Another Man's Child

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  “Oh, my God! You’re pregnant!” Blanche said, loudly enough for all the tables around them to hear. Marcus had actually managed to forget for a few brief minutes.

  “Yes, I am. Sixteen weeks today,” Lisa said gently, looking at Marcus.

  He smiled at her. He’d prepared himself for the fact that their many acquaintances would naturally assume that Lisa’s baby was his. He could handle having to claim the child in public situations. After all, he’d been handling Marge’s questions for weeks, and had managed to relay information about his wife’s child just fine without thinking about it in terms of himself.

  Blanche inspected Lisa’s stomach once more before looking at Marcus as if he’d just amassed another million. “Oh, Marcus, congratulations. A Cartwright heir! Your mother and father would have been so pleased.”

  He felt like he’d been slapped. He wasn’t ready for this. Not by a long shot.

  “Thank you,” he said, forcing himself to continue smiling as Lisa answered Blanche’s questions about the due date and late-night feedings. And watching his wife’s animated face, it came home to him just how much he was missing. Lisa was living their dream. He was on the outside looking in. And always would be.

  HE HAD TO WORK the next morning, but remembering the trouble Lisa had gotten herself into the previous Saturday, he handled only what absolutely had to be done before Monday morning’s meeting with his executives. He drove home with his head full of plans for a drive up the coast that afternoon. Maybe he and Lisa could stop at some seaside place for a late lunch and then spend the night at Haven’s Cove. Remembering their anniversary, the glorious idyll of forgetfulness they’d found in the little cabana there, he called from his car phone to make a reservation. And maybe they’d even get some snow while they were there, making it impossible for them to return.

  Recognizing in his high-handed approach to planning their lives a hint of desperation, Marcus pushed it away. He and Lisa were talking again. And though they were facing a very unorthodox situation, somehow they would make their marriage work. They loved each other too much not to.

  “Lisa?” he called, shrugging out of his overcoat and pulling off his tie as he walked in the front door. He’d left the Ferrari out front. It should only take him a couple of minutes to change into jeans and help Lisa pack an overnight bag.

  “I’m up here!”

  Marcus took the steps two at a time, eager to share his plans with her. The more he thought about it, the more he knew that a weekend away was just what they needed.

  “Pack a bag, Lis. We’re—” She wasn’t in their bedroom.

  “Lis?” he called, back out in the hall.

  “In here.”

  Marcus looked at the door across from him. The door he’d been avoiding. What was she doing in there now? He’d finished everything up in there so they wouldn’t have to go in again. At least not for a while. With reluctance, he approached the nursery.

  His good spirits evaporated when he saw what was inside. An entire room full of boxes—and his wife standing in the midst of them, dressed in a new pair of designer maternity jeans and a silk-embossed sweatshirt, grinning from ear to ear.

  “I knew you’d be mad if I tried to put this all together by myself, but please hurry and change, Marcus. I can’t wait to see how it all looks in here. I think we should put the crib over there. What do you think?”

  Marcus blanched, his plans for the weekend fading as he surveyed the number of boxes in the room. There was barely room to walk.

  “If that’s where you want it, Lis,” he said, calculating the hours it was going to take him to get all that stuff put together. “I’ll be right back.”

  Swallowing his disappointment, Marcus canceled the reservation he made for the night. Lisa was trying hard to make their marriage work. To allow him to help her, even though she knew he was only doing it for her, not for the child she carried. He couldn’t afford to waste her efforts.

  Pulling on a pair of sweatspants and a T-shirt, he decided to tackle the crib first, sensing his wife’s impatience to see it assembled, in spite of the fact that she’d never mentioned the furniture to him. Other than when she’d answered Blanche Goodwin’s questions the night before, she hadn’t mentioned the baby since last week, when he’d caught her sanding the nursery all alone.

  “I already brought up the electric drill and all the screwdriver bits,” she said. Marcus hoped he remembered how to use it. They had a shed full of tools, but they were for the gardeners and whatever handymen Hannah occasionally hired.

  Lisa’s excitement was contagious, and as they pulled the various pieces of the crib from the box and slowly put them together, Marcus started to relax.

  “Remember that waterbed we bought when we were first married?” he asked, grinning as he thought back to those invincible days.

  “What a mistake that was,” Lisa groaned, sliding the long plastic covering on the top bar of the crib. “It would’ve been nice if they’d told us beforehand that it was really nothing more than a million pieces of plywood.”

  “Or if we’d had any idea that the only real stability the thing had was after it was filled with water. But it was still kind of fun putting it together, wasn’t it, Lis? You were so damn cute strutting around with that tool belt on.”

  Lisa slid the plastic tube on the top bar of the other side of the crib. “I probably would’ve enjoyed it a whole lot more if I hadn’t just started medical school. All I could think about was how many hours it would be until I could get some sleep,” she said.

  “I wish I could’ve helped you more, honey. You practically killed yourself that first year, and I was so busy climbing my own ladder I didn’t even notice how tired you were half the time.” He tightened a bolt on the bottom of the crib.

  “Oh, no, Marcus! You were wonderful! Most of my classmates were working, and some were even raising families. Compared to them I was spoiled rotten. I had a wonderful home, no financial concerns, all the time I needed to study—and a lover who could always be depended upon to take my mind off whatever ailed me. You were what got me through medical school.” She handed him another bolt.

  “That’s not the way I remember it You wore yourself out.”

  “I was a woman in a predominantly male class. Whether it was true or not, I always felt like I had to do everything better than the rest, to prove I deserved the place I was taking up.”

  Marcus glanced at her, loving her more than ever. “It wasn’t just that. You had to learn everything there was to know, didn’t you, hon? So you could save all the little Saras in the world.”

  “I just needed to do my best,” Lisa said, rubbing her belly protectively. Soon, he could almost hear her saying. Soon her home would be filled with childish laughter again. And Marcus understood, more than ever, how much his wife needed the child she was carrying.

  “Hold this while I get the bar to slide into this end,” Marcus said suddenly, cursing himself for reminding her of painful times.

  Lisa’s breast brushed against Marcus’s hand as she moved to the other side of him. He fondled her nipple between two of his knuckles almost subconsciously for a second before she grabbed the edge of the headboard where he’d indicated. Her eyes were smoky as they met the sudden question in his.

  “Later, buster. We’ve got work to do,” she said, but she was smiling again.

  “Slave driver,” Marcus grumped cheerfully, filled with new incentive to get the job done. He could think of nothing better than losing himself in Lisa’s lovemaking.

  Inspecting the sides of the crib before he attached them to the frame, he assured himself that the bars were close enough together that a baby’s head couldn’t slip through.

  “How come you’re setting those springs so low?” Lisa asked as he was about to screw the bed together.

  “There’s going to be a mattress on top of them, Lis. You don’t want the baby to fall over the top when it starts to stand.”

  She grinned, warming the cold spots with
in him. “We can lower the springs later, as he grows. See, they’re adjustable. And at first, when he’ll only be lying down, I’ll need the mattress higher so I can reach him to lift him in and out.”

  Marcus looked over the crib again, picturing, for a second, a newborn baby lying there and Lisa trying to get to it. He raised the springs. For Lisa.

  He finished tightening the last screw and stood up, releasing the catch on the side of the crib to make certain that it lowered and raised as it should. Lisa pulled the mattress over and stood with it propped up against her leg.

  “It looks great. And you didn’t even swear!” she said, admiring his handiwork.

  Marcus glanced over at his wife. “Was I supposed to?”

  She grinned again. “I don’t know. It’s just that I always hear people talking about how guys swear putting cribs together.”

  “Oh, but I’m not ‘guys,’“ Marcus said, coming over to relieve her of the mattress. “I do a lot of things differently from most.”

  “I’m holding you to that,” Lisa said, her voice husky.

  He lifted the mattress easily, laying it on the springs he’d just fixed into the bottom of the crib, and was shocked by the surge of strange emotion that struck him. He was leaning over the crib just as he’d pictured Lisa doing a moment before. Except that this crib wasn’t his for leaning over. He wouldn’t be lifting a baby off this mattress. He’d never have a child of his own to tend to in the middle of the night. Clamping down on the raw agony that shot through him, he was filled with the old anger again, the cancerous rage that was as irrational as it was hopeless.

  “I’m going down to get a beer. You want something to drink?” he asked Lisa, straightening abruptly. He had to get out of there before he ripped the damned mattress apart.

  She was opening the package that contained the crib sheet. “Ice water would be nice,” she said, smiling her thanks. Her smile turned to a frown when she saw his face.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, immediately concerned. Her hands stilled.

  “Nothing. I’m just thirsty. I’ll be right back.” He wiped the sudden sweat from his brow as he headed for the stairs. He hadn’t had such a destructive surge of anger in weeks. He’d thought he was done with all that, that he’d come to terms with himself, his place in Lisa’s life. Now he was beginning to wonder if he ever would.

  “MARCUS!” LISA WAS calling, and Marcus reached out, but there were too many people around for him to get to her. All he could see was a flash of white. There were too many lights. The flurry of people made him dizzy with fear.

  Someone screamed Lisa, he thought, but as he pushed forward, knocking over the people in his way, he heard the doctor calmly order him outside. It took three sets of strong arms to arrest his progress, but they couldn’t get him to leave.

  “I need to operate,” the doctor said, and the flurry increased The noise was too loud, hurting his ears, and then suddenly all he could hear was crying. Lisa crying. Or was it him?

  Marcus sat up, his body drenched with sweat, which cooled his skin in the night air. His gaze flew to Lisa. She was breathing softly, regularly, her lovely face nestled in a corner of his pillow.

  His gaze strayed to the mound Lisa’s belly made beneath the covers. Please, God, let us get through this. All of us.

  LISA WAS IN THE DEN, reading literature she’d just received on a new strain of flu virus, while Marcus was on the telephone in their office. They’d both been in the office until Marcus’s conversation with George Blake had distracted Lisa to the point where she couldn’t concentrate.

  It was Monday, one week before Christmas, and she and Marcus were planning to go Christmas shopping. But first she had a presentation to prepare. She was going to be speaking at the free clinic staff meeting on Tuesday about this new strain of flu, and she wanted the staff well-informed. There had only been a couple of cases in New Haven thus far, but in other parts of New England the virus was rampant. The free clinic was bound to be hit the hardest.

  It usually started with a headache followed by—Lisa stopped reading as she felt a peculiar jolt in her belly. Her heart rate practically doubled as she sat completely still, waiting to see if it would happen again. It did. Another little jolt. And then another.

  Grinning from ear to ear, Lisa ran down the hall toward the office, bursting with joy at this, the first definite movement of her baby. She had to tell Marcus.

  He was still on the phone, but she rushed in, anyway, hoping he’d get a chance to feel the miracle, too. He looked up at her, a question in his eyes, and it was in that second it dawned on Lisa. He wouldn’t want to know her news. Marcus didn’t want to be his baby’s father. He wasn’t going to share in the little joys that parents share. Shaking her head at him, she turned and left the office, the rumble of his voice on the telephone nearly drowned out by the roaring in her ears.

  She couldn’t stand it. Dear God, she couldn’t live a lifetime of having every cause for celebration turned into a moment of sadness. What would happen when her child said his first word, took his first step, made the school play or hit a home run? When he came running into the house to share his news only to have his bubble burst by an indifferent father?

  Lisa wandered upstairs, telling herself it wouldn’t be like that, it wouldn’t be that bad. Marcus wasn’t heartless the way his own father had been. He’d come around. She went into the nursery, the room she and Marcus had built together—so much like they’d planned that she’d actually forgotten for a time that Marcus had done it all for her, not for their baby.

  Sitting down in one of the rockers they’d brought over from their bedroom, she picked up the Raggedy Andy doll and hugged it against her.

  “Don’t worry, little one. Your daddy’s a good man, a fair man, and a very loving man. He’ll come around for you. You’ll see.”

  The baby chose that moment to kick her again, harder than the first couple of times. Hard enough that Marcus would for sure have been able to feel it if he’d put his hand there. Lisa buried her face in Andy’s soft cloth chest, using the toy to stifle her sobs.

  BETH HADN’T SEEN much of Lisa in the weeks since the anniversary of John’s death. True, her professional services for Lisa were done. And she was really very busy, with more and more couples seeking the services of the fertility clinic. Furthermore, she knew how important it was that Lisa and Marcus have as much time as possible alone together as they passed through this crucial adjustment period in their marriage.

  But she was avoiding Lisa.

  Beth sat in her office late on Friday, the Friday before Christmas, and faced a few more home truths.

  Oliver wasn’t coming. The holiday was only two days away. She’d already told Lisa she wouldn’t be spending the day with them, that she was driving upstate to see her cousin again, but she’d bought something for Oliver, anyway. It was nothing momentous, just a tie she thought would look good with the tweed jackets he favored, one that was just a little bit wider than the ones he had. She pulled the gaily wrapped package out of her desk drawer, staring at it as if it had answers to the questions that were eluding her. Oliver had missed two out of the last four Fridays. Both of them since they’d sat together in his gazebo.

  She was disappointed. More disappointed than she had any business being.

  Oliver had been John’s colleague. He was her best friend’s father. He was fifteen years older than she was. He was still in love with his wife. And Beth still tingled whenever she thought of the way he’d kissed her.

  Which was often. More often than she cared to admit.

  She looked at the clock on her wall one more time. It was an hour past the time Oliver usually stopped by. No. He definitely wasn’t coming.

  Picking up her purse, Beth shrugged into her coat, locked up and headed home. To the memories of her dead husband.

  She was glad Oliver was backing off from their friendship. He wasn’t right for her. Not at all.

  “MERRY CHRISTMAS, sweetheart.”

&nb
sp; “Merry Christmas, Lis. I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Marcus asked, concerned that he’d been a little too inventive. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into him lately. It was almost as if, now that the pressure was off him to give Lisa the baby she wanted, now that he didn’t have to feel guilty for his inability to give her that child, he was free to really let his passion loose.

  “Uh-uh.” She shook her head lazily, her eyes slumberous as she smiled up at him, her long dark hair in disarray across both pillows. There was a blizzard outside, making their large bedroom seem almost cozy. “Not that I have much to go on, mind you, but you’ve got to be the best lover in the world.”

  “I’ll bet you say that to all the guys,” he murmured softly, gazing down at her naked body. They’d shared most of the holiday with Oliver, and Marcus had enjoyed every minute of it, but it was these moments alone with Lisa that he’d been waiting for.

  “You are all the guys in my life.” She looked as if she wanted to say more, but wasn’t sure she should. “Can I tell you something?”

  “Of course, Lis.”

  “I lied to you.”

  His heart started to pound with dread. “When?”

  “Remember that first time we made love?”

  “At the cabin? Of course. I’d thought I’d died and gone to heaven.”

  Lisa smiled, though a little nervously. “Remember, right before, when you asked me if I was a virgin?”

  “Sure.” Marcus wondered if this was another one of those pregnancy things, where she got a little irrational for no reason he could figure out. “You explained about that other guy, Lis. It was only once. You were of age. I’ve never thought anything of it.”

  “There was no other guy, Marcus.” She looked away again, as if embarrassed. “I lied to you. I was afraid you’d go all noble on me and stop if you knew it was my first time.”

  Marcus propped himself up on one elbow. “You should have told me, Lisa. I wouldn’t have stopped—we’d come too far for that—but I could’ve made it easier on you. I must’ve hurt you.” He didn’t know whether to feel angry with her for putting herself through that, or elated that she’d never been with another man.