Love Uncharted

by Berinn Rae

  Olivia placed a rubber toy in front of Rosie and turned to her own plate. She savored her late lunch until the last spoonful. Then she perused a fashion magazine. Every so often, Olivia glanced over the top of the publication at Rosie who cooed and chewed on her teething giraffe. The baby’s face turned red, she strained. Olivia jumped to her feet, panic spreading through her. She never had to use her First Aid training she’d taken over a decade ago. Was Rosie choking?

  In a next moment Rosie’s color changed to normal and she grinned at Olivia, gnawing on her toy. A not-so-innocent baby smell drifted from her vicinity.

  Arms askew, Olivia cocked her head. “You didn’t?”

  Rosie replied with a long coo.

  Olivia exhaled in relief. At least it wasn’t anything life threatening. Nonetheless, she faced an untried, monumental task. She paced the kitchen floor. Could she do this without gagging? What was wrong with her? In her job, she’d march straight into a boardroom full of executive suits and thrill them with her presentations. One soiled diaper should be easy to handle.

  She carried Rosie to the nursery and placed her on the change table. Armed with ample amounts of baby wipes, she unfastened the Velcro straps and pulled off the nappy. She set to the task with surprising calmness. Olivia was proud of her first attempt at diaper change. She’d wished Tom could have seen her in action, patted her on the back for her accomplishment.

  To snap the straps of the clean diaper into their place and make sure they weren’t too tight proved harder than wiping Rosie’s skin clean. “Can you stay still?”

  In the next instant, the smile vanished from Rosie’s face, replaced by a frown. She broke into a long wail. Olivia grimaced. Had she used a stern tone with the baby?

  “There, there, don’t cry.” Goodness, what can I do? She picked up Rosie, pressed her to her chest and bounced across the room.

  The alarm clock on the dresser erupted in a squealing wail. She slammed down the snooze button. How silly. Who’d need to wake up at four in the afternoon?

  CHAPTER 9

  Bouncing Rosie in her arms, Olivia paced the room. Her gentle movements seemed to be working. Rosie’s crying softened. The baby yawned and rubbed her little eyes.

  “You’re tired, baby. What do you say to a nice nap, eh?” She should’ve put Rosie to bed earlier. Tom had left the sheet with instructions, why hadn’t she followed them? Olivia inspected the diaper again. “Crooked, but it’s holding.”

  Sadness seemed like a constant cold stone in her gut. Her instant family grew on her and no amount of fighting it off would help. Tom’s real wife would return and take her rightful place next to her husband, and she’d … well, she’d go back to her empty house and share her thoughts with walls. There was no point in avoiding the unavoidable. Tonight she’d talk to him and find out if her appearance here had anything to do with his case.

  A screech erupted from the digital alarm clock. Hadn’t she shut that off? She must’ve hit the snooze. As she reached for the off button she had a distinct feeling she was forgetting something.

  Now, what was she supposed to do at four in the afternoon … “Milo!”

  A strong instinct told her not to leave Rosie alone in the crib, not even for a second. With the baby pressed to her hip, Olivia charged down the stairs, shoved her feet inside a first pair of shoes she found in the hallway, and threw her jacket over her shoulders.

  The yellow school bus was lumbering onto her street when she ran out the door, shivering as the frigid air wrapped around her. She thanked the sleek roads and slow moving traffic. At least winter was good for something. Careful not to slip on icy patches, she sloshed down the road to the second mailbox. Rosie, snug inside her jacket, giggled with each bounce.

  As Tom had said, Roy stood among moms waiting for the bus, a stack of mail shoved under his armpit.

  The bus pulled up to the curb, snow crunching under its tires. With a hiss, the doors opened. Kids poured out, sometimes two by two, ignoring the driver’s urges to exit one at the time.

  “Hey Mrs. M., forgot to dress your baby?”

  She turned in the direction of the sugar-laced voice. Roy quirked one eyebrow, his lips curved in a sordid half-smile.

  “You know it’s twenty-five degrees below zero.” He scowled, pointing at Rosie’s bare feet peeking out from under Olivia’s jacket. “Thirty-two when you count in the windchill factor. Trouble in paradise?”

  Olivia recognized Milo’s snowsuit before his muffled greeting came through his scarf, covering his nose and mouth. She grabbed his mitted hand, throwing the best mind-your-own-business glare she could muster over her shoulder to Roy.

  Frowning, Roy averted his glance then flashed a grin at a homely woman standing behind him. Her smile exposed yellowed, uneven teeth and indicated she welcomed his move.

  Olivia adjusted Rosie on her hip to cover her little feet and pulled the zipper on her parka as far as the bundle under her coat would allow. What had she been thinking running out of the house with Rosie half dressed? With her mind focused on getting Milo from the bus stop, she hadn’t thought of her girl and now Olivia could only hope the baby wouldn’t get sick. Milo chatted all the way home, but Olivia couldn’t focus on his excited tales, answering with a robotic “uh-huh” or “that’s nice.” She opened the door and the phone brr-inged in high-pitched demand. With a firm hand, she ushered Milo inside the foyer and closed the door on the cold.

  “Can you take off your snow gear while I answer the phone?”

  Milo nodded and unwrapped his scarf. Olivia reached for the handset on Tom’s desk. His spicy cologne lingered in the air. How she missed him.

  “Hi, honey.” Though he sounded tired, Tom’s voice cheered her up. “Everything all right?”

  “Uh-huh.” She unzipped her jacket, trying to steady her breathing. Rosie ceased chewing on her finger to flash a chin-drooling grin. “Just got Milo from the bus stop and I think Rosie is ready for her nap.”

  “Good.” Tom’s chuckles caused her to arch an eyebrow. “I set the alarm a few minutes ahead. Just in case, but you remembered. Didn’t I tell you it would be easy — peasy?”

  How smart of him to make sure she’d have a few extra minutes to get Milo. With his kindness, it wouldn’t be long before she confessed to almost forgetting their son and running out in the sub-zero temperature with Rosie undressed. She’d excelled in business school. Surely parenting couldn’t be harder than graduating with honors. But perhaps she’d set unrealistic expectations for herself. She wasn’t cut out for this parenting gig. Frustration gnawed at her guts. Her attempt at being a perfect mom had failed. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t be what Tom wanted from her. But she wanted to be and perhaps she hadn’t tried hard enough. Or could being a mom be one of those things women get better at with time and practice?

  “Well, I can’t take all the credit. I had a bit of help from Susan.”

  “It was nice of her to stop by.” Soft music mixed with his voice. “I’m heading home. Want me to pick up takeout? I don’t feel like cooking.”

  Here was her chance to prove to herself she in fact could be a good wife. Her husband deserved a home-cooked meal. “No, I’ve got dinner covered.”

  “Are you cooking?” Surprise laced his voice. “I think you’re right, you’re not my wife, but I can hardly wait to see what you’ll whip up.”

  Oh-oh, she’d spoken too soon. What had she gotten herself into? Now she had to put a meal on the table and the kitchen scared her more than changing a baby. “Don’t expect anything extravagant. How was your day?”

  “Long and exhausting, Can’t wait to get home. Don’t strain yourself in the kitchen, soup and a sandwich will do for me.”

  Anticipation swirled through her. “I missed you. How long before you get here?”

  “Judging by the traffic, an hour. Merging onto the highway now, got to go.” A long kiss came from his end. “Bye, honey.” He ended the call.

  She warmed up Rosie’s bottle, took her to the n
ursery, dressed her in a clean sleeper and sat in the rocking chair. The soft, satisfied sounds of her sucking, the warmth of her in Olivia’s arms and adoring way she looked up at her mom while she fed gave Olivia a sense of belonging, yet her heart ached.

  Her glance travelled to the window. Darkness descended on the street. She had an hour to prepare dinner. Her cooking skills didn’t extend beyond warming up leftovers, opening a can of soup and making sandwiches. Yes, Tom said he’d be fine with a light meal, but she wanted to impress him. Somehow, staying at home and taking care of the family instead of earning an income made her feel small and insignificant. Envy swirled through her. Just a week ago, she too had ruled the boardroom as Tom must’ve intimidated witnesses on the stand in the courtroom today.

  Damn it with these roller coaster emotions. One part of her demanded to stay home and take care of the children, while the other called for a career and to earn a paycheck. The constant war between two made her happy and miserable at once.

  The sucking noises ceased and Olivia glanced at the baby in her lap. Rosie was fast asleep, her long eyelashes splayed above her cheek. She placed a tender kiss on her soft forehead before setting her in the crib, then trudged to the kitchen.

  A flyer stuck to the fridge from her favorite Chinese restaurant made her reach for the phone. Ordering in was her best honed cooking skill. She dialed, but slammed the phone down. Hadn’t she just told Tom not to get takeout? And now she tried to cheat her way out.

  Milo sat on the stool of the breakfast bar, face cupped in his palms. “What’s for dinner? I’m hungry.”

  Her focus zeroed in on Milo. The boy would know his dad’s favorite dish. “Is there something you and Dad like?”

  His grin created dimples in his cheeks, increasing his resemblance to Tom. “Chicken fingers and fries.”

  Okay, she’d asked for it. Not anything she’d prepared in the past. “How do I make that?”

  He pointed at the fridge. “It’s in the freezer. Just heat it up.”

  Frozen chicken fingers and a bag of pre-cut fries were stowed at the back of the compartment. She read the instructions.

  “All right.” She set the box on the counter. Preheating the oven didn’t take a lot of brain cells. Since she’d never done it before, cooking frozen food seemed like a step up from microwaving leftovers or ordering in. Pressing the button on the stove, she set the oven to reach the desired temperature. Hmm, Tom would be here in less than an hour now. She raised the heat twenty degrees to cook faster.

  “I’ll have four strips. Daddy eats six of them and lots of fries. You make a salad for yourself.” At Milo’s voice she glanced in the direction of his pointing. “The baking sheet is in the drawer under the oven.”

  “Of course.” She pulled the bin open and took out a flat, rectangular pan, spread the meat and cut fries, then shoved the family meal in the oven.

  She turned to Milo who kept a keen eye on her movements. “Have I done this before?”

  “Once.” He straightened and a funny frown appeared on his face. “Dad calls it a D-day.”

  She quirked an eyebrow. “D-day?”

  “Yeah, a disaster day. Get it?” Milo broke into gales of giggles and covered his mouth with his hand.

  • • •

  Tom drummed his fingers in rhythm with the upbeat song coming from the car speakers. He gripped the steering wheel when the traffic moved, only to come to a dead stop a few yards ahead. The traditional Croatian song he’d enjoyed came to an end with a long vocal solo from the lead singer. He found the next tune too slow to fit his chipper mood so he scrolled through his device in search of another fast tempo. Klapa Kampanel and their hit Sacred Land Dalmatia with baritone voices of the male band rang from the radio. When the guitar and drum joined in, his hand tapped the side of the steering wheel. He should download more of their music.

  His thoughts drifted to the courtroom. Devils strangle them! He smiled at his mother’s usual curse. But it was appropriate. That jury was impossible to read. Not one of them had blinked while he’d delivered his opening statement. With the circumstantial evidence, the prosecution couldn’t prove his client was guilty any more than he could prove the poor woman on trial was innocent. Mr. Baldwin’s medical team reported no change in the condition of the shooting victim, which meant no signs of coming out of his coma.

  But Tom was proud of his work today. It hadn’t been easy to put forth the appearance of a hard core attorney when thoughts of Olivia — the way her face softened when he’d pinned her to the mattress, her passionate cries, smooth skin, hardened nipples pressing to his chest that had tightened his boxers — wouldn’t leave him.

  Tom turned onto the exit ramp, leaving the crawl of highway traffic behind. He was looking forward to arriving home to his family and the dinner his wife was preparing.

  He turned into his driveway. Smoke trickled through an open window sent a rush of adrenaline though him.

  Inside the garage, the fire alarm shrieked, and he ran into the house. Olivia fanned the device on the ceiling with a piece of cardboard. Windows and the back doors stood wide open. Gray smoke poured out of the oven and hung in the air, choking him with the stench of burned food. Milo bounced and laughed with all his might around the chair she stood on.

  The wooden seat tipped and she flapped her hands. Tom wrapped his arm around her waist.

  Surprise flashed on her face as he steadied her. “You’re home already.”

  He raised his voice to be heard over the ear-splitting sound. “I’ll take care of the alarm, step down. Milo, will you please close the back door?”

  “Yes, Daddy.” The boy skittered away, leaving the space around the smoke alarm free for Tom to work.

  At the press of the button, the shrill ceased. Olivia’s expression relaxed and she slumped. Tears welled in her eyes. “I’m the world’s worst mother and wife.”

  Laughter tickled the roof of his mouth, but he pressed his lips hard to keep it from bursting out. She was getting better in the kitchen. At least her attempt hadn’t brought on the local fire department, like the last time. He wrapped his arms around her. “Honey, you’re too hard on yourself.”

  Brushing a tear from her cheek, she cut him a guilty glance. “Hard? You have no idea. If you didn’t arrive when you did, the house would’ve burned down. I almost forgot Milo and then I ran out with Rosie in my arms and didn’t have time to dress her for the outdoors. There, I confess, I’m useless.”

  “You’re not useless. At the end of the day, everything’s fine, we’re all accounted for and we survived.” Tom kissed her hair, catching a whiff of smoke. “Let’s see if dinner is salvageable.”

  He opened the oven door a crack, but at the sight of charred meat he slammed it shut. At least the smoldering from the stove had ceased, but the smell would no doubt stay for days. “Nope.” He grabbed the phone. “Chinese food?”

  She took a seat at the kitchen table and shrugged, her face crumpled. “My appetite is gone. I wanted to surprise you, but … ” Her voice trailed off and turned into another sob.

  The small buttons on the phone’s dial pad played their soft tones as he dialed the restaurant. “It’s all right. I wasn’t in a mood for chicken fingers and fries.”

  She laughed through tears and his pulse quickened. His love for her bubbled up, the need to make her happy a driving force. “See, no harm done. Shall I order our usual?”

  She nodded. “Chop suey, wonton soup, and egg rolls.”

  Tom winked, but the fact she knew “the usual” unraveled the knot in his guts. For a moment, even he’d suspected she really was his wife’s double sent from some parallel world. Her mishaps almost convinced him of the theory he refused to believe.

  Rosie’s cooing came in through the baby monitor. Olivia stood. “I’m surprised the alarm didn’t wake her. I’ll go get her.”

  “She’d sleep through any clangor.” Tom turned his attention to the phone as someone finally picked up his call. “Yes, can I’d like to plac
e an order for delivery?”

  “Where’s Mommy’s big girl?” Olivia’s soft voice filled the kitchen through the monitoring device. He had a hard time concentrating on the menu in front of him.

  With dinner taken care of, he placed his iPod on the docking station and shuffled through the songs in his library. He picked Song Tied Us. The band joined in with the mandolin after an intro, the male singer’s deep voice sang in perfect harmony with a female vocal. Tom couldn’t resist and he cranked up the volume.

  Olivia strolled in, Rosie in her arms. “I like this song. What’s it about?”

  He wrapped his girls in a bear hug, leading Olivia to follow his steps. “The refrain tells how we are tied together through song in good times and bad, giving us happiness no matter who we are.”

  Her eyes sparkled. “I’m not one for poetry, but those are beautiful lyrics.”

  “Yes, they are. Unfortunately, much of the beauty is lost in translation.”

  Milo ran up to them and joined them in their slow dance. Tom hummed along with the song as it came to an end with the chime of xylophone. Three songs later, the doorbell announced the arrival of their dinner.

  “Let’s eat.” Tom carried the bag to the kitchen and set it on the table.

  Milo climbed onto his chair next to Olivia. “After, can we dance again?”

  “It’ll be your bed time by then.” Tom sliced up a portion of chicken into bite-size pieces, dished out a spoonful of vegetables and placed the plate in front of the boy. “Mommy will get you into your pjs and I’ll read you a story.”

  “Not fair.” With a pout, Milo buried his face in his hands. “Rosie gets to stay up.”

  “She won’t stay up for long.” Tom raised his finger and stopped his son’s attempt at another complaint. “You know who’s coming to town and he sees you when you are sleeping and knows when you’re awake.”