by Jo Leigh
She smiled. Yeah, right. Like they were pounding on her door now.
Glad to see she still had something of a sense of humor, she climbed into the tub, sighing as the hot water eased her weary soul. For a long time, she didn't do much, just soaked while she took deep, lilac breaths. If she thought at all, it was about relaxing the muscles that came to her awareness, until she felt as limp as a cooked noodle.
The only sound she heard was the soft scratching at the door, where George and Ira waited impatiently.
Their child.
The thought came whole, fully formed, as if she'd given birth to her future right there, lying in the water. She could see it all somehow, in a flash of insight that startled her just as it made all the sense in the world.
She would have the baby, of course. She would love it and raise it the best way she knew how. It wasn't a mistake at all, she realized. It was a gift. Something she hadn't even known she wanted.
The baby was theirs. Why that came to her so profoundly, she didn't know, but it was the truth. Nothing that happened for the rest of her life would change that fact. She and Trevor had created a life together, born out of a love so strong it defied description.
It wasn't the kind of love she'd heard about in storybooks and in movies, but that didn't diminish it one iota. So what if they didn't marry? If they lived in separate apartments? The child wouldn't be loved any less. In fact, she couldn't think of a baby in the world who would have a better father.
This little one would be surrounded by love. By her aunts Katy and Susan, and her uncles Peter and Ben. And she or he would have a best friend the same age, to play with and grow with and to complain about parents with.
Lee wasn't alone, either, although it suddenly hit her hard how much she wished her mother were still alive. How much she wanted to talk to her about this incredible event. But Lee had the feeling her mother knew that she was taken care of. That she'd built a family, a strong one.
Tomorrow, she'd see the doctor. And once her pregnancy was confirmed, she'd tell Trevor. She wasn't worried about his reaction anymore. It would take him a while to adjust, just like it was taking time for her, but he'd come around.
She'd never tell him that she'd fallen completely, utterly, head over heels in love with him. Because she knew that Trevor cared for her so much, that the damn fool would ask her to marry him, and that was the only thing in the whole scenario that would be wrong.
And in return for that kindness, she'd have their baby. As far as she could see, it was a pretty damn good deal.
All she had to do was stop wishing for what she couldn't have, and be grateful for what she already possessed.
* * *
Chapter 14
« ^ »
The interview had gone surprisingly well. The surprise wasn't that Francis was fascinating—that was a given—but he'd been remarkably perceptive, guessing that Trevor had been preoccupied, and not only that, but that his preoccupation was about a woman.
How he'd known, Trevor didn't have a clue, but it was a fact. At lunch, while drinking some of the best wine Trevor had tasted in a long time, he'd confessed that he was completely mystified by women and marriage. Francis had talked to him for a long time, mostly about how lucky a man could be to find the right woman. How it made all the difference. The same life experiences might happen to a man, married or not, but when he was alone, it was all in black and white. It was a woman's perception and interpretation that gave things color.
Now, half an hour later, Trevor couldn't get that image out of his mind. He hadn't gone straight home, preferring to walk in the park for a while. It was a nice day, sunny, but not hot. Nothing beat spring in Manhattan. The trees were alive with birds, the sky a remarkable blue, considering it was the city. Some part of his mind registered the joggers and the in-line skaters, the couples walking hand in hand, and even the children dashing dangerously through the thick of things. But mostly, he thought about Lee.
She'd played such a pivotal role for so many years, it was hard for him to remember his life before her. As he walked slowly down the winding paths, his memories took him a fair piece further. Before Lee, he'd never liked the telephone. It had never occurred to him to use it for anything other than logistics. But her first phone call had changed that. They'd talked for over two hours. Lee carried the conversation, of course. He hadn't learned the art yet. Although he couldn't remember what they'd said, he did remember how often he'd laughed, how astute her observations were and how she had a completely different take on things from his own.
They'd lived in the same dorm, and knew a lot of the same people, but once Lee started talking about them, the people he'd blindly passed in the hall became three-dimensional. She showed him their quirks, their foibles, and from then on, when he met up with the guy from across the hall, he saw him as Phil, who wore the same football jersey every day, and wondered if he ever washed it.
All these years, Lee had been his color commentator, turning the game of life into something fascinating. Confusing him a hell of a lot, but also making him think. She'd added depth and scope, and it was her influence, he now realized, that had made him a good writer. Because he didn't just write about wine, but about people. Their quirks, their foibles. Things he'd never have noticed if Lee hadn't shown him the way.
Katy's words came back to him, and he felt the need to sit down on an empty park bench. Lee wanted more. He still wasn't sure exactly what that meant. Living together? Marriage? He couldn't give her what she wanted.
As well as she knew him, didn't she understand that it wasn't a matter of choice, but a matter of biology? All he had to do was look at his family to see that marriage wasn't his destiny, not if he wanted to remain sane. It wasn't just his parents, although anyone could see that if genetics had any truth to it at all, he was doomed. Further proof, in the form of his brother, sealed the deal. Tom, although only twenty-two, was already on his second marriage.
And because Trevor was nothing if not practical, he'd decided to break the chain. To end the foolishness. To take the coward's way out.
The thought kicked the air from his lungs. He struggled to find solace in the old excuses, but it was no good. The truth was too big, too powerful.
It wasn't rotten destiny that kept him from committing to Lee, or concern that he would break her heart. It was terror that she would break his. He loved her, not as a friend, but as a soul mate. On some deep level, he'd known that for years. If they married and he blew it… He shuddered. He wouldn't survive. Better to save the friendship while he still could. Admit their noble, if foolhardy, experiment had failed. He'd back off gradually. Tonight, for example, he wouldn't go over there. She wasn't feeling well, anyway. It was for the best. She'd hardly miss him.
He'd miss her, though. The thought of his bed, so empty, so cold, made him want to stay up all night. Or at least fall asleep on the couch. But she'd think something was funny if he didn't call her.
He got out his phone, intending to dial her number. Instead, he put it back, got up and headed out of the park.
* * *
"This is a surprise. Come in."
Trevor smiled, relieved that he was welcome. He went inside, heading for the couch.
"To what do I owe this honor?"
"I need to talk."
"Fair enough. About what?"
"Lee."
Susan nodded. "Let's get comfy, shall we?"
He sat down on her white leather couch, amazed as always at Susan's apartment. It was huge, pre-World War II, and had three bedrooms. The decor was pure Susan, classy and modern with a few surprises here and there, like the framed animation cells she had lining the hallway.
She walked back into the living room carrying a bottle of white wine and two glasses. "You want this?" she asked.
He shook his head. "Just came from a tasting. Water would be good, though."
She turned around and went back into the kitchen, and he had a moment to think about how beautiful she was, even wh
en she had no makeup, and wore faded jeans and a T-shirt. Then she came back, still carrying the wine, but also a glass of water for him. After handing him the drink, she settled down across from him in a matching white leather chair, curling her legs underneath her, and placing her wine on the coffee table. "What's up?" she asked.
"I need some advice."
"And you came to me?" she asked, her surprise genuine.
"Well, sure. You've known Lee and me for a long time. You've been through some trials of your own. I figured you'd be the one to talk to."
"Trials, huh? Interesting way of putting it." She poured herself a glass of chardonnay, then settled back into position. "Shoot."
"I don't know how much you know. It's impossible to keep up with all of you, but according to Katy, Lee isn't happy."
"Go on."
"Evidently, despite the original agreement, she wants more."
"More of what?"
"I'm not sure," he said. "But I think it means she wants a commitment."
"Ah," Susan said, nodding as if he'd just given her the last piece of a puzzle he couldn't even see.
"I don't know." He took a big drink of water, and although it slaked his thirst, it didn't make his thoughts any clearer. "I'm not sure what to do."
"That's interesting, coming from you," she said.
"Yeah." Especially since thirty minutes ago, he'd decided to back off. "If it was anyone but Lee…"
"But it is Lee."
"Yep."
Susan leaned forward a bit, her expression serious and intent. "Do you think you could do it? I mean, for the long haul? Through sickness and in health and all of it?"
"That's the question, isn't it? I've never believed I could."
"But you think with Lee there might be a chance?"
He wanted to believe it so badly his teeth ached. But he just shrugged. "Maybe."
She leaned back, studied him for a while, then looked at her hands. Finally, her gaze came back to him. "All I can do is tell you what I think. It could be completely wrong, though, so you have to take it with a grain of salt."
He nodded.
"I think you need to trust your instincts. The big risk here is losing her for good, am I right?"
"Yeah," he said, just hearing her say the words making him sick to his stomach.
"As long as I've known you, you've never seen yourself as a marrying kind of man. Whether you are or not isn't as important as what you believe you are. Because I think we create it. All of it. With our attitudes and beliefs, even if we don't understand them. Even if they bring only pain."
"So by believing I'll never make it in a marriage, I'll make it come true?"
She nodded. "It's a real shame, though. I think you and Lee make an incredible couple. That if things had been just a little bit different, you could have had it all."
"Like Ben and Katy?"
"Like Ben and Katy."
His longing was so strong he couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. Like a penniless kid with his nose pressed to the candy store window, he wished a miracle would fill his empty emotional pockets. "You don't think I can change the way I believe, huh?"
"Maybe. Maybe if you love her enough, you can. But I won't lie. I've never seen anyone change something so fundamental about themselves. Not that it can't happen," she added, obviously sensing his disappointment.
"The risk is pretty big."
"Yeah. The reward could be pretty big, too." For an instant her nose was pressed to the candy store window, too.
In the sympathetic silence, Trevor weighed the pros and cons. "I don't want to give her up," he said at last.
"You don't have to."
"But I can't keep sleeping with her. That'll only make things worse, right?"
"Trevor, why don't you ask her?"
He almost dropped the water glass, but made a quick recovery. "Ask her? About this?"
Susan nodded, "She knows you better than anyone."
"Sure, but—"
"Trust her. She's your friend, first."
He put his glass on the table, then rested his elbows on his knees, staring straight down to the plush white carpet beneath his feet. He thought about talking to Lee about this. What a minefield that conversation would be. One false step, and kaboom, his most treasured friend could be gone in a flash.
He looked up again, catching Susan in an unguarded moment, the pain and sadness on her face so clear, so present, it made his own heart ache. Then it was gone, and she looked cool and calm once more. But he'd seen the truth. The kind of pain only losing someone you love can bring.
Panic drove him to his feet. "Thanks, kiddo. I'll let you get back to your regularly scheduled life now."
"Oh, joy," she said dryly. "Another night of television. Yahoo."
He went over to her and bent down to kiss her cheek. Then he took her free hand in his, and brought it up to his lips. He kissed her there, too. "You take care of yourself, okay?"
She nodded. "I always do."
* * *
Lee left the doctor's office, moving with the flow of the busy lunchtime foot traffic, but not really paying attention to where she was going. The shock of the doctor's words still reverberated through her body, centering on the small life that was unequivocally growing inside her. No more doubts, no more hedging her bets. This was real.
She had to tell Trevor. It was as much his reality as her own, and he deserved to be a participant from the beginning. Not on the phone, though. She needed to see his reaction, even though she already had a good idea what it would be.
He'd undoubtedly ask her about marriage, but she was prepared. He'd never know what was in her heart and feel forced to do the traditionally expected "right thing." After a while, she felt sure she'd learn to accept that it had to be this way. And the ache that had begun at the moment of her decision would ease in time. She'd be preoccupied, busy gestating as she prepared for the next phase of her life. Surely, she'd have no time for regrets. Right?
She turned onto Lexington Avenue
, then got her cellular phone from her purse. As she dialed Trevor's number, she noticed that half the people walking by her were talking on the phone. What an odd phenomenon. The phone rang several times, but it was his machine that answered, not him. After his brief message, she said, "Call me. I'd like to see you tonight, okay? Bye." Then she called her own machine, and the first message told her she needn't have tendered the invitation. Trevor's voice, kind of echoey and distant, told her that he was on his way to California, to the Napa Valley where he was going to finish his article. He'd be back next week. Hope she felt better. Click.
Dammit. She shoved the antenna down a little too forcefully, then had to unbend the slim wire before she could slip the phone into her purse. It seemed odd that he'd gone to California without telling her. They'd seen each other just the other night, and had spoken on the phone yesterday. It wasn't like him.
Normally, she knew his schedule, at least the big picture, a week or two in advance.
Some opportunity must have popped up from his interview, that's all. It wasn't about her, and it wasn't about them. Just work.
But now she was really in a jam. She couldn't tell the rest of the gang, not before she told him. Which was going to make things quite horrible, as she was constitutionally incapable of keeping a secret for longer than twenty minutes.
Maybe she could just tell Katy. No. No, it wouldn't be fair. Trevor had a right to be first.
Stepping to the curb, she signaled a cab. Although her mind was elsewhere, she still had to work for a living. Tonight, she'd lay low. Maybe not even answer the phone. She planned on stopping at the bookstore on her way home and picking up a pregnancy primer. That would keep her busy.
It was a good plan, one that would have worked, except for the knock on her door at seven-thirty. After reading about the expense of having a child, she fervently hoped it was going to be Ed McMahon and the prize patrol, but it turned out to be Peter.
"Is this okay?" he asked.
"Are you busy?"
She shook her head, gesturing him inside. "No rehearsal tonight?"
"Nope. The director and the diva both have the flu. At least, that's what they claim. Personally, I think they're having a lovers' spat. Either that, or they're running off to get married."
"Sounds complicated."
Peter flopped on her couch, smiling as George and Ira came to welcome him. "It's theater," he said. "It's always complicated."
She smiled as she headed for the kitchen. "What can I get you?"
"You have any Yoo-Hoos?"
"But, of course, my dear." She didn't like the chocolate drink herself, but she always kept a few in the fridge in case Peter stopped by. He was addicted to the stuff. "What's up?"
"I had to tell someone," he said. "I couldn't hold it in any longer."
He sounded so excited that Lee hurried back, handing him his drink and perching on the edge of her chair. Even without his enthusiastic words she could see something big was going on. His hair was rumpled, as if he'd forgotten to comb it this morning, and his handsome face was flushed, as if he'd run all the way here.
"It's Andy."
"Yes?"
He filled his lungs with air, then let it all out in one big whoosh. "I know this sounds crazy, and I know it's happened really fast, but Lee, he's the one."
She grinned, feeling his happiness as if by osmosis. In all the years she'd known Peter, he'd never been like this. No one had ever been "the one," not even Jude.
"I didn't expect it at all," he said, standing up, his energy clearly too powerful for him to keep still. "I'd liked him back in college, but it wasn't enough to stop the presses or anything." He went behind the couch, to the bookcase, scanning the titles, but not really seeing them, she guessed, just giving his eyes something to do. Then he turned back to her, his smile making her laugh out loud.
