Chapter 207 Roxanne

• The chamber was hushed, as if the world itself dared not intrude. The young mother sat at the heart of it; her figure bathed in a molten wash of dying sunlight that spilt through the high window.
• Roxanne had been discharged from the hospital early enough, as she had a normal delivery, and Van Dyke had been reluctant to have her spend another night in the hospital. He knew he would be more at ease if his baby doll and their daughter were home, safe and protected.
• Roxanne now sat, her gown clinging loosely, slipping at the shoulder, but she was regal in her vulnerability—head bowed, hair loosened in dark waves as she nursed the infant pressed to her breast. Her hair had slipped loose from its pins, falling in a gentle curtain around her tired but luminous face. She gazed down at the infant with an expression of complete absorption, her lips parted in a faint, almost incredulous smile—as if still marvelling at the small life in her arms. Her eyes shimmered with tears, not of weakness, but of wonder, as though she cradled not merely her child, but the very future itself.