* * *
Tony stood to one side, arms crossed, waiting for Beth to unlock her door. She knew she’d been more quiet than usual since leaving the hospital, but she just hadn’t felt up to making small talk.
The door opened on silent hinges, the carpet muting her footsteps as she led the way into her quiet apartment. Other than the rasp of Tony’s deeply drawn breath, the only sound she heard was the door closing behind her. Choosing her words very carefully, she turned to face him. “Your family seems very excited about the idea of future Petrocellis.”
He studied her thoughtfully for so long she wondered if he was going to answer. “They’re very old-fashioned in that respect. Does that bother you?”
Bother? It terrified her, but not for the obvious reasons. Hoping against hope that she was reading more into this than was necessary, she took a deep breath to calm her nerves. What she really needed was something to do with her hands. Clasping them in front of her, she said, “Everything has happened so fast, we really haven’t had much of a chance to get to know each other. Do you have time to talk? Because if you do, I could brew a pot of tea.”
Tony took a step toward her. Brewing tea was not what he would have preferred to spend the next several minutes doing. Or even the next several hours. “I have all the time in the world, Beth. For talking. Or whatever.”
Either she didn’t hear the double entendre in his voice, or she chose to ignore it. Extending her hand in a sweeping gesture toward the living room, she said, “Would you like to wait in here?”
Tony Petrocelli enjoyed a lot of things but cooling his heels in the living room wasn’t one of them. Instead, he followed Beth into the next room. While she filled a copper teakettle with tap water, he leaned against the counter in her small kitchen, quietly watching.
“Did Carmelina say something to upset you, Beth?”
The mugs in her hands clanked together as she swung around to face him. Turning back much more slowly, she shook her head.
“Then, what was it you wanted to talk about?” He was vaguely aware that she’d pulled her lower lip between her teeth, but before he could make more than a sweeping assumption that she was nervous about something, he caught a whiff of her perfume, and all but the haziest of impressions were lost on him.
“If you could have anything,” she said quietly, “anything you wished for, what would it be?”
Staring at the smooth skin below her cheekbone and the fine line of her profile, he drew a blank.
She turned her head to look at him. “Don’t tell me you have everything you want, Tony. There must be something you’d like. And I don’t mean peace on earth and no more hungry children. I mean what do you want for yourself and nobody else.”
In that instant, he only wanted one thing. Her. In bed, under him, all over him. He wanted her. Since he doubted that was what she’d meant, he said, “I’ll have to think about it and let you know. What about you, Beth? What do you want?”
Her answer was as direct as her gaze. “That’s easy. I want Christopher.”
He turned slightly, the movement bringing his chest within a few inches of her shoulder. “Then, you’re going to get your wish. Christopher will be leaving the hospital in a week or two. And he’ll be coming home with us. Isn’t there anything else you want?”
She looked up at him, her blue eyes wide open and brimming with tenderness and emotion. The Sicilians had a word for what was happening to him. Translated, it meant thunderstruck. Only a person who’d felt it would truly understand the enormity of the sensation.
The teakettle whistled, startling them both and saving her from having to answer. She turned off the burner with one hand, reaching for the kettle with the other. Pouring the steaming water into a small, round teapot, she cleared her throat and finally said, “Your family seemed very taken with Christopher.”
She’d said something similar before, but he answered her, anyway. “They love kids. Always have.”
“I’ve heard more than one of them comment on their excitement over the prospect of meeting future Petrocellis.”
Without a clue as to where the conversation was headed, he crossed his ankles and settled himself more comfortably along the edge of the counter. “I come from what very well could be the last completely functional family in the United States. Oh, we had our normal fights and tussles growing up—Gina had a screech that could make your ears ring for two days, and Andreanna could pinch hard enough to draw blood—I tell everybody that I became a doctor out of self-defense. But when push comes to shove, we’re always here for one another. We’re working-class people, and we’re proud of it. My sisters gave up a lot to help me through medical school, but no one gave up more than my mother and father. All they’ve ever wanted or expected in return is that I carry on the family name.”
Beth watched the tea seep into the clear, steaming water, her tension seeping out of her in a similar fashion. There, she told herself. See? There’s nothing to worry about. By adopting Christopher, Tony will be doing as his family wishes. In his new son, the Petrocelli name will continue.
His shirt rustled as he uncrossed his arms, his voice dropping in volume as he said, “Oh, and of course they want me to pass on the family genes.”
She felt as if a hand were closing around her throat, cutting off her oxygen. They both jumped again when his phone rang, but Beth was secretly thankful for the momentary reprieve. While he went to answer, she tried to draw a deep breath.
“I have to go,” he said, a few minutes later.
“Another mother in labor?” she asked.
He started to nod, then seemed to change his mind, drawing his eyebrows down, instead. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
She nodded, but she wasn’t sure about anything, except that all the pleasure of the past few days had drained out of her.
* * *
Beth had thought her shift would never end, but it was over now, and she was on her way to the nursery. She could hear the babies crying all the way down the hall. She’d certainly spent enough time in the nursery these past two-and-a-half months to know exactly how it happened. It only took one baby’s tiny wail to set off another, and another, until there was a chorus of healthy cries and flailing fists, and one or two frantic nurses trying to calm them all.
Glancing in the window on her way by, she smiled in spite of herself. There was just something in a newborn’s cry that warmed her heart every time she heard it. She strode to the next window, her smile growing. Of the three preemies in the special nursery, two had taken up the call. Christopher was one of them.
Donning a gown, she scrubbed her hands and went to pick up the child she loved more than she thought possible. Christopher was angry, his face red, his movements jerky and stiff. Scooping him into her arms, she crooned into his ear, “There, there, what’s all the fuss about?”
A quick glance at his chart told her that he’d already been fed. That meant he either had to burp, or he just wanted to be held. She patted his back, crooning unintelligible words of comfort, her lips nuzzling his tiny head, his cheek, his adorable little ear. His cries lost their vehemence, gradually trailing away completely on a shuddering breath. Snuggling closer, he curled into her warmth.
Ah, yes, this was what he needed. It was what she needed, too.
She’d meandered from one end of her apartment to the other last night after Tony had left, thinking, praying, wishing. Her home wasn’t fancy, but it was all she needed. Although Barry had done his best to take the biggest share of their assets, she’d hired an attorney who’d made sure she held on to those that were rightfully hers. After the lawyer had taken his cut, she’d invested her winnings. As a nurse, she earned enough money to live on, and had planned to use her savings to put Christopher through college. Of course, Tony would probably insist upon helping choose the right school.
If he married her, that is.
“Of course he’ll marry me,” she whispered in Christopher’s ear. “He’s already committed to
as much.”
But he doesn’t know, a voice whispered inside her head. You have to tell him.
No!
Covering Christopher’s back with the flat of her hand, she lifted her face and closed her eyes. Please. I love Christopher. Let me have him. I’ll do anything. Please.
Please.
The cry of babies was her only answer.
She continued to walk with Christopher, occasionally laying a hand on another infant who seemed to need nothing more than a human touch. Christopher didn’t seem to mind sharing her. It was as if he knew she loved him more than anybody else.
It felt right that he was secure in her love. It was one of the reasons she’d come here every day since the night he was born. There had been times when she’d been sure that her will alone had kept him alive. Oh, she loved him so. In her heart he was hers already. Was it so wrong to want him to be hers in the eyes of the law?
She deserved to be his mother.
Didn’t she?
Beth closed her eyes for a minute, because she knew better than anybody that life wasn’t always fair. Happiness had nothing to do with justice, or merit, or divine rights. Everything came down to doing one’s best. And the best thing she could do, the only thing she could do, was tell Tony the truth.
* * *
Beth had been pacing back and forth in Tony’s small office for five minutes, rehearsing what she was going to say word-for-word. The instant she heard the door open, she stopped, her eyes trained on his framed medical license on the wall.
“Connie said you wanted to see me?”
With her heart in her throat, she turned around. Tony closed the door behind him, slowly running his hand down the length of his silk tie, waiting for her to tell him why she’d come.
Her eyes had been burning from lack of sleep all day, her conscience burning with the need to tell the truth. Suddenly, she didn’t know where to begin. Clasping her hands behind her back, she raised her chin and quietly said, “There’s something I have to tell you.”
He took a step closer and held up one hand. “If you’re about to tell me that you used to be a man, you can stop right there, because I’d never believe you. My instincts couldn’t be that far off.”
His attempt at humor sent a small smile to her lips and a tiny ray of hope to her heart. He really was a good man. Perhaps what she had to say to him wouldn’t alter his decision to marry her.
“You’re right about that,” she said quietly. “But there are other things you don’t know about me.”
He walked farther into the room, casually settling his hands on his hips. “I’m listening.”
She thought she detected a flicker of longing in his dark eyes. It added to the tiny ray of hope that had started to glow inside her. “Do you remember when you asked me what I’d wish for if I could have anything in the world?”
He nodded. “You told me you want Christopher.”
“Yes. But five years ago, one year ago, even six months ago, I would have said I wanted to have a child of my own.”
She paused, studying him. His expression changed, becoming serious. Taking a deep breath for courage, she surged on. “Acceptance came slowly, Tony. One day at a time over the past seven years, to be exact.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m not saying anything very well, but what I’m trying to tell you is that I can’t have children.”
Tony took a step back, his head coming up with the shock of discovery. Beth released the breath she’d been holding, her last ray of hope extinguished by the surprise, and then the realization, that crossed his face. As one moment stretched to ten, she lowered her gaze to the grip she had on the back of his leather office chair. She’d recognized the expression deep in Tony’s eyes. Her ex-husband, Barry, had worn the same look more than a year ago when the doctor had given them the results of all the tests, all the surgeries and attempts that had failed.
“Are you sure?”
Pulling her gaze from her white knuckles, she said, “I’m sure. I have a severe case of endometriosis. Believe me, I’ve tried everything, every way there is.”
A knock sounded on the door, breaking the silence that stretched tight between them. “What is it?” Tony said, his voice a low growl.
The receptionist poked her head into the office. Obviously aware of the tension in the room, her gaze swung from Tony to Beth and back again. “I’m sorry to bother you, Dr. Petrocelli, but there’s an urgent message for Bethany.” She turned her attention to Beth before continuing. “You’re to go to the employee lounge immediately.”
Slowly coming to her senses, Beth nodded, although the message didn’t make sense. Her nursing shift was over. Why would she be needed in the lounge? “Thanks, Connie,” she said. “Tell them I’ll be right there.”
Casting one last glance at the clear-cut lines of Tony’s profile, she said, “Let’s talk later!” Taking careful note of his slight nod, she followed the other woman from the room.
* * *
If Beth Kent had been thinking clearly, she would have known something was wrong. The corridor was unusually quiet, the door leading to the employee lounge closed tight, the blinds drawn. Feeling strangely disoriented, she turned the knob.
The sudden roar was deafening, the burst of lights blinding. Nearly everyone she worked with on a daily basis was huddled together in the small room, laughing expectantly.
“Surprise!”
“We gotcha!”
“You didn’t think we’d let you get married without throwing you a surprise shower, did you?” Kitty Garcia, the nurse who worked in the nursery, exclaimed in a thick Spanish accent and friendly brown eyes.
“She’s surprised, all right,” someone else declared. “Just look at her.”
Beth did her best to smile. They were right. Her surprise was completely genuine. If they knew the half of it, the joke would be on them.
Karen Sloane, one of the most loved resident doctors at Vanderbilt Memorial, looped her arm through Beth’s and said, “We didn’t know whether to throw you a baby shower or a wedding shower. Then we remembered who you were going to marry, and we knew exactly what kind of shower we had to have for you.”
Beth didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t even sure the wedding was still on now that Tony knew about her infertility. She bit her lip, shuddering inwardly at the thought.
“Come on, Beth,” Karen insisted with an understanding smile. “These people aren’t going to give up until you’ve opened every last gift.”
Beth had known Karen Sloane for years. They were alike in many ways, so alike, in fact, that they both tended to keep their problems to themselves. When Karen’s eight-year-old daughter had been trapped in a cave during the mud slide, the two women had found strength in their similarities. A friendship had formed in the days following the massive storm that rocked Grand Springs to its core, and although Victoria had been found, unharmed, there were still shadows in Karen’s gray eyes.
Kitty Garcia grasped both women’s hands and drew them into the center of the room. Winking mischievously at Beth, she said, “I can’t wait to see your face when you open the gift from me. You will be happy. Sí?”
Beth didn’t fully understand the reason for all the elbow jabbing and jovial laughter, but she said a silent prayer of thanks for the poise she’d learned as a child. Accepting the plate of food being pushed into one hand and the gift being pressed into the other, she pasted a smile on her face and pretended that everything was right with the world.
* * *
Tony’s chair creaked as he leaned back in it and tried to relax, but it was nothing compared to the sound it made when he jumped to his feet a second later. At this rate, he was going to wear the blasted thing out, which was exactly what he would do to the new carpet if he didn’t stop pacing.
His last patient of the day had canceled. It was a good thing. His concentration had been nil ever since Beth had told him that she couldn’t have children.
Good God. Beth
couldn’t have children.
He still couldn’t believe it. But at least a few things about Bethany Kent were beginning to make sense. He remembered thinking it was strange when she’d brought up the subject of marriage. Strange, hell. It had left him speechless.
Face it, Petrocelli. The woman has been leaving you speechless since the night of the blackout.
That was true enough, but those other bouts of raw surprise had been sexual in nature. In comparison, her disclosure concerning her inability to have children had felt like a kick in the chest.
Tony strode to the window, but for once in his life, the view of the mountains rising in the west failed to reach him. A dozen images of Beth played through his mind. He could practically see the lone tear that had trailed down her cheek that night when Christopher had been born. He could practically hear the depth of emotion in her voice each time she mentioned the baby’s name. She loved that child. There was no doubt about it. She deserved to have him, too. There was no doubt about that, either. But she couldn’t have children. And if he married her, he couldn’t, either.
He paced to the other side of the room. Running a hand through his hair, he turned and repeated the process.
Beth didn’t have to tell him about her infertility. That fact had left him in awe of her strength of character. But dammit, it also filled him with doubts and questions. All jokes about his Don Juan image aside, he took his commitment to his family very seriously. He’d always assumed he’d meet the right woman and settle down to raise a family like each and every one of his sisters had done. It was the Petrocelli way. How could he even consider marrying a woman who couldn’t give him children, or his parents grandchildren?
He didn’t know why he left his office, and he sure as hell didn’t know what he hoped to gain from standing outside the nursery, watching Christopher sleep. The baby’s hand jerked, then slowly relaxed, his little mouth suckling an invisible bottle. Tony knew it was a reflex action. But then, so was the clenching in his own gut.
Marriage by Contract Page 5
