Now, ensconced in Grady's sixteen-foot fiberglass runabout, Claire took her first full relaxing breath of the day. She sat sideways so she could keep an eye on Andie, who was skiing behind the wake, a proud smile spread over her face. Daisy and Jenna sat in the two back seats, waving madly at their elder sister.
"She's doing great," Grady shouted after a glance over his shoulder. Then he grinned at Claire and winked. She focused briefly on his rugged face, the white flash of his teeth, the breadth of his shoulders.
Grady was a big man—well over six feet, with a husky build. Although the summer season had just begun, he was already tanned. Her eye followed the tapered line that led from his bare chest to his flat belly. And he was clearly in shape.
Self-consciously, she tugged the white T-shirt she wore over her suit, a maternity model built to accommodate her expanding waistline. She herself wouldn't be drawing any admiring looks this summer. Not that she had in years. Somehow those five extra pounds hadn't disappeared after Jenna the way they had with the other two.
What would happen after this one? Would she gain even more weight? Ten pounds instead of five? It didn't bear thinking about. Pressing her sunglasses up against the bridge of her nose, she turned her attention back to Andie, who was still skimming over the lake.
"Way to go, Andie!" Claire waved encouragingly. Too bad Kirk had to miss this—their eldest daughter's first ski of the season. The thought came automatically, followed quickly by a stab of pain. Kirk wasn't here, and maybe, after this summer, he would never be again. At least not when she was around.
Claire swallowed, and jabbed at her sunglasses again. She could see the Hogans' gray-painted dock in front of them. Grady's son Taylor was standing at the edge, shouting instructions to Andie. Beside him were two other people who hadn't been there earlier. A woman and a child. Terese Balfour and her daughter, Lisa.
Claire glanced at Grady. He, too, had spotted the newcomers and had his hand raised in welcome. Claire swallowed and turned back toward Andie. They were close to the dock. It was almost time for Andie to let go of the rope…
"Now, Andie!"
At Taylor's signal, Andie dropped the handle, and the rope skidded ahead without her. For a moment she seemed to be standing on water, then slowly she began to sink into the lake.
"Oh! It's cold!" Claire heard her daughter call out as Grady swung the boat around.
"Good work, Andie!" Taylor positioned him-self on the dock, then dived in to help retrieve the skis while Andie swam ashore.
Terese, her tiny body looking terrific in a black bikini, her olive-toned skin almost as bronzed as Grady's, leaned over to offer her a hand. "Well done!"
"Hey, Terese! Glad you could make it. Would Lisa like to ride in the boat?''
"I have my life jacket on," Lisa pointed out, tugging on Terese's hand. The five-year-old had her mother's dark coloring, but her hair was longer, and currently tied back in two high pigtails. "Can I ski?"
"Not this year," Terese said. "Maybe later Grady will pull you and the other girls behind the boat in a tube."
"How about you, Terese?" Grady asked, sliding his sunglasses up on his head. "Would you like to have a go?"
When the other woman nodded, Claire faced Grady.
"Has she skied before?"
"A few times."
Half expecting the younger woman to fall flat on her face, Claire was surprised when Terese popped out of the water on the first try. Although obviously a beginner, she managed to break out from behind the wake to cut a few turns, before Grady headed back to the dock.
Terese swam directly for the boat when she'd finished her attempt. Laughing, she let Grady pull her out of the water. Claire averted her eyes rather than see Terese's flat belly.
For a woman to look that good, especially when she'd had a baby, wasn't fair. And it especially wasn't fair that Grady so obviously noticed. He wrapped a towel around Terese's soaked body and asked Jenna if she could share her seat.
Claire decided to sit out on the dock while first Taylor, then Grady went for a spin. Both were incredible skiers, but after several long runs it was clear that Taylor had finally surpassed his father in endurance, if nothing else.
"Whew!'' Grady pulled himself out of the water and flopped down on the stained cedar dock next to Claire while he caught his breath. "I hate to admit it, but I can't keep up with that boy anymore."
At the wheel, Taylor called out to his father, "I'm going to take the girls tubing. Is that okay? Andie can spot for me."
Grady glanced at Claire and, when she nodded, called back, "Okay, son."
Terese helped settle Daisy, Jenna and Lisa inside the large rubber tube, then pushed away from the boat and swam toward shore. Taylor started the boat moving, and all three girls shrieked with pleasure.
For a moment, Claire watched vigilantly. Satisfied that everyone was safe, she rested her face on bent knees and turned to Grady, who had dried off with a small white towel that now hung around his neck. His attention was focused on Terese, who was still swimming back to the dock.
"Happy, Grady?" Claire asked.
He glanced sideways at her, then back to the boat, which was cutting a wide circle on the lake.
"Amazingly enough, yes," he said at last. "The divorce hasn't been easy, but I think I've finally put it behind me."
"I'm glad." Claire didn't think she'd ever understand how Bess could have left Grady. Grady was someone a woman could count on. He'd married Bess when she'd told him she was pregnant. Claire was willing to bet he'd never cheated during their years of marriage. And the divorce—that had almost killed him, but he'd never said a word against Bess. Still didn't.
"You and Terese…" She deliberately left the sentence unfinished, hoping he'd tell her about their relationship.
But Grady just smiled.
A moment later, Terese was within earshot. Grady crouched low and offered her a hand as her feet sought purchase on the metal ladder.
"Hi, Claire," she said, slightly out of breath. "Your girls are sure having a blast."
"Yes." There was warmth in Terese's almond-shaped eyes, but Claire had never felt comfortable in her presence and didn't feel comfortable now.
Was it due to Terese that Grady had finally made peace with his divorce from Bess? If that was true, then Claire knew she ought to feel thankful. But for some reason, that wasn't the way she felt at all.
Mallory and Drew both thought Terese was great, but that didn't mean she was the right woman for Grady. After all, she came with a lot of baggage. Not the least of which was an abusive ex-husband and a young daughter.
Was she really the best choice for Grady? Somehow Claire didn't think so.
Claire was lying on her bed Friday night when she heard Kirk's sedan in the driveway. The numbers on the bedside alarm clock glowed red in the dark: 11:05. He'd phoned while she and the girls were eating beans and wieners on the deck and said he'd be a little late.
Why? What are you doing? Who are you with?
She hadn't asked any of those questions, although she'd been tempted. Now she rolled onto her side as she heard him open the door, drop his keys on the counter, set his bag on the floor. How many times had she lain in bed listening for those familiar sounds?
She heard his footsteps in the hall, then the sound of doors opening and closing as he checked on the girls—Daisy and Andie in the bunk beds, Jenna in the double bed next door. Shutting her eyes, Claire imagined what he saw. Young bodies tangled in bedclothes, smelling of lake water and sunscreen despite vigorous scrubbing in the shower earlier. Hair splayed on pillows, noses freckled, eyelashes resting on smooth white cheeks. Books and stuffed animals scattered on the floor. Jenna's new rock collection in a pail by her bed.
Claire realized she was stroking her tummy. Next summer there would be one more bed—a crib—and one more tiny face to kiss good-night.
Now the footsteps paused and Claire knew Kirk was standing by her door. Would he push the door open, or go sleep on the couch? She'd
left an extra pillow plus an old afghan on one of the cushions. Just as she'd done last weekend.
She took a deep breath, thinking of the times before, how her being pregnant had seemed to turn Kirk on. While other expecting women complained that their husbands treated them as if they had an infectious disease, Kirk had wanted to make love more often than usual. He'd relished cupping her swollen breasts in his hands, covering her growing belly in soft, warm kisses.
They'd been a little nervous with their first child, until her doctor had reassured them that if Claire felt no discomfort, then the baby would be fine.
Claire had felt a lot of things, but discomfort wasn't one of them. Now the familiar tingling sensation stirred in her, traveling from the tips of her breasts to the warmth between her legs. She missed making love. How long had it been now? Claire did some quick arithmetic and arrived at a total of just over five weeks. If they were getting a divorce, then this was another one of the adjustments she would have to make.
But maybe they would survive this crisis. The words of the counselor came back to her, as they so often had since Tuesday.
An affair doesn't have to mean the end of a marriage.
Was it true? Claire wondered if there were couples in her own circle of friends who had gone through similar situations. If so, it was something they didn't talk about.
Sinking into her pillow, she tried to remember the good things about her marriage, back in the early days. Surely sex had been one of them. At least from what she remembered.
A similar sense of humor had been another. Laughing together was something they hadn't done for even longer than making love.
And talking until the wee hours of the night. When she'd first met Kirk there had never seemed to be enough time to say all that was in her mind. Now they only communicated about the children.
"Kirk?" She stepped out onto the cool plank floor and reached for her thin cotton wrap just as the door swung open. There were no curtains on the open window, and pale light from the moon made it possible for her to see the dark silhouette of his body. Tall, lean, broad shouldered…
"Sorry. Did I wake you?"
He'd been standing behind her closed door for almost five minutes. What had he been thinking?
"No. I was feeling kind of restless."
"Can I make you some herbal tea?"
"That would be nice." She followed him to the kitchen, where he turned on the light over the stove. He was still wearing his suit from the office, although he'd removed his tie and loosened the top buttons of his shirt. His hah- had grown a little, and one of the curls fell over his forehead.
Now he brushed it back with his hand before taking the bottled water from the fridge and filling the kettle.
"I wish I could have been here before the kids went to bed, but I had some paperwork to catch up on." He glanced at her, as if expecting her to question him further, but she just slid onto a stool and leaned her elbows on the counter.
"You should have seen Andie when she stood up on skis yesterday. She was so nervous at first, then she got this grin on her face."
"I can imagine. She sounded thrilled when she told me on the phone. I'm sorry I missed it." He put tea bags into mugs. "Do you think Grady would take us out on the boat this weekend? I'd love to see Daisy try for her first time."
"I'm sure he would, but I don't know if Daisy's ready. She looked pretty nervous when Andie was skiing."
"Well, we won't rush her." Kirk poured the boiling water into the mugs.
Watching Kirk perform the simple domestic task, Claire realized they were talking about the kids again. Maybe it was no wonder their marriage had fallen apart.
"What do you say we drink these on the deck."
"Sure." She followed him out the sliding doors, noticing the way he paused slightly at the sofa. Maybe he'd seen the pillow and the blanket and drawn the obvious conclusion.
It was warm outside—too warm, really. She felt sticky and flushed even in her nightie and wrap, which were made of the thinnest cotton and only came down to midthigh. At least there was a breeze. She stood at the railing, admiring the trail of moonlight on the gently rippled surface of the lake.
"Did you hear that?" Kirk asked, handing her one of the mugs. "Careful, it's hot."
She balanced the mug on the cedar railing and tilted her head to listen. "An owl?"
"I love that sound. It always reminds me of the first time you brought me here. Remember how we sneaked out in the canoe once your parents were asleep?"
Claire laughed softly. They'd paddled out from shore, then made love awkwardly but passionately on a quilted blanket Kirk had spread on the wooden floor between the seats. An owl had skimmed across the sky, so close they heard the rustle of his feathers an instant before his unearthly call had punctuated the crucial moment
"That was unforgettable," she agreed. A pressure on her arm made her glance down to where Kirk had placed his hand.
"You look beautiful, Claire. You're so lovely when you're pregnant."
She hadn't realized he was staring at her, and now the intensity of his expression had her catching her breath. "You couldn't even tell I was expecting the last time you saw me," she reminded him. Only four days ago. She wouldn't have changed much hi that amount of time.
"I must have been blind not to have noticed." His eyes traveled down from her face to the low scoop of her nightie, then to the thin fabric that clung to her breasts. She saw him moisten his lips, then gaze lower.
"May I?"
She didn't know what she was giving him per-mission to do, but when she nodded, he placed his other hand on her belly. She felt a responding stir between her legs and almost, but not quite, leaned into him.
"Hey, there, little one," he said softly. "This is your daddy talking."
That her eyes filled with tears at such a simple comment seemed silly, but they did. Kirk had always liked to talk as if the unborn baby could hear him.
"Don't you worry," he continued. "Your mama and I are going to take care of you." He looked back at her, his expression fierce. "No matter what happens. Aren't we, Claire?"
She nodded again, not trusting her voice.
"And I'm going to take care of you, too, Claire." He tipped her chin up and stared into her eyes until, Lord help her, she almost believed him.
"Are you, Kirk?" She was so tempted to beg him to be the husband and father that she and the girls needed.
But why? Did she still love Kirk? Despite his devotion to the office, his near affair with Janice? Or was it because she was pregnant and needed someone she could depend on?
Truth was, she didn't want to be a single mother with four children. But that wasn't reason enough to cling to a marriage that didn't work on other levels.
Still, the way she felt when he touched her— that had nothing to do with the children.
"I'm so confused…"
"Sit down, Claire." Kirk pulled over one of the wooden chairs. Once she was seated, he handed her her mug, then drew up a chair beside her.
"I'm sorry I've screwed up our lives this way."
"If only you'd come to me about the problems in our marriage before you turned to—"
"I know." He leaned forward on his knees, glancing sideways at her. "But it happened so gradually. I didn't realize what was missing in our marriage until I found it—with her."
That hurt. That really hurt. Claire sipped her tea, wishing she could recapture the warm, peaceful feeling she usually had when she sat out by the lake in the evening. Instead, she felt anxious and tense. And, yes, jealous.
Another woman had given Kirk the emotional intimacy that he should have been getting from her. That they should have been sharing together. Thinking of the two of them alone together, all those months, made her physically ill. And she'd never guessed…
"Did you see Janice at work this week?"
"She's on holiday…visiting her folks on Vancouver Island for a couple of weeks."
Good. If only she'd stay there. But Clair
e knew the solution would not be that simple.
Less than a foot away from her, her husband cupped his mug and stared out across the lake. "It's over between Janice and me. You don't have to worry about that."
Claire sighed. "And I guess I'm supposed to take your word?"
"For what it's worth," he said. He stood abruptly and went to the sliding doors. "I take it I get the couch?"
"That was my plan. Although I could share Jenna's bed—"
"Let's leave the kids out of this for now." "I'd love to do just that. But let's face it. As innocent as they are, our children are at the very heart of this situation. Whatever we decide will affect them for all their lives."
Kirk looked bleak as he turned back to face her. "Don't you think I know that? Don't you think I worry about that every minute of every day?"
Well, you didn't worry about it when you were having those late-night dinners with Janice! Claire bit back the angry words. What was the point in escalating their argument at this time of night?
"Why don't you go to bed, Claire. You need your rest."
As if she'd be able to fall asleep now. Still, Claire grabbed her mug and followed him indoors. She poured her tea down the drain—she'd only managed to swallow a few mouthfuls.
Not that it mattered. No amount of chamomile was going to bring her comfort tonight.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The cottage was suspiciously quiet the next morning. From behind closed eyelids, Claire sensed another sunny day, and judging from the heat in the room, it was later than usual. Oh, joy of joys, maybe the girls had slept in.
She yawned and stretched, and her hand hit something solid. She pulled the paperback mystery she'd been reading last night out from under her pillow. She must have dozed off around chapter seven, she thought. Just when they'd determined the death wasn't accidental.
But if she'd fallen asleep reading, the light ought to be on. And it didn't seem right that the children could have slept this late. The small clock by the lamp claimed it was after ten—which the high angle of the sun's rays passing through the window verified.
The Fourth Child Page 8
