Four Meaningful Words

  Four Meaningful Words

  A. M. Guilliams

  Copyright © 2019 Amanda Berberich. All rights reserved.

  © Four Meaningful Words. All rights reserved. Except as permitted by U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior permission of the author.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  This book is intended for 18+ due to language.

  Edited by: Silla Webb

  Cover Design: Kari March Designs

  To the love of my life, Ted. Our story is my favorite.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  A Note From The Author

  Sneak Peak of Desolate

  Stalker Links

  Acknowledgments

  Also by A. M. Guilliams

  Prologue

  Elizabeth

  Today was the day.

  The day we would finally become parents.

  Three long years of waiting.

  Three long years of pain and suffering.

  Four miscarriages.

  One failed adoption.

  And even through it all, we stood strong and waited.

  We waited for the child we knew would finally become ours.

  Early this morning, we received the call that the birth mom had gone into labor.

  Frantically, we rushed around to pack our bags and get a flight out to be there for the birth of our little girl.

  Taking one last look at the nursery that stood empty for so many years, I grabbed the handle to the suitcase and rushed out the door behind my husband.

  The man who was so patient and loving.

  The man who deserved to be a father.

  The man I vowed to love forever.

  He was my rock through it all.

  He never faltered.

  His love never wavered.

  As I sat in the front seat of the SUV, my hands grew clammy thinking back to this very day a year ago. The day we thought we’d bring another bundle of joy home. The day that the mother changed her mind the moment she heard her little man cry. I couldn’t blame her. He was perfect in every way. Ten fingers. Ten toes. A headful of beautiful black hair. And a cry that pierced my heart. I knew the moment she laid eyes on him, she wasn’t giving him up. She loved that little guy more than anything in the world. Even though we wouldn’t become parents, I wished her all the best because she deserved every ounce of happiness. The baby deserved every ounce of love that poured out of his mother. She tried to apologize, but she didn’t need to.

  He was hers to love.

  Hers to cherish.

  Not ours.

  I moved on autopilot through the airport and onto the plane that we barely made it to on time.

  My breath was caught in my chest. I was so scared of a repeat of the last time.

  Austin, my husband, tried to talk to me to pass the time, but my mind barely registered what he was saying.

  I didn’t want to get my hopes up.

  I didn’t want to think of the possibility of not bringing a baby home this time, but that worry wasn’t far from my thoughts.

  The mother could change her mind.

  She could choose to keep her baby.

  The little bundle whose heartbeat we’d heard through video messages.

  The little bundle whom we’d grown to love in our hearts after seeing her on the ultrasound screen.

  I’d tried so hard not to get attached, but after hearing her heartbeat, I was a goner. I fell in love. How could I not? I heard that little racing heart in my dreams, when I was lost in thought, and thought about how she’d feel in my arms when I daydreamed about the moment she became ours.

  Right now, as the plane was thousands of miles in the air and on the way to our destination, I thought about how far away that moment seemed to be. So many things could go wrong. Austin would scold me if he knew what was in my thoughts. He was ever the optimist. Me, not so much. I was the worrier. The one who thought of the thousands of ways that things could go wrong. In this situation, so many things could go wrong. And if they did, I didn’t think I could overcome them.

  This baby would be our last chance of becoming parents.

  If the birth mother changed her mind, I wouldn’t go through this loss again. I couldn’t. My heart couldn’t handle it for a third time. Austin didn’t know that. I’d kept that from him. I didn’t want to put the possibility of her changing her mind out into the universe. But, to be honest, that was the only image that was ingrained in my mind. Us walking out of that hospital without a baby.

  Austin grabbed my hand as the pilot came over the intercom and told us the plane would be descending shortly to our destination.

  “We’ve got this, baby,” he spoke as he tried to reassure my worrying mind.

  I smiled over at him and tried to hide my pain, but I could tell with the raise of his brow that he didn’t buy it.

  “Don’t even think it, Liz. Today is a joyous day. Our daughter is going to be born in a few short hours. She’ll be in your arms. You’ll see,” he vowed as he rubbed his thumb across the tops of my fingers.

  All I could say in response was that I loved him.

  And damn did I love him.

  If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t have tried again. I would’ve accepted that we weren’t going to be parents and lived out our lives together. But he wasn’t a quitter. He knew how much becoming a mother meant to me. And he fought for me. Not for him, but all for me. No matter the cost or the heartache that ensued. He’d do it all over and over again if it meant that we’d have a baby to call our own.

  I clung to his hand as the plane landed, through the airport to retrieve our bags at baggage claim, and on the way to the hospital after Austin hailed a cab.

  Speaking wasn’t an option.

  If I spoke, I knew the dam would break, and I’d burst into tears with the worry that consumed me. So I stayed silent.

  The feel of his fingers laced within my own grounded me to the present. Whenever I was doubting myself or had a bad day, all I needed was for him to hold my hand, and everything became better, clearer, and I could move past whatever ailed me.

  Today, however, the worry didn’t fade. I doubted it would until we knew for certain the little girl we’d come to love was officially ours.

  The cab pulled into the hospital parking lot, and Austin paid the fare as I opened the door and looked at the building before me. Questions plagued my mind as I waited for Austin to grab the suitcase from the trunk. Which floor was the birth mom on? Had the baby already been born? Was everything okay with the labor and delivery?

  “You coming, babe?” Austin asked, breaking me out of the ra
mpant thoughts.

  “Yeah,” I whispered as I reached for his free hand.

  “We’re about to become parents.” He beamed with happiness. I just smiled over at him. I wouldn’t rain on his parade. If this baby was meant to be ours, she’d be ours. I’d hand over the decision to fate.

  We walked up to the reception desk. It was close to eight at night, and the hospital wasn’t as busy as it would be during the daytime hours, I was sure.

  “Which floor is labor and delivery?” Austin asked the middle-aged woman behind the counter.

  “Seventh floor. Elevators are around the corner.”

  Austin thanked the woman and picked up the pace as we rushed around the corner and pushed the button to signal the elevator.

  We stepped inside as the doors opened, and he pushed the proper button.

  It felt like hours had passed as we waited for the next floor to light up on the panel.

  The sound of my heartbeat filled my ears. It felt like it would beat out of my chest if given the opportunity. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to try to calm the racing. Then the ding sounded and broke me out of my meditation.

  We’d arrived.

  We were one door away from being with the birth mom.

  The door was at the end of the hall.

  It remained locked and for good reason.

  Austin pushed the bell and waited for someone to respond.

  Me, I stared at the floor, counting the tiles to pass the minutes. Anything to focus on aside from the worry.

  Just as the nurse asked who we were there for, the sounds of footsteps behind us caused me to turn my head.

  A young kid was running toward the door.

  His hair was disheveled, like he’d ran his hands through it constantly.

  He wore a white t-shirt with a plaid button-down overtop, dark washed jeans, and white sneakers. His shoes squeaked on shiny white laminate flooring as he continued running until he was at the door right behind us.

  Austin speaking caused me to turn back toward him.

  “We’re here for Samantha Sterling. We’re the adoptive parents,” Austin answered.

  “You’re here for Sam?” the kid behind me asked.

  “We are,” I answered.

  “You’re not taking our baby. I won’t let you. She’s ours. Mine and Sam’s. We’re raising her. Not you,” he demanded as he pushed past us when the alarm signaled the door opening.

  He ran over to the room and shut the door behind him.

  I stayed rooted to the spot.

  I couldn’t move. I couldn’t hear another baby take its first breath. Have its first cry. Only to have her ripped out of my grasp yet again.

  Instead, I took the first step.

  In the other direction.

  “Liz, wait,” Austin yelled from behind me.

  I kept walking until I was through the main door of the hospital.

  “We don’t know if they’re going to keep the baby, Liz,” he pleaded.

  But I knew.

  Before we even left the comfort of the home we’d built together, I knew.

  My heart knew that we weren’t becoming parents today.

  He grabbed my arm and turned me to him.

  One look into his beautiful honey brown eyes and I broke down.

  He pulled me to him and wrapped his arms around me, and I sobbed into the softness of his sweater.

  “Jesus, baby. I’ve got you. It’s all going to be alright. We’ll get through this,” he promised, but my heart didn’t know if I could take another loss. We’d already lost so much. Time and time again we continued to lose.

  We stayed outside of that hospital until we got the call. Austin held me as I cried the entire time.

  Two hours and twenty-seven minutes later, she was born. A beautiful baby girl. Born to her parents, Samantha and Jesse. Parents who decided, in the end, they’d raise their precious daughter together.

  Fate decided that day for me. For us. Yet again, I walked out of another hospital childless and heartbroken.

  Chapter 1

  Elizabeth

  Two Years Later

  Today I woke up just like any other day.

  I stretched my arms out and rubbed the side of the sheets that were empty.

  The spot of the bed beside me lay cold. Austin had likely been awake for hours even though it was only eight in the morning. He’d likely already be in the office getting ready for his day in court. He was the prosecutor in our small town of Beaufort, South Carolina. We’d fallen in love with the town as we passed through and eventually moved here after he passed the bar. And here we were ten years later and still loving small-town life.

  My heart wasn’t as heavy as it usually had been.

  For some reason, I felt lighter this morning.

  For two long years, Austin and I hadn’t been on the same page. He fought long and hard for me to break out of my own heartbreak, but I couldn’t. I felt like I’d let him down. My uterus was the problem. Not his sperm. And the perfect man would remain fatherless because of my womb. I didn’t voice my concerns to him. I couldn’t handle him telling me it was my fault. Instead, I suffered in silence. Day after day I shut him out more and more. I couldn’t tell you the last time we had a conversation that wasn’t at some party held by his office.

  But today, my first thoughts weren’t on my inability to conceive.

  Today, my first thought was that I missed my husband. I missed his smile. His laugh. His hand touching mine. Just talking to him in general.

  Today would be the first step into me taking back my marriage.

  The writing, editing, promotional projects could all wait.

  My husband was more important than the book that I’d just released last week. The book that was currently doing so amazingly well that I couldn’t be happier.

  For the first time in seven hundred and thirty days, my priority would be my failing marriage.

  Someway, somehow, I’d make up all this missed time to Austin.

  Starting with making his favorite meal.

  Spaghetti with homemade sauce and meatballs.

  I rushed to get out of bed. Feeling almost giddy for making my husband this small token to show him I wanted to get out of the funk I’d been in.

  After throwing my hair into a messy bun and pulling on a pair of black leggings and an oversized white tee, I was ready to set out to get the day started.

  Rushing down the stairs, I slipped my feet into a pair of flip flops. I grabbed my purse from the foyer table and my keys from the bowl by the door and headed out into the bright, sunny day ahead of me.

  Heading into town, I looked around as I drove down the streets that I knew so well. It was like I was seeing them for the first time in a long time. Because it was. I was a hermit by nature. Spending most of my days holed up in my office with my fingers to the keyboard to finish whichever manuscript I was working on at the time. Most of the time, I had the groceries delivered because it was easier than me leaving the house.

  Today, however, I needed to put an end to all of it and get back out into the town I loved.

  Everyone that was out in their lawns waved as I drove past, and I returned the gesture with a genuine smile on my face.

  The drive to the local market was quick, and when I stepped out of the car, I had a pep in my step. It’d been so long since I’d cooked for Austin. Too long. And today I was rectifying that.

  I opened the door and Mrs. Morris, the lovely store owner, greeted me with a smile and a wave.

  “How are you today, dear?” she asked after I grabbed a cart so I could gather the items I’d need.

  “I’m doing well. How are you?”

  “These old bones are giving me grief, but other than that, I’m good. We haven’t seen you in here for a while.”

  I felt bad that she’d noticed. The whole town had probably noticed my absence from somewhere or another.

  “I’m here to rectify that starting today. I need to get out of the house more.”


  The words I spoke weren’t a lie. I could take an hour out of my day to go grocery shopping. Hell, I couldn’t even tell you the last time I had my hair done.

  “That’s good to hear, dear. I’m glad to see you.”

  We said our goodbyes, and I went aisle by aisle to see if there was anything else that we needed before I took my items to the front to checkout.

  With three bags in hand, I waved goodbye to Mrs. Morris and walked out to my car for the short drive home.

  After I put all the items away, aside from what I needed for the sauce, I grabbed the stockpot and began making the tomatoey goodness from scratch, the way my grandma showed me how to.

  Humming to myself, I danced around the kitchen without a care in the world. I couldn’t wait to see Austin tonight so I could tell him what was on my mind. The first words out of my mouth would be an apology. Saying ‘I’m sorry’ wouldn’t solve our problems, but it was a start. He needed to know that I wouldn’t be that wife again. The wife who shut him out to handle her grief on her own. The wife who felt like a failure for not being able to carry a child to term. The wife who was the sole cause of their failing marriage. I wanted to be the wife I was before tragedy struck repeatedly. I wanted us to be the way we used to be. I just needed to tell him.

  It felt amazing to not do any work that day. I hadn’t taken time off in two years to just do something as mundane as cooking my husband dinner. We rarely ever sat in the same room anymore. Some days I was shocked we still slept in the same bed. But I deserved it if he chose to sleep away from me. I’d done this to us.

  After I’d rolled the meatballs and placed them in the crock-pot, I sent a text to Austin.