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“Do you—do you remember Faith?”
My voice trembled slightly as I asked it; we had not spoken in years of our firstborn, stillborn in France.
His arm curled around me, pulling me against him.
“Of course I do,” he said softly. “D’ye think I would ever forget?”
“No.” The tears were flowing down my face, but I was not truly weeping; it was no more than the overflow of feeling. “That’s what I mean. I never told you—when we were in Paris, to see Jared—I went to the Hȏpital des Agnes; I saw her grave there. I—I took her a pink tulip.”
He was quiet for a moment.
“I took her violets,” he said, so softly I almost didn’t hear him.
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Thank you, Lady Linda, for your choices this week - earlier on I thought you might use the one from FC where Jamie thanks Claire for the bairnes she's given him. They are so beautiful together - so devoted and supportive in all of life's circumstances. -- lori v, 05:32:21 04/28/12 Sat
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