The Baby Agenda

by Janice Kay Johnson

  “Moira…”

  She shook her head and stood suddenly. “I can’t talk about it anymore. I’ve said what I had to say. Just…think. Now I’m going to bed. No,” she said, when he started to rise. “I’d rather go alone tonight. I’m not in the mood—” Moira stopped as if her throat had clogged, then rushed away.

  Frozen halfway between standing and sitting, he heard the quiet snick of the bedroom door shutting. His knees gave out, and he sank into the chair. That damn door hadn’t been shut in a long time. Should he be grateful that she trusted him to hear Caleb?

  At the thought of their baby, Will felt a huge crack in his almost-numbness, one that let him glimpse such agony he couldn’t bear it. How could she know him so little that she’d think for an instant he’d want to spend two years half a world away from his son? From her?

  He sat there for hours, the house quiet and almost unbearably lonely around him. Once Caleb did awaken and cry. Knowing he couldn’t be hungry yet, Will rocked him back to sleep. The small weight nestled against his chest felt so sweet, Will only reluctantly laid him back in the crib and retreated from the softly lit room. The door across the hall stayed closed. Either Moira hadn’t heard Caleb’s cries, or was lying there tensely hoping she wasn’t needed.

  What if she did kick him out? Will tried to imagine going home to his brothers’ house—and he thought of it that way. It wasn’t home anymore. This was home now, with Moira and Caleb. And he sure as hell couldn’t talk to anybody about what had gone wrong, not even his brothers. Clay was becoming a friend, but still, Will had never in his life talked about his feelings with any of his siblings. With anyone, really, before Moira.

  And this… No, he needed to wrap his mind around everything she’d said first. She’d asked him to think, and he would.

  He eventually laid down on the couch, not even bothering to convert it into a bed. It was too short, but he wouldn’t have slept well, anyway. He waited in the morning until he heard Moira go in to Caleb, then he showered and dressed for work. Thank God for work, he thought, with an edge of desperation. When he came out, Moira had already fried bacon and was scrambling eggs. He ate, they were civil, but he didn’t kiss her goodbye. It was the first time they’d parted in a long time when he hadn’t kissed her.

  The morning was too busy for much brooding. One of the tenants came by to inspect the work and discuss some minor changes. Will’s crew was doing finish work, and on impulse at noon he said, “You’re on your own this afternoon. Call my cell if you need me,” and left.

  He drove over to Forest Park and found a bench with a view of the playground. The day was chilly but clear and several well-bundled mothers pushed their kids on swings or watched them scramble on climbers. As he’d be doing someday with Caleb.

  Had he been lying to Moira? To himself? If he weren’t bullheadedly determined to make their marriage work because he viewed this commitment to the mother of his child as the right thing to do, would he want to take up where he’d left off in Zimbabwe?

  He sat for a long time, imagining himself getting back on the airplane, ending up in Harare. Walking into his house there to the smell of cooking, sitting down in solitude to his sadza, served by Jendaya. He remembered his last trips in the country, the lengthy negotiations with regional officials, the open-air meetings with villagers, the glimpses of wildlife and ancient rock art. And gradually he relaxed, because what he remembered best was how colored his every day had become by his worries about Moira, his memories of their one night together.

  It would be a thousand times worse now. There wouldn’t be a minute when he wasn’t haunted by thoughts of her and Caleb. He’d enjoyed what he was doing there, he’d found it satisfying, but it didn’t compare to being a husband and father.

  How could she think…?

  He groaned, remembering the night she’d walked in unexpectedly when he was online looking at photos of Zimbabwe. He sat without moving, aching when he pictured the stricken expression on Moira’s face as she’d hastily retreated. She’d tried to talk to him, and he’d shut her down. But she’d been right, and he was wrong.

  There was a reason he had only gone online after she’d gone to bed, or when she wasn’t home. Face it: he’d been trying to deceive her, to convince her that he wasn’t thinking anymore about the job and dreams he’d given up. He’d deceived even himself, because what he’d done was leave that door cracked open.

  With what she saw, with his refusal to talk about it, he’d confirmed Moira’s belief that he’d chosen duty over heart. That wasn’t true, but it also hadn’t been quite honest of him to pretend he had no regrets.

  Had a part of him, hidden inside, still thought maybe he’d help Moira out for a while, then go back to what he’d been doing? He couldn’t be sure, but he was ashamed of himself that his commitment hadn’t been as absolute as he’d believed it was. He felt sleazy, as if he had been looking at big-breasted naked women online.

  The door was shut now, but maybe too late. He’d hurt her, and he had refused to see that that’s what he was doing. Please God, he thought bleakly, don’t let me be too late.

  No matter what, he was done. She and Caleb mattered more than anything else in the world to him. That was the truth. He’d finally been finding his way to a life that would satisfy him in other ways, too, he realized. He wouldn’t like to disappoint the people at Bright Futures. He’d committed to them, too. Nor would it be hard to keep finding projects like that, ways he could do good here.

  But…what if he couldn’t convince Moira? The fear devastated him. Just thinking about losing her, he knew how much he loved her. Her, and Caleb. How could he go on without them? He couldn’t conceive of being an every-other-weekend father to his son. Seeing Moira only to hand off their child would be hideous.

  If she didn’t believe in his commitment, would she believe he loved her? Will didn’t know.

  He kept searching through her words for clues, and not finding them.

  I don’t want a marriage with a man who came to it reluctantly and stayed out of a sense of obligation. The question was, did she want marriage with him?

  Leaving that aside, he began to think about why she’d had such a hard time from the beginning believing he would want her enough to give up anything for her. He’d always known that she was strong, but even that first night Will had seen the vulnerability beneath. He’d peeled back layers since, and could see the scars she tried to hide even from herself. The father who hadn’t given a damn. The years she’d seen herself as fat and been rejected socially. The sense she’d always had of being likable, but not… desirable.

  Hands shoved in the pockets of his parka, legs stretched out in front of him, Will stared at the playground without seeing a soul. It might as well have been deserted. All he saw was Moira, only Moira. Her face that time he’d told her how much sadness he saw in her. He remembered her telling him once that he was a good man, so good she was afraid he’d lie to her to keep her from thinking she was taking advantage of him.

  She had never believed he would want to stay with her. He’d known that, without letting himself understand how deep her fears ran. In her memory, she’d had to beg him to make love to her in the first place. The pregnancy was all her fault because all he’d done was be kind to her. His enthusiasm in bed was…hell, who knew? A man getting laid?

  That’s what I always think, you know. That no guy could be interested in me.

  Making love at least once a day this past week, waking up next to her, eating breakfast with her, coming home to her, had been so good, like an idiot he’d believed that her fears about him had been laid to rest. Of course it wasn’t that easy. Moira’s deep-seated belief that he had made a huge and terrible sacrifice for her and for his baby had only dozed, waiting to be reawakened by that letter he’d so carelessly left out.

  Carelessly, because it hadn’t meant that much to him. A sound escaped him as he exhaled. Had he really even felt a pang? Reading the letter, he was flattered. Sorry the clinics w
eren’t being built as quickly as they had all hoped. He’d had a moment of renewed guilt at having failed to keep a promise. But he hadn’t been tempted at all. He’d tossed the damn thing aside without a second thought because he’d found something a hell of a lot more important. Love.

  Had Moira really not seen how happy he was? How much he needed her? How many times had he told her he lived to get home to her and Caleb? Will was still baffled that she could really think it was all a lie, him making the best of an obligation he’d reluctantly shouldered…but she did.

  What an idiot he’d been, not telling her he loved her. He had known for a long time what he felt. But…that door had still been cracked open behind him, too, and he guessed that’s what had kept the words unsaid. Yeah, Moira had plenty of self-doubts. What had she said? After a while, you sort of give up. But she’d been married to a man dumb enough not to say, loud and clear, “I love you,” and keep saying it. And she wasn’t a woman able to hold on to faith in the face of his silence.

  He surged to his feet, wanting nothing more than to get in his truck and head home to West Fork to confront her. To tell her he was crazily, permanently in love with her, and she could by God learn to believe it.

  As the engine roared to life, he felt a hard kick in his chest. Was he kidding himself, thinking she wanted him to love her? Moira had never said anything to indicate she was in love with him. He was judging solely on the way she responded to his kisses, to him in bed, the expression in her eyes sometimes, the trusting way she slept in his arms. The fact that she had agreed to marry him in the first place. He’d presented marriage to her as a sensible solution to their dilemma, but Will knew he wouldn’t have gone that far if he hadn’t already felt too much for her. And he couldn’t imagine that she’d have accepted him if she hadn’t felt enough to know she could live intimately with him. They’d both gambled on something they hadn’t been willing to name, not at that point. And he’d believed—still believed—they had won.

  But he had to hear her say those three words, too. I love you. Until he did, until he had her in his arms again, he was going to stay scared.

  “THERE,” MOIRA SAID, lifting Caleb from the small plastic bathtub she’d set on the kitchen counter. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  The first few weeks of his life, he’d wailed every time he was put in water. He’d progressed to looking worried, and tonight he’d become briefly entranced with a floating soap bubble. He’d grinned once, too, kicking his legs and splashing the counter and her.

  Bundled in a towel, he wriggled happily.

  “Now I’m wetter than you are,” she told him, kissing him on the nose. She carried him to her room and laid him on the bed while she peeled off her shirt and grabbed a dry one from the drawer. But, unable to resist, she picked him up before she put the T on, loving the feel of his plump, naked body against her own bare skin.

  She’d read in books about how important touch was to babies. Dry diapers and enough formula weren’t enough. Something inside shriveled and died if babies weren’t cuddled often enough. They lost the potential to feel emotions and trust for the rest of their lives.

  Holding Caleb, Moira wondered if that’s what had happened to her. Not when she was a baby, of course; she knew her mother had loved her. But later. After college, she’d had no one to hold her. An occasional hug from a friend or her mom wasn’t the same as this, loving and warm, or the thigh to chest, skin-to-skin contact she’d had with Will. His kisses and his arms around her, the way he had of constantly touching her, that big hand making her feel secure in a way she didn’t ever remember feeling. Sitting on the edge of the bed, tears welling in her eyes even as her body soaked up the contact with her baby, Moira ached for Will’s touch. For Will.

  No, she hadn’t lost the potential to feel these emotions, but hope had certainly shriveled in her. The belief in forever.

  Cheek pressed to her baby’s head, she gasped with the pain, and tried to believe she’d done the right thing in giving Will an out. The only thing possible, for the man she loved.

  Caleb began rooting for her breast and, no matter her inner turmoil, she opened the cup of her bra. He happily latched on.

  Even as she bent and kissed the silky, damp hair on top of his head, she let herself consider an idea that would once have been unthinkable.

  What if Will had meant what he said? What if he really had felt only a pang? What if he truly wanted to stay with her and Caleb?

  What if she hadn’t been acting out of love for him at all, but out of her own fears? Her own belief that he couldn’t possibly choose her over his dreams?

  He’d been angry, she knew he was. If he didn’t think she wanted him to stay, might he be mad and hurt enough to call the foundation today and say, sure, what the hell, I’ll go?

  An awful sound escaped her. Caleb let loose of her breast and lifted his head to stare at her with perplexed brown eyes.

  Moira made reassuring sounds despite the anguish that tore through her. She kept looking at her baby—at their baby—and thought as she often did how well he blended parts of her with parts of Will. The eyes were Will’s, if a lighter shade than his. The square, determined chin was his, too. The red in Caleb’s hair was from her, the nose, she thought, hers. He probably would have freckles, but also his daddy’s size and, someday, powerful shoulders and big feet.

  She wished desperately that she’d been brave enough to tell Will she loved him. He’d have been kind no matter what. Why had she been so afraid of baring herself?

  Now, all she could think was that, while Will had been angry, mostly what she remembered was the pain in his eyes, the hoarse disbelief in his voice. And she hadn’t listened to what he tried to tell her, had refused to hear.

  Caleb had fallen asleep. Moira slipped away, fastening her bra and pulling on her T-shirt. He only scrunched his eyes tighter closed when she put on his diaper and carried him to his crib.

  She stood for a moment, looking down at him, her chest hurting. Will would be home after work. They could talk then. It wasn’t as if he’d left her because of the things she’d said. All she had done was ask him to think, to be honest with himself. That wasn’t so bad, was it? She wanted him to be honest.

  And maybe it was better that she’d never told him she loved him, even if that was cowardly. Because he might tell her tonight that what he really wanted was to go back to Africa. If so, it was better that he never knew. She wouldn’t bind him further with more guilt, barbed to draw blood.

  WILL STOOD ON THE PORCH and actually thought about ringing the doorbell. The way he and Moira had left it last night and this morning, he didn’t know how welcome he was.

  But, damn it, he lived here, and after a minute he shoved the key in the lock and opened the door. The foyer was empty. There was a moment of silence and he had the sudden, irrational fear that the house was empty.

  But the next instant, she stepped from the living room with Caleb in her arms, as if he was coming home from work any other day.

  “Will,” she whispered, her face pinched and eyes huge.

  Caleb beamed at the sight of his daddy. Without saying a word, Will held out his arms, and she put his son in them. Damn. His eyes burned.

  Moira backed up, as if to give him space. For a moment he laid his cheek against Caleb’s head and inhaled the clean, milky scent of baby.

  “How could you think even for a minute that I’d walk away from you?” he whispered. He had to blink away the blur in his eyes to focus on her face. “I miss you every day, just going to work.”

  “Oh, Will.” She flung herself at him. He barely got his free arm out in time to catch her. He lurched back and pushed the door closed.

  Their baby was squished between them. Moira wrapped both arms around Will’s torso as if she were drowning and he was the life preserver. She burrowed her face against his chest. She was trying to talk, but the words were muffled in his shirt.

  Caleb struggled in protest. Heart pounding, Will said, “Let me pu
t Caleb down. Sweetheart, let me set him down.”

  It seemed to take her a minute to hear. Then she slowly let her arms fall and backed away. Her face was wet. Will looked around and saw a crib-size comforter on the arm of the sofa. He grabbed it and spread it on the floor with one flick, then laid their son down on his tummy. Caleb pushed up right away, stronger than he’d been a few days ago.

  Will turned and hauled Moira into his arms. Once again, she pressed herself to him as if she wanted to crawl inside him. He wanted that, too. Holding her as close as was humanly possible meant more to him right now than anything else on earth.

  He heard himself saying things, but he didn’t know if they were any more coherent than whatever she’d mumbled into his chest. He was crooning to her more than making any sense.

  It had to be a couple of minutes before she began to relax. Just a little, then a little more, until her body didn’t feel as frantic to him and he could loosen his own grip some. Finally she stepped back, her wet, puffy face wrenching his heart, and cried, “Oh, I’ve got to blow my nose.” She fled for the bathroom.

  While she was gone, Will swiped his eyes with his forearm. He crouched beside Caleb and patted his diaper-padded butt. “Look at you,” he murmured. “Man, you’re going to be crawling before we know it.”

  When he heard the bathroom door, he stood and watched Moira come down the hall then, more hesitantly, across the living room to him. Her face was still puffy and the red splotches didn’t go well with the golden dust of freckles, but she wasn’t crying anymore and, damn, she looked beautiful to his eyes.

  After a hesitant moment, she said, “I kept being afraid you wouldn’t come home. That you were mad, and I’d hurt your feelings, and you wouldn’t want to see me.”

  “You did hurt my feelings,” he said gruffly, but he was reaching for her to draw her close.

  “I just…needed to know…”

  “I understand,” he heard himself say gently. He rubbed his cheek against the top of her hair. “I gave you every reason to wonder.”