Catching Air by Sarah Pekkanen Read Free Book Online Page B

Grace was curled up in a crib with her little hands tucked under her cheek.
    Something miraculous happened: The new aisle Alyssa had turned down was filled with things for babies. There were impossibly tiny sleep sacks in pink and blue and yellow, teddy bears, soft-looking blankets, and little rubber bathtubs. There were even miniature bathrobes with pockets made to look like ducks. They had to be the sweetest things she’d ever seen.
    “Oh,” Alyssa breathed, reaching out to touch one.
    “They’re adorable, aren’t they?” An obviously pregnant woman picked up a bathrobe, too.
    “I can’t stop buying stuff,” the woman confessed. Her ankles looked painfully swollen, and after she put the robe into her cart, she began rubbing her knuckles into her lower back. “I’m due next week, and suddenly I had this urge to run to the store and get more things for the baby! I don’t even know why; we have everything we need. Nesting, I guess.”
    “Next week?” Alyssa said. “Congratulations.”
    “Thanks,” the woman said, and as she smiled, Alyssa realized the cliché was true: Despite her apparent discomfort, the woman really was glowing, as if she’d been lit from within.
    The woman’s eyes flitted down to Alyssa’s flat stomach, then back to the baby items. It’s okay , Alyssa wanted to say. I’m part of the club now, too!
    “We’re expecting a little girl,” Alyssa blurted. “Do you know what you’re having?”
    “We’re having a girl, too!” the woman said. “Wow, you look amazing. I started showing at eight weeks.”
    “Oh, I’m not pregnant,” Alyssa said. “We’re adopting.”
    “Oh,” the woman said. “Well, congratulations!”
    “Thanks. We’ve been waiting a long time,” Alyssa said. She felt a lump form in her throat, and she swallowed hard. She wouldn’t have this—the swollen ankles and pink cheeks and the feel of that glorious, curving belly under the palm of her hand—but she could still be a mother. That was the important thing.
    “Maybe you should get one of these, too,” the woman said, gesturing to the bathrobes. She smiled and briefly touched Alyssa’s hand: “For good luck.”
    As the woman headed off, Alyssa sorted through the robes until she found one labeled 12–18 months. Grace would fit inside of this, Alyssa marveled, smoothing the robe and tying its sash into a floppy bow.
    Grace . She whispered the name to hear it aloud for the very first time, and her heart swelled. She’d fashion a sling from printed fabric and tie her daughter close to her chest when she went out for walks, like she’d seen women do in Africa. She’d teach her little girl to go sledding, and run behind her holding the seat of her bike until she was steady enough to pedal off on her own. They’d practice tying shoes, and bake banana bread together, making the kitchen steamy and warm and wonderful-smelling on winter afternoons. Suddenly, the emptiness of the preceding years crashed over Alyssa, stealing her breath away. She felt the ache of missing her daughter so sharply she could hardly bear it.
    Oh, my sweet baby Grace, she thought as she cradled the robe in her arms. I cannot wait to hold you.

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    Chapter Three
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    DAWN CRADLED HER OVERSIZE purse in her arms, holding it as she would an infant. The cash it contained felt as heavy as a cement brick, and she was worried the shoulder strap would break, spilling the money out onto the street. She hurried down Sixty-second Street, knowing guilt was as visible on her face as a sunburn.
    She’d been unable to sleep the previous night. Every creak in the hallway was the police coming to break down her door, and the shrill cut of her phone ringing had nearly caused her heart to stop. She’d been so grateful to hear the voice of a telemarketer that she’d stayed on the line for ten minutes, then agreed to send in two hundred dollars to a charity she’d never heard of. It was her penance.
    Then this afternoon, when she’d left early