The Surprise of a Lifetime

by Emilie Richards

He had made a tentative grocery list and gotten a prom­ise that they would deliver whatever he ordered in the early evening before he began to worry about Robin. She should have been downstairs by now. He had called up to her once to let her know he and Nicholas were ready. He went to the bottom of the stairs and tried again, but she still didn’t ap­pear.

  “What do you think, champ? Maybe I ought to go get her?”

  Nicholas, who was happily settled in a playpen with a new cloth book Devin had brought for him, just cooed and waved the book in answer. Then he began to gnaw at it.

  Devin took the steps two at a time. He hesitated at Robin’s door, then knocked softly. There was no answer.

  He pushed open the door and stuck his head inside. “Robin?”

  She had taken him at his word. She had lain down to rest, and now she was fast asleep.

  For a moment he considered leaving her that way. She certainly needed the rest. But he knew she would be mad or embarrassed, or both, if he did. If she had to, she could sleep on a blanket in the meadow where the Fitzgerald men were planning to entertain her.

  He crossed the room and sat on the bed beside her. She had changed into jeans, black jeans tight enough to stim­ulate his imagination—as well as a more visible portion of his anatomy. She had topped them with a royal blue tank top, and she had a buffalo plaid flannel shirt clutched in her hand, apparently to wear over it.

  He wondered if Robin had any idea how hard he was finding all of this. He spent four days a month with Nich­olas. During those four days he was lucky to spend two hours with Robin. He lived on dreams of her. He remem­bered the night they had made love. Everything had been so easy, so perfect. They had fit together as if they had been created for that one purpose alone. As passion had built he’d lost whatever objectivity he had started with and made love to her without thought of the future or of keeping a part of himself inviolate.

  And the next morning he’d found himself in bed alone.

  He had done everything wrong from that point on. He had been reluctant to follow up a perfect night with tele­phone calls, recriminations and pleas. He had known she must have been upset, to leave without saying goodbye. He had promised himself he would look for her again, when the time was right. But the time hadn’t been right soon enough.

  He reached out to stroke her hair. He liked her hair short, although he suspected he would like it any way she wore it. The top was still long enough to sift through his fingers when he touched it. He liked the way it swirled like fine black silk when she shook her head. He liked the way it fell into her eyes, the way she pushed it over her ears, the way it adorned her cheeks and the back of her neck.

  He was a lovesick fool.

  She was sleeping so soundly that his touch didn’t wake her. He drew one index finger over her ear and across her cheek to the corner of her lips. He remembered exactly what those lips had felt like as he’d kissed them. She was a generous woman, and for those brief hours they’d had to­gether, she had held back nothing. He wanted to test her lips now, test their softness, their heat, their acceptance of his kiss. He knew better, but he was seized with a longing so fierce that he found he had kissed her before he could talk himself out of it.

  Her eyes opened slowly, and, still deep in dreams, he supposed, she smiled at him.

  “A kiss for Sleeping Beauty.” He sat up slowly. “I couldn’t think of any other way to wake you.”

  “It’s time-honored.” She smiled sleepily.

  “For good reasons.” He smiled, too. He was almost afraid to breathe, terrified that something would break the spell.

  Something did. A wail started downstairs.

  Her eyes widened, and sleep fled. “You left Nicholas alone?”

  “It’s okay. He’s in his playpen. It was just for a minute.”

  “Oh.”

  He stood before she could say anything else. “I’ll get him. If you’re too tired to go on the picnic…?”

  “No, I’m coming.”

  “We’re ready when you are.” He made it to the door and beyond. She hadn’t protested; she hadn’t complained. He had kissed her, and she had smiled at him.

  He was grinning as he clattered down the stairs to get their son.

  * * *

  “We’re going to squash the wildflowers.” Robin looked with alarm at the meadow Devin had chosen for their pic­nic. The afternoon was warm, and bees and butterflies had claimed it as their own. The meadow was only half a mile from the farmhouse through a forest of oak and wild cherry and across a narrow creek with a stepping-stone bridge. She had hiked here once before with Nicholas on her hip, but that day the journey had seemed a hundred miles. Now, with Devin carrying their son, it had only taken minutes.

  “What do you suppose happens to wildflowers at the first frost?” Devin held out his hand.

  “They burrow underground and wait out the winter?”

  “Not exactly. They go squish. Jack Frost steps on them. Think of us as gardeners, spreading seeds for next year’s meadow on the soles of our shoes.”

  She took his hand with some reluctance. This was en­tirely too cozy to suit the most rational part of her. Her, Devin, Nicholas. A field of nodding wildflowers and a vast, cloudless sky.

  He tucked her hand under his arm as if he was afraid she might change her mind. They started down a dirt path. “It would have been a sin not to spend this day outside.”

  “Did you come here as a boy?”

  “When I was a boy this area was fenced for cattle. I sup­pose I ought to rent it out for pasture. Sarah and her hus­band did. But I love the idea of it lying here, basking in the sun and producing nothing except chicory and daisy flea­bane and black-eyed Susans.”

  “You know something about everything. You’re surpris­ingly eclectic.”

  “For a rock musician?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “No, I did. It’s easy, doing what I do, to forget about ev­erything except the day-to-day trappings of fame and for­tune.”

  “I forget sometimes that you have women all over the world sighing as the sound of your voice comes from their stereos.”

  “You forget sometimes?”

  “Not often,” she admitted.

  “I didn’t think so. It’s always between us. My other life has yet to intrude, but it’s always there in your mind.”

  She wasn’t about to confess that she had bought every one of Devin’s CDs and that she played them for Nicholas whenever Devin had been away from them for too long. And articles. Lord, the articles she’d read. She regularly stopped by the library to search out the gossip magazines to find out what Devin was doing when he wasn’t with her. And now she had a subscription of her own to Rolling Stone, although she hid her growing collection when she knew Devin was going to be in town.

  “Isn’t your fame always in the back of your mind?” she asked. “Don’t you always wonder if people react to you as a person or a rock star?”

  “People in general, maybe. You? No.”

  She thought his words were a compliment and she nearly smiled.

  “I know you’re just reacting to me as rock star.” He grinned over his shoulder as she narrowed her eyes. “I’m kidding.”

  “Well, there’s some truth to it.”

  “Is there?”

  “Don’t you think this whole thing would be easier if you weren’t who you are?”

  “Sure. I think we’d be married now and starting on our second baby. You would have called me after our night to­gether to tell me you were pregnant. I would have dragged you to the altar. Now I’d get up in the mornings and plow the back forty or deliver babies for a living. You’d stay home, change diapers and feel resentful that you’d been forced to marry a stranger.”

  “Not exactly a stranger. Close.”

  “The point is that any scenario can be easy or hard, de­pending on what we make of it. Musician. Farmer. Doctor. Lover. Friend. Husband.” He shrugged.

  “You’ve made this scenario as
easy as you can. I’m…sur­prised.”

  “What did you expect?”

  “Honestly? Bribes I’d have to refuse, for starters. Calls from your manager telling me you were too busy to come this or that month. Expensive guilty gifts for Nicholas be­cause you’d forgotten to show up. Instead, everything seems effortless. You always appear at the front door right when you’re supposed to. Alone. Without camera crews or flun­kies.”

  “It’s not effortless.”

  He didn’t say anything more, but Robin could imagine the rest. She had seen a little of the way Devin lived. She didn’t know how he managed to get in and out of airports without detection. Or how he cleared his schedule without alerting a dozen people where he would be and why.

  “Thanks for giving us this time without everything else,” she said. “No hoopla. No media circus. Just a father with his son.”

  “You said ‘us.’”

  She could feel a stammer coming on. She grabbed a breath of sweet autumn air. “I meant ‘us.’ It’s not easy being a single mom. Being a single mom with reporters camped on her front lawn sounds even worse.”

  “You could send them out for groceries. Make them do the laundry.”

  She laughed. “Maybe one of them would baby-sit occa­sionally.”

  “I’ve tried to make things easier on you,” he said, serious again. “As easy as you’ll let me. But you know one day things will change, don’t you?”

  “I don’t want to think about that now. Not today.”

  “Whatever happens, Robin, please don’t forget we’re in this together. We can solve any problem that arises as long as we don’t let it come between us.”

  She thought about that as they lapsed into a friendly si­lence. What exactly was there to come between? Surely he had only meant that they were two people de­voted to bring­ing up a happy, healthy child. He hadn’t meant to imply more.

  But he had kissed her today. Twice. And now he was holding her hand. When she had awakened from her nap, he had been smiling down at her as if he had just discov­ered the answer to all of life’s questions.

  She was walking a dangerous path. Not the rambling cow path through a wildflower meadow. But a path destined to bring her to the edge of the great divide that separated her life from Devin Fitzgerald’s.

  * * *

  She was lovely in sunshine, lovely in shadow. Right now, sun-dappled shade painted patterns on Robin’s cheeks, cheeks that were definitely too pale. Devin was frustrated that she wouldn’t take his money or let him do anything to make her life easier. He supposed her integrity was one of the first things he had fallen in love with, so it was unfair to be judgmental. But for months he had watched her try­ing to carry all her burdens alone, and he had swallowed anger that she wouldn’t let him share them.

  “He’s actually asleep.” Robin lifted her hand from Nich­olas’s fanny, a fanny she had been patting for ten long min­utes as the exhausted baby fought a nap.

  “Once he’s down, it takes an earthquake to wake him.” Devin beckoned from the blanket beside the one where Nicholas snoozed in the shade of an oak. “Come over here. He’ll be fine.”

  She seemed reluctant to stretch out beside him, but she fussed with Nicholas’s blanket for a moment, then joined Devin on his, sitting cross-legged on the far corner.

  “Why don’t you take a nap, too?” He crossed his arms be­hind his head and pretended he hadn’t noticed she was still four feet away.

  “And what would you do?”

  “I’d sit here and watch you sleep.”

  “I doubt it. You’re not a patient man.”

  “No? You’d be amazed at how patient I can be.” He stared up at the sky and held his breath.

  He heard movement, but he didn’t look at her. He just kept staring at the clouds.

  “All right, Devin. Exactly what are you looking at up there?”

  He turned his head just far enough to see that she was lying beside him. Not close beside him, but within general touching distance. He turned back to the sky. “It’s Mother Nature’s version of the Rorschach test.”

  “Inkblots?”

  “Cloud blots. What do you see?”

  She was silent for a while. He wondered if she thought he was being silly. “Sea horses and picket fences.”

  “Picket fences?”

  “There.”

  He supposed she was pointing, but he refused to look. “You’re too far away. We’re looking at different clouds. Come closer.”

  “They’re the same clouds.”

  “But from different perspectives.”

  She edged a little closer. He could hear her sliding along the blanket. “Uh-uh. Same clouds here, too. But the sea horses are gone. Changed into…dolphins.”

  He edged toward her. “Don’t move. I’m going to try to see them your way.” He stopped before he got so close that she scooted away again. “Let’s see now. Dolphins? Nope. I see…Charlie Chaplin.”

  “What?”

  “There. The Little Tramp. See his cane and hat?”

  “Nope.”

  “Now that surprises me. He’s putting on a show for you.”

  “What else do you see?”

  “Bow ties. Circus tents. Madison Square Garden.”

  “Come on…”

  “Actually, that’s where I have to be after I leave tomor­row.”

  “You’re doing a concert there soon, aren’t you?”

  He turned to look at her. “How did you know?”

  Her eyes widened innocently. “I guess I saw it some­where.”

  “Would you like to come?”

  Her head turned, and her eyes met his. “You know I can’t. I can’t leave Nicholas, and I sure can’t bring him with me.”

  “We don’t have to put a sign on his forehead saying he’s my love child.”

  “Love child?”

  He turned away from her and back to the clouds. “Do you like the alternatives better?”

  “How about son?”

  “The night that Nicholas was created, I was more than a little bit in love with his mother. Love child fits.”

  He heard her draw a sharp breath.

  “I wonder,” he continued. “Was she a little bit in love with me, too?”

  Robin was silent.

  “I think she was,” he said.

  “We shouldn’t have discussions like this one, Devin,” she said at last. “What’s the point? You were right a while ago when you said we ought to give friendship a try, for Nich­olas’s sake. But anything else will make this even harder.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “We both know there’s…feeling between us. We spent the night together once. We delivered a baby together. We’re watching him grow up together.”

  “‘Feeling’ covers a lot of ground.” He rolled onto his side and propped his head on his hand. “What feeling is there between us, exactly?”

  She stared at the clouds. “There’s more than one, wouldn’t you say?”

  “What feelings?”

  “Anger, for one. Distrust. Fear.”

  “Uh-huh.” He touched her cheek and forced her to turn her head. “But it’s not like you to see only one side of some­thing.”

  “Then maybe it’s your turn.” Her eyes were so vulnera­ble that for a moment he wanted to look away. But he didn’t.

  “I’m not angry with you,” he said softly.

  “You’re angry that I won’t let you do more.”

  “Frustrated. I want to make your life easy. And trust? I’d trust you with my life. You’re honest and fair. Intelligent. And you have a down-to-earth wisdom that impresses me every time I’m with you. As for fear…”

  “Devin…”

  “You’re the only one who’s afraid. But your fear is be­tween us. You’re right about that.”

  “I don’t know who you are. Are you the man who struts around onstage with women screaming and guitars wailing? Or are you the man who comes to visit Nicholas? The man who brings his s
on floppy-eared stuffed bunnies and tells him hair-raising stories about his own childhood.”

  He smiled. “Has Nick been passing those on to you? I told him that was guy stuff.”

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m the man who fathered your son, the man you’re looking at with those beautiful brown eyes. I’m exactly that man and no one else.”

  “You’re a millionaire who can buy anything and any­body. You have close friends who use drugs and language I don’t want Nicholas to hear. You were married to a woman who looks great in videos but has absolutely no soul. You have more women beating down the stage door every night and offering their bodies, and a manager to keep them away from you the next morning. I don’t understand your life, and I’m afraid I don’t understand you.”

  His hand still lay against her cheek. “Are you done yet?”

  “More than done.”

  “I hope that means you know you went too far.”

  Her eyes were still vulnerable. “You wanted to know what I feel.”

  “You feel confused. I hear that. Let me clear up some of the confusion. I can buy things, probably anything I really want. But I don’t buy people. Not ever. And I don’t aban­don my friends when they need me, whether I like their choices of recreation or language or not. I work on the campaign for a Drug Free America, and that’s enough said about that.”

  “You don’t have—”

  He ignored her. “I married a woman I thought I loved be­cause I was unbearably lonely. She was a good actress—even better in real life than she is in videos, by the way. I knew three weeks into it that I’d made a serious mistake. I learned everything I needed to know about relationships in the next year, and I never make the same mistake twice. And yes, there are women offering themselves to me at regular intervals and more pretending I’ve accepted their offers than there are nights in the year. But, Robin, I gave up cas­ual sex a long time ago. There was nothing casual about the night you and I spent together. And I’ve never given up on love.”

  “What do you want from me, Devin?”

  “I want you to open your eyes. I want you to believe what you see.” She didn’t answer, and he was glad. Clearly the time had passed when talking was going to do any good. He sighed. He was as afraid of his next move as he had ever been of anything. But he was compelled to make it anyway.