blindfold. When she emerged on the other side the scarf was still in place and she silently cursed it.
The bushes rustled and Andre’s hands were on her shoulders an instant later. “Okay…” He began guiding her again. “This way.”
She thought he might be leading her toward the center of the grove, toward the goddess statue. “What’s going on here?”
“You’ll see.” His voice never wavered. He slowed her down before instructing her to, “sit.”
“Sit?” she asked in a weakened tone. Tasha didn’t remember there being anything to sit on near the goddess statue.
“Sit.” He nudged her down. She used her hands to feel her way.
To her surprise, behind her she found what felt like a bench. Sitting down on it, she found she was right. “Has there always been a bench here?” she asked, as if she might be going crazy.
“No.” Andre sat down beside her. “Close your eyes.”
“I’m already blindfolded,” she argued.
“Close your eyes,” he said, firmer this time.
“Okay. Okay.” She shifted her stance and shut her eyes tighter.
His hands fiddled with the scarf. “No peeking.” She laughed and the blindfold fell from her head into her lap. “Okay. You can look.”
Tasha eased her eyes open and when they focused on what was in front of her, she gasped.
The stone, made of marble, must have been about three feet tall and more than a foot wide. A beautiful angel was intricately carved into the left-hand side. Three rows of verses were inscribed along the stone’s face.
We thought of you with love today,
but that is nothing new.
We thought about you yesterday
and days before that too.
Your memory is our keepsake,
with which we’ll never part.
God has you in His keeping,
We have you in our hearts.
In loving memory of our little Angel.
We cherish the few precious weeks
your mother carried you in her womb.
Andre and Tasha’s names had been craved at the base of the stone. A tear slipped from each of Tasha’s eyes. Her hands flew to her face and she buried it in them just before her sorrow spilled out.
Andre wrapped his arms around her. “I hope it pleases you,” he said, barely above a whisper.
She looked up at him through tear-hazed eyes. “Oh, it does. It does.” She swiped at her wet face. “Do you think we’ll ever have the chance to have another baby?”
“I certainly hope so.”
“You know, I’ve been thinking…” She paused to catch her breath. “Maybe we should start following my ovulation schedule.”
“Does Dr. Jolie think that’ll help?”
“Well, he did say that if we weren’t pregnant by Christmas, we could discuss fertility options. And the first one is to follow my ovulation schedule.”
“Technically it’s not Christmas yet.” He teased her with a wink.
“One week won’t matter,” she said with quiet emphasis.
Tasha was beginning to think they were doomed to live their entire lives as a childless couple. She didn’t know if she could handle that.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
MARCH BROUGHT WITH IT SPRINGTIME and the excitement of a new baby coming to Pacifique de Lumière very soon. With the baby due in a couple of weeks, Camille was ready for the birth.
Surprisingly, so was Tasha. She still felt the loss of her own child, and she couldn’t help but look at Camille and wonder who would be bigger right now or who would give birth first if Tasha hadn’t lost her baby. Fate had assured that Camille would come out ahead on both counts. Tasha wasn’t bitter, but she was sad.
The early blooms in the rose garden—thanks to a mild winter—were also a welcome sight. A late afternoon chat in the garden had become a ritual for the last couple of months for Tasha and Camille. They never tired of taking in the rainbow of colors and scents.
Camille moaned and fidgeted, twisting and turning on the outdoor sofa in search of a comfortable position. Tasha jumped up, pushed the coffee table aside and pulled up an ottoman for her best friend turned sister-in-law. Camille gave her a grateful smile as she raised her legs, one at a time, and propped her feet up.
“So how are you feeling?” Tasha asked. Just last week Camille had gone to the hospital, thinking it was time, only to be sent home hours later—still pregnant as ever.
“Fat,” Camille answered Tasha’s question without the slightest hint of humor.
“Well the good news is…that’ll go away.”
Tasha’s response got a chuckle from Camille. “I guess you’re right.” She let out a long, sorrowful sigh. “I’m starting to feel like I’m going to be pregnant, and useless, forever.” Camille shook her head. “Pay me no mind. I’m just feeling sorry for myself.”
“I totally get the feeling-like-you’re-going-to be-preggers-forever thing, but why on Earth do you feel useless?”
“Look at me.” Camille’s hands shot up in a surrendering motion. “I’m beyond huge. I can’t do anything. I waddle when I walk. I can’t go anywhere, not even for a night out on the town because I feel so exhausted before we even get into the car. And sex is awkward. There’s only the one position that works for us now.”
“Which position is that, pray tell?” Tasha tried to hold in her amusement, but the laughter came anyway.
“Spooning, Tasha. Spooning.” Considering the ruefulness in Camille’s tone, Tasha decided to back off. Camille’s mood wasn’t all that chipper, and Tasha had to wonder if the time was truly drawing close this time.