She loved this baby. She wanted this baby. Regardless of what happened between Kirk and her.
"I hear you, Grady. But I still have a hard time taking Kirk's insecurities seriously. After all, I'm obviously pregnant. As if any man would be interested in me now."
"I guess I'd have to disagree with you on that one. But the point is, you and Kirk belong together. And I'm… well, you know how I feel about Terese. I'd marry her in a flash if she'd have me. But she's so spooked by her ex-husband…" , Guilt forced Claire's gaze down to the boards of the dock. Only too recently she'd thought the same way. "Is he dangerous, Grady? Really dangerous?"
"I don't know. But the fact that he's out there only makes me love Terese more. Maybe because I feel she needs me."
"That fragile-male-ego thing again?"
Grady gave her chair a kick. "Offer a woman a little inside information, and she turns on you."
Claire smiled. "I'm not turning on you, Grady. I really do hope you and Terese work things out"
"Here conies the boat." Grady pointed to a speck in the distance.
As they watched, the speck grew bigger, and eventually took on shape and color. Within a minute Claire could make out Drew at the wheel and Kirk behind.
"Can you see who's skiing?"
"I think it's Andie."
A few seconds later Claire could discern the red of her daughter's hair. The boat was still coming in their direction; in about one minute it would be parallel to the dock. Which was when Andie would slip her left foot out of her ski and try to keep her balance on the remaining one.
Grady stood and started shouting instructions. "Not yet, Andie." A few seconds passed. "Okay, bend down, get ready…"
Then, just a split second before the boat whizzed by, Grady raised his hand. "Now!"
On cue, Andie kicked off her left ski, wobbled to the right, straightened, then wobbled to the left—
"Come on, Andie!" Claire cheered. —then stabilized in the center. "She's doing it, Grady! She's actually doing it!" Claire was so glad for her daughter. She'd had such a tough summer. At least this one thing had gone right.
"Sure she is. She's one determined kid." They watched until the boat had circled out of sight, with Andie still balancing on her single ski. Then Grady sat back in his chair and glanced at the package Claire had stowed under her chair.
"Now, tell me what's in that container, or I'm going to have to throw you into the lake." Claire pulled her sunglasses from the top of her head to the bridge of her nose. Smiling, she just shook her head. "Be patient."
Grady groaned. "You can be cruel, you know that? I'll, bet they're those Triple Temptation Cookies, aren't they?"
"You'll just have to wait and see."
After Andie's successful circuit on one ski, the boat headed for home.
"Hey, Claire!" Drew waved from the front seat after cutting the throttle. "Did you see your daughter?"
"I sure did. That was terrific, hon!" She waved at Andie, who was breast-stroking toward the other end of the pier.
Grady grabbed for the side of the boat as it came near and pulled it in gently to rest alongside the wooden platform. With practiced ease he secured the boat while Claire helped Kirk unload the children and Andie hauled herself out of the lake.
"That was fantastic, kiddo," Kirk said, wrapping a big towel around Andie's body. She was shivering like crazy, but her lips were stretched into the biggest smile.
"It was so much fun, Daddy! Did you see me, Mom?"
"I .sure did." Claire turned and gave the towel around Andie a brisk rub. "You had great balance out there, hon." She glanced up at Kirk and felt her smile stiffen. When he looked at her there were questions in his eyes she wasn't sure how to answer.
Maybe she'd made some mistakes in the past. Maybe she'd done too much comparing, and maybe it hadn't been fair. But that didn't justify what Kirk had done. No matter what her dissatisfactions with the marriage, she'd never gone behind Kirk's back to find her pleasure elsewhere.
"Did you see me ski, Mommy?" Daisy asked.
Claire bent to kiss the tip of the nose visible from behind Daisy's flower-shaped sunglasses. "I saw a little. Did you have trouble getting up?"
"Nope. Got up first time." Daisy's chest expanded proudly.
"Good work. Now, could you carry the sunscreen back to the house? I'll take the towels. I think Daddy's going to have to carry Jenna. She fell asleep in the boat."
"Sure." Daisy skipped ahead with Andie and Drew, who was carrying a sleeping Angel in his arms.
"Too much excitement for the little ones, I guess," Kirk said, plucking Jenna from the bottom of the boat.
"We can put them down on my bed," Grady suggested. "Then let's organize something to eat. I'm starved, and I mink Claire has something decadent in that container of hers."
At the mention of food, Andie and Daisy looked back from where they were walking with Drew. Both spotted the plastic container in their mother's hands and called out simultaneously, "Triple Temptation Cookies?"
Claire just smiled and picked up the box.
Following behind Grady. and Kirk, along the deck that led to the back patio door, she couldn't help but visually compare the two men. They were close hi height, but so different in character and in build. Grady was larger—broader across the shoulders and rugged in form—whereas Kirk's muscles were more sharply defined, his hips slimmer, his body movements almost graceful.
Two such different men. One dark, one fair; one a craftsman, the other a businessman.
If she had it all to do over again, if the choice rested entirely in her hands, which would she want to marry?
Kirk had said she couldn't answer the question. And he was right.
But not because the answer was so difficult. Because the question was wrong. Second-guessing past choices was a fool's game. The thought hit her a few minutes later, once the younger children were tucked under covers and Grady had found everyone something to drink. She was sitting at the patio table across from Kirk, who was checking Andie carefully for signs of sunburn.
"Seems okay, kiddo," he said. "Guess that sun lotion really was waterproof like it said."
Andie slid onto Kirk's knee, wrapping an arm around his neck. With then: heads so close together, Claire could see a resemblance in the shape of their chins and the deep set of their eyes. Andie was a doll, and her husband was gorgeous. With his now-bronzed skin and sun-bleached hair, he reminded her of how he'd looked that first summer they'd gone out.
He'd been playing baseball, and she'd attended all his games to cheer him on. He'd been an awesome shortstop, and a fabulous sight in his uniform. Claire recollected one game in particular, when she'd sat behind two young women who spent the whole game listing Kirk's obvious physical charms and screaming every time he made a good play. After the game, their whispers had become hushed when he headed their way, then their mouths had dropped open to see him walk up to Claire and throw his arms around her.
She'd felt so proud of him then, and proud of herself, too—that he'd chosen her as his girl. Claire smiled, remembering, then suddenly felt more somber. When had she lost the feeling that she was the chosen one? That for Kirk the sun rose and fell around her and the things she said and did?
"Okay, Claire," Grady said, breaking into her thoughts. "Enough with the mystery. Show us the goods."
"Aw, it's nothing," Claire said, removing the lid slowly. "Just a double batch of those cookies nobody ever seems to like very much."
Three heads crashed as they bent in simultaneously.
"Ow!" Daisy complained. But a cheer followed immediately. "Yeah! Triple Temptation Cookies!"
They passed the box around, once, twice and again, until the cookies were almost all gone. Made with a chocolate-drop cookie base and generous scoops of semisweet chocolate chips, white-chocolate chips and chopped almonds, they were a triple-chocolate delight and a favorite of adults and kids alike.
A fitting "end of the season'' contribution to her "Cottage Cooki
ng" column? Claire shied from the thought, shocked to realize how quickly the summer had passed.
She'd planned on having her marriage problems sorted out before the kids were back hi school. But after two months of counseling, talking, arguing and discussing, she felt they were no further ahead than when they'd started. She cast a look at Kirk, wondering if he felt equally discouraged.
Kirk bit into the cookie his wife had baked, barely tasting the rich, fudgey flavor. He was captivated by the picture Clave made, with her flaxen hair mussed from the wind and her skin flushed from a day in the heat. She'd taken off her sunglasses in the shade of the awning over Grady's deck, and the blue of her eyes appeared even more intense than usual.
You'd think that after all these years he'd be accustomed to her beauty. True, weeks could go by without him really noticing her. But then there would be a moment when the sun hit her a certain way or she paused with her head tilted at just the right angle.
And wham, it would hit him, just like the very first time he'd met her—at the firm's Christmas party. She was working at the hotel and the moment she stepped into the ballroom—to make sure the event was proceeding as planned—the world had stopped rotating, he'd ceased breathing, the lights had dimmed. Except for one hot spotlight trained directly on her face. The wonder girl who could have brought him to his knees on the strength of her warm, husky laugh alone.
From that first moment, he'd determined to meet her, to date her, to marry her. He'd never felt a moment's doubt that she was the woman for him, and the more he'd gotten to know her, the more certain he'd grown in his feelings.
This was the woman he wanted.
Had she ever felt that way about him? Had she ever felt anything even close to it? Watching her now, Kirk realized his wife was as much of an enigma to him as ever.
"Want another cookie, Daddy?" Andie held the box in front of him. "It's the very last one."
"That's generous of you. Thanks, kiddo." He took the cookie, broke it in half and offered the larger piece to his daughter.
Daisy, her delicate mouth now edged in chocolate, looked at the empty box and sighed. "Are there any more at home?"
"Afraid not, hon." Claire lifted her onto her lap, and Daisy snuggled her head against her mother's shoulder.
They're a picture, those two. Same coloring, same vivid blue eyes. He wanted to reach for the camera, which he'd brought with him on the boat, but he was so comfortable with Andie sprawled against bun.
"Well, now that we've had dessert, how about a main course?" Grady asked. "I know the boys will be home soon, starving as usual. Burgers okay with everyone?"
"We should be going," Claire protested. "Don't you dare." Grady placed a hand against her empty shoulder, the one without Daisy snuggled into it, to force her back in the chair. "Jenna's sound asleep, and besides, it's my turn to entertain.
Why does everyone assume that since Beth left I'm not capable of scraping a meal together? Who do you think did most of the cooking when she lived here, anyway?"
"It must have been you," Drew said. "Or those boys would never have grown as tall as they are. Remember that sauce Bess made for Claire's Christmas pudding a few years ago?"
Drew pushed his chair back. "I'll give you a hand, Grady. Let's call Mallory and ask her to bring a tub of coleslaw from Marg's on her way home from work."
''I'll help, too," Claire volunteered, but Grady stuck his head out the door to refuse her offer.
"You can't cook. You're a living lounge chair." His gaze dropped to Daisy, whose eyelids were drooping. "Relax for a change and let someone else take care of the grub."
Kirk had been about to volunteer, as well, but Andie was falling asleep against him. "These kids aren't so much hungry as exhausted."
Claire nodded. She was gazing at Daisy's face, and her dreamy expression reminded him of the way she looked when she was nursing an infant.
Kirk choked up, wondering if he would have the privilege of watching while she nursed this new baby. Right now the odds weren't good.
He'd really hoped counseling would be the answer, but as far as he could tell they hadn't made much progress. His tirade last night hadn't helped. Why had he lost his cool that way? He hadn't seriously thought there was anything going on between Grady and Claire.
But he was jealous. Not just of the close friendship or the high regard that Claire had for Grady, but of the time Grady had always been able to spend with his family.
Did Claire think he wanted to miss dinners with the family, the children's little performances, time together on the weekend? Long office hours, a forty-five-minute commute, extensive travel demands—these were the realities of the job he had chosen. And Kirk loved his job.
But he also loved his wife.
If only she could love him back. For the man he was, not the husband and father she wanted him to be.
Was that asking too much?
"There's something we need to talk about."
From Claire's tone of voice, it wasn't anything good. Feeling a sudden panic, Kirk checked to make sure Andie was sleeping, before asking, "What is it?"
"I got the results from that blood test I took in Barrie."
Kirk's thoughts shifted from the relationship between him and Claire to their unborn child. "And?"
"The alpha-something or other levels were a little high. The doctor is recommending I have an amniocentesis so they can test the baby's cells in the amniotic fluid."
Kirk was at a loss for a moment. "But—" He paused, thinking things through. "What will they be checking for?"
Claire sighed. "Well, one of their concerns is neural tube defects."
"You mean like spina bifida?"
She nodded. "It's a possibility. Of course, if they do the amnio, they'll test for other things, too. Like Down's syndrome."
Kirk sucked in a deep breath.
"This test is just a precaution. Chances are the baby is fine."
"Of course she is.'' But then, why had the blood test come back abnormal? Kirk felt a rising panic; he knew women over age thirty-five were at increased risk for fetal anomalies.
He tried not to let the worry sound in his voice. "How soon can you have the amnio?"
"I've got an appointment booked for Monday morning. I wasn't sure if I was going to keep it. But I guess I should, huh?"
"I think so, Claire. Even just for the peace of mind."
"The amnio has risks, too, you know." Claire pushed her hair back from her forehead. "There's a one in two hundred possibility of miscarriage."
Damn. Those odds weren't as small as he'd like. However, they were talking about serious defects here. "I don't know, Claire. What do you think?"
"I'm sure the baby is fine. Still…"
"Maybe we ought to be certain."
"Yes." She sighed. "I guess I'll keep that appointment."
"Monday morning, right? I'll call in late to the office and come with you."
The amniocentesis wasn't so much painful as it was uncomfortable. Claire had to drink eight glasses of water beforehand, which put a real strain on her bladder. First, the doctor located the baby's position by ultrasound, then she swabbed Claire's belly with sepia-colored antiseptic.
"To prevent infection," she explained, taking out a hypodermic needle that looked frighteningly long.
Claire squeezed Kirk's fingers and forced her gaze away from the needle.
"You'll feel a pinprick as the needle goes in," the doctor told her, "then pressure as we draw out a couple of tablespoons of amniotic fluid. Hopefully, we'll gather some of the baby's shed skin cells with the fluid."
Claire closed her eyes and squeezed Kirk's hand tighter.
He bent low and kissed the top of her head. "You're being very brave."
As she felt the needle jab her skin, Claire focused on the baby. You're going to be okay. Don't stan doing cartwheels now, whatever you do. The pressing deep inside her was like nothing she'd ever experienced. Then it was over, and the doctor was reminding her of things to
watch out for,
"Leakage from the vagina, abdominal cramps or fever. If you have any of these symptoms, call us immediately."
"We will," Kirk promised. He appeared calm and confident in his suit and tie, but behind his tan, his skin was almost as pale as his starched white shirt. "Are you okay, Claire?"
She nodded, feeling unaccountably teary. They had to wait three to four weeks for the results of this test. An interminable period of time. Not that she was going to worry. Her baby was okay. She just knew it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Claire felt as if she'd blinked twice and the summer had gone. Fruit stands were loaded with fresh, locally grown com, apples, potatoes and squash; stores everywhere offered back-to-school specials; dresses that had fallen to her girls' knees in June were now too short.
The September long weekend was hot and glorious. It seemed a travesty to pack up and return to the city. Kirk came up to help her organize belongings, clean out the fridge, load up the van.
"I don't want to go to the city," Daisy complained, hanging on to the tire swing Saturday after lunch.
Claire sympathized. She wasn't ready to go home yet, either. Her life was still a shambles; she had no clear idea about the right thing to do. And yet, the time had arrived to make a decision. Starting tonight, she and Kirk would be living under the same roof seven days a week. Given the reluctant truce they'd reached since Kirk's blowup about Grady, she wasn't sure either of them could bear the strain.
"We'll be back for Thanksgiving," Kirk said as he passed with two of the suitcases.
But would they?
Claire felt hot just watching him work. She'd changed into her denim jumper after lunch dishes were done, and already her legs were sticky under the long fabric. She was exhausted, and not anticipating the three-hour drive with much enthusiasm.
"Come on, Daisy. Get into the van, please." Jenna was already buckled into the back seat of the Volvo, and Andie had claimed the front seat next to her dad.
"I want to ride with Daddy."
"But I'm going with Daddy," Andie objected.
"There's room for all three of you," Kirk pointed out.
"I don't care." Andie crossed her arms and leaned against the door. "I'm not riding with her.''
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