The photos were mostly the same, Sera knew. The baby was so small, almost little more than a blob in the center of the picture, sort of like a bean. Even with the vague outline, there were a few telltale signs including the clear shape of his or her head.
“We should be able to see the arms and legs in the next one. And more definition of his or her head. Who knows, we may even get a little wave at the technician taking the ultrasound.”
“That would be amazing.” Gavin traced the outline of the baby with the tip of his finger before lifting his head. “This is amazing.”
“I’ll give you all the details for the next appointment.”
He nodded, his gaze returning to the photos, and in that split second of time, she felt an easing of an anxiety she hadn’t even realized she’d carried. She had a partner and ally in raising a child, and until that moment, she hadn’t fully comprehended just how much weight she’d carried at the idea of raising a tiny human all on her own.
“Gavin. There’s something I’d like to tell you.”
He set the photos on the end table, his focus fully on her.
“Actually, I don’t normally talk about it, but it’s something I think you should know.”
“What is it?”
“My mother abandoned me when I was fourteen. She didn’t love me.” Sera shrugged, the truth of that still able to sting nearly two decades later. “Or maybe said another way, she didn’t love me enough.”
Gavin was still reeling from staring at images of his child, so he’d later consider the fact that he might have handled Sera’s words with more finesse. More understanding. But at the moment, the social subtlety his mother had drilled into him since birth was nowhere in evidence.
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Ridiculous? Excuse me?”
“You’re wildly lovable and perfect. Your mother’s the unlovable one.”
He watched as that shot landed, her mouth briefly scrunching up in confusion before she parried back. “How would you know?”
“Because I have eyes. Because I talk to you. And because any parent who would walk away from their child has something deeply, irretrievably wrong with them.”
“Way to toss the judgment, Gavin.”
Was it judgment?
In the strictest sense of the word, yes. But in a broader sense, he wasn’t going to apologize for his ready defense of her. A point that was only reinforced by the fact that Sera’s words didn’t hold censure so much as resignation. Wasn’t she entitled to anger at being left? By her mother, of all people?
“Yeah, well, I’m not apologizing for it, either.”
“You don’t know someone’s situation.”
“No, I don’t. And I do recognize no one can understand every circumstance, so my attitude may seem harsh. But my first instinct will always be to defend the child. I’m certainly not apologizing for that.”
It would have been his reaction before, but now? With photos of his own child sitting in his direct line of sight? He simply couldn’t take back the words or feel badly about them.
People had reasons for lots of things, and he’d never understand or know the hearts that beat behind those decisions.
But he did know Sera Forte.
He knew her heart. And there was nothing that would convince him her mother’s reasons were good enough or strong enough or reasonable enough to excuse her actions.
But that sort of dogged stubbornness wasn’t what Sera needed, either. So he shifted gears and focused on what she needed. Because that was really all that mattered.
“Why don’t you tell me about it?”
“My mother and Robin are sisters. I think Robin had a sense things weren’t okay, but she was almost twelve years older than my mom and was out of the house when my mom was still pretty young.”
He’d hit fairly hard with his initial comments, so Gavin only nodded, giving her the space to tell him the rest.
“My dad wasn’t really in the picture. He was older than my mom. He got her pregnant a few weeks after she graduated high school, and they sort of tried to make a go of it for a while.”
If the similarities to their own relationship reared up at him, Gavin fought to tamp them down. Other than the way they were starting their parenting journey together, it wasn’t the same. He’d make sure of it because he absolutely intended to be in the picture.
Only he said none of that, opting for that continued calm, easy understanding. “Do you remember him?”
“A bit. He’d leave for a time when things got bad between them, and then he’d show up again a few years later. I don’t remember the first time he came back because I was too young, but he did it again when I was five and then again when I was eight.”
“Any reentry into your life would be difficult, but those are impressionable ages.”
“I suppose.”
Since Sera had shifted into a sort of robotic telling of her childhood, he stopped interjecting. It was time to let her get through this.
“Anyway, my mom wasn’t the most attentive mother. She spent a lot of time in her head and forgot me a lot. That improved during those short bursts when my dad was around, but it got worse each time he left. I was sort of relieved when he never came back after that last time.”
Once again, he fought to hold back what she’d termed judgment, but which he could only consider basic decency. To abandon your family? To go into some sort of ignorant state where your child—a small child by Sera’s own admission—was left to fend for themselves?
He couldn’t find a way to justify that simply to make her feel better.
