A Mother's Love (fan-fiction) Volume 3.07 through 3.09 by **Sigh**, with assistance from Angharad Copyright© 2020 plaintivesigh All Rights Reserved.

NOTICE: FINAL POSTING TODAY

Hi there, reader - Sigh here.
I've been posting the continuation of this story in short bits (between 1K and 2K words per part, as was the original author's habit). However, these last 3 parts are SUPER short, so I've combined them into one post that will wrap up this tale in a neat little bow. One more time, huge kudos to Angharad for her invaluable British phrasing and charm! Kudos to Alys for the original story! And much thanks to anyone who took the time to read this flight of fancy. I owe you all big-time hugz!

Chapter 3.07

Bekka gazed into my floor length mirror and smiled. The three-year-old wore a bright red dress with petticoats; they swirled and fluffed as she spun ‘round.

“Mum-Stephanie! Do you like my dress? I think it’s so pretty!”

“It’s gorgeous, honey; YOU’RE gorgeous. I am so proud to call you my daughter. Mum-Mary will love it.”

Bekka frowned. “But how can she see me in my dress if she’s gone to heaven already?”

“I believe she can see you – and all of us – from heaven. And part of her is still with us here on earth; the part of her heart that is always living inside us.”

“Mummie, why aren’t you wearing red like me? Don’t you want us to match?”

“For this occasion, grown-ups wear black. We do it to … show how much we miss Mary.”

Bekka began to sob. “I miss her too. I still love her.” She rubbed her chest as if to ease a pain. “I’m … I’m sorry, Mum-Steph … Stephanie … I can’t stop it …”

“Don’t try to stop it, baby. It’s okay to cry; you’re supposed to. In fact, I’m about to join you,” I said, embracing my youngster and now leaking tears of my own. “I miss her and love her too. I’ve never stopped loving her.”

The service was being held at a crematorium in London, as this is where most of Mary’s friends and acquaintances lived. She had suffered severe head injuries in the crash and died quickly. I’d found a picture of her from before her illness and we included it on the front of the order of service.

At the chapel, I carried Hugh in my right arm while holding Bekka’s hand with the left. A familiar face from the crèche I used made me smile, and I walked to it to hand over my son.

“Janis, thank you so much for being here and agreeing to look after him.”

“You’re welcome, love. I’ll be in the back room where the young mothers take their children. I’m praying for you to get through this.”

I sat through the service; the vicar had encouraging words. My emotions were all over the map. With Mary’s death, she would no longer live another day feeling as if she was damaged goods; and of course, now I had both of my children living with me every day. These thoughts gave me comfort and yet also guilt for being relieved about the situation. There were bittersweet memories too; I had now permanently lost the woman who truly was my soul mate. I remembered our first meeting, our courtship, and early marriage; the loss of that bliss, especially my role in that loss, haunted me. If I only had rejected the idea of me nursing Bekka; she and our marriage might still exist.

The service came to the eulogies, where those who knew Mary were invited to share how Mary had affected their lives. I spoke for about ten minutes, remembering our best times. Andrea spoke highly of her daughter.

“Are there any more recollections?” the vicar asked. To my surprise, a tall man in the back stood up and approached the podium.

Dr. Jonathan Maurice Brown. He leaned towards the microphone and spoke:

“Mary was my patient for a short time. I was privileged to be her oncologist. We got her cancer into remission just 2 years ago. Now, many might shake their heads and remark about what a shame it is to elude death by malignancy only to receive it from a motorcycle accident. I assure you, Mary would disagree. She felt that each day was a gift, and living it fully was a success. Instead of moping that we only bought her two more years, I will rejoice in the fact that this woman got over seven hundred more days to experience her life, and love on those she loved. We who survive her would do well to emulate that attitude: live with what we have, and love who we have, today – while we still have them. God bless you all, and bless Mary’s soul.”

The ceremony was taped so that my children could watch it later when they were old enough to comprehend fully what was said. There was a wake of course, and to my happy surprise, Jonathan was there also. I approached him.

“What nice things you had to say about Mary. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Stephanie. I realize she wasn’t a total saint; but at times like this, one focuses on the positive.”

“I was thinking about the last thing you said – live and love with those we have while we still have them. That wasn’t a veiled message meant for me, was it?”

“That depends. Are you taking it that way, and are you offended if it was?”

“Not offended. Oh, I’m just going to say it. You still intrigue me.” I was beginning to blush.

Jonathan put on his trademark wry smile. “You know, those problems that you had with us pursuing a relationship – what you told me six months ago? It appears those are no longer are an issue. I know you just lost your wife, and you are probably not ready for a new lover –“

“No, I’m not,” I interrupted, “but I could definitely use a new friend. Why don’t we start from there and go ‘low and slow’ for a while? We can see where that takes us.”

Chapter 3.08

TWO YEARS LATER

“For the thousandth time, don’t worry! I’ve cared for my grandkids before. Even though this time it will be for a week, they are so well behaved that I think I can handle it. And if I need a break, I’ll use the Child Care Centre to help me for a few hours – as you’ve suggested. Now you go and have a fantastic honeymoon in Bermuda, please!”

Andrea was doing her best to reassure me, but since this was to be the longest time in two years that I’d be separated from my darlings – well, I was worrying. Jonathan came up to me from behind and laid his manly hands on my shoulders.

“Hey there, my sweet. I promise we’ll call back daily to check on Hugh and Bekka. You need to finish packing so we can head to the airport in time.”

I still needed to make sure. “Andrea – I’ve listed you as their carer for this week over at the crèche. Do use them – daily, if you need – so you can get a midday rest. And I’ve left all the emergency numbers –“

“On the refrigerator, yes, you’ve told me three times already. Now scoot to your closet and pack; oh, and one last thing …”

“What’s that?” I fretted.

“DON’T WORRY! That’s all.”

I looked out the window of the plane, seeing nothing but a distant ocean below. My previous fears of leaving the children for a week seemed more distant too. I turned to my new husband; he was reading a book, yet his arm was intertwined with mine, betraying our still vibrant infatuation with each other.

“I’m sorry for all the anxiety I had over Hugh and Bekka.”

“I took no offence, my love. Andrea might feel that you lack confidence in her, though.”

“Yes, I can see that. I’ll text her my apology when we land.”

“In the years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you so fearful. Why do you think you were?”

“Hmm. Actually, the last time I went more than a day seeing the kids, they were gone for the better part of six months – the last time that Mary took them from me. I think I was having flashbacks to that time. I don’t know why – Andrea has been totally trustworthy.”

“A lot has happened since then. You’ve weaned Hugh off of breast milk completely, then finished your transition, despite the NHS dragging its feet on that. Then you planned and pulled off a most impressive wedding. Were you happy with it?”

“Oh yes. But if I could take a time machine to go back one year, I would beg my then-self to please elope,” I laughed. “It took so much time and energy! Perhaps with the pictures and a little time, I’ll appreciate it more. You’ve been quite busy too, Jonathan. Overseeing the new inpatient wing of the cancer ward, with the expansion of research capabilities? You and I have been burning our candles at both ends.”

“Right now I’m only burning at one end; you’re so sexy, sitting next to me,” he breathed in my ear.

“Soon, my love,” I whispered back. I wish it were sooner! I thought.

We had dropped our bags off at our beach condo unit and gone for dinner at a recommended local seafood grill. Now we were unpacked and changed into swimwear to hit the poolside Jacuzzi. Being virtually alone there for the last twenty minutes, we snuggled and made the hot tub a little hotter.

Back in the condo, we showered together. I dried off quickly and hopped out of the bath area, leaving Jonathan to finish towelling himself there. I grabbed one of the cuplets of coffee creamer on the minibar and turned off all the lights, whilst opening the shades to show the moonshine over the waves at the beach below.

My new husband stepped out of the brightly lit loo into the pitch dark of the bedroom, forced to stand still as his eyes adjusted. “Stephanie?”

“Jonathan. I’m over here. I’m having a problem,” I groaned. I now sat up on the side of the bed so that my silhouette was visible against the window.

“What’s the matter, darling?” He hurried to my side, vision already adjusting.

“I didn’t bring my pump. They’re so uncomfortably tight. And I’m leaking,” I said as I lifted one of my breasts into the moon glow. There was a drop of cream glistening on the nipple. “Please,” I breathed, recreating our first sexual escapade from two years prior.

My lover smiled, and then lowered his face to minister unspeakable joy to my bosom.

Chapter 3.09

“I’m so nervous. Are there complications? It’s been too long since we’ve heard anything. If she’d allowed me to be in the birthing suite –“

“But she didn’t. She wants us to remain as anonymous as possible. Just relax, Steph. Have you read the letter she wants us to hold on to?” Jonathan, as ever, was being a steady rock for me.

It had always been a goal for Jon to have a child that was naturally his. Of course, I could not provide him with an egg, so we looked into in vitro treatments with the use of a surrogate mother. However, in the preliminary tests Jon was found to have a genetic condition – testicular azoospermia, they called it – that made him untreatably impotent.

He put on a brave front having heard that news; he even said he was glad that I had no cause to feel guilty for an inability to carry his children. I took no such comfort because my husband was clearly devastated by this discovery.

Therefore two months ago Jonathan and I, after much discussion and contemplation, decided to apply for the adoption of a child. Bekka had been hinting at wanting a little sister, and I was hoping for a tot that my husband and I could raise from the start together. To his credit, he (along with me) kept Susan’s memory alive for Hugh and Bekka; yet this emphasized his role with them as more like a step-parent. Anyway, we were hoping for a baby of less than one year old. Then we got a phone call from the agency two weeks ago.

“Stephanie Brown? This is Alice from the adoption bureau. We have a pregnant girl who wants to surrender her child to a worthy couple, and for it to occur just after giving birth. Are you open to this?”

“Of course we are!”

The next we knew, there were papers and processes. We had an ‘audio only’ phone discussion with the girl.

“So, Emily; how did you come to the decision to give this baby up for adoption?” I asked.

“Because I waited too late to abort,” replied the girl. “To be honest, I’ve been stoned and high on heroin and other crap for most of the last year. Somewhere in that time, I got knocked up; it could have been any of a dozen different blokes. Now I’ve been in rehab treatment for six weeks, and have been clean for that time. I finally realised – after the fog lifted – that I needed to deal with this pregnancy, but I was already past 24 weeks, and in the UK they won’t do one this late unless there’s severe deformity (there isn’t – I got tested) or my life is in danger (it’s not). So I want to give her up. I understand that you already have two well-adjusted tykes?”

“Yes, we do. And since I’m now infertile, we can’t have any more naturally.”

“It sounds like I’ve found the folks for my foetus then.”

As we hung up, I looked at Jonathan. “We’re going to be parents of a newborn infant. I need to get in with my endocrinologist now!”

Sixty-three days later we are here in the obstetrical waiting area, and I’m looking for the letter. The letter that Emily wanted us to read, then seal and save to give to our newborn daughter 18 years from now. Ah! I’ve found it. I call my husband over and we start reading.

Hello, daughter.

Love, Emily

“What a letter!” exclaimed my husband.

“Jonathan. This is a sacred duty for us now. We must prove worthy of Emily’s trust by loving this new little girl just as much as we do Hugh and Bekka. I vow I will, at this moment and from now on,” I swore.

“Mr. and Mrs. Brown? I am proud to announce: here is your new daughter!” The OB nurse entered the room with a crying, swaddled baby.

“Britney. Her name’s Britney,” smiled Jonathan.

“Is she hungry?” I asked, receiving her from the nurse.

“Yes, I imagine – oh! You’ve come prepared, I see; I didn’t know that you were –“

I already had my new baby to my breast; she latched on and had begun feeding without a hitch. “Yes, I am.” My new nursing blouse allowed discretion even in a semi-public area.

“You two have bonded immediately. Impressive,” smiled the nurse.

“God, how I’ve missed this – this intimacy, this sense of connection with my baby,” I emoted. “It’s beyond physical; it’s spiritual.”

“There’s nothing more transcendent than A Mother’s Love,” replied the nurse.

NOTICE TO READERS:

This is a fan-fiction story continuation of Alys's unfinished story, "A Mother's Love." As I have stated in my blog, Alys has given her permission for this work. This is not meant to alter or detract at all from her superb original story, merely to build upon it and achieve a resolution for these wonderful characters.

The setting of this story is Great Britain, and superstar Big Closet author Angharad graciously consented to help me retain a British "feel" for the narrative and dialogue. She is a godsend/lifesaver. I have now had the privilege of working with multiple stars here to bring my humble little indulgent tales to be published in BC. What a giving, loving community.

If you aren't familiar with Alys's story, I have typed a brief summary to set the stage (see the Brief Synopsis at the top). If you want to read Alys's part of this tale (all chapters are super quick reads and great stories!), then look into:
A Mother's Love - Prequel
A Mother's Love - Volume 1 (11 parts)
A Mother's Love - Volume 3 (2 parts)

If you've gotten this far, please leave me a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading! Hugz - **Sigh**