"But I already have a regular income," she reminded him. "Even if I do nothing. I have a substantial trust fund, and did a little investing of my own. Fortunately I got out before tech stocks dropped." She tipped her head back to look into his face. "You're not going to make a fuss about that, are you? I mean, you're not going to insist we live on your money and save mine, or something?"
He considered a minute. "No. I'm sure you're used to a level of comfort I can't provide - at least not yet. But I have to do my thing, just as you have to do yours. And when we're living on the road, conditions are sometimes primitive and money can't change that. Is that going to be all right with you?"
"Well, of course." She squeezed his chest punitively. "You don't think I'm a whiner, do you?"
"Of course not. I just want you to know what to expect."
It sounded like the perfect life. It was hard to believe it could be hers. "Do we buy a Winnebago?"
He laughed. "No. We downsize our daily lives so we can live out of backpacks and keep on the move."
"What about those few months at home?"
"We could keep your apartment. Or we could just keep this suite with its view of the city. That'd probably eat up your trust fund in a hurry."
"You underestimate my father's expertise at setting it up. I did notice that there are condos going up, two blocks over. We should check those out for the ideal view." She was suddenly, overwhelming tired and snuggled into his shoulder. "We have to be up early in the morning," she said with a yawn. "It's Christmas Eve, the rehearsal, the dinner."
"We should keep this room another night. Everything happens downstairs. You can use this room as your base of operations."
"You're forgetting Whitney."
"There're two other bedrooms. When is she moving in with her aunt?"
"I'm not sure. I'll know more when she comes back tomorrow." She yawned again.
He put her arm under the blanket and pulled the covers over her shoulder. "Go to sleep. We can talk about it in the morning."
As it happened, there wasn't time. They overslept. Diane got a call from Whitney on her cell phone saying she was home, and the front desk called the room to tell Diane that Austin wanted her to make sure the map border in the room to be used for the reception was to her liking before he put the furniture back in.
And Anna called Jason, wanting him to meet her at Megan's home to photograph the rehearsal of the flowergirls. They'd decided the lively little girls needed extra training to prevent unexpected shenanigans on their trip down the aisle.
"I don't want to be parted from you for a few hours," Jason said earnestly as they kissed goodbye in the lobby. "How am I going to deal with it for months at a time until spring break? And then I'll only have you for a week."
Diane clung to him, concerned about the same thing. "I don't know. Other people deal with separation. I guess we'll have to, too."
"I don't want to."
"Neither do I."
"Then we'll have to think of something." He walked away with a pause at the door to wave.
She blew him a kiss.
He smiled and disappeared.
Diane headed home, thinking that there was no solution that she could see. Each of them was tied to contracts that could be broken only if they didn't care what happened to their futures - separately or collectively.
Whitney was tidying the kitchen when Diane arrived home.
"How's your aunt?" Diane asked as she dropped her purse on the table and went to the coffeepot, pulling the basket out to insert a fresh filter. "It's going to take a lot of coffee to get me through today. I hope you're drinking enough tea to keep up with me.
Whitney cast her a quick smile as she continued to scrub the counter top. "Aunt Joyce is fine. She says hi."
"Good. How's the house?"
"It's... cute."
Diane had been a teacher of teenagers long enough to recognize the troubled note in a voice trying hard to hide it.
Whitney continued to scrub.
Diane forgot the coffeepot as a niggling sense of foreboding crept along her spine. "What happened?'' she asked gently.
Whitney went to the faucet to rinse the sponge, then would have gone back to her task if Diane hadn't intercepted her. She saw panic in the girl's eyes overlaid by an overwhelming sadness.
"I can't stay with her," Whitney said, "if I keep the babies."
"Oh, Whitney." Diane put an arm around her shoulders. "I'm sorry. But you have to see it from her perspective. Raising twin babies is an enormous job for a young person. Imagine how it would be for a woman in her sixties."
"But I would raise them!"
"Okay, then who would support you?"
"I'd get a job."
"Then who would watch the babies while you work?"
Whitney thought, her expression crumpling. "If you can't afford to pay a babysitter or a daycare," Diane continued, "your aunt would end up looking after them. Or you could do it, but then she'd have to support you, too. And who'd watch them when you had to go for groceries, or to the dentist, or just for a walk because you need a break?"
Whitney's eyes reflected her misery. "If I give them up, I'll hate myself always!"
Diane felt her own heart sink. She could certainly understand the aunt's position, but she couldn't turn the girl out. Her mistake hadn't been made carelessly, but rather on a desperate search for the love she'd never gotten elsewhere.
"You can stay with me until they're born," Diane said, her voice reverberating in the quiet kitchen, reminding her that she was no longer the only one affected by her decisions. She hesitated a moment, wondering how Jason would react to this news. "Then we'll...see how it goes."
Whitney's face brightened fractionally. "You're sure?" "Yes."
"But...how will Jason feel? I mean, you two are getting pretty serious."
Diane thought it safer to leave that issue until later. "I'll explain it to him."
Whitney studied her a moment longer, then a genuine smile lit her face. She threw her arms around Diane and wept. "Thank you," she said. "Thank you. I know I can be a mom. I know I can do it."
Diane patted her back. Yes, she thought. But will I ever be a wife now that I've made this promise?
She tried calling Jason several times on his cell phone, but guessed he'd turned it off to give his attention to his work. She would tell him tonight, after the rehearsal dinner.
She went into the bedroom to try on her bridesmaid's dress again. There'd been so much partying the past several weeks, she hoped it still fit.
Jason photographed the wedding rehearsal, feeling a swell of pride when Diane followed the long, long line of casually clad attendants to the altar. Soon, he thought greedily, she would be the bride and not the bridesmaid.
Whitney waited in the third seat, keeping an eye on Suzanne's fiancee's triplets. While the minister gave instructions to the bride and groom and their attendants, Jason shouldered his camera and went to sit in the seat behind Whitney, but the little girls remembered him from the night in Diane's apartment and literally dragged him into their pew.
The moment he sat, he had a little girl on each knee and one hanging from his neck.
"They like you," Whitney said.
He wrapped his arms around them, trying to prevent the wriggling little bodies from ending up in heaps under the pew.
"Good thing," he said, as a patent-leather clad little shoe somehow clipped his chin. "I'd hate to see what they do to people they don't like."
"You like children?"
"Of course," he replied, as a small pair of arms tried to strangle him. "It's hard not to."
"Then you're okay about the babies?" she asked. When he waited a beat, hoping a little thought would clarify her meaning, she added, "Well, I know you're in love with Diane, and she's in love with you. You'll be okay with the twins living with you?"
He still didn't have a grasp on the conversation, though the part of it he did understand was starting to alarm him.
"Diane's keeping the twins?" he asked uncertainly.
Whitney's eyes widened in distress. "She didn't tell you?"
"Apparently not," he replied calmly. "What didn't she tell me?"
Whitney closed her eyes. "Oh, no," she groaned under her breath.
"It's all right," he said, the three little girls apparently sensing something and sitting quietly in his lap, staring up at him. "Tell me."
Whitney swallowed, then expelled a deep breath. "My aunt won't let me stay with her if I keep the twins," she explained with every evidence of reluctance. "So, Diane said I could stay with her. I - I know she called you. I guess she just never reached you. I took a nap for a while."
He wasn't sure what he felt, but he guessed by the sudden evacuation of the triplets, and the worried look on Whitney's face, that he was emitting some negative vibrations. He struggled to remain calm and remember that Whitney was a child herself and trying to do what she thought best. Diane, as usual, was trying to be helpful and supportive. At least, he was sure that was what she was telling herself.
"Don't worry about it," he said, smiling at Whitney and the triplets who now stood around his knees uncertainly. "I was out of reach part of the time today. I'll talk to her about it tonight."
She opened her mouth as though to say something else, but the wedding party was suddenly dismissed and a stream of people started toward the door, gathering mates and children as they went, a loud and cheerful crowd on its way to the rehearsal dinner.
Jason would have caught Diane's attention, but she was in deep conversation with her father as they walked down the aisle in the wake of the rest of the family. Anger was building in him, but he did his best to keep a lid on it - primarily because he didn't entirely understand it. Was he being righteous or selfish, he wondered, because he was mad that she had made such a momentous decision without consulting him first? They'd made love and talked marriage just this morning.
He wasn't sure. He'd confront her after the dinner. Certainly he'd have it figured out by then.
CHAPTER NINE
The wedding party and their families filled the restaurant's small banquet room to capacity. They sat at tables of eight, eating steaks and gulf shrimp, with chicken strips and other kid-foods offered for the many children in the group. Maitland siblings and family table-hopped, enjoying the opportunity the past few weeks had provided to keep everyone in close touch.
Diane guessed she was the only one who felt left out. According to the place cards, Jason was seated beside her, but she hadn't seen him all evening. From the moment they'd arrived from the church, he'd been busy photographing the bride and groom, the toasts that preceded dinner, the food and the groups in eager conversation. He concentrated so completely on his work, that she hadn't been able to catch his eye. And Whitney appeared to be the most determined table-hopper. Her girth seemed to have expanded considerably in the last week and everyone seemed eager to pull up a chair for her.
Tom and Suzanne had eyes only for their new loves, and Diane suddenly got a feeling from the old days - odd man out.
She excused herself though no one was listening and headed for the ladies' room. She was intercepted in a quiet hallway by Jason.
Emotion leaped in her at the sight of him. She remembered every moment of the night before in vivid detail, and had continued to feel his touch on her all day.
"Hi!" she said, reaching out to touch his arm. "I've missed you! You've been so busy all eve - " She stopped abruptly when she noticed the thunder on his brow. As he shifted his weight, apparently trying to keep a considerable anger in check, she wondered idly why she hadn't noticed it first thing. Because you're seeing him with your heart now, a corner of her mind told her, and not your eyes.
"Whitney's staying with you." He spoke with a calm belied by the storm in his eyes. "And keeping her babies."
She was filled with self-recrimination. She should have made more of a point to reach him. She should have tried to talk to him before the rehearsal. She should have made sure he heard the news from her and not...whoever had told him.
"Her aunt told her..." she began to explain.
"That she can't stay with her," he cut her off, "if she keeps the babies. I know."
Then annoyance that he should be upset about that overcame her annoyance with herself. "I'm sorry that you're unhappy about that." She delivered that line with a superior tilt of her chin and the clear suggestion that he was being small to feel that way.
"I'm sorry..." he began with sudden vehemence, then lowered his voice when two waiters walked by them. "I'm sorry," he said again, "that you've found another excuse to help someone else live her life rather than have to live your own."
"What?" She demanded. That statement was like a lance through her heart. "How dare you reduce my concern for a child in dire circumstances to some...some..."
"Repressed woman's desire to live vicariously?" he asked, pulling her aside as a man left the men's room and headed for the lounge.
She stared at him, openmouthed. "Jason!" she finally gasped in disbelief. "She has nowhere to go! She wants to keep her babies! I can't just - "
As another group walked by, he caught her arm and led her to a door that went out to the parking lot. The night was cool, but she was flushed with anger enough not to notice. They stood under a floodlight, harshly illuminated. She noticed absently that across the parking lot, a life-size papier-mache Santa and several reindeer took up a number of spots.
"I know," he said with sudden, curious calm. "You have a million noble reasons for letting her stay, and I'm the one that looks like a rat because I think you should have talked to me about it first, that you're using this as an excuse not to see the world you're always claiming you want to explore because deep down you're afraid of leaving home."
"I - !" she began to deny.
He shook his head. "Like the time Suzanne broke her leg, or the time you had to get a new car. I'm sure Suzanne would have done just fine if you'd taken your trip. It's not as though she'd lost a kidney. And why in God's name would one of the wealthiest women in Texas have to choose a new car over a cruise? In that case, deciding not to touch your trust fund was an act of cowardice and not responsibility."
Temper rose up in Diane like a geyser. She shoved Jason in the chest at that last accusation, doing it again when the first shove failed to even rock him. The second didn't, either. She was on her tiptoes with rage and frustration.
"How dare you accuse me of cowardice," she raged at him, "when you can't even stand still to live your life! All you've ever done is run away from it! You put on this charming vagabond front of the artist in pursuit of the perfect shot, when actually all you're doing is - is - "
She couldn't seem to decide just what it was he was doing with his world travels. Truth be told, he'd never been entirely sure himself. But he didn't want to hear that now.
She settled down suddenly, quieting as though she'd just grasped a truth. "Are you chasing around the world, trying to find the father you've missed your whole life?" she asked.
That hit him like a hammer. Had he done that? He was always looking for the perfect shot, but was it of the ultimate foreign landscape or...the face he'd never seen?
"Or are you running away from the little life you claim you had as a child?" She got in his face, her manner pugnacious. "Afraid that if you stand still you might discover that what's lacking is in you and not in your life?"
That was a sucker punch. He hadn't even seen it coming. In the moment it took him to recover, he saw Diane's anger shrivel in upon itself. She looked as horrified by what she'd said as he felt.
But it was too late. The accusations were out on both sides and couldn't be taken back.
He drew a deep breath and shrugged a shoulder, feeling as though he'd been worked over with a crowbar. But he was well aware that he'd started it. He couldn't complain.
"Then, I guess we're lucky there's going to be almost ten thousand miles between us for the next six months. If you'll exc
use me." He started toward the door. Then stopped dead at the sight of Whitney holding the door open. She looked as though she'd heard everything.
He wanted to explain that he'd have had no problem with her and the babies in his life with Diane, that this quarrel was about something else entirely - but she was only sixteen, and he suddenly felt too old and weary to explain. "I'm sorry, Whitney," he said simply, and walked back into the restaurant.
It was a moment before Diane could pull herself together sufficiently to move. She couldn't believe that the lovemaking of last night had somehow turned into these cruel accusations and what seemed like the end of everything. They'd talked about marriage; she should have asked him about Whitney and the twins. Did she go to everyone else's rescue so that she wouldn't have to forge ahead on her own and discover...what? That she couldn't do it? She knew she wasn't as good at business as her father and her siblings, but could it be she'd find she wasn't as good at life, either?
That was silly. She was a good teacher, a good sister, a good friend. Wasn't that living?
Tom appeared suddenly in the doorway. He took one look at her, pulled off his jacket and placed it around her. "What's going on?'' he asked, guiding her toward the door. "I saw Jason come in, grab his camera and take off."
She told him about Whitney's aunt's decision, and her own to let Whitney stay with her. Then she recounted her conversation with Jason.
"You don't think you were a little hard on him?" Tom asked gently, rubbing her shoulders through the coat. "I mean, we've grown up with everything. We've never felt confined by anything. If all he knew was a small, restricted space, why wouldn't he want to explore the world? Why would you criticize him for that?"
"Because he criticized me," she grumbled in reply. "He called me a coward."
Tom sighed and said nothing. She looked up at him in suspicion and annoyance. "You agree with him?"
He pulled her back to him when she would have drawn away in indignation. "Not exactly. But I think you have resisted breaking free because as different as you are from Dad and Suze and me, you're your own kind of adventurer. But we've always compared you to Mom, and maybe you're afraid if you do actually take one of your fabled trips you'll no longer be our memory of her - or your own memory of her."
Maitland Maternity Christmas Page 18
