Harriet placed a hand over mine, gently squeezing. “I know. You’ve worked so hard to overcome your losses. You’re the strongest woman I know. But it’s okay to still mourn.”

I swallowed against the emotion gathering in my throat, the memories trying to claw their way free.

“You never talk about her.”

Her. My baby. My little girl. The one I’d lost just one week after finding out that the little bean inside my belly was a she. One week after I’d begun thinking of names.

I shoved it down. Because if I let it out, pulled that cork free, the emotions would drown me. The ferocity of them was lethal. When they were stirred up, they shredded my insides, and I had to battle to keep them down. But the idea of letting them free had images of my mother dancing in my mind. Hysterical and out of control.

“I can’t. I’m sorry, Harriet. I know you want me to, but I just can’t.” I hated letting Harriet down, disappointing her in any way, but we simply dealt with things differently. Harriet had placed a stone marker flush with the ground on a cliff overlooking the sea. The rock didn’t hold a name, only a beautiful array of intricately carved blooms. She visited it regularly, often asking if I’d like to accompany her. My answer was always no.

I carried my daughter with me every day. She was imprinted into every cell of my body. I didn’t need a stone to remember her or to feel the loss. And if I looked at a physical reminder, that carefully constructed wall, the one that kept the most dangerous emotions at bay, it would be in danger of crumbling.

“I’m worried about you.”

My head snapped up. “Why?” I had built a good life in a beautiful place. One with people I loved and a stable job. I was safe. Secure. The two things I had always wanted to create for myself above all else.

Tears glistened in Harriet’s eyes. “Holding everything inside the way you do…it’s poison. I’m terrified that my leaving this place will be a lethal dose. You have to let some of it out, let it go.”

My chest squeezed in a painful spasm, and I stared down at the puzzle piece in my hand, flipping the oblong shape over in my fingers. “Don’t talk like that. You’re doing better. Your doctor has been so impressed with the progress you’ve made.”