Her Motherhood Wish

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  The sun exploded inside him. Burning him. Giving him the most acute pleasure. And hurting, too. “His father definitely wants to know him,” he said, knowing that with those words he’d just changed his life.

  That there’d be complications and struggles and challenges beyond what he could see.

  But he couldn’t take the words back. Didn’t even want to try.

  Chapter Ten

  “I clearly have no idea what I’m doing.” Cassie sat with her mom Sunday afternoon in chairs they’d brought out to the beach. As soon as she’d called to let her mother know about the week she’d had, the scare, and the better than not outcome, Susan Anderson had insisted on driving down from Mission Viejo, leaving her husband, Richard, at home to handle business there.

  Sipping from an insulated water bottle, Cassie lodged the rubber-lidded metal container in the sand beside her and stretched her legs out. The chair was only a few inches above the ground and made it easy for her to get comfortable.

  Physically.

  Emotionally she was completely the opposite.

  “You always know what you’re doing,” her mother said, hands folded across the black spandex of the one-piece suit that showed her fifty-six-year-old slimness off to perfection. Cassie hoped to have a body half as nice as her mom’s when she got to be that age.

  “You always have,” Susan continued, her gaze blocked by the dark-lensed sunglasses she wore. But Cassie could pretty much see her expression anyway. Susan was not a warm, fuzzy woman—until it came to her only child. Cassie had never found her mother lacking in compassion, nurturing and support. “I remember one time when you were three or four. You were only allowed an hour a day of television, and then it had to be only material made exclusively for toddlers and young children. But one night you turned on a rather intense police procedural and were sitting in the living room watching it. I saw what you were doing but was more curious about why than I was ready to stop you. You kept looking behind you and then would turn the volume up louder. Eventually your dad came out of his den, where he went at night to watch his shows while I gave you a bath and read to you. He took the remote and turned off the television, reminding you gently that you’d already had your hour for the day and that those shows weren’t good for you.”

  Cassie listened, not at all sure where this was going, but fascinated, just the same. Her mom rarely talked about the years she’d been married to Alan Thompson. Never when Richard was around, which was pretty much always.

  “You nodded, and when he sat down, you climbed up into his lap, wrapped your arms around him and just sat there.”

  She had no memory of the moment her mother was retelling, but she could remember sitting on her dad’s lap many times during her growing-up years. She’d always felt so safe and secure in his arms. Except when he’d been hugging her goodbye to go on deployment. She’d hated those times.

  “I asked you later why you turned on the TV when you knew you weren’t allowed to do so, though I’d already figured it out...”

  Cassie waited. Trying to remember her little-girl self, to remember how she’d felt or what she might have said. Her guess was she’d wanted to know what her father was watching. Or to watch it with him.

  “You said that you thought Daddy was lonely and so you were making our room more like his so he’d come out and be with us.”

  Oh.

  Tearing up, she glanced at her mother. Wishing so hard she could remember having said that.

  “Why haven’t you ever told me this before?”

  Susan shrugged, shaking her head. “I’d honestly forgotten it. Just...hearing you talk about this man, Wood, the way you’re worrying about him being in your baby’s life, but not being able to be a real father to him...it just reminded me...”

  Silence descended, except for the sounds of a few of her distant neighbors out enjoying their stretch of the little private beach. Cassie had told her mother pretty much everything about Wood, other than her very private feelings for him. As soon as she’d heard herself tell the man he could be in her baby’s life, she’d known that she’d opened a door that could have painful and perhaps catastrophic consequences.

  “It’s not like Wood has indicated, in any way, that he’d like us to even go on a date, but I have a feeling that if I allowed it, Wood would marry me because of the baby,” she said aloud. “In the moment, even knowing him as short a time as I have, the idea is tempting, but then life would settle down, and who knows what we’d find together? If anything. I can’t be responsible for breaking up another marriage...”

  “Another?” Susan took off her sunglasses and stared at Cassie. “What marriage did you break up? And why don’t I know about it?”

  “I broke up you and Dad,” she said, looking her mother right in the eye. “You don’t think I know that?”

  “Whatever gave you that idea?”

  “I heard you arguing, Mom, though I don’t have specific memories of the words you said.” She could remember the fights, though. The anger in her mother’s voice. And the sadness in her dad’s. “I asked Dad about it once when I was in high school. And he told me that it had been his fault, but it wasn’t really. He said that when it was just the two of you, you working all the time was fine, especially with him being away. But that once I’d come around, he wanted me to have the kind of home life he’d never had. He wanted you to be a stay-at-home mom. He didn’t want me in daycare, or being raised by non–family members.”

  “That’s true,” Susan said, nodding but still frowning. “But that wasn’t why we broke up, sweetie. We broke up because while we got along, we weren’t happy together. We were too different. Wanted different things, not just with you but with a lot of things. I wanted to be successful. To have a nice home with a pool, beautiful landscaping and a kiva fireplace out back. He wanted a cottage with grass in the yard.”

  As she listened to her mother talk, Cassie smiled to herself. Her mother had just pretty much described Cassie’s home—both parts. Her cottage-style home had some grass in the front yard and she didn’t have the pool, but she had the beach. And the landscaping. She was the best of both of her parents.

  Her Alan deserved that. To be able to access the best of both of his parents.

  “So...why did the two of you get married in the first place?” she asked softly, a question she’d been carrying around for about as long as she could remember. And had never asked her dad because she’d been afraid the answer would hurt him too much.

  “Because I was pregnant with you.”

  “What!” Sitting forward, mouth hanging open, she stared back at her mother. “I was born a year after your wedding.”

  Susan shook her head. “Your father didn’t want you to ever think you weren’t wanted, or were a mistake, so we fudged the date of our anniversary.”

  “You’re kidding me.” She said the words. Needed them to be true so her world didn’t tilt so far off its axis, but she was reading the real truth in Susan’s gaze.

  “As you know, we met at work the summer my folks died and our first date was at a beach bonfire,” Susan was saying. “We’d both just graduated, and he was on his way to boot camp, just like we told you. He was different from any guy I’d ever known. Sensitive. And extremely good-looking. He was in great shape. I was trying to forget my father’s death, and he sensed that I wasn’t in the same frame of mind as the rest of the kids that night. He just seemed to know. One thing led to another and...”

  “...you didn’t use protection?”

  “He didn’t have any and I...was a virgin, actually. I know, hard to believe, in this day and age, that a woman would make it all the way through school without having sex, but, like you, I graduated high school early, and I’ve always been very focused.” Susan chuckled, and Cassie smiled, too. She’d inherited a good bit of that professional mind-set.

  “I’d never even considered hav
ing sex that night,” Susan continued softly, looking out at the ocean, sounding almost...nostalgic. “But I felt so much better, just being with him. I drank some wine. And...” Susan shrugged. “My life changed irrevocably that night, but I wasn’t sorry,” she said, still looking at Cassie. “I tell you that with complete and utter honesty. I have never regretted having you. Or knowing your father, for that matter. I regret hurting him, more than you’ll probably ever know. But I’m also convinced that my divorcing him hurt less in the long run than if I’d stayed. At least we were able to remain friends.”

  She’d never really thought of them that way—her parents as friends. Adults with their own relationship. Had figured they remained kind and polite to each other because they shared her. But maybe there’d been more than that... Maybe she’d have seen more if he’d still been alive after she graduated high school.

  “My point in all this was not to talk about your father. Or me. But to tell you to trust your heart, Cass. You’ve always managed to find a way to accomplish what you need to accomplish—even at three or four years old and hurting for your lonely daddy. You knowingly broke the rules, something you pretty much never did, you know, to accomplish what you felt needed to be accomplished. Think about it...you were a toddler, and yet you somehow knew not to come to me with that particular problem. You knew you had to find a way to take care of it. And you did.” Susan smiled, her eyes a bit misty, but she didn’t hide them behind her glasses as she might ordinarily have done. “I can’t believe I’d forgotten about that night. It defines you, Cass. It’s the you I’ve always known and loved.”

  Cassie didn’t know about all that. “I snuck out with Drake and had sex,” she blurted out, naming the boyfriend from her senior year of high school. “We drank beer a few times, too.”

  Nodding, Susan continued to smile. “I know.”

  Frowning again, Cassie sat back, wondering if she should just go back to bed and start the day over. See if it would run a more normal course. “You knew?”

  “Of course I knew. You left a condom wrapper in the back pocket of your jeans. And threw away a beer bottle in your bathroom trash. You wanted me to know. And that’s why I worked hard to find a way to keep the two of you on my radar any time you were together after that.”

  She didn’t purposely do either of those things. But she couldn’t believe she’d been that careless, either. So unlike her.

  “Like I said,” Susan said, putting her glasses back on, “you always know what you’re doing, Cass. You just might not always be honest with yourself about that.”

  Okay, say she went with that...

  “So what am I doing with Wood?”

  This time when Susan removed her dark lenses, her expression was completely serious. “I have no idea. But I know that you’re doing what you need to do, and that you’ll make it right, somehow.”

  “So you think it’s wrong?”

  “No! Absolutely not. What do you think this whole conversation has been about? Trust yourself, Cassie. I mean that—whatever happens, you’ll make it right. You’ll do what you need to do to be the caring, considerate decent person you are. And you’ll do all you can to help those around you be as happy as they can be, too.”

  She needed to believe that.

  Wanted to believe it. But didn’t always see herself that way. Shouldn’t she have fallen in love by now, had a family the traditional way, if she was such a good person?

  “You’ve never done anything in a traditional way,” her mother said, leaning her head back against the seat and burying her manicured toes in the sand. “Of course, your father and I didn’t give you a traditional upbringing, but even with the choice to have a baby...you wanted to fall in love, to marry, but you didn’t settle for less when that didn’t happen. Instead, you found a different way to have the family you need and want.”

  Yeah, she was good with the insemination choice. It was just...

  “What if he’s the one?” The question escaped, emitting a dark cloud of emotion inside and outside Cassie. Her stomach clenched, and she rubbed the tiny baby bump, knowing that she had to keep calm. For Alan’s sake.

  Alan. Her son. Who didn’t have leukemia. Thank God. A thousand times over.

  “What if, down the road, when life settles, we still feel the same way about each other? What if he really is the guy I’ve been looking for my entire life?”

  “How can he be? He’s already made up his mind. Even though he says he’s attracted to you, and he’s attentive, he’s not going to trust that it could be anything more than that. He’s already closed his heart to the possibility. I’m guessing he was irrevocably changed by his failed marriage. And in fairness to him, he’s probably right to do so. You’re far more like his ex-wife than not.” Susan’s words didn’t hold even a hint of hope.

  And she knew why she’d broached the subject with her mother.

  She’d needed to hear the truth.

  And she just had.

  Chapter Eleven

  Wood told Elaina the results of Cassie’s amniocentesis Sunday evening. He listened to every word of her medical translation of them, focusing completely, asking questions. He needed to know all scenarios, possibilities and outcomes, suspected causes and lifetime prognosis. Basically, there was little threat to life because the condition had been identified early on, and likely prognosis was normal birth, healthy baby.

  Elaina did say that Cassie and the baby would be monitored closely. The pregnancy would likely be designated high risk, simply because of the monitoring, but that there was little cause for worry.

  Wood was worried anyway. That was unusual for him, even if he was not just a sperm donor, because he tended to be the strength others leaned on. Even when his mother died, he’d spent little time on his own grief, thinking instead of how it was affecting his brother and what he could do to smooth Peter’s way. When Peter had died, his mind had been consumed with thoughts of Elaina—assessing her needs, taking care of all he could.

  Much like he was thinking of Cassie, he realized. Constantly.

  But that tiny life growing inside her... He had no idea how to help it. No concept of a “sit and wait,” hands-off regimen. Which left him uneasy. Unsure of himself.

  The feelings were new, and not at all welcome, filling his mind with questions that had no answers, as opposed to actions he could take.

  Added to the confusion was the new role he had—the no-name, no-definition role. He would be a welcome figure in the life of his biological child. What did that mean?

  Confusion kept him from contacting Cassie the rest of the weekend. He needed some space—and figured she might want distance, too—while he sorted out how he handled the drastic turn his life was taking, while, on the surface, it didn’t change at all.

  It wasn’t like he was preparing for a new baby. For his first child. He had no obligations and no rights to be a provider. There were no announcements to make to his coworkers, no upcoming additions to his insurance plan, no medical arrangements to make for the birth.

  There wasn’t even the need to clear his schedule. It wasn’t like he’d have a seat in the delivery room. Or be present for a single middle-of-the-night feeding.

  And yet...he cared more about Cassie and her baby than he’d cared for anything in his life.

  He caught a couple of guys looking oddly at him at work on Monday. Like he had some kind of vicarious pregnancy glow or something. The idea amused him. He went with it, until Gerald, his next in command, mentioned that he’d groused at a couple of guys, asking if something was wrong.

  “Just some personal business,” he told the man he’d been working with for more than a decade. “Not even bad business, just trying to figure out the best way to handle it,” he added. Lying wasn’t his style. But neither was baring his soul.

  “Financial stuff,” Gerald said. They were standing together on site, on a two-mi
nute, drain-a-water-bottle break, watching as their crew measured, cut, squared and nailed. “I’m telling you, man, you need to hire someone to handle that for you. I got it in the beginning, when you were just dabbling, but now...”

  Gerald knew he’d had some luck with investments. In the beginning, Wood had talked about it. Because the amounts he’d risked had been small and he’d never expected his activities to amount to anything. Over the years, he’d been more quiet about it. Gerald had no idea how much luck Wood had managed to gain for himself. Nor would he.

  He didn’t want anyone treating him any differently. Money couldn’t buy what mattered most. And it could go as easily as it came.

  Pulling some bills out of his wallet, Wood handed them to Gerald. “Take the guys out for a beer after work,” he said. “With my apologies.”

  Gerald stared at the money like it was covered with vomit. “Why ain’t you doing it?”

  “I’ve got to figure this thing out,” he said. “Plan to work on it as soon as we’re out of here,” he added, tossing his empty water bottle into the dumpster and getting back to work. He generally moved around to different jobs on the crew, working beside his guys, and had chosen to run a nail gun that day.

  It wasn’t like his jobs were the only ones out there, and he liked his crew as it was. Although, from what he’d been told, the guys liked his way of doing things—assembly-line style—as much as he liked having them on his team.

  The conversation with Gerald was a warning to him that he couldn’t spend another day in a quandary as he had the previous one and a half. He had to be doing something. An active life was a healthy life.

  A mind left to wander tended to get lost.

  Both sayings his mother had often repeated—and had made into wall art that had hung above the kitchen table when he and Peter were young. Those pieces of painted wood were old, faded and peeling now, but they were still hanging in his work shed, nailed to the inside of the door.