Seeing Stars

by Vanessa Grant

  "Blake..."

  If he heard her, he made no sign. Instead, his mouth traced the curve of her elbow, the tender flesh inside her upper arm, then brushed the side of her breast, so gently she wasn't sure if the touch was real, or drawn into her imagination by her own needs.

  "Blake," she whispered, so faintly the voice inside her urged her to be silent, to turn in his arms, to draw his mouth to the places that ached for his kiss.

  He murmured something, his mouth tracing the indentation of her navel.

  "You have to stop, Blake. Please."

  His mouth paused in its journey, then he turned his head, resting his cheek against her belly, and she heard a long breath expel from his lungs.

  "OK," he said, catching her outflung hand and lacing their fingers together. "What is it?"

  She closed her eyes, feeling the pressure of his head on her belly, resting right there, where it was very likely that his child was already growing.

  "We need to..." What? she thought wildly. We need to talk? To say exactly what? "That's not... your head on my stomach. It's not stopped enough."

  He chuckled and rolled off her, lying on his back, still holding her hand, their fingers threaded together. Lying side by side, she thought, like two children staring up at the night sky, looking for patterns in the stars.

  Except they weren't children, although she herself hadn't been behaving with much more forethought than a child.

  "OK," he said a teasing rumble in his voice. "I'm listening. Really listening now." He brought her hand to his mouth, kissed it as if to seal his assertion with a promise.

  She simply didn't know how to say it, even what to say.

  "Claire..."

  He propped himself up on one elbow and stared down into her eyes, which made it even worse, because if she couldn't say whatever words needed saying when he wasn't looking at her, how could she now?

  "Look, Claire, I wasn't trying to put pressure on you."

  He brushed the damp strands of her hair back from one cheek and said, "Well, maybe I was, in a way, at least trying to make sure you didn't get away from me without knowing this isn't all. This week is only the beginning, Claire."

  The beginning, and the end.

  "Blake, a relationship is really impossible for me."

  In the next room, the telephone rang.

  "Ignore it," he said. "Claire, there isn't much that can't be worked out if two people want it enough."

  "I have to..." She pushed herself up, away from him. "It's probably Jennifer on the phone. It'll be just a minute."

  She fled out of the bedroom, realizing that she was naked, that she should have grabbed something because he'd follow her in a few seconds, and being naked wasn't going to help her stop what had to be stopped.

  If he didn't follow her, she'd have to walk back into the bedroom naked, and he'd be waiting. She wasn't sure, but she thought he was wearing a pair of bathing trunks still, but that wasn't enough. The way things happened when they were together, they both needed coats of armor, or maybe a chastity belt would do the trick.

  She grabbed the phone on its fourth ring.

  "Claire? It is you, isn't it?" A woman's voice, breathless, on the edge of panic.

  "Who's this?" It certainly wasn't Jennifer.

  "Is Mac there? I've been calling everywhere and I can't find him, and Gary's away and the baby's coming and I can't think of anywhere else to try for Mac, so I phoned Lydia and asked where you were staying, and she got the registration forms and—"

  "Blake's here, Grace. I'll get him."

  He was already reaching for the receiver and she gave it to him, meaning to step back, away from him, to find clothes to cover her. But he snagged her hand and pulled her into the curve of his arm.

  "Grace, what's up?"

  She could hear his sister's half-hysterical voice.

  "How far apart are your contractions?" The question sounded expert, and she wondered if this was the first time Grace had gone into labor with her husband away.

  Blake said quietly, "OK, Gracie, just take a deep breath... Good, now I want you to call the doctor, then call a taxi. I'll be there in twenty... make that fifteen minutes. If you're not at home, I'll meet you at the hospital."

  Grace must have protested because he said, "No, don't wait for me. I've got the bike, which isn't the right coach for you tonight, and I'm not going to waste an extra five minutes picking up the truck at my place. Now call the taxi, OK? Then call the doctor, and if there's time, while you're waiting you can try again to get through to Gary. And don't worry, honey, a few hours and you're going to have another beautiful baby."

  Grace sounded calmer by the time he hung up.

  "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I have to go."

  "I know." She touched his bare chest and forced a smile. "You left your clothes in the change room. You'd better get them or you'll catch cold in the wind from the bike."

  He cursed, then laughed. "Right. Add another two minutes to my estimated time of arrival. Do you want to come?"

  She shook her head. "Call me later, from the hospital."

  "It could be late."

  "I don't mind."

  He gave her a quick hard kiss, then left her.

  She continued to stare at the door long after she'd heard his bike engine cut through the quiet of the resort. She should have offered him the use of her Honda. Then he could have picked up Grace and driven her to the hospital, as his sister obviously wanted.

  Much later, after she'd showered and pulled on a warm robe, she realized that if she'd given him her car, it would have meant she couldn't pack her bags and drive away in the night.

  She was enough of a coward that she had her suitcase out before she realized that if she left, she'd be running out on not only Blake, but Jake and Tim as well. And while running might seem preferable to the alternative of confessing her sins to Blake, she knew she couldn't walk out on Jake, who had a court date next week, and who probably couldn't take one more act of abandonment without screwing up. As for Tim—well, she didn't know Tim's story, but she'd won respect from him and she didn't want to lose it.

  So she was stuck here, and sometime between now and tomorrow morning, she'd better figure out what she was going to do about Blake. Before he kissed her again, or she kissed him, and she ended up compounding the lie she should never have told.

  Hours later, Claire was sleeping on the sofa when the phone rang. The sound brought her to consciousness with a gasp and she jerked up, the blanket she'd tugged off the bed earlier tangled around her legs.

  In the window, the sky showed pale blue with faint pink tinges. Morning, she realized, and she must have finally fallen asleep on the sofa. When she fought free of the blanket, she heard Blake's voice on the phone.

  "You sound tired," she said, her own voice softening against her will. She'd meant to be brisk, friendly, to step back a bit because it would be easier to leave on Friday if she put some distance between them first. After all, how could she leave a man when he had his arms around her all the time?

  "Yeah, I guess I am tired."

  This wouldn't do. She mustn't sit here, perched by the phone, a sappy smile on her face just because it was Blake's voice on the telephone.

  "How is she?"

  "She's good. They're good. Claire, have you ever seen a baby born?"

  Her hand moved to cover her belly. "Just on television."

  "It's amazing. Incredible. I was there."

  Silence, as if they were sitting together without the need for words.

  "Claire?"

  "Yes?"

  "Do you ever think about it?"

  She drew her legs up, staring over her knees at a sunlit spot on the carpet. "Think about what?"

  "Having a baby."

  She swallowed a laugh, knowing it would be hysteria. She wasn't made for this kind of stress. She wanted to be home, where she could simply... simply be, without all these complications.

  "Do you, Claire?"

  "Jennifer h
as a baby. She's... I'm her godmother." She closed her eyes and listened to the sounds behind Blake. He'd called from the hospital. A pay phone, people walking by, Grace somewhere in the building, and her newborn infant. "I see Jenn's baby every day... hold her. Yes, I think about it."

  She needed to tell him. Now, while he stood there in the hospital, while she was safely at the other end of a phone wire. Now, because they were speaking of babies and it was probably the closest they'd get to a reasonable conversational opening.

  "Blake... do you think about it?"

  "Yeah. Yeah, I do. I'd like kids."

  She mustn't cry. Not now. "What did she have? Was it a girl or a boy?"

  "Girl. Five pounds eight ounces."

  "Give her... tell her I'm happy for her."

  "I will, later. She's sleeping now. Claire, I wish I could be with you right now."

  She huddled her knees closer to her chest, hunched herself up into a ball of arms and legs and telephone. "You need to sleep."

  "No." His chuckle sounded shatteringly intimate over the phone. "What I need is you, sweetheart, but what I have to do is head for the shipyard. I've got a sailboat that must be ready for varnishing by Saturday if I'm to deliver on time, and two delinquent punks who'll be expecting to find me working when they get there."

  "Do you want me to come help?"

  "You're tired too. Get some rest, and Claire, tonight—"

  "I have to work on the telescope."

  "We have to work on the scope. Afterward, we'll talk."

  She thought about it all day. Several times, she picked up the phone to call Jennifer, returning it to its cradle without dialing. It was one thing to confide in Jenn that yes, she'd taken the challenge and started an affair with the school bad boy. That had started as a joke, and... well, it just wasn't the same as trying to share the tangle of emotions Claire was mired in this morning.

  Afterward, we'll talk. She had three degrees, and not one of those pieces of paper could tell her how to get through the next two days. Wednesday, and she had telescope-building duty with the kids tonight and tomorrow night. That was a given. So how was she going to keep her commitments to the boys while avoiding intimate conversations with Blake?

  She couldn't.

  She'd have to tell him she didn't want their relationship to continue. She'd wanted a one-week fling, and that's what he'd said he wanted, too, and he had no right now to change his tune and start talking about relationships and more.

  Unless...

  What if there was no baby? What if her lies had been for nothing, and their loving had not borne fruit? Then... well, if she didn't get the job in Chile—which was a distinct possibility, because although she figured she was a good candidate, she didn't know who was going up against her, and the world was full of astronomers far more qualified than she.

  So if she didn't get the Chile job, and if she wasn't pregnant...

  ... then there'd be no reason on earth she couldn't see Blake again. After all, Arizona wasn't exactly the end of the world, and the observatory was only an hour and a half's drive from Tucson. It would be easier, of course, if they both lived closer to major airport hubs, but...

  If she wanted, she could have a continuing relationship... a lover met every couple of months, maybe every time there was a long weekend. She would fly to Port Townsend... perhaps sometimes he could meet her somewhere in between.

  She tried to figure out what airport would be a midpoint. Maybe San Francisco or Portland. She'd arrive first, and she'd wait for his plane, watching the people come through the gate, looking for his dark curls, his seaman's walk. When she saw him, she'd run into his arms and he'd pull her close, feeling her...

  Pregnant.

  She whimpered, pacing the confines of the condo. It wouldn't work if she was pregnant. If she was pregnant, she had to stay away from him forever.

  When the phone rang in the early afternoon, Claire approached it warily, relieved at first to discover it wasn't Blake on the other end.

  "Claire," said Grace, "I wanted to thank you for last night."

  "Thank me?"

  Grace laughed self-consciously. "I was panicking. I'm so glad I found Mac."

  "Congratulations on the baby. I hear it's a girl."

  "She's beautiful. Gary got back this morning and... and we.... Why don't you come down to the hospital and see her? See the baby."

  And face Grace again? Not likely. "Thanks, Grace, but this is a time for family. Just give her my best wishes and congratulate Gary."

  "If you won't come, I'll have to do it on the phone." Claire heard Grace take a big breath. "I want to apologize for Sunday. I shouldn't have said what I did about Lydia and Mac. I've always known Lydia and I always thought she and Mac would get together. Mac chewed me out about it, and I wouldn't have said anything to you if I'd known that you and he really.... He got pretty angry with me, and I'm sorry."

  "Grace, I wasn't trying to make trouble between you. I shouldn't have told him what you said." Why hadn't someone told her that family relationships were so complicated?

  "I'm glad you did, because otherwise... I have no right to stand in the way of his happiness. I just want you to know that I'm happy to have you as part of the family, and I hope we can be friends."

  "Look, Grace, you've got the wrong—"

  "I guess you feel pretty mad at me, too. I don't blame you."

  "It's not that. Grace, I'm not... we don't have that kind of relationship. I'm not going to be part of your family. I'm leaving Friday." In the pause that ensued, Claire seriously considered hanging up the telephone.

  "I guess I put my foot in it," said Grace.

  "It's a misunderstanding, that's all." How on earth had Grace got that part-of-the-family idea? Had Blake actually told her that? He'd been talking about babies this morning on the telephone, but he had to know it was impossible. If he really wanted babies, he should go to Lydia, to someone who could make a family, who could settle into that house on the hill and be his wife.

  We have to talk.

  But surely when he said that, he was talking about meeting her somewhere, being her lover, stealing weekends away. Not a picket fence and a three-car garage?

  Chapter Twelve

  Claire arrived at the boatyard just before four-thirty, her passenger seat filled with three large pizzas. Ever since she arrived in Port Townsend, she'd been bending like a willow in the wind, reacting to events, making impulsive—probably unwise—decisions on the spur of the moment.

  Now she needed to become proactive, to take charge of her own life, or she'd end the week in even more of a mess than when she started. As a scientist, she knew the danger of becoming entangled in complex traps of logic, knew that the true answer to seemingly unanswerable questions was most often the simplest.

  For a woman who had lived most of her life with simplicity, knowing her goals, her life had become incredibly complicated. She'd spent last night and much of the day wrestling with impossible alternatives, trying to come up with a painless way out of the tangle she'd woven for herself.

  Blake wanted more, and for the past two days he'd been looking for an opportunity to explain exactly what that meant. Grace thought he meant something permanent and domestic, but Claire wasn't so sure. He told her he wanted children, but he'd just watched his sister's baby come into the world. And face it, if a man wanted a family of his own, children of his own, he usually found a way to get it before he reached his mid-thirties.

  Claire pushed away that tangle of speculation, reminding herself it was academic what Blake wanted. Because he wasn't going to want a child he couldn't have, couldn't tuck up in bed and take out sailing.

  Better for him never to know.

  The picket-fence scenario was impossible, so there was no point wasting energy worrying about it. Reducing the situation to its simplest, her real problem was the quandary of trying to decide between two options: having Blake's baby and having an affair with him.

  Ridiculous that it had taken unti
l midafternoon today for her scientist's mind to inform her that there were no options, no decisions to be made. Pregnancy and a child were either a reality or they weren't. If she was pregnant, she couldn't have an affair with Blake, because it would be impossible to keep her secret while seeing him.

  If she wasn't...

  Well, she still couldn't have an affair, because she could hardly tell him she would let him know in a few weeks time if she was interested.

  Once she accepted the inevitable, she felt an immediate weight drop from her. She no longer needed to struggle with how to avoid compounding her lie, how to get through the next two days with Blake. Having a week-long affair when they both wanted it to be temporary had been fine, but everything changed the moment one of the players started wanting more. As much as she might want to tell herself she could steal two more days from fate, it wasn't right.

  She'd told too many lies already. Blake believed she was an honest, direct woman, and once she would have agreed, but now she knew better. Given sufficient temptation, she was capable of telling a terrible lie to a good man. At the very least, she needed to be honest with herself and admit she couldn't compound her lies through another two days and nights.

  If she couldn't add to the lies, and she couldn't tell the truth, there was only one option left. She must leave as quickly as possible.

  She picked up the boxes of pizza and slid out of her car. The door to the boatyard was standing open, letting in the warmth of a sunny late afternoon, letting out the sounds of young voices. She realized then that Blake's truck wasn't there, nor was his bike. She approached slowly, taking deep breaths, reminding herself of her purpose. Three hours working on the telescope, reorganizing tomorrow's schedule, then a direct, not-quite-honest talk with Blake over a restaurant table somewhere—definitely not at his house, her condo, or the boat.

  Jake, standing at the top of a ladder, spotted her first.