Baby on Board

by Lisa Ruff

“I’ve heard stories about three races, Patrick. In two of them, someone died.” Kate tugged at the throw pillow beside her, twisting her fingers into the fringe. “The odds seem pretty atrocious to me.”

  “That’s not going to happen to me.”

  “How can you be so certain?”

  “I just am.” Patrick sat forward and pulled the cushion from her, taking her hands in his and squeezing them tightly. “I’m a good sailor, Kate.”

  “Nobody’s that good all the time. You said it yourself, accidents happen.”

  “Look, it’s not going to happen. I’ll be careful. I’ll clip in, I promise.”

  Kate slipped her hands away and shifted, sliding to the edge of the sofa. She couldn’t sit still any longer. Patrick guessed her intentions and swiftly rose to help her stand up. Tears stung her eyes once again. He was so thoughtful, so understanding of her needs. But there were some needs he would never be able to fill. On her feet, she moved away from him.

  “Careful doesn’t win races, Patrick. You said that once, too.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “My brother told me he was careful.” Kate rubbed her hands up and down her arms, warming the sudden spate of goose bumps that had risen. “‘Don’t worry, sis,’ he’d say. ‘Nothing’s going to happen to me.’ He was wrong and you are, too.”

  Patrick came to her side, looking at her intently. “What happened to him?”

  “He jumped out of a plane and his parachute didn’t open. They don’t know why. It was an accident. Just like Greg’s.”

  “I’m sorry, Katie.” There was silence between them broken only by the occasional rattle of the windows in a particularly strong gust of wind. “Look, skydiving is different than sailing.”

  “Is it?” she asked. “My brother jumped out of planes for the same reason that you race on the ocean—he loved the rush.”

  “I don’t go out there trying to kill myself.”

  Kate laughed humorlessly. “No? Then what is it? You push, Patrick. You push, and you push and you push. Anything to win the race.”

  “Not anything.”

  “You sailed your boat just feet in front of a container ship to get a few extra minutes in a race where winning didn’t even matter. In one that did, you almost capsized a boat to get to the finish line first. What do you call that?”

  “You’re completely wrong, Kate. You’ve taken two incidents and made up some theory that I go crazy as soon as I set foot on a boat. I don’t. How could I and be so successful for so long?”

  “I don’t know,” Kate said, shaking her head. “I don’t care, either.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t want you in my life anymore, Patrick.”

  “What?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “You don’t mean that.”

  “Yes, I do. This baby and I need someone who will be here. You won’t change.”

  She walked to the window and looked out at the blustery day. The tree branches whipped back and forth and rain now sprayed the street in blasts. Kate slid her hands to her belly, rubbing the mound gently, taking comfort from the life that danced and spun inside her.

  “There’s no compromise for you, is there?” Patrick asked, his voice hard. “I give up racing or I can’t be a father to my child.”

  “I’m not asking you to compromise.” Tears filled Kate’s eyes and she turned to face him. “I’m asking you to put being a father first.”

  “I am.”

  “You’ve made plans to leave me five weeks before our child will be born, without telling me about it. Then, you’re going to leave the minute she’s born and risk never coming home again. What kind of father does that?” Kate’s voice rose to a shout. The tears she had held in check rose and spilled over her lashes. “I need you to put me and the baby first, but you can’t. You won’t ever be able to put us first.”

  “All right! Have it your way. I won’t go.”

  Kate shook her head, wiping the tears from her cheeks with one hand. “It doesn’t matter whether you go or not, Patrick. You’ll never be a real father to this baby.”

  “Who will be, then?” he said furiously. “Steve?”

  The lie was like a lifeline thrown to her out of a storm. She lunged for it and held on tight. “Yes.”

  He froze and his face paled beneath his tan. “I thought—” He faltered to a stop. After a long, silent moment, in a low voice, he asked, “You’re going to marry him? Even after last night?”

  Kate nodded.

  “So, I suppose I should go to Australia. Get on the boat and finish the race for Greg.”

  Kate bit her lip on the cry that rose in her throat. The thought of him leaving, putting himself in danger, chilled her to the bone, yet she held back her plea for him to stay. She had no right to ask anything of him. Her silence was his only answer.

  Patrick looked at her for a long moment, waiting for more, his eyes tracing each of her features as if memorizing them. When she said nothing, he turned and walked out of the room. The front door closed quietly behind him. The silent exit wounded her more than a slam of the door could ever have done.

  Putting a hand to her mouth, Kate stifled the moan that came to her lips. Tears burned in her eyes, but they did not fall. This pain was too deep, too profound for tears to wash away. She turned back to the window and the glass bowl caught her eye. Its wild color and beauty seemed to taunt her, to remind her of what she had just done. For a second, she was tempted to reach out and throw it against the wall.

  Instead, she stumbled to the sofa and dropped to the cushions heavily. She drew herself into a ball, curving around the child growing in her belly. Slowly she began to rock, but the pain stayed lodged in her breast. She feared that this was one wound time would not heal. And she had thrust the knife in herself.

  PATRICK PUSHED open the door to the office and stepped inside. “Where’s Ian?”

  His mother lifted a finger to hush him while she finished her call. She hung up and swiveled her chair to face him.

  “Oh good, I was hoping you’d come back here today. I was just on the phone with Jeannie. Is Kate having a baby shower?”

  “I don’t know.” Patrick’s voice was flat. His temper was under the tightest of controls. “Where’s Ian?”

  Elaine rose and walked to the counter. “Find out for us, will—”

  “Where’s Ian?”

  “Don’t take that tone of voice with me, young man.” Elaine frowned as she rebuked him. Her eyes searched his face and her expression went from angry to concerned. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I need to talk to Ian.”

  The front door opened and Patrick’s brother stepped inside. “Man, it’s still blowing like crazy out there.”

  “Can you drive me to the airport?” Patrick asked immediately.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I need to catch the six o’clock flight to LAX.”

  Patrick’s words were a bomb dropped into the room. His mother gasped. Ian grabbed his brother’s arm. “You aren’t really going, are you? Patty, I told you—”

  “We have to leave now.” Patrick had no interest in explaining. “I’ve got my gear bag in the back of the truck. Mom, here’s the keys to the house, just in case. Nothing’s been turned on there, so you don’t have to do anything.” He thrust a set of keys at his mother and turned back to Ian. “Let’s go.”

  “Wait a minute. What the hell happened, Patty? What about Kate?”

  Patrick stopped and sucked in a quick breath. He didn’t want to talk about the woman who had just ripped a hole in his soul. “It’s over,” he said, simply. “I have to go.”

  Ian kept a hand on his arm and bored his eyes into Patrick’s. “What do you mean? What’s over?”

  “Kate and me.” Patrick ran a hand through his hair. “She never wants to see me again.”

  Elaine put a hand on the counter, as if to steady herself. “What? Why would she say that? You were both just here. And so happy.” He
r voice trailed off, bewildered.

  “Yeah, well, we’re not happy anymore,” he said bitterly. “I guess racing and being a father don’t go together.”

  “What happened?” Ian asked.

  “She heard about the race and she freaked.” Patrick spun away from the counter and looked out the window. Stray pieces of paper and leaves swirled around the parking lot.

  “So tell her you won’t do it, then.”

  “I did, but it doesn’t matter.” Patrick focused on his brother again. “She’s marrying Steve.”

  Elaine had been watching her sons, her lower lip caught between her teeth. Her eyes darted first to one, then the other. “What?” she whispered. “Who’s Steve?”

  “Shit,” Ian murmured.

  “She told me I’ll never be a real father.”

  “But you are the father,” Elaine said softly, her voice full of tears.

  Patrick swallowed hard. “Not anymore. I’m just the sperm donor.”

  “I still think you should stay,” Ian said. “At least a couple of days. She might change her mind.”

  “Yes, please stay, Patrick.” Elaine came around the counter to take his hands, warm against the iciness of his own flesh. “Kate is just upset right now. It’s a very emotional time for her.”

  “No, Ma. I can’t. It hurts too much.” He put his arms around his mother and hugged her, offering comfort even while he took it from her. Her arms encircled him in the firm grip that had always helped him rise above the bumps and bruises life threw at him. This time, his pain did not abate. This was a hurt no one, not even a mother, could kiss and make better. “Watching her marry someone else is something I can’t do. I need to leave for a while.” He pulled back to look her in the eyes. “Maybe being at sea will make this whole thing clearer. Or at least get it out of my system.”

  A tear trickled down his mother’s cheek. She stroked Patrick’s chest once, then stepped back. “Be careful.”

  A wry smile twisted Patrick’s lips. “I’m always careful.”

  He went out to his truck and climbed inside. Ian followed. They drove in silence to the airport. Patrick was glad Ian didn’t ask more questions. There were no answers anyway. At the curbside check-in, Patrick got out and grabbed his bag from the back of the truck. Ian walked around to join him there and held out his hand. Patrick shook it firmly, then hugged his brother.

  “See you.”

  Ian stepped back. He opened his mouth and closed it again, shaking his head.

  “What?” Patrick asked. “You might as well say it.”

  “I don’t think the ocean’s going to give you any answers, Patty.” Ian’s words were quiet, nearly drowned out by the noise of buses, cars and people around them. “Not this time.”

  “What’s to figure out? She’s marrying someone else.”

  “She’s not married yet.”

  Patrick hefted his bag. “All I know is that it’s over.”

  Ian pressed his lips together in a tight line. “Well, do what you have to do. Good luck.”

  With a nod, Patrick turned away and stepped up onto the sidewalk, then stopped. He stood facing the wide glass windows for a long moment before finally turning around. “Hey, Ian?”

  His brother hadn’t moved. He still stood watching, with his hands in his pockets. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll let you know.”

  Patrick nodded again, his throat too tight to speak. He spun around and walked through the automatic doors without a backward glance. The future was in front of him, waiting at a dock in Australia. The past didn’t matter. Not now. Not ever.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Two hours after Patrick left, the knife-sharp pain inside Kate had not eased. The baby kicked and jabbed at her, echoing her agitation. After rocking in silent, tearless anguish, she pushed herself up from the sofa and paced from room to room trying to forget, but memories clamored at her everywhere she turned. She could not rest in the bedroom that held such fresh, sweet memories of love and tenderness. The living room reverberated with harsh words and shattered dreams.

  Kate retreated to the kitchen to make a cup of chamomile tea, hoping the brew would soothe her troubled heart. When she turned to the table to sit, she stopped short at the sight of the newspaper stacked neatly where Patrick had left it. Suddenly, it was as if he were there bantering with her, teasing Molly, as he had done that morning.

  She closed her eyes. All she saw was the tenderness in his face as he thanked her for the night before. She could almost feel his touch on her cheek. When she looked again, the room was empty. Her throat tightened and closed. Her eyes burned, but she would not cry. Shivering, Kate fled back to the living room with her tea.

  She walked to the window, cradling the warm mug in both hands. The wind still raged and now rain slapped against the glass panes in bursts of fitful temper. Lightning flashed in the southern sky not far away, followed by the low rumble of thunder. The garden was sodden, filled with dead leaves and tattered mums. It looked as cold and barren as Kate felt inside. There was no escape, no oasis.

  She turned her back on the dreary scene, only to find herself staring at the bowl on the pedestal. Its bold, bright colors offered no solace, either. It reminded her too much of Patrick and the turbulence of their love. She traced a finger along the rim, lightly stroking the smooth glass inside, as if it were Patrick’s skin.

  The front door opened and closed with a bang. “Hello, anyone home?” Molly asked loudly.

  Kate turned and her aunt came through the doorway, running a hand over her tousled hair. “It’s miserable out there! I’ll be glad when tropical depression Greta heads off to New England. Be careful on those steps, the wood is soaked and very slippery.” Molly took off her wet jacket and dropped it on the rug at her feet. “I have some great news.” She stopped short and peered at her niece’s face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” Kate said evenly. She couldn’t talk about what had happened. If she said Patrick’s name aloud, she felt she would shatter into a thousand pieces.

  “Was there a problem at the doctor’s?” Molly’s forehead creased in a frown. She walked over to Kate and stroked a hand down her cheek.

  The tender touch was nearly Kate’s undoing. The tears that had so stubbornly refused to fall earlier rose up like a flood tide. She blinked them back. “Everything went fine. The baby’s doing great.”

  “But something’s wrong,” Molly said. “Is it Patrick?”

  Kate shook her head. The mug in her hands started shaking so hard she had to set it on the windowsill. “No. Not anymore.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Kate pressed her fingertips against her closed lids for a second, then looked at her aunt. “He’s gone.”

  “Gone?” Molly frowned again. “Gone where?”

  “Australia.”

  “What? Whatever for?”

  The tears would not be held back now. They welled up and, despite Kate’s best efforts, slid down her face. She wiped them away with a trembling hand. “He’s going to race.”

  “Race?” Molly stared at Kate, bewilderment written on her face. “Wait a minute. You’re telling me that the man who was here this morning, the one who couldn’t take his eyes off you, has gone to Australia?” Molly shook her head. “I don’t believe it.”

  “It’s true.” Kate covered her face with her hands. In a muffled voice, she detailed what Patrick had been asked to do after the news of his friend’s death. She dropped her hands. “So he went.”

  “I don’t understand,” Molly said, her face confused. “What did you say to him?”

  “Me?” Kate stiffened. Tears still covered her cheeks. “You’re blaming me?”

  “I’m not blaming anyone,” Molly said.

  “It’s not my fault that he left,” Kate said, her voice sharp. “He wanted to go.”

  “But you’re due in five weeks, Kate. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Why not? Because he’s been so good at sticking around lately?” Kate flipped
a hand out in a dismissive gesture and nearly upset the bowl on the pedestal beside her. She steadied it, her fingers curling around the edge for a second, then let go. “The past few weeks have been just a fantasy. My fantasy. The reality is that Patrick can’t give up racing.”

  “He has been here for you, Katie,” Molly said, arguing gently. “And he is a different man than when he got home in July. I’ve seen it and you have, too.”

  “No, he isn’t,” Kate said, biting each word off in anger. Anguish and rage filled her heart. “He won’t change. He loves racing too much to give it up.”

  Molly watched her with concerned eyes. “He loves you, Kate.”

  Kate shook her head fiercely. “But not enough,” she said through gritted teeth. “He loves danger more.”

  In anger and fury, Kate swept the glass bowl off the pedestal. It hit the wall, then the floor, with a crash. Shards of red and gold glass sprayed out over the hardwood.

  Molly gasped. “Oh, no!”

  Kate stared openmouthed at the mess scattered across the living room floor, afraid to believe what she saw. She lifted dazed eyes to Molly’s. With a hand to her cheek, Molly looked at Kate, her own eyes wide.

  “What have I done?” Kate’s eyes welled with tears again.

  “It was an accident,” Molly said softly.

  “No.” Kate shook her head slowly, looking down at the shattered glass. Tears began streaming unchecked down her face, falling to dampen her shirt. “No. It was no accident. I broke it because I was mad at Patrick. Or mad at myself. I lied to him.”

  “What?” Molly’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  Kate met her aunt’s concerned eyes with her own tear-washed ones. “I told him I was marrying Steve.”

  “Kate, why?”

  “I thought it was better that way. That I would feel better when he left for good. When this was all over.” Kate hugged her arms around herself. “But I don’t. I lied and now he’s gone and I feel worse than ever.”

  Molly stepped over to her niece, glass crunching under her feet, to enfold her in a warm embrace. “It’ll be all right, Katie.”

  Kate rested her head against the older woman’s shoulder. She wanted to take comfort from the embrace, but the vast emptiness inside her refused to allow it. Only one person could fill that abyss. She pulled back and looked into her aunt’s eyes.