A Distant Summer

by Karen Toller Whittenburg

  “And I said no.”

  “Why?”

  “Tucker, I — ” She swallowed and forced the words to come. “There are things you don’t know about me. Things I don’t want to tell you.”

  “Then don’t. I love you. There isn’t anything you could say that will change that.”

  How easily he said it. How she wished it could be true. “Tucker, please. I should never have let our relationship progress this far. It was selfish, and I’m….” Her voice trembled, and she paused to steady it. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t seem to help loving you.” Again her faltering tone betrayed her, and she closed her eyes. Then, with a carefully drawn breath that filled her lungs and braced her courage, she met his eyes. “I love you, Tucker, but I won’t marry you.”

  “I don’t know what in hell is going through your mind right now, Kristina, but if you expect me just to walk away....” This time the tremor was in his voice, but it didn’t match the stormy quality of his expression. “Is that what you expect?”

  “I ... think that would be best.” She sensed the quick flash of his temper, knew it was a mixture of fear and anger, regretted the fact that it was only the beginning of the disillusionment she had yet to inflict. “It would be easier if we said goodbye now.”

  “Easier? Than what?” A muscle in his jaw clenched and unclenched, and he rubbed it irritably. “How can you even suggest that our relationship can simply end? Do you honestly think I can just walk out of your life as if nothing happened?”

  “Not without an explanation.” More than anything in the world she longed to touch him, to ease the apprehension in his eyes with her reassurances. But she had already waited too long. The moment couldn’t be postponed anymore, and a sick feeling of acceptance rolled in her stomach.

  “Tucker, I love you. I haven’t lied to you about that.”

  He was suddenly still. The water lapped an imaginary echo. Lied. Lied.

  The ugly word seemed to surround her, but she managed to hold her chin steady as she called on an inner reserve of strength. “I have lied to you, though, because I didn’t tell you the truth in the beginning. Silence is sometimes as deceptive as an outright lie, you know.” Oh, God! Where could she start?

  “The first time I met you, Tucker, I thought it was my privilege to paint the truth any color I chose. I didn’t see any harm in doing whatever it took to get what I wanted. Eleven years ago I wanted you, so I lied. I told you I was twenty-one, a college sophomore, independent, and in charge of my life.” A soft, ironic sigh softened the tense knot in her throat. “I was seventeen, Tucker. A senior in high school, spoiled, reckless, and irresponsible.”

  She saw the subtle signs of his disbelief, the first faint traces of realization in his expression, and her heart ached. “I didn’t intend to change, didn’t really have any reason to want to until I met you. My only purpose in coming to the university that weekend was to lose my virginity and thereafter to be able to say I’d experienced sex with a college man. I didn’t think too much about what I’d have to do to be experienced, but it seemed perfectly logical to me at the time.” She took her hand from her pocket and restlessly massaged her shoulder. “I planned that weekend right down to the last detail of my alibi, but you changed my plans ... and never even knew that you had.”

  A shaky laugh eased from her throat. “You believed me. I don’t know how, because I was so young, so naive, but no matter what I said, you accepted it and treated me as if I were the special person I said I was. And because of you, I felt older and more mature and special. I loved you then, Tucker, and for that one weekend I valued myself. Do you know that you were the first person ever to listen to me? Do you even remember how much we talked in those two days?”

  “I remember,” he said softly, very softly.

  “I was nervous at first when we left the football stadium and went to the after-the-game party. You’ve probably forgotten. Or maybe I just hid it well. I don’t know. But when we got to your apartment, I stopped being nervous and started falling in love.” She looked up at the tree branches interlocked overhead, but her memory stayed locked in the past. “It’s very easy to fall in love when you’re seventeen, and I thought I’d found the key to happiness in your arms. You told me how you felt about the future; you told me there wasn’t room in your life for a lasting relationship. But when you’re seventeen, it’s also very easy to hear only the things you want to hear.”

  Tucker moved, and Kristina tensed, her gaze swinging to warn him away, to maintain the distance that was vital to her outward calm. He narrowed the margin by only a little and leaned his shoulder against the tree trunk.

  Watching her with gentle concern, he simply waited.

  “It was a wonderful weekend, Tucker,” she began, only to pause with the bittersweet taste of the words on her tongue. “It was the turning point in my life, and I don’t regret it. I do regret being so stupidly careless with my youth.” She glanced at the grassy creek bank, then forced her eyes back to his. “I was pregnant when I left you that Sunday. Of course, I didn’t know. I didn’t even think it was possible. I’d borrowed a few birth control pills from a friend, and I thought I was protected, but.…”

  The explanation trailed into a vibrating silence. He was pale, unnaturally still, and she could almost feel the shock that rippled through him. Her hand arched in a nervous gesture, and her mind scurried to find something, anything to say. “I thought I had everything planned. I was just so young and so very, very stupid. But that’s no excuse….”

  Tears stung her eyes, and she pivoted, crossing her arms at her waist as if she could shield herself from his reaction. When his hands cupped her shoulders and pulled her back to lean against him, Kris released her rigid control and accepted his tenderness. His breath stirred warmly at her temple as his arms came around her and she could feel the rapid beat of his heart.

  “Why didn’t you tell me as soon as you knew?”

  “I wrote to you, Tucker, before I found out about the pregnancy. The first letter was full of my fantasies about our future, and you rejected it within a week. The second letter — ”

  “I sent back unopened.” His voice shook with the memory. “My God, Kris, I had no idea. I thought I was saving us both a lot of heartache. What happened? Why didn’t you contact me after that? You knew where to find me. You could have reached me somehow. If I’d known....”

  Kristina sighed and moved away from the comfort of his arms. “I didn’t want you to know. After I got the letter back, I knew I had to face the consequences. And I had to face them on my own. For the first time in my life, I accepted responsibility. That was a big step for me, and it wasn’t easy, but I did it. Not wisely, I admit, but at the time it seemed the right thing to do. I wasn’t mature enough to realize that you had some rights in the situation, too.”

  She saw the confusion, the questions in his eyes and wished the answers could be different. “No one knows who fathered my child, Tucker. No one. My father would have destroyed you. He’s a wealthy man, and he could have ended your career plans with a couple of phone calls. I was old enough to understand that, and I also understood how you felt about becoming a doctor. I’m afraid I had no understanding at all about how you might feel about becoming a parent.”

  “A parent,” he repeated slowly as if he’d only just realized the truth. He turned then, walked to the edge of the water, and stood there. In the long moments that followed, Kris gathered strength to carry the confession through to conclusion. When he came back to her side and reached for her hand, she was prepared.

  “The baby?” he asked huskily.

  “A girl. A very beautiful girl, Tucker, with eyes like yours.”

  He squeezed her fingers until they ached with the grip. “What went wrong? How did she…? Why didn’t she live?”

  In a split second of perception Kris realized his mistake ... and her own. “She did, Tucker. You have a daughter.”

  “But....” He couldn’t seem to complete the thought, and Kr
istina couldn’t seem to do it for him. She could only watch the dawning of comprehension and empathize with his beginning pain. “You didn’t…?” His voice broke. “What did you do, Kristina?”

  There was no mistaking the accusation in his tone, no way to misinterpret the censure in his eyes. “I gave her up for adoption.”

  Tucker released her hand quickly and established a small but significant distance between them. “You gave my child away, and you never even tried to tell me?”

  “It wasn’t a matter of giving her away, Tucker. There’s a little more to it than that, you know.”

  “No, I don’t know. You denied me that and about a thousand other things. Damn!” He took a long stride away from her, then stopped and stared at the ground where only a short time before, he’d made love to her. “How could you do it, Kris? How could you do such an irresponsible thing?”

  “It was the only choice I had,” she answered, becoming angry in her defensiveness. “And it was the most responsible thing I’ve ever done. And the most difficult. I know this is a terrible shock, Tucker, and for that I’m sorry, but don’t start tossing out indictments without knowing the circumstances.”

  “Oh, I think I can piece those together without too much difficulty. You were under age, and your parents insisted you do the right thing and — ”

  “My parents insisted I have an abortion! That was their solution. But I didn’t do what they wanted, Tucker. I wanted to have your baby. You can’t possibly have any idea how badly I wanted that. During the months of the pregnancy I fantasized about someday meeting you again and presenting you with a beautiful, happy, well-adjusted child, so you could see what a great job I’d done as a mother.”

  “Instead, you’ve presented me with dozens of uncertainties. Damn it, Kris! She could be unhappy or ill. She might have medical problems. What if she needed something? We would never even know. Didn’t you think about that? Didn’t you think about what might go wrong?”

  “There isn’t one single catastrophe that I haven’t imagined, Tucker! There isn’t even one tiny possibility that I haven’t considered and wondered and worried about during the past ten years. I’ve thought of them all. And I’ve thought of all the good things, too. Every small detail of her growing up that I can’t share with her. The color of her hair, her height, the pitch of her voice, her smile, her friends, her school activities, her favorite color. Don’t stand there and talk to me about doubts. You have no right.”

  “I have no right because of you, Kristina. I would have done anything—anything—to help you keep the baby if you’d only told me. But you denied me the right to make a decision that affected not only me but my child.” His hand formed a slow fist at his side; his eyes were an icy blue. “I don’t think I can forgive you for that.”

  The chill slid all the way to her fingertips. “I haven’t asked you to, Tucker. I don’t need your forgiveness. I did what I had to do, and no one, not even you, has the right to judge me for it. You have no idea what that decision has cost me. I made the sacrifices, and I’ve paid for my mistakes with years of regret. How can you dare talk about your rights?”

  “Considering that you’ve just now seen fit to tell me the truth, I think I should be able to say anything I damn well please!”

  “Fine, Tucker, you do that. But I don’t have to

  listen. It’s easy now for you to point out my mistakes and to feel self-righteous, but try to remember how you felt about life then. You didn’t want to see me again after that one weekend; you didn’t have room in your plans for another person, much less two. You returned my last letter without even reading it and kept your conscience clear. There were no changes in your plans; you didn’t have to make any sacrifices. The weekend we spent together was just that for you — a weekend. And you barely even remember it!”

  She was shaking, and she couldn’t bear to look at his coldly remote expression. Spinning with the panicky emotion inside her, Kris bent to pick up her shoes. “I’m going home,” she stated, and began walking toward the cabin, not knowing whether he’d heard or cared.

  After gathering together the few belongings she’d brought, Kris took them to her car and prepared to leave. She and Tucker had driven to Gary’s cabin together in her car, but she simply couldn’t sit beside him on the trip home. It was too much to ask. She glanced toward the oak tree, but there was no sign of him, and she couldn’t wait. The peaceful area had lost its magic, and she craved the security of home. Tucker could find his own way back ... if he wanted.

  And if he didn’t, she would accept that. She’d known the risk from the beginning, known his feelings toward her would change. Her hands trembled on the steering wheel as she guided the car along the winding road. He’d been so angry. In all the times she’d imagined telling him the truth, she hadn’t thought his first reaction would be anger. And she’d never thought she would feel so defensive.

  No one had ever attacked her decision as Tucker had. Her parents had had a more subtle way of condemning it; they’d finally realized she wouldn’t submit to their authority, so they’d sent her to Great-aunt Maudie in Maple Ridge. Kristina could still remember the stern indifference in her father’s voice when he’d told her that if she came to her senses, she could come home — alone.

  The residents of Maple Ridge had opened their homes and their hearts to Kris, but no one — not even Ruth — had offered advice or opinions on what was the right thing to do. When Kris had returned from the hospital in Russellville without the baby, there had been no judgmental attitudes from her neighbors and friends, only the acceptance and support so characteristic of the people in the community.

  Kristina had known she didn’t want to return to her parents or to the careless lifestyle of her past. After her great-aunt had died, leaving the house to Kris, there was no reason to think of anywhere else as home. Almost everyone in town knew the circumstances that had brought her there, but past mistakes were off limits, and it was never discussed. And in all the time that Tucker had lived here, no one had mentioned those circumstances to him.

  Until today, when she had told him.

  Pushing the limp weight of her hair off her neck, Kris braked at a stop sign and then eased through the intersection. Maybe she should have kept the subject off limits. Certainly she wished she hadn’t told him about the baby. Maybe it would have been best to keep the secret, to marry Tucker and love him and pretend that honesty in a relationship was unimportant. But of course, it was, and she knew she’d done the right thing in telling him.

  No, she corrected her thoughts. The right thing would have been to have done whatever was necessary to get in touch with him years ago. She should have gone to him, made him listen. No matter how devastated she had been by his rejection, she should have found a way to tell him, to let him participate in the decision.

  But would it have made any difference?

  Somehow Kris didn’t believe so. It had been easy today for him to state he would have done anything to help her keep the baby, but would he have said it all those years ago? Would he have sacrificed his career ambitions? Certainly not without experiencing a lot of resentment toward her and the child.

  Should. Might. If. What good did it do to think in those terms now? How long would she continue to punish herself for things that could not be changed? She had done what she felt had to be done. She had given up her baby, and she had, finally, told Tucker the truth.

  It was over.

  Chapter Ten

  Her phone rang several times before Kristina answered.

  “Kris? What are you doing home?” Jena Saradon asked in a soft, lilting soprano. “I thought you were away for the weekend and not turning your phone back on until Monday.”

  “If you thought that, why did you call?” Kris answered with a smile, feeling cheered simply by the happiness in Jena’s voice.

  “I was going to leave a message. I wanted you to know as soon as you got back Sunday that you’d missed my entire labor and delivery and the arrival o
f Baby Saradon.”

  “Jena! A boy? Or a girl? When? And where are you? I haven’t been gone that long. You must have had the fastest labor in Maple Ridge history.”

  Excitement rippled through the phone wires. “Oh, I haven’t had the baby yet. But I know the signs. By this time tomorrow, we’ll have a new son. I’m sure this one is going to be a boy.”

  “What about Matt? Is he pacing the floor?”

  “He doesn’t even know. You know how he is, Kris. He’ll make me crazy if I tell him too soon. When it’s time to drive to the hospital, I’ll tell him to put his shoes on. That should do the trick.”

  “One of these times, Jena, you’re going to wait too long, and then what are you going to do?”

  “This is my last time. Four children are my limit. And don’t you dare say ‘Famous last words.’ ” Jena’s tone softened with subdued excitement. “Don’t worry. I won’t wait too long, especially considering that we have to drive all the way to Russellville. I certainly wish the new hospital were built already. It would ease Matt’s worries, I know. Well, I’d better rest while I can. I’ll call you later.” There was a pause, and then: “Kris? What happened to the wonderful weekend Tucker had planned for you at Gary’s cabin?”

  “It rained.”

  “It did? How odd, we didn’t get so much as a drop this afternoon. There wasn’t even a cloud in the sky.”

  Kris sighed her admission. “It all depends on your point of view, Jena. Listen, tell Matt to call me from the hospital as soon as the baby is born.”

  “You’ll be one of the first to know,” Jena promised. “I’d say ‘the first,’ except that you know the people in this town. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone found out before I did.” She laughed. “Bye, Kris. Matt will call you later.”

  “Good luck, Jena.” Kristina replaced the receiver and settled back against the sofa cushions. Tracing a fingertip pattern onto the fabric of a throw pillow, she thought about the Saradons and their new baby. How nice it must have been for Jena to be able to share nine months of planning, to know that the father of her child would be near her during the labor and birth.