Chapter 8 - Whispers in the NurseryBy early May, the nursery was completely finished. Soft pastel yellows and warm wooden accents filled the room, illuminated by the gentle afternoon light streaming through the lace curtains.
Grace sat in the rocking chair by the window, a soft knit blanket draped over her knees, watching little Ava carefully arrange a row of stuffed animals along the bottom shelf of the bookshelf.
“Mommy, is the baby coming today?” Ava asked, tilting her head with wide, curious eyes.
Grace smiled, brushing a stray lock of blonde hair from her daughter’s forehead. “Not quite yet, sweetie. But very soon. And when the baby gets here, we are going to protect each other, always.”
Heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway, and a second later, Luke appeared in the doorway carrying a tray with a glass of iced lemonade and a plate of fresh fruit. He had traded his tailored business suits for a comfortable linen shirt and jeans, looking more relaxed than he had in a decade.
“Delivery for the prettiest girls in Indiana,” Luke announced, setting the tray on the side table before dropping gracefully to one knee beside Grace’s chair.
He placed his warm, calloused palm gently against her swollen stomach. A second later, the baby gave a sharp, energetic kick against his hand.
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Luke laughed softly, a rich, genuine sound that filled the room with warmth. “Hey there, little one. Your big sister and your mom and I are waiting down here. Take your time, but know we can’t wait to meet you.”
Grace looked down at him, her heart swelling with an emotion so profound it bordered on pain. The ghosts of the past—the locked doors, the cold chapel, the betrayal—felt a million miles away, dissolved by the sheer, unyielding power of the life they had rebuilt together.
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