Summer of Love Marie Ferrarella (easy books to read in english TXT) 📖

accident. I kept meaning to do something—say something—but I put things off … and put things off.” Her eyes came up. “And then we were ambushed.”

Jessi’s heart contracted. “Did they … did they do something to you, honey?”

“No.” Chelsea glanced up at the ceiling her eyes filling with tears and spilling over. “I mean, they didn’t hurt me physically. They isolated me and made me change into a long, loose tunic. Then they wrote a script and forced me to read it in front of a camera.”

Jessi had never heard about any message, but she didn’t say anything, just let Chelsea continue talking.

“As one month turned into two, the isolation started to get to me, and I began talking to the baby. Every day. I went from just wanting her to go away to needing her for my own survival.”

Her?

Oh, God, had they made Chelsea deliver the baby and then stolen it from her? Was that what the doll was all about?

When Chelsea’s words stopped, Clint voiced the question that Jessi couldn’t bring herself to ask.

“What happened to the baby?” The line of his jaw was tight, as if he too was struggling with his emotions right now.

“She died.”

“Oh, Chelsea …” Her mind went blank as she tried to find the words to say. But there was nothing.

“She died, and I couldn’t do anything to save her.”

“Your captors didn’t help?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t want them to know I was pregnant, because I wasn’t sure how they’d react to an unmarried woman carrying a child. So I hid my condition. It wasn’t hard under the robes. I was in my cell most of the time, and I figured once I delivered, they’d let me keep her, or maybe even let us go.”

Clint spoke up. “How far along were you when you were captured?”

“Around three months.” She turned to glance at him. “I lost track of time after a while, but I think she was born around four months into my captivity.”

Too small. Without the help of modern medicine the baby wouldn’t have had much chance to survive.

Chelsea continued. “She came in the middle of the night. She was so tiny. And absolutely perfect.” Her fingers caressed the doll. “She never even cried. I held her for a long, long time, praying for her to take a breath.” Her voice broke for a second, but then she continued. “After a while, I knew she was dead, and I was afraid if anyone found out, I’d be killed, too—and I didn’t want anyone other than me touching her. So I tore off a piece of my robe and wrapped her in it, then I scratched a hole in the dirt floor of my cell with my fingernails and buried her. I was rescued less than a week later.”

A couple more tears trickled free, and Jessi reached over and held her hand, her own vision blurry.

“I’m so, so sorry, Chelsea.” Her daughter had dealt with all of this by herself. There’d been no one there to help her … no one to comfort her. Her own heart felt ready to shatter in two.

A box of tissues appeared on the tiny table in front of them. Chelsea took several of them and wiped her eyes and then blew her nose before turning to look at her.

“Once she was gone, I realized just how alone I was. I couldn’t even mark my baby’s grave. And if I died there, I would be just like her. Dumped in a shallow grave somewhere. No one would even know I existed. After I got home, I started thinking maybe that would be for the best. That the baby should have survived. Not me. That I should be the one forgotten, instead of her.”

Clint leaned forward. “You wouldn’t have been forgotten, Chelsea. People would have grieved deeply, just like you grieved for your baby. You have a mother who loves you. A grandmother. Comrades in your unit. And you’re right where you should be. You’re here. Alive. Everything you did while in that cell had to be done. It gave you a chance to survive. Gave you a chance to make sure your baby would never be forgotten.

“If you had died, her memory would have died with you.” He paused, keeping his gaze focused on her. “And yet look at what’s happened. Your mom now knows about her. I know about her. You’ll probably talk to more people about her as you live your life. She won’t be forgotten. Your very survival makes that a certainty.”

Chelsea seemed to consider his words for a minute, and then nodded as if coming to a decision. “I’d like her to have a grave here in the States. A marker with her name on it.”

“Of course we’ll do that.” Jessi wondered if the ache in her heart would ever stop. She’d been about to be a grandmother of a baby girl who might have survived, given access to modern medical facilities. But those were things she could never say to Chelsea—would never say to her. They would decide together whether to tell Chelsea’s paternal grandparents. Larry’s parents were still alive, and Jessi and Chelsea kept in touch with them regularly. As for her mother …

They could think through all that later. The important thing was that Chelsea was talking. Working through things she hadn’t told another soul.

She had to ask. “Does the father know?”

“No. I never told him, and there seems to be no point now.” She licked her lips. “And he could get in serious trouble if the truth were made known.”

“Why?”

“He’s an officer, and I’m not. We weren’t supposed to get involved with each other to begin with.”

Jessi shot Clint a glance that was probably just as guilt-filled as she feared. But he wasn’t looking at her. At all.

“Did you love him?”

“No. And he didn’t love me. It just happened. Neither of us meant for it to, and we’ve never gotten together again. It was just the one time.”

God. Chelsea