She wasn’t sure how to answer, or if an answer was even required. “I’m doing the best I can, but it’s not really up to me.”
“What does that mean?”
“Apparently endometriosis means a significantly increased risk of miscarriage.” To her horror, her voice caught, and the sentence was punctuated with a small sob. He did not respond, to what she’d said or to the fact that saying it had audibly brought her to tears.
That told her what she needed to know. Normally, Jay responded to everything. He anticipated her needs before she articulated them. He never ignored her suffering.
She hadn’t even sat down—which was another odd thing. Normally, Jay would have made a point to get her seated and comfy. But he’d just left her standing there across the table from where he sat.
She swallowed hard, not wanting him to see her cry—which was yet another sign of how off-kilter things were. She never hid anything from Jay, even emotions that made her feel vulnerable. He’d worn her down on that front. Taught her that he’d always be there. “Do you remember in your wedding vows, when you said…”
She trailed off. She had believed she could be vulnerable in front of Jay, that he would always have her back. But it was starting to look like she had been wrong. So she had to stop doing it.
She watched him for some sign that he remembered what he’d said, in those vows he had written himself, about always taking care of her.
He looked away.
The worst part was, she couldn’t blame him. What he had said then had no bearing on this situation. He hadn’t signed up for this. That was the horrible truth. She couldn’t legitimately be angry at him. He was reacting exactly the way she should expect, given what she knew about him. He hadn’t hidden anything from her. She’d known what she was getting when she married him.
And he had known what he was getting when he married her.
Until she’d changed the rules.
All her anger bled away, leaving her empty. Something else—probably more sadness—would no doubt arrive in good time to fill in the space, but for now she just felt hollow.
“I have to go,” she said, congratulating herself that although her voice was quiet, it didn’t quaver. She was back in control.
“They’re saying it might snow tonight,” he said sadly.
She had no idea why he’d said that, so she just agreed with him. “Yes. Here’s hoping.”
And then she left.
Chapter Seven
The next time Jay woke up, it wasn’t on his own. It was because someone was pounding on his bedroom door.
On Jane’s office door, he corrected himself. He was still at Jane and Cam’s. That morning, after Elise left but before his brother and Jane got home, he’d texted Kent and Patricia that he wasn’t coming in and had gone back to bed. He hadn’t been able to face continuing consciousness. So instead, he’d sought oblivion. Fallen into disjointed dreams of his childhood. Of his father yelling. Of Cam’s father, whom he remembered better than his own dad, sitting watching TV while his mother waited on him like he was a fucking king. Trying to no avail to find a quiet place in the trailer to do his homework where Angus wouldn’t pick on him. Angus had done that—a lot. Sensed that Jay was smart probably, that he was on his way to a better life, and resented him for it.
“I’m coming in,” Cam called from the hallway. Jay pushed himself up and assessed the state of his body. His mind was probably a write-off, but he did feel better than he had this morning. He stank and he was wildly thirsty, but those things could be fixed.
Unlike everything else.
He had no idea how long he’d been asleep. His brother entered, and he was wearing the same clothes he’d been in this morning, so at least Jay hadn’t pulled a Rip van Winkle. He glanced out the window. It was dark.
And not snowing.
“What time is it?” He looked around for his phone.
“Time to have a chat with your little brother.”
“Can I shower first?”
Cameron wrinkled his nose. “You sure can.”
Fifteen minutes later, he emerged to find Cam in a coat. “We’re going for a walk. The fresh air will do you good.”
Jay wouldn’t argue with that. He knew there was no avoiding the big “talk,” but it would be easier if they didn’t have to look at each other.
“Where’s Jane?” he asked as they set off down the sidewalk. “Is she with Elise?” Maybe it was dumb, considering what an ass he was being overall, but he was so worried about Elise.
“She is.”
Good. That was good.
“The question is, why aren’t you?”
Because I’m scared shitless.
He heaved a sigh. “Because I’m not sure what that would accomplish.”
“Accomplish? What does that mean? There’s nothing to accomplish here.”
Jay took a deep breath before answering. The air was heavy with that wet smell that heralded rain. “Elise and I are never going to see eye to eye on this matter.”
“On this matter?” Cam used that same mocking tone Jay remembered from childhood. It slid right under Jay’s skin in the way only a barb from a little brother could.
“Will you stop repeating everything I’m saying?”
“Maybe if you stop saying idiotic things,” Cam shot back. “This isn’t a matter. This is your wife. Your kid.”
Jay stopped walking. A raindrop hit his eyelid. Fucking rain in December. “There is no kid.”
Cam had walked on ahead a ways before realizing Jay had stopped. He backtracked and turned to face Jay head on. “Well, there’s going to be one.”
Assuming Elise didn’t have a miscarriage.
God. The idea of her suffering something like made him double over.
Cameron had no mercy, though. “And whether you chose to man the fuck up and have a relationship with the kid or not, you’re going to have some financial responsibilities at the very least.” He huffed a laugh. “I’m sure Wendy will enjoy bleeding you dry.”
How had he ended up here? He had been so careful his whole life to avoid landing in this exact circumstance. He tried to stand up, but his spine wouldn’t let him, like it was no longer interested in holding him up.
Cam hunched down and got right in Jay’s face. He must have seen something that softened him, though, because when he asked, “What are you afraid of?” his tone had changed. Gone was the annoying little brother. The question was gentle, compassionate. Posed by a man who, because of their shared experience, probably already knew the answer. God. Jay could deal with the annoying little brother version of Cam better than this.
He forced himself to stand up straight and look his brother in the eye. “Sometimes I’m afraid I’m going to punch someone.” That wasn’t the answer to the question Cam had actually asked, but it was an answer. An associated answer. A true one.
Thankfully, Cam ran with it. “Welcome to the human race.”
“Really?” Was the rage he sometimes felt—toward Elise’s dad, for example—normal? It didn’t feel normal. It felt…too big for his body to contain.
They started walking again, and Cam bumped his shoulder against Jay’s. “Well, you’re not a robot, are you? Wait. Are you?”
Everyone always teased him about being uptight, and he could see where they were coming from. He wasn’t a robot, though, and ironically, the person who knew that best of all was Elise. “I know. But I’m just afraid I’m…”
“I know,” Cam said quietly, all traces of his previous teasing gone. “I know exactly what you mean.” He looked up at the sky as they walked. “That incident in Iraq?”
“Yeah?” They hadn’t talked about that, not really, not beyond the basics—Cam had gotten kicked out of the army because he hit a superior officer, but he’d been defending a fellow soldier the officer was in the process of assaulting. Jay had been dying to know more but hadn’t wanted to pry. This closeness between the brothers was new. It felt fragile, and Jay hadn’t wanted
to endanger it by pushing Cam to share more than he wanted to.
They had reached a small park, and Cameron veered off the sidewalk and made for the swings. It was cold and late—past ten—so the place was deserted. Cam brushed a few raindrops off a swing and sat. Jay followed, thinking of the little playground in the trailer park in Thunder Bay. Cam was eleven years younger than Jay, and Jay had spent a lot of time at that playground, pushing his brother on swings just like this.
“I don’t regret it, mind you,” Cam said, pulling Jay from his memories. “There was no way I could overhear him attacking Becky and not try to get him off her.” Jay nodded. This Becky—Private Mannerly—had been Cam’s best friend during his time in the Canadian Forces, and to hear Cam tell it, she’d put up with a lot of shit in the male-dominated company. “But that only took a minute. I don’t understand why I didn’t stop once the immediate threat had passed, once the other guys had separated us.” He snorted. “Well, I do understand. I just don’t like that part of myself.”
That sounded familiar. “You understand why you didn’t stop? So…why didn’t you?” Jay found himself leaning forward on his swing, suddenly extremely anxious for the answer.
“Well, I understand now. I’ve been…going to a shrink, actually.”
The old Cam would have been embarrassed to admit that. Even now, he dipped his head sheepishly. Jay continued to be impressed by how much his brother had…not changed exactly. Become more his better self. “That’s great. It’s helped?”
“Yeah. So I think the answer is actually pretty simple—your basic case of sublimated rage.”
“At who? Your dad?”
Cam shrugged. “Probably in part. Maybe also just at the world generally. But it doesn’t really matter. What matters is what I do about it.” He grinned and dug his feet into the ground to start his swing moving. “That’s therapy-speak. But they’re on to something, I think.”
“Okay, but can therapy change who you are? You talked about not liking that part of yourself. How do you get rid of it? Or at least keep it contained enough that you can…” What? What was he going to say? Maybe he needed to man the fuck up, stop saying “you” and admit that they weren’t actually talking about Cam here.
Cam stuck his feet back on the ground to halt his momentum, then turned the swing forty-five degrees, twisting the chains over each other so he was facing Jay. “Here’s the thing. We got a shit deal in some ways. But again, welcome to the human race.” He must have known that Jay was going to say that he knew that, that he didn’t think he was special, that he wasn’t looking for pity, because Cam held up his hands. “I’m not saying it in a tough love, deal with it kind of way. I just…I know you. I know what you’re really worried about. You would never hurt anyone you loved.”
And that was it, wasn’t it? That was the thing he was too chickenshit to say. “Maybe not with my fists. But the…other stuff can be just as insidious.” For all he knew, he was infected with it despite his best efforts to become a different kind of man. It would be like rabies. A disease that got into your system and changed you elementally.
“You don’t remember your dad,” Jay went on, trying to make his brother understand. Their mom had finally kicked Cam’s dad out when she was pregnant with Cam, so Cam had never actually met Angus MacKinnon. “But he was a real piece of work. He used to tell Mom to have dinner ready at a certain time. She’d make me take a shower, and we’d clean the trailer. She’d cook something nice—sometimes she even got someone to cover her shift at the diner so she could make dinner. He never knew or cared when she was working. She’d do her nails, the whole deal. We’d end up scrubbed clean and sitting around the table waiting for him, and he…just wouldn’t show.”
“Until the wee hours, when he’d come home drunk, based on what Mom says.”
Jay raised an eyebrow. They both had good relationships with their mother, but they never really talked about this stuff with her. Or so he’d thought. Jay didn’t anyway.
Cam, interpreting the eyebrow correctly, shrugged. “I’ve been asking her about him. I’ve been trying to understand…where I come from.”
“You’re nothing like him,” Jay said quickly. Both because it was true, and because it was vital that his brother understand that.
Cam smiled. “I didn’t mean it like that, just that since I’ve been back and kind of…reestablished a relationship with Mom, part of that has been talking about all the shit from those years.” He rolled his eyes. “Paging Dr. Phil.”
Wow. He knew his brother had changed. Evolved. He just hadn’t realized how much work had been involved. He had mad respect for that.
“But anyway,” Cam went on. “I’ve seen you with Elise. You worship the ground she walks on. Have you guys ever even had an argument?”
Jay laughed. “Maybe only about whether to include you in the wedding party.” It was true. He had gone to bat for Cam, who, fresh from being dismissed from the army, had been retreating into his bad-boy persona back then.
“And you think a kid is going to be any different? I mean, I don’t know firsthand, but from what everyone says, the way you love your kid is even more…pure and shit than the way you love your wife.” He snorted. “Though I’m not sure that’s possible with you guys.”
Could Cam be right? Could he do this? A jolt of…something shot through Jay. He wanted to get up and run, to shake off this jittery feeling that had overtaken his limbs. Instead, he pushed against the ground with his feet and started swinging. He hadn’t done this for years. Decades. He didn’t remember the swoopy feeling you got in your stomach when you went on swings being this intense.
“Look, enough with the psychobabble.” Cameron reached out and grabbed the chain of Jay’s swing and forced him to stop. “Really, none of this shit matters. The question is, do you want this? Do you want a baby?”
“No.” The answer came automatically, unthinkingly. Because it was the truth.
Wasn’t it?
Or was it just the rehearsed answer he had at the ready? The one he’d told himself so often over the years that his mind automatically summoned it?
The swoopy feeling in his stomach had not gone away. “I don’t…think so.”
Cameron looked unimpressed but let the non-answer slide. “All right. So then I guess the next question is: Do you not want a baby more than you want Elise?”
Jay barked an incredulous laugh. That was a dumb question. It wasn’t even a question. The answer was unequivocally no. He wanted Elise more than anything. More than his job. More than his family even.
Much more than he didn’t want a baby.
And that wasn’t really the right way to phrase it. It was more like: more than he was scared shitless to have a baby.
A memory arose in his mind, sharp and big, taking up all the space in his head, insisting on being examined. He had spent so much time lately revisiting the day his dad left, but maybe he should have been remembering this.
The day he and Elise had slept together the first time. There had been a big…waiting period for lack of a better word. They’d admitted their attraction to each other, but he’d insisted they not act on it until the design job he’d hired her to do was complete. Then she’d had a bout of endometriosis pain. Then Gia had come to town at the last minute, and Elise had had to spend time with her. The delay had been both comical and sexy.
And then the day it was finally going to happen, they’d had some awkward texting while she was en route. It had started out being about birth control and had turned into Elise telling him she couldn’t have kids.
He’d been in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, waiting for her. Staring in the mirror and marveling at how much he loved her. He had known then, with a sudden, sharp, shocking certainty, that he would marry her someday. And he had.
But what he had also thought that day was that he would marry her under any circumstances. Even, he’d thought to himself with amusement, if she wanted a house full of kids.
It had been a jok
e—he’d thought. A whimsical notion he’d entertained for a nanosecond and then brushed off. Because he hadn’t needed to entertain it. The universe had delivered him his dream woman: Elise. Who came with his dream degree of fertility: none.
But that thought hadn’t just arisen from nowhere. It had been brief, but he had meant it. Hadn’t he?
God. What an idiot he’d been. He just hadn’t thought of it in the simple terms his brother had laid out. Was this worth losing Elise? Was anything worth losing Elise? No. A thousand times no.
And he’d wasted all this time dicking around talking about his fucking feelings. His feelings. His feelings, which had become so all-consuming that he had done the worst thing he could imagine—ignored hers. His wife’s. The woman he was supposed to take care of, whose comfort he valued above all else.
The mother of his child.
Holy shit.
He had to go home. He had to go home now.
There was a clap of thunder, a flash of lightning, and the sky opened up.
* * *
Elise thought about pretending to be asleep when she heard the front door open. All she would have had to do was close her eyes. She was already in bed. It was dark. It was profoundly dark, the storm having knocked out the power on their block.
Part of her didn’t want to see him. What more was there to say after this morning?
Well, there was a lot to say. Logistical conversations to be had. Like, who would get the house. The house they had bought and made into a home together.
And would he want anything to do with the child? Legally speaking, she could probably force him, but she would never do that. But certainly there’d be some kind of child support arrangement—Jay was not one to shirk his responsibilities. She had tried to ask Wendy how that would work, but Wendy had refused to talk about it, insisting that Elise let things settle for a week or two before worrying about what came next.
Elise knew Wendy was right. She shouldn’t be thinking about all this stuff right now. She just couldn’t seem to turn off her brain.
Merrily Ever After--A Novella Page 6
