by Tina Leonard
“I think so. That’s the way it seemed.”
“And so then, you and Caleb can quietly divorce because you were only together for the sake of the children. Only now you think you might be pregnant, which, while it won’t make Caleb happy, he would never dream of going through with a divorce then.”
April nodded.
“And you didn’t want him that way.”
April shook her head.
“You got married because of someone else’s babies, but you worry he won’t want you if you’re expecting his baby.” Bri bobbed her head. “It’s convoluted, but it’s Caleb. But you could be borrowing trouble. In a few days, you might start.”
“It’s true.” She hoped so.
“Wait a little longer before you worry too much. Work through the Jenny aspect of your marriage, and once the babies are reunited with their mother, I’ll be curious to see if my brother is as easy to get rid of as you seem to think he will be. By then, a home pregnancy test will show something, and you’ll know whether you have anything to tell him or not. But since there’s really not a good sure way to know until then, just wait a couple more days. At least, that’s my take on it.”
“All right.” But she couldn’t help worrying somewhat.
“From a medical point of view, I can’t help wondering if you’re late because you’re tired. The month has been stressful. You don’t really want to give up these children, though you know it’s for the best if Jenny is in any way able emotionally to handle parenting them. It’s a lot, April. And you’ve shouldered a lot of it alone.”
“Actually, Caleb is very supportive. I couldn’t have asked for more.”
“Well, then,” Bri said softly, “don’t give up on him so soon. He’s a bit of a chicken when it comes to certain things he doesn’t want to face, but so are we all. You happen to be accidentally picking at his biggest bogey of all, but…”
“But what?” April demanded, not comforted at all.
“I don’t know. Will it help if I tell you I’ll pound my brother if he doesn’t take it like a man if the two of you are expecting?”
April laughed shakily. “It helps that you say it, but the actual action wouldn’t do me much good. I’m a healer by nature, and couldn’t bear to see you hurt him.”
“Well, then don’t you hurt him, either,” Bri told her in a gentle voice. “If Dad says Caleb really cares for you, April, then I suggest we give Caleb a chance to find that out for himself.”
Chapter Sixteen
“I actually like the idea that I could be an aunt in nine months,” Bri said, her face turning impish with delight.
“Don’t even say that out loud!” April cautioned. “Let’s not put it in the air where it might hang and somehow become fact.”
“Like a speech balloon in a comic strip.”
“I suppose, except that there is nothing funny about this.” April carried some diapers into the laundry room and came back. “I know that I have what it takes to be a good mother. What concerns me, though, is do I have what it takes to be a good wife?”
“Why would you think you don’t?”
April shook her head. “Inability to willingly form attachments, maybe?”
“You said you think you’re falling for my brother,” Bri pointed out. “He might be falling for you. Without an unexpected fly in the ointment, matters might proceed in a surprisingly romantic fashion.”
“You don’t think that me being pregnant wouldn’t be a fly?”
“Well, is he kind to you?”
“Caleb’s kind to everyone.”
“Yes, but does he hold you at all? Kiss you?”
The question brought a sudden blush to April’s face. “He kissed me the night we got married.”
“Obviously,” Bri said, her tone dry. “But other than that?”
“No,” April admitted. “We probably both tacitly agreed that the one night was somehow a reaction to all the champagne and good wishes flowing our way.”
“Or a reaction to secret wishes in your souls. Caleb’s a pussycat, April, though he rarely allows anyone to know it.”
“He sleeps against me in the night,” April said softly, “when he thinks I don’t realize he’s doing it.”
“I don’t get it. Details.”
She took a deep breath. “When I’m in bed, for the past two nights I’ve awakened to either find him in my bed, or some clue that he was there. And then I remember that I felt him against my back, kind of snuggling me.”
“Oh, that’s sweet,” Bri breathed. “Almost like he wants to give you affection and to receive it but is too worried about making things uncomfortable between you to ask for it.”
“Maybe,” April said doubtfully. “I would never ask him why he does it. The truth is, I like it, hard as it is to admit. So I don’t mention it, because I don’t want him to stop.”
“Oh, April. You guys have got so much airing out to do in so little time. The biggest part of all of this is that you’ve had to compress so much into so little time. I know you’ll miss them, but if Jenny’s coming home, and the babies and her start a family, it may be the very best thing for your marriage. I always have faith that illusion is some parts real. Isn’t that the basis of fairy tales?”
April didn’t answer. Fairy tales were a matter reserved for children who didn’t grow up in orphanages—or at least not for her. Reality had always been her companion, and the main reason she depended upon herself.
Caleb sleeping with her was comforting, but the reality was, their marriage was an illusion.
AFTER THE BABIES were settled into their bassinets for their naps, and Bri left, April picked up the mess left from the morning round of feeding and diapering. Then she decided that a homecoming—if Caleb did bring Jenny home—called for a celebration.
She decided to bake a cake. The fragrance of warm chocolate cake alone would be soothing. Mixing the ingredients was a comforting process, giving her something to concentrate on other than whether her marriage would essentially end tonight or not.
But when she got to the canned frosting, it seemed that there was nothing left to focus on. Jenny belonged with her children, and Caleb and April had done the right thing. Not a forever thing, but a right thing.
Bri was right: So much had been compressed into such a short time that April almost felt as if she’d been the one to give birth to the quads. And the quads had birthed her marriage. She was going to miss them, and she was going to miss Caleb.
Tears filled her eyes. Sinking onto the wooden stool, she popped the top on the canned chocolate frosting and ate a big spoonful right out of the can. And then she let the tears fall because the frosting splurge wasn’t going to make her feel any better.
It tasted good, but it wasn’t sugar-and-spice-and-everything-nice like the babies were. And it wasn’t snips-and-snails-and-puppy-dog-tails like her big strong husband.
IN THE END, April managed to get more frosting on the cake than in her mouth.
She was actually fairly pleased with her efforts. Little yellow frosting flowers adorned the top edge of the cake. Squeezing those out of the frosting gun had only taken a little while longer, and it made the cake look pretty.
She took a shower, checked on the babies and fell asleep on the sofa for a nap.
Fifteen minutes later, by her watch, all four babies wanted attention again. “You didn’t sleep very long,” she cooed, wondering if they sensed her unsettled state. “I wonder if your formula is the wrong kind.”
Checking in diapers, she decided that the babies had simply returned to their routine in the hospital where there’d been a lot of noise and action. Or at least more than there was in her tiny home. “Maybe it got too quiet and startled you,” she said. “When it gets warmer in the spring, I’m going to put all of you in a stroller and walk you every chance I get.”
She could do that even if the babies weren’t living in her house. Brightening, she realized that Jenny would still need help. Her help. She wouldn’t be sep
arated from them the way her mind was envisioning.
The front door opened, and to April’s astonishment, Jenny walked in, followed by Caleb.
“JENNY!” Leaping to her feet, April rushed to hug the girl. Over Jenny’s shoulder, she could see Caleb looking at her, his face concerned. “I’m so glad to see you!”
“I’m glad to see you, too.” Jenny pulled from her arms, slowly going to look at her babies sleeping in their bassinets in the den. “I knew you’d take good care of my children. They look wonderful.”
But she didn’t reach to touch the squirming bundles that were now starting to wail to be picked up and comforted.
“They don’t like me,” Jenny said, whirling to face Caleb and April.
“They don’t know you. They just want to be held.” April rushed to scoop up Matthew, whom she knew could be calmed the quickest, and thereby hopefully alleviate Jenny’s worries. “See? Just as easy as can be.”
“Not for me.” Jenny shook her head. “I’d be afraid to pick them up. They’re bigger than they were in the hospital, but they still look so fragile.”
Caleb put two babies in his arms, sitting on the sofa with them. “They don’t break, Jenny. But don’t think about that right now. Let us just take care of you first. The babies are fine.”
Refusing to sit down, Jenny finally met April’s gaze. “I have to tell you something, April.”
“Tell me. It’s okay, whatever it is.”
“The day I left, you’d put your sweater on your chair. You had some money in the pocket, I saw you put it there after someone paid you for picking up something. I took twenty dollars.”
“Oh, Jenny,” April said, relieved. “Thank you for telling me, but I didn’t think a thing about it. I’m glad you had money. I was so worried you left without a dime. Please don’t go anywhere without telling us. We were so worried about you!”
“Caleb said you were. That’s why I agreed to come back. I wanted you to know that I’m fine. In fact, I’m better than I thought I’d be.”
“And you’ll be much better in the future. How about a piece of chocolate cake and a glass of milk?”
“I’m not hungry, thanks.”
Jenny went to stand by the window, looking out at the street. April had a chance to run a quick glance over the girl. She was dressed in jeans and a loose shirt. Her hair hung lankly, but it was clean. Other than seeming thin—and somewhat depressed—Jenny looked much better than she’d expected.
“February is such a gray month,” Jenny murmured. “I’d forgotten how ugly Texas is in the winter. It’s all concrete in the city.”
Caleb and April glanced at each other. He shook his head. Clearly, Jenny’s reaction puzzled him as much as it did April. But she was a nurse—and a female. She should have some insight into Jenny, and unfortunately the girl just seemed so sad that it concerned April terribly. “Jenny, why don’t you come sit down next to me.”
To her surprise, Jenny did, suddenly leaning her head on April’s shoulder. “I miss David so much,” she said. “I miss my husband, and I can’t bear the thought that I’ll never see him again. I’d give anything just to hear his voice one more time. And I can’t stop thinking that if he hadn’t taken that job to support me and the children, he wouldn’t have gotten hurt. We’d have gone off to college, and he’d still be alive.”
Caleb’s and April’s eyes met in a sudden flash of realization. The problem went much deeper than postpartum depression, April realized. So much farther than deep grief.
“You can’t understand what it’s like to lose your best friend, the only one you ever had,” Jenny said, talking out loud now to no one in particular.
FROM APRIL’S ROOM so he wouldn’t wake Jenny who’d fallen asleep on the sofa, Caleb alerted the authorities, Social Services and the hospital that Jenny had been found, and that her health appeared reasonably good. He called Jackson to let him know as well.
“Fine work, son. I knew you’d find her.”
His father’s praise was of no particular comfort to him. Whether Jackson meant to or not, Caleb always felt his dad was bringing up his past, trying to show him that he was a damn fine cop. Had been, and could be again.
Caleb wouldn’t, and that was the way he wanted it. The second that Jenny had said that they couldn’t possibly understand what it felt like to lose a best friend, the only one in the world, he’d known exactly how deep her suffering went.
“Does this mean your marriage is over? Since a mom and children reunion was the goal of the mission?” his father asked him.
He rubbed his eyes, tired from the flights, and the emotional seesaw of picking Jenny up and bringing her home. The sadness in April’s eyes was there, too, pulling on him, though she’d never admit she was going to be devastated to give up the babies. “I don’t think it’s going to be that easy, Dad.”
“No? Is there a problem?”
“I think we underestimated Jenny’s degree of depression. I’m no doctor, but I don’t see a quick resolution on this matter.”
He wondered if the sound he heard on the other end of the phone was Jackson rubbing his hands with glee. Closing his eyes wearily, he said, “You like April, don’t you, Dad.”
It was a statement of fact, not a question.
“I do, Caleb. She reminds me an awful lot of your mother. Gentle souls draw me, I suppose.”
The last thing Caleb wanted was a woman as delicate and frail as his mother. “I’ll talk to you later, Dad.”
“Call me if I can help out in any way.”
“I will. Bye.”
Clicking his phone shut, he sat on April’s bed, thinking for a moment. He was in this for the short term, and he had a bad feeling it had just turned into the long haul.
April walked into the room, softly closing the door behind her. “Jenny fell asleep on the sofa. I think it’s best if she rests all she can.”
“Definitely.” He saw so many questions in April’s eyes that he didn’t know where to start. “She was staying in the home of an elderly lady who had taken her in. She was fine, and she wasn’t that hard to convince to come home. It was almost as if she was grateful to be brought back. I think she couldn’t make herself do it on her own, and yet she knew she had to.”
“We may have underestimated her situation,” April said. “I feel foolish saying that, because as a nurse, I always think I can assess a patient’s health fairly well, but this time I didn’t.”
“You’re used to working with babies. They don’t have issues. They poop, they sleep, they eat, they want to be held. Fairly simple in comparison to what Jenny’s going through. There’s no way you could have assessed that.”
She sat on the bed next to him, staring into his eyes. “It occurs to me that you might be kicking yourself right now.”
“For what?” he demanded.
“You made an offer to secure the babies for me. We’d bring the mother home, give her some time to adjust, make certain the children weren’t separated or shuffled into undesirable situations, and then we’d…wrap up the case.”
He nodded. “That’s what we thought. Or at least, as close as it can be described.”
She reached to touch his hand. “Has this turned into more than you bargained for?”
How could he tell her that he was falling for her—had fallen for her—and yet, he had no right to? “This situation has forced me to evaluate my life. And myself. Who I am, and who I want to be.”
Silently, she nodded. “What do you think happens now?”
“Are you asking me what I want to happen, or what I think will happen?”
“Does it matter? Can’t it be one and the same?”
He shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so.”
Chapter Seventeen
With those words ringing in her ears, April knew her marriage was over. Caleb had never wanted something long term, and now that Jenny had returned, it was clear that nothing about her situation could be short term. He regretted the marriage bar gain t
hey’d made.
There was nothing she could say about that. The sound of her heart shattering was louder than any words she could speak anyway.
“Let’s give her a night to sleep on everything,” he suggested. “We’re all tired. In the morning, we can figure out how we’re all going to fit together.”
She raised her gaze to his.
“There’s not enough sleeping space here, for one thing,” he reminded her. “We’ll have to buy a cot or something. And since Jenny seems unable to care for her children, that presents a whole new problem.”
“I’ll make an appointment for her with a doctor at Maitland. No doubt they will refer her to a clinical psychologist after assessing her general health.”
He nodded. “Social Services is going to want to talk to her as well. That’s something we need to think about.”
“What do you think will happen when they realize she is unable, at the moment, to care for her babies?” April couldn’t help being concerned. She and Caleb were only approved as a temporary foster care arrangement.
“I hope that by the time Jenny talks to them, she’s made some kind of recovery in her emotions. But if not, maybe we persuade Social Services that the best thing for the children is to be here, with us, where their mother can spend some time adjusting to them.”
April looked down at her hands. “Caleb, thank you for thinking all this through. And for helping her.”
He sighed. “I want to, April.”
“You do?”
“Yeah.” He gave her the most serious look she’d ever seen him wear. “It’s my chance to make up for a lot of things. And that’s the way I see it. You have nothing to thank me for.”
They stared at each for a few moments, their eyes searching each other’s. Then he said, “I’m going to run by my dad’s and pick up a cot I just remembered he’s got over there.”
“Okay.” Silently, she wondered if the cot was for him or for Jenny, but she was too afraid to ask.
