Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
The moment I stepped into the house and saw the little girl in her arms, my hard heart roared back to life.
The small girl’s big blue eyes were glowing while they stared at me. I stepped into the house and shut the door behind me, no longer caring about what the house might look like. I could see the worry in Rose’s eyes, even as she cooed softly into the ear of our daughter. The strength of a mother, even in times of worry, astounded me, and I was being shown just a fraction of the strength my beautiful princess had within her.
I talked with the girl and reached out for her. She grabbed my finger, and I melted right there into the palm of her tiny little hand. I saw Rose’s eyes dancing around my face when she mentioned she had her father’s eyes and I held her gaze with a steely intensity that came naturally to me. She was willing to at least mention the idea of a father in front of her, which told me her stance had changed.
The doubt and worry she had been experiencing slowly dissipated as I drank in her eyes.
But then, she did something I didn’t expect. Ana held out her hands and launched herself at me. Rose’s eyes widened and she moved to catch the flying little girl, but I cradled her against my chest before Rose could get a handle on her.
I planted kiss after kiss on top of her head as I took in her scent. She smelled like freshness. Like innocence. Like a purity even her mother didn’t quite exude. The weight of her in my arms felt like feathers floating against my body.
And all the while, this small little treasure was nestling into my warmth.
I could tell Rose was shocked, but she made no move to take the girl from me. Ana looked up at me with her bright blue eyes and her wide smile and she started babbling sentences that made little sense to me. I could catch some words here and there, but her toddler’s tongue twisted around others. It was like she was trying to hold a conversation, pausing and waiting for me to answer.
So, I answered her as best I could.
She continued talking and I continued nodding and, when Ana busted out in a fit of giggles, I couldn’t help but laugh with her. Her eyes sparkled with a life still unlived. With hopes and dreams still forming themselves in her mind’s eye. I was entranced by the whole of her. My eyes peeled over to Rose’s and, in an instant, I wanted to know everything.
How much did she weigh when she was born? When was her birthday? Was she sick as an infant? Did she sleep well for her mother?
I wanted to know all the little details I had missed out on.
“Anastasia,” she said. “But we call her ‘Ana,’ for short.”
Anastasia. In Greek, the word roughly meant “resurrection.” And honestly, I couldn’t think of a more fitting name. This child was an opportunity for the resurrection of what hung between Rose and myself. She was the binding force between us, something that I thought had been lost the moment I left her with that note in my bed. I hung onto Ana tightly while she continued to smile up at me and, in an instant, my eyes were back down onto my child.
My beautiful, perfect child.
This was a moment of resurrection for Rose and me. A resurrection of our passion and our past. A resurrection of our connection and our blossoming curiosity about one another. It was a resurrection of a life we never thought possible with one another, a life we thought was lost when I left that room and she left the city.
How fitting that the perfect combination of the two of us would embody that ideal.
This was a chance for us to be reborn. As I looked into the eyes of my daughter, I felt myself being filled with something I never thought was possible in life.
I felt myself being filled with the idea of a second chance.
This idea thrilled me. The prospect of raising this daughter and watching her grow alongside the beauty and perfection that was her mother was thrilling. For the first time in my life, I felt I was trekking into new territory. I felt as if I was living out ideals and notions I thought were only possible in my dreams. But I knew the obstacles would be great. I knew my past was still out there, chasing me down while I ran from it. I knew my present would provide an even greater challenge, for living off the grid wasn’t for everyone.
Would the mistakes and the enemies I’d made allow me to have a future with my family? Would the moves I’d made over the past few years be enough to keep them safe?