Sophie's Encore Read Online Free PDF Page B

as well ready to die, I couldn’t figure out, but quite abruptly, from out of nowhere, a thought pierced my consciousness.
    “You can’t take me away,” I whispered. “Josh is sleeping upstairs. I can’t leave him, he’s only two…”
    And then I blanked out.
    The paramedics took me to the hospital for a checkup because the baby was showing signs of distress. Josh and I and the bump ended up in St. George’s, the hospital where Steve had worked, and the staff were all in shock. They grieved alongside me and looked after us as if we were family. Within hours, Mum and Dad arrived. Rachel came, too, and she alerted Dan. Everybody was there for me, but still I felt alone.
    I stayed in hospital for a few days until it was certain that the baby was all right, and then I was allowed home again until the birth. Mum and Dad looked after Josh in the meantime. They didn’t tell him that his father had died. That was my job, in a quiet moment on the first day I returned home, and it was probably the hardest conversation I ever had in my life. Angels and heaven featured prominently, but I cannot recall exactly what I said.
    At my ferocious insistence, Mum and Dad left after a week, right after Steve’s funeral which they had arranged together with Dan. I couldn’t recall anything about the farewell service or the days leading up to it. My memories of that dreadful time resumed with any kind of clarity only at the point when Josh and I had to begin fending for ourselves in the short weeks before Emily’s birth.
    Rachel was there for me through it all, of course. And Dan. Dan proved to be a real rock. He just quietly turned up and did stuff, like playing with Josh and making sure Emily’s nursery was ready. He never said much, and he never stayed long, but he was always somehow there. After my due date had come and gone, he more or less moved in, without comment and without asking. He entertained Josh and got the house organized and cooked meals. When my labor started, he rang Rachel and my parents to let them know the baby was coming. When labor had progressed far enough, he took me to the hospital. I didn’t know what he told the nurses but he stayed with me the entire time. Yup, blood, sweat, tears, gore, swearing and all. He was there, holding my hand and holding Emily right after her birth when I was too distraught to even look at her.
    After the first few weeks of Emily’s life, when us three Joneses were eventually home alone together…well, as they say, life goes on. I changed nappies and fed my baby and played with my toddler. I grieved, and I went through denial, and despair, and anger. I recalled blank days and black days that somehow merged into weeks and then months. Denial abated. Despair came and went. But anger was a pretty constant companion.
    “I hate him,” I muttered weakly. “I’m so cross with him, still.”
    “You don’t hate him,” Dan corrected, and I gave a start. How long had I been lost in thoughts?
    “You don’t hate him,” Dan repeated and gave me a little nudge. “You know you don’t.” He rocked and soothed me as he had done so many times before. Somewhere deep down, I felt bad for him, too. He was an innocent prisoner of this drama, played out all too frequently. I had weeks, months of being happy, almost forgetful, but sometimes little things would send me over the edge all over again. Neither of us had any answers to my questions, never had, and never would; and I knew I had to stop putting us both through this time and again. Somehow, Dan had become my rock, my constant, the link between a glorious past and this unhappy present.
    Dan. What was it that Rach had said a few weeks ago? Rock star extraordinaire, lead singer of mega rock band Tuscq, erstwhile boyfriend and now godfather to my children . That about summed it up.
    I had known Dan practically all my adult life. We had been engaged once, for about thirty-six hours. He helped me through some minor disasters and was my