A Woman's Heart

by Gael Morrison

  Ruby touched her shoulder, saying she and John were going home. They were worn out, Jann realized sickly, by the vigil they had kept. A vigil she should have been here to keep herself.

  * * *

  The day passed in a blur and ended in a fog, the muted ceiling lamp the only indication night had fallen, and the chinks of light showing around the edges of the curtains the only sign dawn was upon them again. A stiffness pervaded Jann's body, forbidding movement. Numbness infiltrated her brain, stifling all thought.

  The only clarity was the hands clasped on the white sheet in front of her, Alex's hand in Peter's and Alex's hand in her own. She longed to take hold of Peter's other hand and complete the circle of hearts and bodies, for that seemed the only way her baby would get better. But to reach for Peter seemed as impossible now as reaching for the stars.

  She touched her crystal instead, its smooth surface strangely cold and unresponsive. When she slipped it from around her neck and held it in her open hand, its color disappeared along with its warmth, its usual translucent pink chillingly subdued.

  The crystal, with its shafts of light and splashes of reflected color, had always fascinated Alex. He would reach for it, squealing with delight and with plump fingers pat at it as though it were alive.

  With a swift glance at her baby's pale face, Jann tucked the crystal into his hand and pressed his fingers shut around it. She wasn't sure what she expected to happen, but it wasn't this nothingness of expression, this paucity of reaction. Even when she took his hand in hers, Alex didn't move.

  Heartsick, she stared across Alex's inert form and looked at Peter instead. For the past eighteen hours, she had focused only on her baby, convinced that unless she did so some irreversible harm would occur. But she needed Peter's strength, as a yawning hole needs filling, as grass needs rain, and flowers sunshine.

  Yet she couldn't acknowledge that need, couldn't allow it to even exist, for if she did, she'd be vulnerable, and she had promised herself never to be vulnerable again. She had attempted throughout the night to expunge all images of Peter from her brain: his lips, the safety of his arms, his eyes... especially his eyes, with their ability to see into hers and know, as only a soul mate would know, what she was thinking and what she was feeling.

  But she had failed in her efforts. He lingered in her mind as he did on the periphery of her vision, warming her to her heart's core and her soul's center. His strength was her strength, his warmth hers also. The first time Alex cried out so feebly in the night, she froze, turned to Peter and, for an instant, long enough for her to grip more tightly to her courage, the ice retreated and her soul readied itself to meet the new horrors ahead.

  Then Peter stared at her without smiling, his lips seeming blue in the unearthly morning light and his skin as white as the hospital walls. His eyes were filled with pain, but even thus didn't waver.

  Her heart felt as brittle as ice across a puddle. A little more pressure and everything would shatter.

  Without speaking, without seeming to move, Peter took her hand in his. A circle of hands now lay on the sheet, strong in its beginning and strong again at its end, a circle linking them as a family was linked, as a circle of light capable of piercing the darkness.

  Heat as fiery as lava and faster than lightning, traveled from Peter's hand to hers, then along her arm to her body and from there to her heart. Alex stirred as though he felt it too, his eyes fluttering open and focusing on Jann's face, the faintest of sounds whispering from between his dry lips. Enclosed in her hand, Alex's fingers tightened around the crystal.

  Even his body seemed different now. Maybe it was his color, with the suggestion of pink dusting his pale cheeks, or maybe it was the small movement.

  Whatever the difference, as Jann stared across at Peter her heart filled with gratitude.

  And with love.

  She straightened, new strength filling her with hope. She did love Peter. She needed him, trusted him.

  When had the trust happened?

  When had she realized that Peter loved Alex as much as she did?

  Was as good a parent.

  Probably better.

  The knot of fear lodged in her throat expanded to overrun her heart. She mustn't think of what a good parent Peter would make. She had to think of the future instead. Plan for when Alex got out of this place.

  She drew herself up. Living on the boat had done this thing to Alex. Perhaps Peter had been right when he said a boat was no place for a baby. Her heart ached in protest, but she couldn't stop her thoughts.

  Alex would be better off with Peter in his ancestral home, even with Claire's old nanny to help care for him. Claire's nanny might not be the aloof, clinical woman the matron of her orphanage had been. She might be warm, might love Alex as a proper nanny should. And Alex would have Peter as a father, a blood relative, one who could give him everything he needed... including love.

  Especially love.

  She hadn't allowed herself to see it before. Much easier to cling to the wishes Claire had made so clear.

  But Claire had been wrong. Young, angry and alone, she hadn't realized how much Peter loved her, how desperately he had tried to keep her safe. He had got it wrong at times, but not for lack of caring.

  The tears started unexpectedly, racing unchecked down Jann's cheeks. She couldn't seem to make them stop, even when she blindly squeezed Alex's hand, holding it so tightly the crystal dropped from his fingers. She picked it up again, needing the strength it gave her to do what she had to do, not sure even then if she had the courage.

  Raising her other hand to her baby's face, she traced the outline of his delicate features with her fingertips. If she concentrated hard enough, his image would be imprinted on her soul forever. As would Peter's.

  If she truly loved Alex, she would find the courage to do what was right, would sacrifice her own needs for his, as mothers had been doing since the beginning of time.

  As the mother who had appeared before King Solomon had done. When two women both claimed a baby as their own, the King had commanded the baby be divided into two. The true mother hadn't allowed that, had given her baby to the other woman rather than see him hurt.

  As Jann would give her baby to Peter. Alex would be better off with his uncle. If she loved her child enough, she must find the courage to let him go.

  With a long shuddering sob, she pulled her hand from Alex's face and stared at Peter through tear-blurred eyes.

  "He's yours," she whispered, not looking at Alex as she spoke, for if she looked at him, she might not do what she knew was right.

  "What do you mean?" Peter asked, his emerald eyes darkening to a velvety blackness.

  "You want him," she said, struggling to keep her voice audible. "You can have him." Then she turned away, her eyes awash with tears, loving Peter as thoroughly, as gut-wrenchingly as she loved Alex. By giving one to the other, she'd lose them both.

  But they'd also both be safe and that was all that mattered.

  Lowering her head, she pressed Alex's hand to her lips. For the space of a kiss, she held it there, then gently dropped it back to the sheet.

  Allowing herself one last glance at Peter—any more would be fatal to her resolve—she stood. Her heart shattering, she strangled back a cry and raced for the door.

  When it swung shut behind her, she slumped against the wall, tears coursing down her cheeks and her breath coming in hard gasps. Etched into her brain was the sight of Peter's face; his skin white, his eyes black with disbelief.

  Peter.... She pressed her eyes closed.

  A rush of air crossed her face. She felt, rather than saw, the door beside her open. A strong hand gripped her arm.

  "You're giving him to me?"

  Opening her eyes, she found Peter standing before her, his green gaze burning hers. She nodded, unable to trust her voice.

  "Just like that?" he demanded hoarsely.

  She nodded again, trembling.

  "So when the going gets rough, you bail out.
" The fury in his eyes was mixed with contempt.

  There seemed not enough air to fill her lungs. Jann leaned over, her hands on her knees. One breath. Two. The sick feeling abated and the wild pounding of her heart steadied to a dull roar. She slowly straightened.

  "If it helps you to think that then believe it," she whispered. Tiny arrows of pain seemed to pierce her from all directions. After all she and Peter had shared, how could he believe that was why she was giving him her son?

  "What else can I think?"

  If he had shouted, she could have stood it better. This coldness was worse than anything.

  "Tell me," he demanded, his fingers tightening around her wrist.

  "You'll make a good father," she said.

  He clamped his other hand on her shoulder.

  "Let go of me." She shrugged his hand away. She couldn't do this if he touched her.

  He drew back as though he had been burned, but she could feel the heat where his fingers had lain. Glancing at her shoulder, she half expected to find the outline of his palm burned into her skin.

  "I've seen you with Alex," Peter said, his voice low and furious.

  Holding him, loving him. Jann's eyes stung with tears.

  "You're a good mother."

  She stared up at him, stunned. "Not good enough." Although, the Lord knew she had tried. But in the end, she had failed. Peter wouldn't fail.

  "You love him."

  "I left him when he was sick."

  "You didn't know."

  "I should have known."

  "This isn't just about Alex." Peter reached for her again. "It's about you and me, too."

  "No," she said fiercely, the pain in her chest threatening to obliterate the pain in her head.

  If he didn't love her, how could this be about the two of them? And he'd never said he did love her. Not yesterday. Not now.

  Jann closed her eyes, shutting out the light and shutting out Peter.

  Let him go.

  If she loved him, she had to let him go.

  She forced her eyes open. Miraculously, her body had ceased its trembling. The palms of her hands were dry when she pressed her fingers into them.

  "When he's better, I'll take him to the boat until you're ready to leave. But after that," she said flatly, turning on her heel, "Alex is yours." She followed the line of the linoleum, weaving as though she was drunk, but no matter how much she wavered, she didn't look back.

  Chapter 15

  Alex's left hand latched onto Jann's hair, and he pulled her head down, giggling as she buried her face in his tummy. It was all she could do to keep from crying, but there'd been too much of that lately, especially at night, and in the shower. Wherever no one could hear.

  Alex was better, although it had taken over a week. A little thinner, a little quieter, but his old self nonetheless now he was back in his own home. At least now when she gave him away, she'd know he wasn't going to have to face his new home feeling ill.

  As she'd had to do. Was it the second or the third time she'd been moved? When her foster parents of the moment had decided their commitment didn't extend to wiping sweat-filled foreheads and sitting up half the night waiting for her fever to go down.

  Jann tickled Alex's toes, tried to forget her long ago pain. She smiled back at him when he laughed, savoring the sound of his joy and locking it in her heart to be pulled out when he was no longer with her.

  Peter would be here soon, as he had been every day in the week since Alex had returned home, though on those other days he had usually come in the evening, after hours filled with lawyers, courts and travel arrangements.

  He seemed to want to avoid contact with Jann as much as she did with him, arriving only in time to kiss Alex good night, but holding himself apart from her, as though there had never been warmth between them, as though he had never touched her at all.

  It hurt. As she had known that it would.

  In just a few moments, he'd be here again, but in the cold light of morning this time, and he would take her baby from her, and himself, too.

  Thrusting her face back into Alex's belly, she prayed hard that her baby's laughter would keep her tears at bay. She couldn't cry again. Not in front of Peter.

  Then she heard it, the soft padding of shoes on wood. Even the slap of water against the boat's hull couldn't drown out the sound.

  Peter was here.

  It was too soon.

  Panic filled her chest. Now that the time had come, could she actually do this thing she had promised? She stared down at Alex. For his sake, she had to.

  She picked him up, held him close. He clutched her shirt with one hand while the other pumped the air.

  John and Ruby stepped off their own boat as Peter passed, leaving their coffee mugs behind on the Windward's wooden deck. They stood together, faces solemn, arms around each other.

  "Is he ready?" Peter asked, looking only at her, not looking at Alex at all.

  Alex was. She wasn't. She could only nod. She couldn't speak.

  "He's packed?"

  Couldn't he see Alex's bag lying on the dock beside him? Maybe by giving her questions to which she had only to nod, he was trying to make this easier for her. Maybe he knew that if she opened her mouth, she would beg him to ignore the offer she had made in the hospital, and rescinding that offer of custody was something he wasn't prepared to risk.

  He suddenly stepped aboard, leaving Alex's bag where it lay. She had tucked the picture of Claire inside the bag, knowing that Peter liked it and wanting Alex to have that memento of his mother. She'd put one of herself in there, also, unable to bear the thought of her baby forgetting her altogether.

  Peter stepped closer and held out his arms. For an instant, the image of that other time flashed through Jann's head. When she had flung herself into his arms and been wrapped in love and safety.

  She wasn't safe now. This time his embrace was intended for Alex, not for her. When she let her baby go, it would be forever.

  A moan involuntarily surged from her soul and lay trembling in her throat. At the sound, Alex buried his face against her shoulder. Then, with a movement so sharp it stunned her, he propelled himself forward into Peter's waiting arms, grabbing her crystal heart as he went, and ripping it from her neck.

  He held his prize aloft, as an athlete would a trophy, and gurgled with glee. With a swift glance in her direction, Peter extricated the heart from Alex's fist and offered it back to Jann.

  "Keep it for him," she choked out, blinking her eyes fiercely, not able, now, to hold back her tears. "My mother gave it to me. I want to give it to him. When Alex is old enough to understand, tell him that I love him."

  "He knows that already," Peter said softly. Then he stared into Jann's eyes so long, she felt they could stay that way forever. "Come with us," he whispered.

  She turned away, hot tears blinding her vision. "I can't," she said hoarsely. "There's nothing for me there."

  Taking hold of her shoulder, Peter spun her around. "You're wrong," he said, seeming to want to say more. "Alex needs you," he said, instead.

  Alex was only half of what she needed. With a hungry look at them both and mustering every ounce of courage she possessed, Jann plunged down the companionway and slammed the hatch shut.

  It seemed a long time she stood in the cabin below, with her breath held so tightly she felt her lungs might burst. Until at last she heard Peter's footsteps fade away down the dock.

  * * *

  The days slipped painfully by. One week. Then two. Still no word. Not even a phone call to tell her they'd arrived in Boston safely. Nor a letter to say Alex was happy and adjusting.

  Nothing.

  But of course there would be nothing. It was over.

  * * *

  "You can't hide away forever," Ruby chided her briskly, sweeping onto Jann's boat like a miniature tornado. "It's not healthy." She lifted her too-wide sunglasses and peered down her nose at Jann. "You're skin and bones," she observed critically. "If you're not carefu
l, you'll blow away."

  Jann gazed bleakly up at her from the batch of photos she had just developed. The top one was of Peter grinning from behind the wheel of her boat. The one beneath was of him also, holding Alex on the day of the picnic. The leaden feeling in Jann's stomach intensified.

  "Why don't you go to him, child?" Ruby suggested, her brown forehead creased with worry.

  "You know why I can't." She bit her lip to keep from crying.

  Ruby snorted. "Peter cares about you. More importantly, you care. You care about Alex and you care about Peter. That's reason enough."

  "Peter doesn't love me," Jann said again, as she had said many times to her friend over the past two weeks.

  Ruby snorted again, and her eyes seemed to magnify, to grow larger and larger until there was no escaping their pool of pity. The cabin walls, too, seemed to be moving in on Jann, suffocating her with their closeness, accusing her of cowardice. Her boat had always been a haven, but without Alex and Peter, it had become a prison.

  She wanted to be with them, behind the stone walls of Willow House if that was what it took, but she didn't have that choice. She had learned something over the past two weeks that she hadn't realized before, that it wasn't walls which made a prison, nor the lack of them that made for happiness. To be happy, she needed people in her life to love.

  She needed Peter and Alex. Only they weren't available. Not to her.

  "I'm going away for a couple of weeks," she said, her words stunning her, the result, she was sure, of too many sleepless nights. But the relief coursing through her convinced her the idea was a good one.

  "To Boston?" Ruby asked hopefully.

  "No." Slowly a plan took shape in Jann's mind. "Back to Maui." She'd been happy there—the last place she had been happy. Perhaps in work, her loneliness would disappear. "There are some photos—"

  Ruby groaned.

  Jann bit her lip.

  "Pictures are no substitute for a man, you know."

  Jann stared down at the photo lying in her hand. Ruby was right, but if she couldn't have this particular man, she didn't want any.