Nobodys Baby But Mine

by Susan Elizabelth Phillips

  He moved. It was almost nothing. A slight shift of his weight, but it brought the chaos of her thoughts back in order. She was a middle-aged physics professor whose only lover wore socks to bed. What kind of opponent was she for this seasoned sexual warrior who seemed to have chosen sex as a weapon to subjugate her?

  She was deeply shaken and just as determined not to let him use her weakness to his advantage. She lifted her gaze to his. “You do what you have to, Cal. I’ll do the same.”

  Did she imagine a flicker of surprise on his face? She couldn’t be certain as she turned into the room and shut the door.

  The sun streaming through the windows awakened her the next morning. She propped herself up on the pillows and admired the Widow Snopes’s bedroom, which was painted a pale blue with chalk white trim and soft iris accents. Its simple cherry furniture and braided rugs gave the room the same homey feel as the nursery.

  Jane glanced uneasily toward the door that led to a master bath linking her bedroom with Cal’s. She vaguely remembered hearing a shower running earlier, and she could only hope he’d already left the house. Last night she had placed her own toiletries in a smaller bathroom down the hall.

  The Jeep was gone by the time she had finished dressing, gotten unpacked, and made her way to the kitchen. She found a note from Cal on the counter with the number of a grocery store that delivered and instructions to order whatever she wanted. She ate a piece of toast, then phoned in a list of items more suitable to her taste buds than foamfilled chocolate cupcakes.

  Not long after the groceries arrived, another deliveryman showed up with her computer equipment. She had him carry it to her bedroom, where she spent the next few hours setting up a workspace for herself on a table she moved in front of the window, so she could gaze at the mountains whenever she remembered to look up from her computer screen. For the rest of the day, she worked, stopping only long enough to take a walk outside.

  The grounds around the house nearly made up for the interior. Shadowed by the surrounding mountains, they were a bit overgrown, and it was too early for anything to be in bloom, but she loved their feeling of isolation and slightly abandoned look. She saw a rough path leading up the side of the nearest mountain and began to follow it, but after less than ten minutes, she found herself gasping for breath from the effects of the altitude. As she turned back, she decided she’d make herself go a bit farther each day until she reached the notch at the top.

  By the time she went to bed that night, she still hadn’t seen Cal, and he was gone when she awakened the next morning. Late that afternoon, however, he walked into the foyer as she came downstairs.

  He gave her that familiar contemptuous look, as if she’d crawled out from under a rock. “The realtor hired a couple of women to keep the house clean while it was on the market. She said they did a good job, so I told them to stay on. They’ll be coming a couple times a week starting tomorrow.”

  “All right.”

  “They don’t speak much English, but they seemed to know what they’re doing. Stay out of their way.”

  She nodded and thought about asking him where he had been until two o’clock in the morning, the time she’d heard the toilet flush in the adjoining bathroom, but he had already turned to leave. As the door shut, she wondered if he was going off to be with another woman.

  The thought depressed her. Even though their marriage was a sham, and he didn’t owe her fidelity, she wished he’d give it to her, just for the next three months. A premonition of disaster settled over her, a sense of impending doom that made her so uncomfortable, she hurried back to her computer and buried herself in work.

  Her days settled into a routine, but the uneasiness never quite went away. To keep it at bay, she worked most of the time, although she managed a walk each day. She barely saw Cal, something that should have eased her mind, but didn’t, since she realized he had virtually imprisoned her. She had no car, he didn’t offer to lend her his, and the only people she saw were deliverymen and the two Korean cleaning women. Like a feudal lord with a moated castle, he had deliberately cut her off from the town and its people. She wondered what he planned to do when his family returned.

  Unlike a medieval noblewoman, she could have put an end to her imprisonment anytime she wanted. A phone call to a taxi company would have done the job, but she didn’t have any real desire to go out. With the exception of the prickly Annie Glide, she knew no one here, and although she would have enjoyed seeing something of the area, she couldn’t resist the luxury of uninterrupted time.

  Never in her life had she been able to devote herself so completely to pure science. There were no classes to teach, no faculty meetings to attend, no errands to run, nothing to distract her from her research. With her computer, modem, and telephone, she was linked to everything she needed, from the Los Alamos electronic library to the data coming in from crucial experiments being conducted in the world’s billion-dollar supercolliders. And work kept her uneasy thoughts at bay.

  She began to lose track of time as she absorbed herself in the mathematics of duality, applying theoretical physics to unravel mathematical puzzles. Using a free-flowing mathematics of intuition, she pondered convoluted curves and mirror symmetry. She applied quantum field theory to count holes in four-dimensional space, and wherever she went, she left scribbled notes to herself—ideas scratched on the backs of pizza coupons that came in the mail, formulas written with a stubby golf pencil over the margins of the morning newspaper. One afternoon she walked into her bathroom only to see that she’d unthinkingly used her antique rose lipstick to draw a doughnut shape that was remodeling into a sphere on the bathroom mirror. With that, she knew she had to get out.

  She grabbed her white Windbreaker, emptied the notes she’d stuffed into the pockets on previous walks, and left through the French doors at the rear of the house. As she made her way across the yard toward the path up the side of the mountain that she’d been climbing a little higher each day, her thoughts returned to the problems of convoluted curves. Would it be possible…

  The shrill call of a bird blasted through her conjecture and made her aware of her surroundings. What was she doing pondering quantum geometry in the middle of all this beauty? If she weren’t careful, she’d become so strange that no child would want her as a mother.

  As she climbed higher, she forced herself to observe the world around her. She drew in the rich scents of pine and leaf mold and felt the sun shining with new warmth. The trees had a fragile green lacework on them. Spring was arriving, and before long these mountain slopes would be alive with blooms.

  But instead of being buoyed by the beauty, her spirits drooped, and the premonition of disaster that had been nagging at the edges of her consciousness for days grew stronger. By immersing herself so completely in her work, she had kept herself from thinking, but with the quiet of the damp woods around her, that was no longer possible.

  As her breathing grew labored, she made her way to a rocky area off to the side of the path where she could rest. She was so tired of living with guilt. Cal would never forgive her for what she had done, and she could only pray that he wouldn’t take his hostility out on their child.

  She remembered his veiled sexual threat the night they had arrived and realized she had no idea if he’d really try to force himself on her. She shivered and looked down on the valley, where she saw the house with its dark-shingled roof and crescent-shaped motor court. She watched a car turn into the gated lane. Cal’s Jeep. Had he come back to grab a fresh comic book from his collection?

  They were scattered all over the house: X-Men, The Avengers, The Vault of Horror, even Bugs Bunny. Every time she saw a new comic book, she sent up a silent prayer of thanksgiving that at least this one thing had gone right. Intelligence tended toward the norm. Surely his mental slowness would balance her own genius and keep her child from being a freak. She silently expressed her gratitude by making certain his comics were never disturbed, not even by the cleaning women.

&nb
sp; But that gratitude didn’t extend to her imprisonment. As much as the isolation helped her work, she realized she was giving him too much power by tolerating it. What would he do, she wondered, if she didn’t return? He knew she went for walks, but how would he react if she didn’t come back? What if she made her way beyond the gates, found a telephone, and took a taxi to the airport?

  The idea of upsetting him elevated her spirits a few small notches. Leaning back on her elbows, she tilted her face and enjoyed the sunshine until she felt the chill of the rockyledge through her wool slacks. Then she rose and gazed back down into the valley.

  The house and its owner lay beneath her; the mountains rose above. She began to climb.

  Chapter Eight

  C al stalked into the family room with Jane’s purse clutched in his hand and strode over to the French doors that led to the deck, but he still couldn’t see any sign of her. That meant only one thing. She’d taken off up the mountain.

  He knew she walked most days, but when he’d asked her about it, she’d told him she never went far. Well, she’d obviously gone far today, so far she’d gotten lost! For someone with an IQ of 180, she was the stupidest woman he’d ever met.

  “Damn!” He flung the purse down on the couch. The latch flew open and the contents spilled.

  “Something wrong, C-Man?”

  “What? Uh, no.” Cal had forgotten about his youngest brother Ethan. When Ethan had shown up at the gate twenty minutes earlier, Cal had made up an excuse about having to return a phone call and stuck him in here while he’d tried to find a clue to his missing wife’s whereabouts.

  Buying himself a few days’ extra time before he introduced Jane to his family was proving to be even tougher than he’d thought. Ethan had been back from his ski trip for three days, his parents from their vacation for two, and all of them had been hounding him.

  “I was looking for my wallet,” he lied. “I thought Jane might have put it in her purse.”

  Ethan rose from an easy chair near the fireplace, which was large enough to roast a Honda, and walked over to peer out the patio doors. Cal’s anger softened a bit as he gazed at his brother. While he and Gabe had shone on the playing fields, Ethan had made his mark in school theatrical productions. Although he was a decent athlete, organized sports held no appeal for him simply because he’d never been able to grasp the importance of winning.

  Blond, more slightly built than either Cal or Gabe, and heartbreakingly handsome, he was the only one of the three Bonner brothers who took after their mother, and his male-model good looks had caused him to endure an endless amount of ribbing from Cal and Gabe. He had thickly lashed light brown eyes and a nose that had never been broken. His dark blond hair was conservatively cut and always combed. Normally he favored oxford shirts, neatly pressed Dockers, and penny loafers, but today he wore an ancient Grateful Dead T-shirt and jeans. On Ethan, the outfit looked like Brooks Brothers.

  Cal frowned at him. “Did you iron that T-shirt?”

  “Just a little touch-up.”

  “Jesus, Eth, you’ve got to stop doin’ crap like that.”

  Ethan smiled his Christ smile solely because he knew how much it irritated his big brother. “Some of us take pride in our appearance.” He regarded Cal’s muddy boots with distaste. “Others of us don’t care how we look.”

  “Can it, asshole.” Cal’s language always deteriorated when he was around Ethan. There was just something about the kid’s unflappability that made him want to cuss. Not that it bothered Ethan one bit. As the youngest of three boys, his brothers had toughened him up at an early age. Even as children, Cal and Gabe had sensed that Ethan was more vulnerable than they were, so they’d made sure he could take care of himself. Although no one in the Bonner family ever admitted it, all of them secretly loved Ethan best.

  Cal also respected him. Ethan had gone through a wild period, during college and into his early twenties, where he’d drunk too much and slept with too many women, but when he’d received the call, he’d made up his mind to live as he preached.

  “Visiting the sick’s part of my job,” Ethan said. “Why don’t I just look in on your new wife?”

  “She wouldn’t like it. You know how women are. She wants to be all fixed up before she meets the family, so she can make a good first impression.”

  “When do you think that’s going to be? Now that Mom and Dad are back in town, they’re champing at the bit to meet her. And Annie’s really rubbing it in because she’s seen her and we haven’t.”

  “It’s not my fault all of you chose now to go gallivanting around the country.”

  “I’ve been back from my ski trip for three days.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s like I told everybody when I came over for dinner last night, Jane got sick right before you got back. Damned flu. She should be feeling better in a few days—next week at the latest—and then I’ll bring her over to the house. But don’t expect to see much of her. Her work’s real important to her, and she can’t spend too much time away from her computer right now.”

  Ethan was only thirty, but he regarded him through old, wise eyes. “If you need to talk, C-Man, I’m willing to listen.”

  “There’s nothing for me to talk about except the way everybody in this family wants to stick their noses in my business.”

  “Not Gabe.”

  “No, not Gabe.” Cal jammed his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “I wish he would.”

  They each fell silent, preoccupied with thoughts of their wounded middle brother. He was down in Mexico, on the run from himself.

  “I wish he’d come home,” Ethan said.

  “He left Salvation years ago. It’s not home to him anymore.”

  “I guess no place is home without Cherry and Jamie.”

  Ethan’s voice tightened, and Cal looked away. Anxious to break the mood, he began picking up the contents of Jane’s purse. Where was she? These past two weeks he’d forced himself to stay away and let his temper cool.

  He also wanted her to feel her isolation and understand that he was the one holding the key to her prison. Unfortunately she didn’t seem affected.

  Ethan came over to help. “If Jane’s flu is this bad, maybe she should be in the hospital.”

  “No.” Cal reached for a small calculator and pen so he didn’t have to look at his brother. “She’s been pushing herself pretty hard, but she’ll feel better as soon as she gets some rest.”

  “She sure doesn’t look like one of your bimbos.”

  “How do you know what she looks—?” He lifted his head and saw Ethan studying her photo on the driver’s license that had fallen out of her wallet. “None of the women I dated were bimbos.”

  “They weren’t exactly rocket scientists.” He laughed. “This one practically is. I still can’t believe you married a physicist. The way I remember it, the only thing that got you through high-school physics was the fact that Coach Gill taught the class.”

  “You’re a damned liar. I got an A in that class.”

  “Deserved a C.”

  “B minus.”

  Ethan grinned and waved the driver’s license. “I can’t wait to tell Dad I won my bet.”

  “What bet?”

  “The age of the woman you married. He said we’d have to schedule the wedding ceremony around her Girl Scout meetings, but I said you’d come to your senses. I believed in you, bro, and looks like I was right.”

  Cal was irritated. He hadn’t wanted everybody to know that Jane was twenty-eight, but with Ethan staring at the date of birth on her driver’s license, he couldn’t deny it. “She doesn’t look a day over twenty-five.”

  “I don’t know why you’re so sensitive. There’s nothing wrong with marrying someone your own age.”

  “She’s not exactly my age.”

  “Two years younger. That’s not a big difference.”

  “Two years? What the hell you talkin’ about?” He snatched the license away. “She’s not two years younger than me! She
’s—”

  “Uh-oh.” Ethan backed away. “I think I’d better go.”

  Cal was too stunned by what he saw on the license to hear the amusement in his brother’s voice, nor did he notice the sound of the front door closing a few moments later. He couldn’t take in anything except the date on the driver’s license he held in his hand.

  He scrubbed the laminate with his thumb. Maybe it was just a smear on the plastic that made the year of her birth look like that. Or maybe it was a misprint. Damned DMV couldn’t get anything right.

  But he knew it wasn’t a misprint. There was no mistaking those grim, condemning numbers. His wife was thirty-four years old, and he’d just taken the sack of a lifetime.

  “Calvin, he’ll be comin’ to fetch you before long,” Annie Glide said.

  Jane set down the tea she’d been sipping from an ancient white ceramic mug that bore the remains of an American flag decal and gazed at Annie across the cluttered living room. Despite its unorthodox decor, this house felt like a home, a place where a person could belong. “Oh, I don’t think so. He doesn’t know where I am.”

  “He’ll figure it out soon enough. Boy’s been roamin’ these mountains ever since he was in diapers.”

  She couldn’t imagine Cal ever wearing diapers. Surely he’d been born with a belligerent attitude and a full set of chest hair. “I can’t believe how close your house is to his. The day I met you it seemed as if we drove several miles before we got to those awful gates.”

  “You did. Road winds all the way ’round Heartache Mountain goin’ through town. This morning, you just took the shortcut.”

  Jane had been surprised when she’d reached the notch in the mountain and looked down the other side to see the tin roof of Annie Glide’s cabin. At first she hadn’t recognized it, but then she’d spotted the colorful wind sock flying at the corner of the porch. Even though it had been nearly two weeks since they’d met, Annie had greeted her as if she’d been expected.