Natalie was helping Taylor into his pajamas one night a week later when Alex asked the question.
“When are we going to have another baby, Mom?”
She almost put Taylor’s arm through the head opening of his pjs. Kids asked these questions sometimes, she knew, but Alex never had. Had he overheard her on the phone with Linn or Kyle? She didn’t think so. She’d been very careful.
“Why do you ask, honey?”
He sat beside her on the living room floor, gathering his knees up close to his chest. “Brandon’s mom just had a baby girl, and I want a sister, too.”
Natalie chuckled. “You already have a brother.”
Alex gave Taylor a glare. “He annoys me.” The adult word sounded funny coming off her six-year-olds lips.
“Do not!” Taylor slugged Alex.
“You don’t even know what it means,” Alex said.
“Stop it, both of you,” Natalie said.
“We have an extra bedroom. She could sleep in there.”
“Honey, there’s a lot more to having a baby than where you’re going to put her. Besides, you don’t get to pick whether it’s a boy and girl. God decides that.”
“Can’t we just ask God for a girl?” Alex asked.
She smiled. “Sure, you can ask, but He can say no if He wants to.”
She could hardly believe Alex’s timing with this question. Only yesterday she’d met with Kyle’s friends and discussed their adoption process. Their little girl was adorable and seemed as happy and secure as any one-year-old she’d ever seen. Joe and Kristin had been very convincing. Not that they’d tried to convince her, but their attitude toward their little girl and toward adoption in general was hard to overlook.
“Go brush your teeth, Alex.” She took Taylor up to his room and tucked him in, listening to his little boy prayers.
“Pray for Mom and Alex and Dad and Granny and Papaw and Aunt Hanna and Unca Micah and Aunt Paula and Unca David and … help tomorrow and the new baby. Amen.”
Natalie opened her eyes.
Taylor was snuggling into his pillow and comforter, a content smile on his face.
“Taylor, what new baby?”
He looked up at her with his big, innocent eyes. “Our new baby.”
Her breath stuck in her lungs, where it seemed to accumulate until she felt she’d explode. Is this You, God? Is this Your way of telling me what I should do?
No, not telling, but confirming. Maybe she was crazy, but she’d been leaning very strongly toward the idea of adopting Linn’s baby. She’d been concerned, though, about how the boys would accept a new brother or sister. She guessed she needn’t worry about that anymore.
She tucked the comforter up to Taylor’s chin and said good-night.
Over the next two days, the idea of adopting the baby grew in Natalie’s heart until she knew it was the right thing to do. She’d even begun to get excited about the thought of a baby in the house again. It had always been her favorite stage with the boys.
She had Linn over for dinner and a game of Monopoly, but still, she sheltered the idea in her heart. Linn had been feeling her out by the things she said, and Natalie knew she was anxious for an answer. What was she waiting for?
On Thursday of that week, the last day in June, Natalie looked at her refrigerator calendar and decided. Tomorrow, on the day that marked Linns nineteenth week of pregnancy, she would tell Linn she would raise the baby as her own.
Paula flung her purse on the table and went to pour herself a glass of wine. She felt like celebrating. Tonight’s broadcast had gone flawlessly. It was one of those nights when she was just on. Every word came out with just the right inflection, every segue smooth as satin, every ad-lib perfect. And her boss Donald had noticed. He’d asked to speak with her after the show.
“Did you know there’s a temporary position in our affiliate station in Chicago, Paula?”
She’d known, but she generated just the right amount of surprise.
“You’re too good to be tucked away here in the mountains. I’m sending them your tape.”
Her heart had nearly stopped beating. It was her dream to be a news anchor for a large station in a city like Chicago, and this temporary job as an investigative reporter was just the break she needed.
She filled her goblet and took a sip, allowing herself one giddy moment. She could see herself on Chicago’s evening news in front of thousands of viewers. She had a sense of destiny about the possibility.
Her mother would say something about God’s will, but she’d worked too hard for it to lay the credit at God’s feet.
The front door opened and clicked shut. David. She could hardly wait to tell him. She met him in the foyer, feeling exceptionally frisky.
“Hello, handsome.” She curved her lips in a smile she reserved just for him.
“Hi.” He brushed past her.
She watched him remove his wallet from his pocket and set it on the shelf. Next, he removed the coins from his pocket and placed them in the sterling canister.
She took a sip from her glass and followed him into the room. “Can I get you a drink?”
“No, thanks.”
She watched him take off his shoes and set them in the closet. Hers were still by the front door, where she’d kicked them off. Is that why he was acting so short? She went and picked them up and tucked them under the end table.
“How was your day?” she asked. He shot her a glance, and for a moment she thought something was very wrong. But just as quickly the look was gone.
“Interesting.” He flicked on the TV with the remote control. A sitcom came to life on the screen. He didn’t turn it.
She sat on the couch and studied him. He never watched sitcoms. He hated the canned laughter. “Did you eat dinner?”
“Yeah.” He leaned back in his recliner and kicked out the footrest.
So much for her news. She wanted to tell someone who would be as excited for her as she was. In his present mood, he might not even offer her an offhand congratulations.
She sighed. “Is something wrong?”
His jaw clenched, and the shadows moved there in the crevices of his face. He was really quite handsome. When they were dating, everyone had said they looked perfect together. Though she was tall, he still cleared her head by three inches, even in heels. The perfect dancing partner.
She realized he’d never answered her. “Hon, are you all right?”
He looked at her, his eyes blazing with something she couldn’t define. He looked away.
Something in her shuddered. She’d never seen that look. David was always so controlled. So charming with impeccable manners. She couldn’t imagine what would provoke the emotion she’d seen in his eyes, but it was clearly aimed at her. What had she done? She automatically thought of the pregnancy three years ago and her deceit. Her stomach clenched in dread.
But no, he couldn’t know about that.
She sensed it was time for a change of topic. So much for waiting for an eager listener. “You didn’t get to see the news tonight, did you?”
He seemed absorbed in the program. “No.”
“I think it was my best ever. Apparently Donald thought so, too.”
The canned laughter sounded, and he picked up the remote and changed the channel. As much as she wanted to share her news, she decided to wait. He was obviously in a snit about something. She picked up her glass from the end table and started for the kitchen. Must’ve had another picky client. Maybe if she just gave him some time to cool off.
“I got my test results today.”
She barely heard the words, spoken so calmly and quietly. Test results? Her brain jogged. The sperm test.
She walked back into the room and sank onto the couch close to his chair. Something was wrong with his test. That’s why he was in this mood. She put her hand over his. “What is it, hon?” Inside, her nerves pulled taut.
He jerked his hand from under hers and crossed them over his chest.
She blinked at the abrupt movement. He was starting to scare her. This wasn’t David at all. “Is it bad?” She searched his face for answers. Why didn’t he just spill it? Her own appointment with the specialist was later in the week, but if there was a problem with David … well, she didn’t know what it would mean exactly.
His gaze was glued to the TV, where a commercial for Paxil CR was running. His nostrils flared. Whatever it was, this was serious. She braced herself.
“It turns out I have a low sperm count. And low motility.” He drilled her with a look. “It’s very unlikely I can get you pregnant, Paula.” The corner of his nose turned up in a snarl.
The way he said it, with hatred almost, made her flinch. Why was he acting this way toward her? She allowed herself a moment to catch her breath. She’d read about problems with male infertility. The problems he mentioned weren’t rare, by any means, but when you combined both the low count and the low motility, it severely limited the chances for pregnancy.
“How bad is it?” Why wouldn’t he look at her? Why was he acting so cold? Maybe he was feeling responsible for their problem conceiving. “Hon, this isn’t all bad. In fact, if there’s no health problem with me, I’ll bet in-vitro is a strong possibility.”
He fixed her with a glare, then pushed up his trendy glasses.
She’d never seen him this way. Didn’t know how to handle him. And she always knew how to handle people. Right now, though, her emotions teetered between rank fear and justified anger. What had she done to deserve his silent treatment? It wasn’t her fault he had an infertility problem.
He flicked off the TV and tossed the remote on the table. It clattered, then spun and plunked on the carpet.
She looked at her husband, suddenly feeling that she didn’t know him at all. “What is wrong? This is more than just a test result.”
He turned toward her then, and she saw the full weight of his anger. “I can’t get you pregnant, Paula.” He spat the words as if spewing some nasty food from his mouth.
Her heart pressed against her ribs, her blood gushed through her veins, but still, she couldn’t figure out why—
And then a terrible thought occurred to her.
“Do you get it now? Yes, I see that you do.” He blinked rapidly.
“You can’t be serious.”
Silence. So heavy and oppressing, it felt as if she smothered in it.
“You are.” She couldn’t believe he thought she’d—
“What am I supposed to think? The doctor told me it was highly unlikely I could get you pregnant. ‘Practically impossible,’ she said.”
“But you did. We did.”
“Did we?”
The words hung in the air between them. Suspended like a poisonous cloud of gases. It sucked the air from her lungs. Her eyes stung. “Of course, we did. Think what you’re saying, David.”
“I’ve had all afternoon to think. And you know what I thought about? I thought about the time I found a bunch of e-mails from Evan in your inbox—”
“He was just seeing how—”
“I thought about the time we had those mysterious hotel charges on our credit card—”
“That was—”
“And I thought about how you act around other men, how you flirt and act so coy, and how you and that … that Dante were acting two weeks ago when I walked in on you at the TV station.” His voice escalated. “That’s what I thought about, Paula.”
He shoved in the footrest, stood, and left the room.
She felt as if some heavy boulder sat on her chest. Sure, she’d been attracted to Dante. And maybe she did act a little coy with men, but that was just her personality. Couldn’t he see that?
Maybe he senses your guilt
She shoved away the thought. That was a whole separate matter. He was accusing her of cheating on him.
She followed him into the kitchen on legs that felt uncharacteristically wobbly. When she reached the kitchen, he was making a pot of coffee. She leaned against the counter.
“I know I sometimes act a little flirtatious with other men, but I have never cheated on you.”
He emptied the water into the reservoir and shoved the pot on the burner.
“That baby was yours, David,” she said emphatically. Her heart turned flip-flops in her chest when he didn’t respond. She’d told him the truth. Why wouldn’t he believe her? She trembled now, but not from fear. “How could you even think it?”
He took a mug from the cabinet and turned to get the half-and-half from the fridge.
She grabbed his arm. “Why are you doing this? Talk to me!”
He flung the creamer across the counter, where it slid and toppled.
“The doctor said ‘practically impossible,’ Paula. Do you understand what that means?” He jerked his arm away, and her hand fell. “I grieved that baby. For weeks, I grieved that baby. And it wasn’t even mine.”
“Yes, it was.” How could he think this? It was so unfair. She flicked away the tear that escaped.
“Whose was it, Paula? Have there been others?”
“There hasn’t been anybody! Would you listen to yourself?” Her eye started twitching. “Maybe you’ve only recently become infertile. Have you considered that? Did you ever think about that before you started accusing me of adultery?”
He nailed her with a glare and left the room.
Her insides clamped in knots until they ached. Beside her, a heavy puddle of creamer pooled around the lip of the container.