Her cheeks were turning pink in the May sunshine. It was just one more change in her body. She’d never burned before, or tanned for that matter. But now, as she ran the last block to the pier, she felt her cheeks beginning to sting.
She stood on the end of the pier and squinted out at the expansive blue circle of water in front of her. This part of the bay was bordered by large, sturdy-looking houses. She imagined that living in one of them would be the next best thing to living on the ocean.
The Sweetwater was somewhere on the bay today on her first outing of the year. They’d worked on her over the weekend, scraping and painting. She’d been impressed by how hard Rennie had worked on the boat. As hard as any of them.
Kit wished the county would put aside its concerns and approve the Chapel House as Rennie’s permanent foster home. It was obvious they had no place else to put her. Why not let her stay with people who wanted her, with people who, to be honest, would grieve if she were taken from them?
She sat down on the bench and stretched her legs out along the seat, wondering if for once they might tan. They were still tight and strong-looking.
She was working hard to convince Cole that she didn’t have a fragile bone in her body. The tougher, the healthier she seemed, the less he’d regret his decision to keep treating her. She’d twisted his arm on that one, but she’d had no choice. The terror she felt at going through it all without him had shaken her. She began to wonder if she’d continued the pregnancy just to guarantee his closeness to her.
She lifted the leg of her shorts and smiled at the pink and white line the sun was making on her thigh. Setting her hand on her stomach, she shut her eyes. It was taking her longer to catch her breath today. Every day she was a little more winded than the day before. Cole had told her to slow her pace a little, to listen to her body. But she had to keep running so she could get back into training right after the baby was born.
She wished the next four months could be compacted into one week. Feeling quick and slender again was only part of it. She wanted to hold her baby in her arms. That was a surprise. The feeling had crept up on her out of nowhere. Sometimes her arms ached to have her baby in them. She liked the way strangers stared at her in the grocery store, and she couldn’t resist thumbing through the magazines in the checkout line, hunting for articles on pregnancy and babies. She shopped for maternity clothes with Janni and Maris. At work she felt on display, and she didn’t mind a bit. She was providing grist for the rumor mill: she was definitely pregnant and she was definitely not married. The others were probably getting pumped for the facts, though they never spoke to her about it.
The bench shook from footsteps on the pier. She turned her head and squinted at the man walking toward her. Khaki pants and a brown plaid shirt. Dark hair, nice build.
“Hi, Kit,” he said.
It took her a moment to recognize him. “Orrin?” She sat up straight, immediately on guard. “Don’t tell me there’s another lawsuit.”
He laughed and took off his sunglasses. “Nothing like that. I stopped by your house because I wanted to see you. One of your housemates told me I’d find you out here.”
“What did you need to see me about?”
“I don’t need to see you about anything.” He smiled. “I was wondering if we could have dinner together sometime soon.”
She stared at him, at those gray eyes rimmed by dark lashes and his smooth, black hair. Couldn’t he tell she was pregnant? For the first time in weeks she wished she weren’t.
“Orrin, I’m five months pregnant.” No use dragging it out.
He glanced at her stomach, then back to her face. “I didn’t realize you were seeing someone.”
“I’m not.”
“Oh. Well then, the dinner invitation still stands.”
She cringed at the polite tone. “Thanks, Orrin, but I don’t think either of us would feel too comfortable.”
“It doesn’t have to be anything serious. I like you. I enjoyed working with you. Let’s have dinner as friends.”
They made plans for Saturday night, dinner and the symphony in Philadelphia, and she watched him walk back up the pier, smiling to herself. This was amazing. Too bad the timing was off. What could she possibly wear that would camouflage the bulging center of her body? Her baby gave a kick in protest and she stroked her belly. “You come first,” she whispered. “Don’t you worry.”
Orrin arrived at the exact stroke of five. “I’d love a tour of this place,” he said as he walked into the living room. “What a view.” He stood at the back window. The ocean was performing perfectly tonight, the waves a deep glassy blue with just a sliver of white water reaching for the beach.
He wore a gray suit and blue-striped shirt. He looked terrific. Too terrific, every hair in place. She found herself wondering if he’d had his nails professionally manicured. She felt sloppy by comparison. Her blue maternity dress was nondescript. No matter what she wore these days, she felt like a beach ball with stick arms and legs protruding at odd angles.
“I’ll show you around,” she said.
Orrin had something nice to say about everything. The living room had character; the cherry wood dining room furniture was elegant. He studied the tile mural of tropical fish in the kitchen, mesmerized by the color and detail.
She thought twice about taking him upstairs. She would usually show a guest her room with its ocean view and maybe the den. But she couldn’t get through the second story that easily these days. They’d transformed the room next to hers into a nursery and it drew her in. It was hard to walk past it without stepping inside, imagining what it would be like in a few months. She could see herself in the one-armed nursing rocker, coaxing her baby to sleep while she watched the rise and fall of the waves. She doubted very much that Orrin would be interested.
But he was. Or at least he pretended to be.
“My birthday was last week,” she explained, “and as a surprise Rennie and Maris painted and the others bought me the furniture.” The white crib was from Janni and Jay, the rocker from Cole. It already smelled like a baby in here, and she took a deep breath.
“You’re all set,” he said. He touched the rainbow mobile. “Cute.”
This had to be boring for him, but she wasn’t ready to leave the room yet. “This is from Maris.” She held out the gold charm she was wearing around her neck. “It’s called an Ashanti medallion, and African women wear them to ensure the beauty of their babies.”
He held the charm on the tips of his fingers. “It’ll be a lucky baby, with these built-in aunts and uncles,” he said. “Your life is very settled, isn’t it?”
“You mean by the pregnancy?”
“No. By this house. By your friends. You have everything you need.”
She frowned at him, wondering if he was right. What was wrong with her that she felt no sense of contentment?
They had a table by the window at the Liberty Inn. Outside, a thunderstorm sent spikes of rain into the sidewalk.
“Does it feel awkward, being out with a pregnant woman?” She felt awkward enough for both of them.
“I’ve done it before,” he said. “When my wife was pregnant.”
“Are you divorced?” She realized she didn’t know a thing about him.
“Widowed.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” She hadn’t expected that. “How long has it been?”
He leaned back, and it seemed to take all his powers of concentration to remember. “Almost four years.”
“You must have a child then.”
“No. Bruni was pregnant when she died.”
She took a bite of salad. Was that why he was interested in her? Some unresolved thing about his wife?
“Does my pregnancy have anything to do with your wanting to go out with me?”
He looked surprised and then laughed out loud. “Relax. Nothing like that. And you don’t look a thing like her, either. She was Swedish. Very blond.”
“Oh.”
“I haven’t been in a hurry to start another relationship. I want to move slowly. So I wasn’t terribly upset when you said you were pregnant.”
“Drat. And here I was hoping you had some perverse craving for pregnant women.” She laughed, but he barely smiled. God, this was uncomfortable. “How did she die? Or does it bother you to talk about it?”
“Cancer,” he said, setting his fork on the empty salad plate. “And yes, it really does. Bother me, I mean.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“You weren’t.” He smiled at her. “You know, I only make it to Blair a few times a month, but they send the Communicator to my home and I have to say that since you’ve been working on it it’s improved one hundred percent. I used to feel embarrassed for the editor when I read it, it was so cutesy. Now it’s readable and it gets the facts across without insulting the reader’s intelligence.”
“Thank you. That was exactly my goal, so it’s nice to hear I’ve succeeded, at least with one reader.”
“How long have you been divorced?” he asked.
“Nearly two years.”
Orrin tapped his wineglass with his finger, and she wondered again about his smooth, square nails.
“Someone told me you ran in the Boston Marathon,” he said.
“Next year, I hope. I’ll have to requalify in another marathon first.” She pressed her hands together in her lap. Her palms were as wet as the rain coating the window.
The waiter brought their entrees, and she was relieved to have the food to attend to. This was intolerable. How would they ever rise above this superficial plane? It was hard to imagine ever telling him a secret, a treasured thought. He was too polite, too squeaky clean. She took a bite of salmon dripping with hollandaise, and thought with some dismay that she’d rather be at home with the others, eating tuna fish casserole.