With Me by Gabbie S. Duran Read Free Book Online

anymore. The fear of further damaging it, keeps me from touching it. Quietly closing the drawer back up, I return to Joseph.
    Returning to him, I hand him the envelope, resenting having to surrender it. I know it was meant for him to have, but when it returned to me, I felt he didn’t deserve it any longer; always believing he was the one that had sent it back.
    He takes it from my hand, giving me a chance to take a seat at his side. I watch him slowly turn it over in his hands, observing the exterior of the envelope, as he closely studies the address and stamp placed on the front. When his finger brushes over the old ink stating, return to sender, my eyes tear up remembering my heartache when I had seen those same words.
    That day felt as if my entire world had come to an end, believing I would never see him again. Thinking he wanted nothing to do with Josephina or me, was painful. It made it worse when I received an answer, from the second letter I had written, that same day. It was from my parents.
    I had written to them as well, informing them Josephina had been born, foolishly hoping they’d ask me to return home. Instead I had received the opposite. They had firmly instructed me to never contact them again. I was no longer a part of their family because of my sins.
    Forcing myself to push the resentment from my mind, I focus once more on Joseph. I watch as he slowly opens the envelope, reaching inside to pull out the photo that is wrapped in the letter. He ignores the letter, folding it up to place it back inside its original pocket of the envelope, keeping the picture in his hand. He’s deeply concentrating on the picture as I tell him, “It was taken the day Josephina was born.” I have to force out a whisper around the lump in my throat.
    My heart feels like it has sunk to the pit of my stomach as I wait for a reaction from Joseph. His silence is nerve wracking and it’s tearing me apart inside. I’m so fearful of his rejection.
    He’s intensely staring down at the picture, never taking his eyes off it. When I look down at it, I see his finger graze over baby Josephina, and suddenly I see a tear falls onto the picture. Quickly looking back up, I see Joseph rapidly blinking his eyes; clearly trying to fight the remaining tears. With his eyebrows drawn, he looks at me. “You said this was taken the day she was born?” I can hear the confusion in his voice as I nod my head. “Then why was this picture taken at home? Why would they let you go home the same day, isn’t that unsafe for you and the baby?” he asks, the worry clear in his voice.
    “I didn’t have Josephina in a hospital. I had her at home, at my aunt’s house actually. The Amish community doesn’t believe in using hospitals when they deliver their children,” I explain to him.
    The concern in his expression is pushing my fear away. “That must have been hard on you,” he says, with a hint of remorse.
    All I can do is shrug my shoulder at him. “I didn’t have a choice, Joseph. It did hurt, a lot. There were times when I wanted to give up, but when they handed me Josephina, it made it all worth it. I would do it all over again for her,” I say, stating the truth.
    He reaches over, grabbing for my hand to squeeze it. My eyes look down to our joined hands and I can see that his hand looks bigger than the last time I remember it. Everything about Joseph seems larger. When he left he was the skinny boy I grew up with. Now he was a large, muscled man who is now a stranger to me.
    My eyes are still looking down at our joined hands as I ask, “What do you do now?”
    “I’m still in the Marine Corps. I’m stationed in San Diego. I just got back from Afghanistan a month ago,” he answers.
    He begins to gently stroke his thumb across my hand, making me realize they’re still joined. I take my hand from his, embarrassed by the feeling that I was getting from his touch. My body was beginning to flutter, as it would consistently do when we