The Baby Track

by Barbara Boswell

  “And you’re hoping to take advantage of a poor amnesiac to secure a win?” Connor challenged, sounding so much like his old self that Courtney started. “I don’t think so, honey. Let the competition begin.”

  They played two games—he won one and she won the other—and were in the middle of the tiebreaker when a team

  of doctors and nurses swept into the room. Wilson Nollier was leading the pack.

  Courtney tensed. She was always on edge when Nollier was present, though Connor accepted him easily, believing him to be the “friend” the attorney claimed he was. Nollier was forever asking questions about Connor’s past— about his childhood, his job, their marriage—in order to “jog” Connor’s memory. She answered them to the best of her ability, trying to cover her lapses—of which there were so many, as she didn’t have a great deal of information about Connor’s life prior to his meeting her.

  And of course, anything she said about their marriage was pure fiction- She hated to lie and feared getting caught in the web she’d had to spin. Odd, but during the long hours she spent alone with Connor, there was no tension and no need to lie. He didn’t ask her any questions about himself or their past. It was as if his life had begun afresh in the hospital room and he had no interest in what had happened before.

  Connor was interested in hearing about her, though, and Courtney told him about her family and growing up all over the world, about her job at NPB, even about Mark and Marianne’s desperate quest for a baby. He listened intently and remembered everything she told him, often discussing it with her later.

  But now, here was Wilson Nollier with the medical team to intrude on their privacy once more. Courtney barely managed to suppress a disgruntled sigh.

  Wilson Nollier didn’t notice her less-than-enthusiastic welcome; he never did. “Great news!” he exclaimed with even more ebullience than usual. “You’re going home today, Connor!”

  “Yes, Connor. Today’s the day,” seconded Dr. Standish. “April 13. You’re being discharged this afternoon.”

  “Of course, you’ll stay here in Shadyside Falls another week, as originally planned, while Sarah’s paperwork is being processed,” Nollier chimed in. “Anyway, Standish

  here would like to see you several times before he turns your case over to a physician in D.C.”

  “I can leave the hospital now?” Connor repeated. He caught Courtney’s hand and drew her to his side. “That’s the best news I’ve heard since—hmm, it’s hard to come up with an effective comparison when I only have a one-week memory span to draw upon.”

  Nollier laughed delightedly. “You’ve kept your sense of humor throughout. You’ve been a true champion, Connor.

  I’m proud of you. Your father is, too. I’ve kept him informed daily of your progress, of course. He’d like to visit you. Is that all right with you, Connor?”

  Connor shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

  “He wanted to come as soon as I told him about the accident, but I knew you’d want to be out of the hospital before meeting—er, seeing—him,” continued Wilson. “He’ll | come to Mrs. Mason’s place tomorrow morning at ten, if that suits you.”

  Connor nodded. “It’s all right with me.”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Courtney interjected, shooting Nollier a glare. She was angry on Connor’s behalf. It wasn’t fair for him to meet Richard Tremaine while in such a vulnerable state. If his memory was intact, he would never agree to it and Nollier knew it!

  She felt the eyes of everybody in the room upon her, including Connor’s. Uh-oh. Now she had to come up with a reasonable explanation as to why her husband shouldn’t visit with his father.

  “We haven’t mentioned this before, but there has been some—uh—tension between Connor and his father in the past.” That was true, in an understated sort of way, wasn’t it? Lord, how she hated to lie! “I think we should postpone this visit until Connor is... stronger.”

  “I’m strong already, Courtney. You mean until I get my memory back,” Connor corrected her. “Sweetheart, it’s okay. I’ve already figured out that something wasn’t quite right between my family and me. I’ve seen the way you tense up when Wilson asks you about them. I’ve deliberately refrained from asking you anything about them, and I’ve noticed that you haven’t volunteered anything, either, trying to spare me any anxiety, I’m sure.”

  “Oh, Connor.” Courtney groaned. He’d misinterpreted everything!

  “I appreciate your trying to protect me, darling.” He hugged her to him. “But it’s not necessary. I want to see my father. Since I have no memory of what’s happened before, I’d like to take the opportunity to make a new start.”

  He wouldn’t be saying that if knew the whole truth, Courtney knew. Her heart began to pound. “Connor, I think you should know that the problem between you and your father is a little more serious than something like your dad attending a business meeting instead of your sixth birthday party, or being on the road instead of catching your school play. You two—”

  “What Connor said about a new start makes excellent sense,” Nollier cut in. “He’s a rational, functioning adult, Courtney. He can make his own decisions and he has.” “How functioning can he be when he can’t remember anything but the past week?” Courtney challenged.

  “You’re very protective of your husband, and that’s good,” Nollier said soothingly. “I’m happy that Connor has a wife who so fiercely cares about him. But this time you’re being overprotective, Courtney. Richard is desperate to see his son, and Connor has agreed to see him. It’s going to happen.”

  “Connor didn’t agree, he was railroaded into it,” she retorted. “And I—”

  “I almost forgot,” Nollier said, cutting her off. “I have news for you, too, Courtney.” A wide grin curved his mouth. “Wonderful news. Remember when you and Connor were talking about your brother and his wife and how much they want to adopt a baby? Well, I kept it in mind because you two young people have come to mean a lot to me and I want to help both you and your respective families. So call your brother and tell him that he’ll be a father within the month. There is a young girl who came to my office looking for a prospective adoptive family..."

  “Still mad at Wilson?” Connor asked.

  The expression on Courtney’s face gave him his answer before she vehemently replied, “Yes!”

  “It was an incredibly obvious bribery attempt on Wilson’s part.” Connor grinned, remembering. “He didn’t say it, but the implied message was definitely, ‘Your brother will have the child he and his wife have been longing for if you’ll stop making a fuss about Connor’s father visiting.’ ”

  “It was unconscionable!” Courtney exclaimed.

  They were having dinner at Tell’s Inn, Shadyside Falls’s most popular restaurant, celebrating Connor’s first meal since his release from the hospital. Mrs. Mason had insisted on baby-sitting Sarah while they dined.

  Connor reached across the table and placed his hand over hers. “Sweetheart, stop worrying. I promise I won’t become unglued when my father arrives tomorrow.” He smiled wryly. “How can I? I have no memory of him.” Truer words had never been spoken, Courtney thought grimly. And amnesia had nothing to do with Connor’s lack of memories with his father. Ever since Wilson Nollier had announced Richard Tremaine’s impending visit, she had been debating whether or not to tell Connor part of the truth—that he’d never met the man who had fathered him, that he’d been raised by another man. But Dr. Ammon’s description of disassociative amnesia stopped her.

  Suppose Connor subconsciously wanted to know and acknowledge Richard Tremaine as his father; the blow to his head and subsequent amnesia gave him the ideal chance to do so, without the bitterness of the past blocking the way.

  “When the subconscious finally comes to terms with the painful reality, conscious memory will return, ” Dr. Ammon had said. Would meeting Richard Tremaine and establishing some sort of rapport with him enable Connor to do that? He really seemed to want to
see his father. Would she be doing more harm than good by interfering in any way? Or was that a self-deluding, self-serving theory, designed to ease her conscience as she continued the charade between them?

  “It’s just so complicated!” she said, more to herself than to him. “I want to do the right thing—”

  Her voice trailed off. Here she sat, having dinner at a cozy table for two and holding hands with him, playing the part of his wife, duping him into playing the part of her husband—and she had the nerve to even talk about doing the right thing? She looked at him, her dark eyes troubled. “Connor, I don’t know what to do. I’ve always been forthright and honest. I’ve never—”

  “I want you to stop worrying,” Connor interrupted. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips. “Everything you’re doing is what you should be doing, what you have to do. Stop tormenting yourself, baby.”

  She desperately wanted to believe him. But of course, she couldn’t. “You don’t know the half of it,” she said ruefully. “There are circumstances—”

  “This is supposed to be a celebration. We’re not going to talk about anything more serious than what’s on the menu tonight,” Connor cut in again. “And how glad I am to be sprung from the hospital.”

  “But, Connor, I-”

  He squeezed her hand. “Promise that you won’t address me in the first person plural, as in ‘How are we feeling today?’ and ‘Did we enjoy our meal?’ Hospital patient-speak is a hellacious language,” he added dryly.

  “Connor, I’m afraid that you—”

  “They have fresh Virginia spots on the menu. What a welcome change from the hospital’s rubber chicken. Have you thought about an appetizer?”

  She stared into his eyes. “You’re determined to keep me from-”

  “Wailing and wringing your hands over a situation that’s beyond your control.” His gaze held hers. “Yes, Courtney, I’m determined to do that.”

  And he did, successfully blocking every attempt she made to discuss their situation and his condition. Finally she gave up and gave into his wishes. They talked about the menu, about Sarah, about the news they’d watched on television, about his prowess at cards and hers at checkers, for she’d won that crucial third game. Connor demanded a rematch, then drew a ticktacktoe board on the back of the paper place mat and challenged her to a match.

  When they finished dinner, he suggested a walk through town before heading back to Mrs. Mason’s house in the rental car that Wilson Nollier had procured for Courtney immediately following the accident. Holding hands, they strolled along the main street of Shadyside Falls, pausing to window-shop as they went. Connor was charming, funny and attentive, and Courtney couldn’t help responding to him.

  It was as if he were courting her and she was very willing to be courted. As they walked together, talking and laughing and holding hands, Courtney gazed up at him and finally admitted the truth to herself: she was deeply in love with Connor McKay.

  Nine

  “The little one wasn’t a bit of trouble,” Mrs. Mason assured them when they arrived back at the house an hour later. “She finished her bottle about forty minutes ago and went straight to sleep. Did you two enjoy your evening out?”

  Connor smiled warmly at Courtney. “We had a great time.” He pulled a ten-dollar bill from his wallet and handed it to Mrs. Mason. “I hope we didn’t keep you up too late.” “Not at all.” Mrs. Mason tucked the money into the pocket of her housedress. “I’m going to turn in now, but if you’d like to stay downstairs and use the kitchen or the living room, feel free.”

  “Thanks, but we’ll call it a night, too.” Connor caught Courtney’s hand and headed toward the stairway.

  Courtney’s heart jumped into her throat. Her knees were suddenly so weak and shaky it was hard to walk, let alone keep up with Connor’s swift pace.

  Connor thought he was her husband, he believed they had a normal marriage, a good marriage. He had every intention of sharing the queen-sized bed in their room, and she could come up with no credible reason to tell him why he couldn’t.

  The medical excuse she might have used had been demolished when Connor had left the hospital this afternoon. “There is no reason why you can’t resume sexual relations as soon as you want,” Dr. Standish had said matter-of-factly, while Courtney’s pulse had gone into overdrive. Now the doctor’s words replayed through her head.

  No reason? They weren’t married, was that reason enough? Resume? She was a virgin who had never experienced sexual relations in the first place. As soon as you want? Connor made it plain that he wanted, all right.

  But she wanted him just as badly, Courtney acknowledged as frissons of heat rippled through her. The sexual excitement or infatuation or whatever her initial feelings for him could be called had swiftly and irrevocably deepened. She was in love with him.

  Thus, another complication was added to this already impossibly complicated situation. How did a woman keep the man she loved, the man whose touch she yearned for, out of her bed?

  Did she even want to?

  “Let’s check on the baby,” Connor suggested, leading her into the small room adjoining theirs. Sarah was sleeping peacefully on her stomach, her tiny arms resting above her head.

  “She’s so beautiful, so precious,” Courtney whispered, standing beside the crib and gazing down at her. “She looks like a little angel, doesn’t she?”

  “Our baby,” Connor murmured, his voice filled with awe. He and Courtney were going to raise this child together*. They would watch her grow from a helpless infant to a child to a young woman. She would learn to walk and to talk, to laugh and to love, to become a mature, compassionate adult who would someday have a family of her own, continuing the process that he and Courtney were beginning right now.

  He felt immensely privileged to be a part of this transmission of life and love. A wave of sheer happiness surged through him, and he linked his arms around Courtney’s waist, resting his hands on the flat plain of her stomach. “I’m the luckiest man in the world,” he said huskily, nuzzling her neck.

  Courtney intertwined her fingers with his and leaned into him, her heart overflowing with love for him. Her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Connor, if only—”

  “None of that,” he interrupted softly. “We have each other and our beautiful baby. I don’t need my memory back to know how fortunate we are.”

  Courtney released a shuddering sob and he tightened his hold on her. And then it happened. A flashback.

  He’d had some in the hospital that he had mentioned to the doctors but had purposely kept from Courtney. There was no use raising her hopes, and oddly enough, the flashbacks had nothing to do with her; they were snippets from his childhood, from his college and law school years. He actually remembered his graduation from the University of Maryland Law School and his elation when he’d learned that he had passed the bar. There were no memories of how he had used his law degree or of his professional life, but the doctors had assured him all of that would return in time.

  In the flash of memory he was experiencing now, he saw himself driving, he even heard which song was playing on the tape. His heart leapt. Was he going to remember the accident? He had listened to it described so often that he found himself anticipating the big brown car speeding through the red light.

  But the only thing filling his mind was memories of himself feeling overwhelmed with anger and confusion. A nice little family. The words rang in his head, but the voice saying them was cynical and disparaging. Connor was appalled. That couldn’t have been him!

  He glanced quickly from tiny Sarah sleeping in her crib to Courtney, who was trembling in his arms, her face buried in his chest hidden from his view. He loved them! He was so lucky to have them.

  Yet he couldn’t shake off the memory of a detached and cynical Connor McKay who lived a superficial, self-involved life, who lived for the moment with no thought of the future, who wanted to enjoy the company of women but not a commitment to a woman.

>   Had that been him before he met and married Courtney? He didn’t let himself think that he had been that way as a husband, that he had been hostile and aloof. That he had cheated on her? Was it possible that their marriage was not the happy one he’d lived this past week?

  He felt chilled to his very soul. “I love you, Courtney,” he said hoarsely, gazing down into her enormous dark eyes.

  Courtney felt like crying. “Connor, right now you may think you do but—”

  He placed his fingers over her lips. So he was right. There had been something wrong before the accident, something that made her doubt that he would be saying those words if it hadn’t occurred. “I know I do,” he said fiercely. “Courtney, the reality is now. What’s past is past, and I’m beginning to think it’s best forgotten, after all. What’s real is what we have now—you and Sarah and me. Our family.”

  The intensity of his words, of his hot green gaze, made her weak. Her love for him made her weak. She loved him and wanted him, she wanted to please him, to give and give to him, all of her and all her love. Courtney knew when he scooped her up in his arms and carried her out of the baby’s room into their own, that she was going to make love with him.

  Caution and control, those two safeguards with which she used to rule her life, to avoid risks, were poor substitutes for the fierce emotions surging through her. Weren’t there some risks worth taking? The reality is now, he’d said. And reality was loving him.

  “Sweetheart, believe me,” Connor whispered. He set her on her feet beside the bed, his eyes holding hers.

  “Oh, Connor, I—I do,” she breathed. She had to believe, she so desperately wanted it to be true.

  His mouth closed over hers, hard and hungry, and Courtney’s lips parted on a soft moan. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, claiming the soft warmth with bold mastery. Courtney shuddered at the jolt of pleasure that streaked through her body and she arched into him, clinging to him, her senses reeling with the taste, the scent, the feel of him.