The Law of Moses (48 page)
“Moses?” I said softly.
“Yeah?” His eyes lifted from the canvas briefly.
“There’s a new law in Georgia.”
“Does it directly contradict one of the laws of Moses?”
“Yes. Yes it does,” I confessed.
“Hmm. Let’s hear it.” He set his brush down, wiped his hands on a cloth and approached the bed where I was positioned, draped in a sheet like a Rubenesque Madonna. I learned the term from him, and he seemed to think it was a good thing.
“Thou shall not paint,” I commanded sternly. He leaned over me, one knee on the bed, his strong arms bracketing my head, and I turned slightly, looking up at him.
“Ever?” He smiled. I watched his head descend and his lips brushed mine. But his golden-green eyes stayed open, watching me as he kissed me. My toes curled and my eyes fluttered, the sensation of lips tasting lips pulling me under.
“No. Not ever, just sometimes,” I sighed.
“Just when I’m in Georgia?” he whispered, his mouth curving against mine.
“Yes. And I need you here often. All the time. Frequently.”
Moses kissed me deeply, stroking his hands up over the curve of my abdomen, and the baby kicked enthusiastically, making us pull apart abruptly and laugh in wonder.
“It’s pretty crowded in there,” he said soberly, but his eyes danced. He was happy, and my heart was so full I couldn’t catch my breath.
“It’s crowded in here too.” I rested my hand on my heart, trying not to be an emotional pregnant lady and failing miserably. “I love you, Moses,” I said, cradling his face.
“I love you too, Georgia,” he said. “Before, after, always.”
Moses
I TRIED NOT TO HAVE ANY EXPECTATIONS. Life after death was one thing, life coming into the world was another. Georgia was calm. Beautiful. An old pro, as she put it. But I had missed the first time around, and I was afraid to blink for fear of missing something. And I was not calm.
Tag was not calm either. He had to wait outside. He was my best friend, but even best friends did not share some things. Plus, I didn’t think Georgia could give birth and keep us both from passing out.
It was all I could do to hold Georgia’s hand and stay at her bedside, praying to God, to Gi, to Eli, to anyone who would listen, to give me strength and self-control. Strength to be the man Georgia needed and self-control to resist covering the walls of Georgia’s hospital room in a frenzied mural.
When our daughter came into the world, screaming like it was ending, I could only cry with her. I’d turned into a crier. After years of controlling the waters, they seemed to be controlling me. But how could I not cry? She was beautiful. Perfect. Healthy. And when they put her on Georgia’s chest and Georgia smiled at me like we’d made a miracle, I could only nod and agree. We’d made two of them.
“Kathleen,” she said.
“Kathleen,” I agreed.
“I think she might have your eyes and your nose,” Georgia said, comforting our daughter who most definitely did not have my nose. Or at least not yet. But she did have my eyes. They were my mother’s eyes too. I could admit that now.
“Do you have your daddy’s eyes?” Georgia cooed.
“She’s going to have your coloring. Your hair,” I contributed, looking at the pale fuzz on Kathleen’s tiny head and the rosy hue of her skin. I was already wondering what colors I would use to match it.
“She’s got Eli’s mouth, Moses. Maybe she’ll have his smile,” Georgia’s own smile slipped a notch and my heart stuttered in my chest. We missed him. We missed Eli. And his absence was the only shadow on this moment.
“I hope so. It was a great smile,” I said. I leaned in and kissed Georgia’s mouth, the mouth that was just like Eli’s, just like little Kathleen’s.
“My hair, your eyes, Eli’s smile, her great-grandmother’s name . . .”
“And Tag’s charm. Let’s hope she has Tag’s charm.” We laughed together.
Then Georgia spoke softly to our little daughter, stroking her downy cheek, cradling her in her arms. “Those are five greats for you, Kathleen. Five greats for today and for always.”
Georgia and I grew silent for a moment, studying our baby girl. She’d stopped crying and was looking past us, her eyes wide, her little hand wrapped around my finger.
I turned my head, wondering what she could see.
And from the corner of my eye I saw him too. Just a glimpse. Just for a moment. And I caught a flash of that smile.
The End
Want to go back to Levan? Read Samuel and Josie’s story in
Running Barefoot
, available exclusively on Amazon.
Other books by Amy Harmon:
Making Faces
Infinity + One
A Different Blue
Running Barefoot
Slow Dance in Purgatory
Prom Night in Purgatory
Keep up to date with Amy Harmon via:
With every book there are so many people to thank that I dread writing the acknowledgments for fear that I will leave someone out.
First, my children. They reap the benefits of my book writing, but they also suffer with a blank-eyed, over-worked mommy sometimes. I am grateful for their love, humor, and patient eye rolls. For my husband, Travis, thank you for your enthusiastic, understanding support. We will get back to the gym together, I promise.
For my parents and in-laws, siblings and friends, thank you for thinking I’m awesome, or for at least telling me I am. I love you all and appreciate all you do for me and Travis and the kids.
For my assistant, Tamara Debbaut, bless you. Seriously. You keep my head attached. I’m not sure how I got so lucky, but I’m grateful every day.
For Dystel and Goderich, the whole team, thank you for having my back and making me believe that I’m a real writer.
For Mandy Lawler and Alpha Literary Services, thank you for your friendship and for all your work on this release. I feel fortunate to have snagged you before your life gets very, very busy.
For Karey White for your invaluable editing services, thank you. For Cassy Roop of Pink Ink Designs, thank you for the formatting and for coming through for me in a pinch! It’s great to make new friends. Also, Hang Le, for the incredible cover of
The Law of Moses
. People are floored by your work.
For EAGALA Equine Therapy and Allison and McKenna for letting me come observe your therapy session and answering so many questions. It was so incredibly eye-opening and touching. If you are interested in learning more about this fascinating approach to therapy, visit
http://www.eagala.org/
For my fellow authors who are so supporting and gracious, to the bloggers who are so kindly enthusiastic about my work, and most of all, to the readers and friends, all of you who have me in grateful tears daily, thank you from the bottom of my heart. XXOO
Special Note:
Calico the Wonder Horse
or
The Saga of Stewy Stinker
is a real story written by Virginia Lee Burton (1909 - 1968), who is the author of many classic children's books, including
Mike Mulligan and his Steam Shovel
and
Katy and the Big Snow
.
Calico the Wonder Horse
is published by HMH Books for Young Readers and no copyright infringement was intended.