Eleven

“I’d do anything I could to make things right between me and Steve,” Carol told Lindy, “but it isn’t possible anymore.”

“Why not?” Lindy pleaded. Carol knew it was hard for Lindy to understand when her own recent marriage was thriving. “You’re both crazy in love with each other.”

The truth in that statement was undeniable. Although Steve believed her capable of breaking her wedding vows and the worst kind of deceit, he continued to love her. For her part, Carol had little pride when it came to her ex-husband. She should have cut her losses the minute he’d accused her of having an affair, walked away from her and filed for the divorce. Instead she’d spent the next year of her life in limbo, licking her wounds, pretending the emotional scars had healed. It had taken Christmas Eve to show her how far she still had to go to get over loving Steve Kyle.

“You can’t just walk away from him,” Lindy pleaded. “What about the baby?”

“Steve doesn’t want anything to do with my daughter.”

“Give him time, Carol. You know Steve probably better than anyone. He can be such a stubborn fool sometimes. It just takes a while for him to come to his senses. He’ll wake up one morning and recognize the truth about the baby.”

“I have to forget him for my own sanity.” Carol stood, delivered her empty iced-tea glass to the kitchen and prepared to leave. There wasn’t anything Lindy could say that would change the facts. Yes, she did love Steve and probably always would, but that didn’t alter what he believed.

Lindy followed her to the front door. “If you need something, anything at all, please call me.”

Carol nodded. “I will.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” Carol knew that Lindy realized how difficult it was for her to ask for help. Impulsively she hugged Steve’s sister. From now on, Lindy would be her only link to Steve and Carol was grateful for the friendship they shared.

* * *

Steve had to get out of the apartment before he went crazy. He’d spent the past few days drowning his misery in a bottle and the only thing it had brought him was more pain.

He showered, shaved and dressed. Walking would help clear his mind.

With no real destination in mind, he headed toward the waterfront. He got as far as Pike Place Market and aimlessly wandered among the thick crowds there. The colorful sights of the vegetable and meat displays and the sounds of cheerful vendors helped lift his spirits.

He bought a crisp, red Delicious apple and ate it as he ambled toward the booths that sold various craft items designed to attract the tourist trade. He paused and examined a sculpture made of volcanic ash from Mount Saint Helens. Another booth sold scenic photos of the Pacific Northwest, and another, thick, hand-knit Indian sweaters.

“Could I interest you in something?” a friendly older woman asked. Her long silver hair framed her face, and she offered him a wide smile.

“No, thanks, I’m just looking.” Steve paused and glanced over the items on her table. Sterling silver jewelry dotted a black velvet cloth— necklaces, earrings and rings of all sizes and shapes.

“You can’t buy silver anywhere for my prices,” the woman said.

“It’s very nice.”

“If jewelry doesn’t interest you, perhaps these will.” She stood and pulled a box of silver objects from beneath the table, lifting it up for him to inspect.

The first thing Steve noticed was a sterling-silver piggy bank. He smiled, recalling how he and Carol had dumped their spare change in a piggy bank for months in an effort to save enough for a vacation to Hawaii. They’d spent it instead for the closing costs on the house.

“This is a popular item,” the woman told him, bringing out a baby rattle. “Lots of jewelry stores sell these, but no one can beat my prices.”

“How much?” Steve couldn’t believe he’d asked. What the hell would he do with a baby rattle—especially one made of sterling silver.

The woman stated a reasonable price. “I’ll take it,” he said, astonished to hear the words come out of his mouth.

“Would you like one with blue ribbon or pink?”

Already Steve regretted the impulse. What was he planning to do? Give it to Carol? He’d decided the best thing for him to do as far as his ex-wife was concerned was to never see her again.

“Sir? Blue or pink?”

“Blue,” he answered in a hoarse whisper. For the son he would probably never father. Blue for the color of Carol’s eyes when she smiled at him.

By the time Steve walked back to the apartment, the sack containing the silver baby rattle felt like it weighed thirty pounds. By rights, he thought, he should toss the silly thing in the garbage. But he didn’t.

He set it on the kitchen counter and opened the refrigerator, looking for something to eat, but nothing interested him. When he turned, the rattle seemed to draw his gaze. He stared at it for a long moment, yearning strongly to press it into the hand of his own child.

Blood thundered in his ears and his heart pounded so hard and fast that his chest ached. He would save the toy for Lindy and Rush whenever they had children, he decided.

Feeling only slightly better, he moved into the living room and turned on the television. He reached for the TV Guide, flipped through the pages, sighed and turned off the set. A second later, he rushed to his feet.

He didn’t know who the hell he was trying to kid. That silver rattle with the pretty blue ribbon was for Carol and her baby, and it was going to torment him until he got rid of it.

He could mail her the toy and be done with the plaything. Or have Lindy give it to her without letting Carol know it had come from him. Or … or he could just set it on the porch and let her find it.

The last idea appealed to him. He would casually drive by her neighborhood, park his car around the block and wait until it was dark enough to sneak up and leave the rattle on the front step. He was the last person she would ever suspect would do something like that.

With his plan formulated, Steve drove to Carol’s house. He was half a block away from her place when he noticed her car. She was leaving. This would work out even better. He could follow her and when she got where she was going, he could place the rattle inside her car. That way she would assume someone had mistaken her car for their own and inadvertently set the rattle inside. There wasn’t anything she could do but take it home with her.

Carol headed north on Interstate 5, and her destination was a matter of simple deduction. She was going to the Northgate Mall. Lord, that woman loved to shop. The minute she steered onto the freeway on-ramp, Steve knew exactly where she was headed. They’d been married for five years, and their year apart hadn’t changed her. The smug knowledge produced a smile.

But Carol exited before the mall.

Steve’s heart started to pound. He was three cars behind her, but if she wasn’t going shopping, he didn’t know what she was planning. Maybe she was rendezvousing with Todd. Maybe all those times she’d told him she was shopping Carol had actually been meeting with her employer. The muscles in his stomach clenched into a knot so tight and painful that it stole his breath.

If there’d been any way to turn the car around, Steve would have done it, but he was trapped in the center lane of traffic and forced to follow the heavy flow.

It wasn’t until they’d gone several blocks that Steve noticed the back side of the mall. Perhaps she’d found a shortcut and had never bothered to tell him about it.

Carol turned onto a busy side street, and against his better judgment, he followed her. A few minutes later, when Carol turned into the large parking lot at Northgate Mall, Steve felt almost giddy with relief.

She parked close to the JCPenney store, and Steve eased his vehicle into a slot four spaces over. On a whim, he decided to follow her inside. He’d always wondered what women found so intriguing about shopping.

He was far enough behind her on the escalator to almost lose her. Standing at the top, he searched until he found her standing in women’s fashions, sorting through a rack of dresses. It took him a minute to realize they were maternity dresses. Although she’d lost several pounds, she must be having difficulty finding things that fit her, he realized. According to his calculations, she was five months pregnant—probably closer to six.

He lounged around while she took a handful of bright spring dresses and moved into the changing room. Fifteen minutes passed before she returned, and to Steve it felt like a lifetime.

When she returned, she went back to the rack and replaced all but one of the dresses. She held up a pretty blue one with a wide sailor’s collar and red tie and studied it carefully. Apparently she changed her mind because she hung it back up with the others. Still she lingered an extra minute, continuing to examine the outfit. She ran her fingers down the sleeve to catch the price tag, read it, shook her head and reluctantly walked away.

The minute she was out of sight, Steve was at the clothing rack. Obviously she wanted the dress, yet she hadn’t bought it. He checked the price tag and frowned. It was moderately priced, certainly not exorbitant. If she wanted it, which she apparently did, then she should have it.

For the second time in the same day, Steve found himself making a purchase that was difficult to rationalize. It wasn’t as if he had any use for a maternity dress. But why not? he asked himself. If he left the rattle in her car it shouldn’t make any difference if he added a dress. It wasn’t likely that she would tie him to either purchase. Let her think her fairy godmother was gifting her.

From his position at the cash register, Steve saw Carol walk through the infants’ department. She ran her hand over the top rail of a white Jenny Lind crib and examined it with a look of such sweet anticipation that Steve felt guilty for invading her privacy.

“Would you like this dress on the hanger or in a sack?” the salesclerk asked him.

It took Steve a moment to realize she was talking to him. “A sack, please.” He couldn’t very well walk through the mall carrying a maternity dress.

Carol bought something, too, but Steve couldn’t see what it was. Infant T-shirts or something like that, he guessed. His vantage point in the furniture department wasn’t the best. Carol started to walk toward him, and he turned abruptly and pretended to be testing out a recliner.

Apparently she didn’t see him, and he settled into the seat and expelled a sigh of relief.

“Can I help you?” a salesclerk asked.

“Ah, no, thanks,” he said, getting to his feet.

Carol headed down the escalator, and Steve scooted around a couple of women pushing baby strollers in an effort not to lose sight of her.

Carol’s steps were filled with purpose as she moved down the wide aisle to women’s shoes. She picked up a red low-heeled dress shoe that was on display, but when the clerk approached, she smiled and shook her head. Within a couple of minutes she was on her way.

Feeling more like a fool with every minute, Steve followed her out of the store and into the heart of the mall. The place was packed, as it generally was on Saturday afternoon. Usually Steve avoided the mall on weekends, preferring to do his shopping during the day or at night.

He saw Carol stop at a flower stand and buy herself a red rosebud. She’d always been fond of flowers, and he was pleased that she treated herself to something special.

She’d gone only a few steps when he noticed that her steps had slowed.

Something was wrong. He could tell from the way she walked. He cut across to the other side, where the flow of shoppers was heading in the opposite direction. Feeling like a secret government agent, he pressed himself against the storefront in an effort to watch her more closely. She had pressed her hand to her abdomen and her face had gone deathly pale. She was in serious pain, he determined as a sense of alarm filled him. Steve could feel it as strongly as if he were the one suffering.

Although he was certain she had full view of him, Carol didn’t notice. She cut across the streams of shoppers to the benches that lined the middle of the concourse and sat. Her shoulders moved up and down as though she were taking in deep breaths in an effort to control her reaction to whatever was happening. She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip.

The alarm turned to panic. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t rush up to her and demand to know what was wrong. Nor could he casually stroll by and pretend he just happened to be shopping and had stumbled upon her. But something needed to be done—someone had to help her.

Steve had never felt more helpless in his life. Not knowing what else he could do, he walked up and plopped himself down next to her.

“Hi,” he said in a falsely cheerful voice.

“Steve.” She looked at him, her eyes brimming with tears. She reached for his hand, gripping it so hard her nails cut into his flesh.

All pretense was gone, wiped away by the stampeding fear he sensed in her.

“What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “I … I don’t know.”

Her eyes widened and he was struck by how yellow her skin was. He took her hand in both of his. “You’re in pain?”

She nodded. Her fear palatable. “I’m so afraid.”

“What do you want me to do?” He debated on whether he should could call for an ambulance or contact her doctor and have him meet them at the hospital.

“I … don’t know what’s wrong. I’ve had this pain twice, but it’s always gone away after a couple of minutes.” She closed her eyes. “Oh, Steve, I’m so afraid I’m going to lose my baby.”