Paddy cake, paddy cake, baker man, Bake me a cake as fast as you can, Roll it and knead it and mark it with B, And put it in the oven for Baby and me.
Was that the way it went? Kit rocked in the darkness of the nursery, stroking her baby through her robe.
So Cole was making love to Cynthia tonight.
She pulled her chair closer to the dormered window so she could see the stars. The sky was alive with them. Had it only been a year since she’d sat on the beach with him listening to him describe the constellations? It was as though she’d known him all her life.
He’d been sure of himself tonight, excited as a little kid before a party.
“Aren’t you glad she’s made you wait?” she asked, feigning excitement for him. She was always faking. It would be the story of her life if she stayed in Mantoloking: Cole with a bright and beautiful woman, Kit in the background, encouraging him, pretending to be happy for him. Not sure enough of what she wanted to go after it herself. She was certain he had no idea of her deception. He knew her so well. He knew the parts of her she never let anyone see. Yet between them hung this major lie.
Earlier tonight she’d pulled out her portable typewriter and updated her resume. Tomorrow she’d have copies made and she’d send them to the medical centers with large PR departments. Nothing on the west coast, and nothing where the winters would be too cold for running. She’d enclose a simple cover letter, noncommittal, a little careless. An expression of her ambivalence.
A stupid time to think of moving, perhaps, but moving would be less stressful than lying awake at night thinking of Cole with Cynthia. She could handle this pregnancy without him. She would have to.
She spotted him through the sliding glass doors of the kitchen the next morning as she tied her shoes. He was sitting on the arm of one of John Chapel’s heavy beach chairs, his feet on the seat and his elbows on his knees. A long blade of beach heather dangled from his fingers. She hadn’t expected to see him at all this morning. She’d thought he would stay over at Cynthia’s.
He stood up with a grin when she walked into the yard. “You look awfully cute,” he said.
She smoothed her gray sweatshirt over her belly. “I can’t imagine getting bigger than this. My stretch marks have stretch marks.”
“You’ve got a long way to go yet.” He put his hand on her back as they walked toward the line of shells left by the high tide.
“When did you get home?” she asked.
“About one.”
“That early?”
“It wasn’t the greatest night of my life.”
She hated herself for taking pleasure in those words. “What went wrong?”
“Nothing actually went wrong. But the earth didn’t move, you know what I mean?”
She slipped her arm around his waist. “Cole, you’re thirty-five years old. Don’t you know by now that it takes time to get the earth moving? You have to work at it.”
“I need to know now if it’s possible. Otherwise I want to end it before she gets hooked on me.”
“Is she moving in that direction?”
“Rapidly. At the risk of sounding egotistical.”
“I can’t blame her for that. You’re probably the prettiest thing she’s seen in a long time.”
“Talk about pretty. God, she’s gorgeous.”
“Yes. She is.”
“And so bright. But the bottom line is, we don’t get along very well. We haven’t seriously talked politics but I’m sure we’re miles apart. She thinks my lifestyle is unhealthy and maybe a little immoral. And she hates oral sex.”
She bit her lip to keep from smiling. “Some women feel that’s just too intimate to do the first time they’re with a lover,” she said, proud of her generosity toward Cynthia.
He shook his head. “She said she’d never do it.”
“Did you talk to her about it? Try to find out what the problem is? Maybe she has false teeth.”
He laughed. “She won’t even allow herself to be the doee.”
“Oh. The woman’s nuts.” She said it before she could stop herself.
Cole smiled. “She’s not a glowing example of stability, and it worries me to get involved with another crazy lady.”
“Well, is it worth taking the chance? Do you like her?”
“Yes, I do. At least I think I do. I like her head—her intellect. And I admire her ambition. But I don’t know. Something’s not clicking.”
He sounded worn out, and she felt evil for wishing him anything other than good fortune with Cynthia. “Why not enjoy it one day at a time?”
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not interested in settling down.”
It was odd to hear him say that. It wasn’t lack of interest so much as sheer terror. It would be like one long, never-ending asthma attack.
“You’re trying to fit ten years of intimacy into a few weeks,” she said.
He looked at the horizon, squinting, as though the pale morning sunlight hurt his eyes. “I wish I knew where Estelle was.”
So, he was still thinking about Estelle.
“You know what I hope?” she asked. “I hope Cynthia can make you not give a damn where Estelle is. I really do.” She knew as she said it that she meant every word.