My Babies and Me

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  “I know you are,” Seth said, sliding his drawer successfully home. “But with nothing else in your life, what’s the point?”

  WITH LAURA’S HELP, Susan turned out eight-dozen chocolate chip cookies. Seven dozen of them were packed and ready to go by the time Michael and Seth finished the nursery. They were allowed to consume the remaining twelve, along with a couple of glasses of milk.

  And then Laura and Seth had to head out. It was getting dark, and Laura’s kids would need to be picked up soon.

  “Don’t they look great together?” Susan asked Michael as they stood together in the doorway watching Seth walk Laura to her car. He was carrying the boxes of cookies, which he was going to deliver for Susan before meeting Laura at her house.

  It made Michael uncomfortable to watch them. They weren’t really even touching, unless you counted the number of times they rubbed elbows as they walked, but he could feel their closeness.

  “Laura was telling me they’re looking for a house not far from here,” Susan said.

  “They are?” Seth hadn’t mentioned anything about a house.

  “Yeah.” She waved as the other two pulled away and then shut the front door. “Then whenever Seth’s out of town, Laura and I will be nearby.”

  And that would make it easier for Seth to play surrogate father to Susan’s children as well, Michael surmised. But he needn’t have worried. Michael intended to do his duty.

  “We need to talk.” Grabbing Susan’s arm, he pulled her to a halt.

  “Here?” They were still in the hallway.

  “The kitchen’s fine, I guess,” Michael said, leading the way.

  When she got to the kitchen, Susan immediately busied herself drying the dishes and utensils she’d left in the drainer. Suspecting it wasn’t good for her to be on her feet for long, considering the day she’d had, Michael found a towel and helped her.

  “What’s up?” she asked after they’d worked silently for several minutes. She knew something was wrong. She could tell by the way he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

  “I’m going to quit my job and move back home.”

  The bowl in Susan’s hands slid to the floor, shattering into tiny pieces.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  BLOOD RAN down her leg. Susan saw it there. But she didn’t feel a cut. Didn’t feel anything at all except disbelief. And a crazy sense of unreality, as if she’d stepped out of her life and was watching from the sidelines.

  “Watch where you walk.” She heard Michael behind her as she bent to pick up the bigger pieces. She had to get a paper towel before her blood dripped on the floor, too.

  Michael appeared in front of her, trash can in hand as he reached for a piece of glass. “You’re hurt!” he cried when he caught sight of her leg.

  Hauling her up—all 160 pounds of her—he set her on the counter and examined her laceration more closely.

  “It’s nothing,” she heard herself say. Glancing down as Michael cleared away the worst of the blood, she wasn’t so sure. The soiled washcloth looked kind of scary.

  “You were lucky,” he said, probing around the cut.

  Susan winced, but was almost glad of the pain. Glad to feel something more than cold.

  “It’s just a small cut and there’s no glass embedded. Are the bandages and antiseptic still in the same place?”

  Nodding, Susan sat dutifully still while he collected supplies, patched her up and then cleaned up the rest of the glass. All the while, she was thinking that if Michael was really coming home for good, she should be ecstatically happy. So why wasn’t she?

  And then it hit her. Michael was why she wasn’t happy. He wasn’t happy. There’d been no joy in his resolute statement. Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen him smile since he’d arrived.

  “Were you planning to ask first or just move right in?” She blurted the thought aloud when he was down to the last slivers of glass.

  He stopped sweeping and looked up at her. “You’d tell me no?” It had obviously never occurred to him.

  “I might.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “Believe it, Michael,” she said, her heart splintering into as many shreds as the glass in the trash can.

  Finishing with the broom, he put it away, then came to stand in front of her, arms across his chest. “You can honestly tell me you don’t want me living here with you?”

  No. She couldn’t tell him that.

  “I won’t have you here out of a sense of duty,” she said instead. “And I know that’s what this is about.”

  “You can’t know that,” he argued, strengthening her belief. “Only I can know what’s going on inside me.”

  She noticed he hadn’t denied her accusation. “I know you, Michael.” She made to slide down from the cupboard and he was there, assisting her to a kitchen chair as though she were some kind of invalid.

  His courtesy, coming as it did out of a sense of duty, not shared love, hurt her more than she’d have thought possible.

  “I can do it myself,” she said, shaking him off.

  “Fine.” He sat, as well.

  “So you’re suggesting this because it’s what you want above all else.”

  “I know that it’s right for me to be here where I’m needed.”

  “I don’t need you here,” she told him truthfully. Not in the way he thought. Not for practical or financial maintenance. She could take care of herself—and her babies—just fine. She was beginning to suspect he didn’t even understand how she needed him, and if that was the case, he’d never be able to provide for that need. She needed him emotionally, elementally, more deeply than anything physical. She needed him in a way that was stronger than any other connection in her life. She needed him to need her, too. Needed to be a priority to him, not a pasttime.

  He watched her silently for several minutes, his jaw twitching slightly from tension.

  “I can’t believe you said that.” He broke the silence that had fallen, speaking stiffly. “We both know it isn’t true.”

  “I know no such thing.” She adopted his tone. “Dr. Goodman said just this afternoon that I’m fine here alone—”

  “But after the babies come—”

  “I can afford a nanny,” she finished before he had a chance to. She couldn’t allow him to convince her, even a little bit, that his being there was necessary. Because his being there wasn’t right.

  “A nanny doesn’t take the place of a father.”

  “And neither does a man whose heart isn’t in it.”

  He sighed heavily, leaning his forearms on the table. “I’m trying here, Sus.”

  “I know.” She put every ounce of love she had for him into those two words.

  “I want you to marry me again, soon.”

  She’d heard that in her dreams a million times. And in her dreams, the answer was always yes.

  “Before the babies are born, you mean?” she asked now.

  “Of course.”

  “So they’re legitimate.”

  “Exactly,” he said, obviously breathing a little easier with what he saw as her capitulation.

  “No.” Never had a word hurt so much. Never had she been more sure of anything in her life.

  “No?”

  “No.” He’d better get it soon. She didn’t know how much longer she could hold out.

  She’d created this mess and it was up to her to fix it. She’d made his life hell, and now she had to put things right for him.

  His face a study in disbelief, he said, “You won’t marry me.”

  “No, I won’t marry you.”

  Falling back hard in his chair, Michael stared at her. “You’re doing this for my benefit, aren’t you?”

  “Not really.” Cradling her belly with her arms, she shook her head, surprised to find that the words were completely true. “I’m thinking of all of us, and maybe me most of all.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I had a proposal of passion once, Michael. I know how
that feels, to want something with such intensity. To be wanted that much. I can’t settle for less.”

  She was getting through to him. His eyes were no longer disbelieving. Questioning.

  “You’re still the only woman for me,” he said. She knew he was remembering back, as she was, to that first proposal so many years ago.

  “But we’re different now, smarter,” she whispered. “And I can’t make the same mistake twice.”

  Michael bowed his head, but not before she’d seen the relief flash across his features. That look cut her to the quick, hurting her so badly she couldn’t even breathe at first. And when she could breathe again, she couldn’t stop the burning behind her eyelids. She bowed her head, too—until she could swallow the telltale tears, sweep them away. Pretend none of this mattered.

  For the sake of her babies, she had to be strong.

  “And you’re okay with this?” Michael asked. “Honestly?”

  If she had any hope of convincing him, she was going to have to look him in the face. And not cry.

  And try to lie.

  “I’m completely certain it’s for the best.”

  Which was about as much of an answer as he’d given her earlier when she’d asked him what he wanted above all else. They’d be better off if they’d learned to lie to each other somewhere along the way, she told herself wearily.

  Leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, Michael reached for her hand, holding it securely between both of his. “And you’re okay with my coming and going as I have been?”

  No! Susan froze before she voiced the thought. After all, what was her alternative? Never to see him again.

  “As you have been lately, where you stayed for a while at a time, or as you have been over the past three years, stopping in for a day or two whenever you could?”

  What did it matter? Either one would break her heart.

  “In my current position, the most I’d be able to spare is a day or two now and then. Unless I find another company in Cincinnati that I’m interested in buying out.”

  Pulling her hand from his, Susan retreated further into herself, talking silently to her babies. We’ll be just fine, guys, we’ll be just fine. She repeated the litany over and over.

  “No, Michael, I’m not okay with that.” The words came straight from her heart. She’d had no intention of saying them. “Every time you leave—” she looked down at her belly “—I miss you more.”

  She had to stop. To take a deep breath. “I think I’ve used up my strength fighting that loneliness, Michael. I’m tired of missing you.” Meeting his eyes, she begged him to understand. To forgive her for not being able to be everything he needed her to be. “If I can’t have you here full-time, I think I’d rather not have you here at all.” She took another deep breath, and then, like a runaway train, just kept on talking. “I think it would be best for the babies, too.”

  Frowning, Michael folded his arms over his chest. “So we’re right back where we started,” he said with frustration. “I need to quit my job and come home.”

  With the pain so intense, Susan couldn’t help considering, just for a moment, if maybe that wouldn’t be better. To have part of Michael instead of none.

  She couldn’t fight the tears any longer as she saw the haunted look in his eyes. “Did you feel completely trapped the whole time you were staying with me this spring and summer?”

  “No.” His answer shocked her. Gave her hope. Until he smashed it again. “But I always knew I could leave, that I hadn’t committed myself to anything. I always had the safety net of knowing I only had to stay as long as the job kept me here.”

  “Get out, Michael.” Susan was through. Couldn’t take any more of his honesty. “Just get out.”

  “I can’t leave you like this, Susan.”

  “I want you to,” she said unemotionally. “Really.” And she did. She just couldn’t hurt anymore.

  “Maybe you and the kids could come on the road with me.”

  Her foolish heart jumped at this last hope for happily-ever-after. Only to fall flat once more.

  “What and enroll them in a different school every three weeks when we had to move on?”

  “They wouldn’t be in school for years.”

  “What about a pediatrician? We’d just have floating medical records? Three-month check in Denver, ear infection in Albuquerque, croup in Atlanta and six-month check in Washington State?”

  “I’ve never been to Washington State.”

  “Not yet, anyway,” she said, ashamed of the bitterness rolling from her tongue.

  “It was only a suggestion, Susan.”

  “An impossible suggestion.”

  “Maybe I’m not the only one with a problem here.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Your entire life, you’ve been fighting for your own freedom, your right to have complete say over your own life.”

  Eyes burning, she met his gaze. “You know why.”

  “Yes,” he acknowledged. “I even understand.” Leaning forward, Michael continued to hold her gaze. “But did you ever stop to think that maybe part of our problem, from the very beginning, has been your need to go it alone? You’re so afraid of being like your mother was, of becoming your mother, that you take your ability to handle everything to extremes.”

  “That’s not a very nice thing to say.”

  “But it may be the truth.” She didn’t like the compassion she saw in his eyes. Not when it was directed at her. “Look at how you reacted the minute I suggested you quit your job here to follow me. You didn’t give the idea a second’s consideration before you were shooting it down.”

  “You can’t raise children on the road, Michael.”

  “Maybe not, but did you even consider it? Try to picture it for a second? See if the idea had any merit at all?”

  He knew she hadn’t.

  “Maybe this control thing is why you gave in to the divorce with so little fight.” He paused, as if waiting for her to reply. Susan didn’t have anything more to say.

  “It could explain why you’ve been contented with our arrangement all these years,” he said, speaking more quickly now. “In a sense, you had it all—a lover who adored you, and your freedom, too.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Kennedy.” She didn’t want to hear what he was saying.

  “Right to getting pregnant, this could apply,” he went on, ignoring her sarcasm. “You didn’t ask me what I thought about our having a baby. You’d already made all the decisions on your own and only came to me for stud service.”

  He didn’t quite hide the pain he’d felt at her callous treatment, leaving Susan ashamed. She’d had no idea he’d seen her request like that.

  “When you found out you were having twins, you handled the initial impact on your own, waiting until you’d come to terms with it before telling me. Same thing when you found out we were having a son and a daughter.” He just kept rattling things off, making her feel about as likable as cow dung. “I might not have been thrilled about this pregnancy at first, but we were talking about it regularly by then. I’m even the one who suggested you find out, yet when you did, I didn’t hear about it. You know—” he looked down at his hands “—I waited by the phone that entire day, waiting to hear from you.”

  “I didn’t know...” Tears flooded her eyes as she pictured him sitting there. Waiting.

  “How could I have known?” she whispered.

  “You couldn’t. And I’m not saying you weren’t perfectly within your rights to do all these things, Susan. Hell, I’m sure my actions prompted many of them. But maybe if you weren’t so eager to go off and handle things, I’d feel differently....”

  “Do you think so?” Susan slid down on her knees, laying her arms in his lap as she looked up at him. “Do you really think you’d get over feeling trapped if I...changed?”

  “I...”

  She could see the truth in his eyes.

  “No, because part of the problem is yours, too
, huh?” she asked, still leaning on him as tears rolled slowly down her cheeks.

  He didn’t say anything for a long time. Susan savored his warmth, soaking it in while she could. Garnering her strength for the days and years ahead.

  She kneeled there until her back started to cramp, the cut on her leg to throb. And then, painfully, she stood. “You need to go,” she said.

  His eyes locked with hers, filled with pain—and regret—but resolution as well. Slowly, so slowly she thought she’d die, he nodded his acquiescence.

  “You’ll call—”

  Cutting him off, she shook her head. “Not for a while, anyway.” Not until she was strong enough.

  His hand on the doorknob, he stopped and turned, meeting her gaze where she stood, hugging herself, at the end of the hall.

  “I do love you, Sus, more than anyone else on earth.”

  She knew he did. And that probably hurt most of all. She opened her mouth to speak, but her throat was so clogged with tears, no sound came out. She nodded.

  He stood there a few minutes longer, his throat working as he watched her.

  Then, silently, he turned his back and walked out of her life.

  Sobs shook her body as she watched him drive away. But somewhere she found the courage to say what she’d tried to say while he was still in her house.

  “I love you, too, Michael. I love you, too.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  THE LITTLE BOY could hardly walk, but man, could he run. So fast his father was having a hard time keeping up with him. Stopped at a streetlight in Chicago a couple of miles from home, Michael watched the father finally catch up before the child ran headlong into the street. The man scooped the boy into his arms so high so fast, Michael had to wonder if the kid would be sick. The man was angry, scolding the little boy as he held the toddler in front of him. Then he wrapped his arms around that little body, holding the boy close, burying his face in the child’s neck....

  The drivers behind Michael started to lay on their horns. The light was green and he was sitting through it.