by Crowe, Liz
Three o’clock that afternoon, convinced she had not a single mothering gene in her entire body, Sara sat on the couch, still in her pajamas, baby puke on one shoulder and the distinct odor of shit in her nose. Katie had cried so long and enthusiastically she’d been reduced to pitiful hiccups interspersed with hoarse yelps. Then had drifted off in spite of herself.
As she’d finally quieted, the doorbell rang, making them both jump.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Sara muttered as she placed the baby on a blanket on the couch and prayed to all that was holy for her to stay asleep for a few minutes before opening the door. She burst into tears at the sight of Craig, his crooked, familiar smile the best thing she’d seen in a week. Suzanne lurked behind him, holding a plate of homemade cookies.
Craig hugged her, then pushed her back, his nose wrinkling. “Yeah, I’m here. Go take a shower. You reek.”
“Gladly. She’s over there. Good luck.” Sara escaped to the upstairs of the small Cape Cod she’d purchased. Katie had been so easy for a few weeks, then all colicky hell had broken loose, just in time for Sara’s parents to go back up to their house in Traverse City—mainly to keep Sara from killing her father, as his insufferable bossiness from her pregnancy lingered and then some into her life as mother of a newborn. But at that moment, Sara had never felt more abandoned in her life. She and Katie had sat and cried together for a solid hour that day. And things had devolved from there.
She’d even take her father’s know-it-all, constant stream of advice if it meant her mother could come back and help her.
Reinforced but still bone tired after a hot shower, she emerged to the sound of actual cooing. She tugged on jeans and a t-shirt and made her slow way downstairs. Craig sat with Katie on his legs, which he had bent up, his feet propped on a small, un-opened cardboard box. They seemed to be communing or something and Sara couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Craig’s goofy face as he baby-talked his way into the record books. She fired up a pot of coffee and brought them all a cup, happy to surrender Katie to someone else for a while.
Bad mom. That’s me. Not even wanting to hold her own child.
But this was so hard. Why hadn’t anyone warned her about this part?
She leaned on the doorway a minute, observed the utter chaos all around, boxes half opened, towels, dishes and clothes strewn all around the house she’d bought in order to feel more responsible. Her mother had offered to help, to organize, but Sara balked, insisting she had a handle on it, unwilling to own up to how helpless she felt.
She still wasn’t ready to admit defeat, that she really couldn’t handle her new, smelly, sleep-deprived, emotionally conflicted reality. She blinked back the tears she seemed to shed at any provocation lately, and handed Craig and Suzanne each a mug.
Katie sat still, staring up at Craig from her vantage point on his thighs. Sara sat next to him. Suzanne sipped her coffee from her spot on a chair across the room. Sara knew something was up between them, but shoved the green-eyed monster down underneath the piles of guilt she hauled around regarding Craig.
“What are you anyway, the baby whisperer? She’s been screaming at the top of her damn lungs since she got up at like, six a.m. today.”
“Probably needed a fresh set of hands.” He put an arm around her. She felt good there with him, but in a way that was somehow altered. She looked at Suzanne.
“I’m happy for you guys,” she said, leaning forward to look into Suzanne’s eyes.
“Thanks,” the woman replied, ever the cool cucumber Sara remembered from the time she’d spent as Blake’s hot and heavy, just-widowed girlfriend.
The doorbell rang again, making Katie startle and flail her arms around. Sara left Craig to comfort her, as only he seemed able to do, and answered it. Blake and Rob stood, bottle of red wine and Chinese takeout in hand. Ignoring the part of her that had hoped for a different face at the door, she smiled and let them in.
Rob opened some moving boxes and found a few juice glasses. He produced a corkscrew from his pocket and poured four glasses. Blake pulled the greasy containers from bags and rustled around in another box for utensils, unwilling to meet Rob’s eyes. He’d flinched, noticeably, when he saw Suzanne here. He knew it. Rob knew it. But he was sick of his own lingering weakness when it came to her. He met Rob’s gaze.
“What?” he asked, knowing damn well what but unable to speak it.
Before he could blink, Rob grabbed him, held him close, pressed firm lips over Blake’s. He sighed and wrapped his arms around the man who’d saved him from himself, years ago.
“There. That’s more like it, no?” Rob smiled, his dark eyes twinkling. Blake had never felt better. The fact that the woman who’d broken his young heart sat out there in his own sister’s living room, likely on the verge of a relationship with the guy who could possibly be the father of his niece was beyond weird. But no longer under his skin, like it had been once.
“Our soap opera continues.” He elbowed Rob out of the way, opened all the containers and found paper plates Sara must have bought as a stopgap until she could get unpacked. He watched Rob’s broad shoulders and strong back and had to stop himself from reaching out for more. “I love you.” He contented himself with this.
Rob turned. “I know. Now let’s go play uncle a while, get it out of our collective systems.”
“Already on it.” Blake loved holding Katie. Between him and Craig, they formed a two-man front against the afternoons and evenings of colic that had developed in the previous weeks. He plucked Katie off Craig’s lap, patted Sara’s head and smiled at Suzanne before whisking the baby back to her room.
He took a deep sniff of Katie’s head. Closed his eyes as she batted at his nose, her perfect face breaking into a grin. “I love you,” he whispered.
Rob smiled and took Katie from his arms, did an efficient diaper change, and laid her in the crib. “You’re going to have to let her work through some of this herself.” Blake lingered, watching as his niece rooted around, settling herself for sleep. His chest constricted at the sight. He couldn’t really explain why. Rob put an arm around him. “Your sister I mean. Not Katie.” Blake sighed and stepped away.
“Is there anything I can do right relative to my sister in your eyes?” Anger surged through him. Rob stood, his eyes calm.
“Yes. You can.” He took Blake’s hand and pulled him close again. “Sorry. Let’s go feed everybody.”
Blake took one last look at Katie, then followed Rob back to the kitchen.
Sara watched them go, observed the give and take between her brother, his lover, and his former girlfriend. Suddenly so tired she could hardly keep her eyes open, she leaned over on Craig’s shoulder. He and Suzanne and Rob chatted, none of which she heard anymore.
A set of arms lifted her. She struggled to wake up, to play hostess. “Shh,” a voice whispered. “I’ve got you.”
“Jack?” She put her arms around his neck, leaned into his chest, which rumbled with amusement.
“No, honey, it’s Rob. But I can call him if you want me to.” She sighed as he laid her in the bed, pulling covers up under her chin.
“No, he won’t come.” She opened her eyes and spotted Rob perched on the edge of the bed. Blake came up behind him and put both arms around his neck. She covered her eyes, hiding the inevitable tears. Jack had been scarce while her parents hovered, stopping in twice, only to back away, seemingly intimidated by Katie’s small, needy self. Rob ran a hand down her face.
“Let me call him.”
“No!” She surprised herself with her vehemence. If he didn’t want any part of her life anymore, well, fine. Screw him. She rolled over. “
Wake me up when she cries or my boobs may explode.”
“TMI, sister dear.” Blake tugged Rob to his feet.
Sara drifted off, her dreams a jumble of babies, pain, stress, and Jack.
“This is killing him you know.” Rob sighed and leaned back into Blake’s embrace as they watched Sara drift off. “I shoul
d call him.”
“What did you just say to me about coddling her?” Blake pressed a kiss to Rob’s shoulder.
“I’m not coddling her. I’m trying to get her to see sense. To let Jack in.”
“It’s a free country. Jack can drive over here and knock on the door just like the rest of us did. Jesus, we have a frigging small town cocktail party out there already.”
“I know. But he feels shut out. Not needed. Although we can probably thank ourselves for that.”
“What are you, Jack’s therapist?”
Rob sighed. “Don’t be a dick. It’s not a good look for you.”
“Sorry.”
“You can’t do this for her you know.” Rob disentangled himself.
Blake stuck his hands in his pockets “I’m not. I’m helping her. I’m allowed.”
“I know. But, she’s keeping Jack at arm’s length and he’s completely intimidated by the baby. Feels inadequate and helpless. I mean, he’s busy now, trying to manage the whole company. He’s used to being needed. So he’s channeling it into work.”
“He is free to come over here anytime.”
The doorbell rang. Rob chuckled. “And like that, he is summoned.”
“Yeah. Kinda like Satan.”
Rob punched Blake in the arm. Sara mumbled. Blake leaned down and kissed her cheek before backing out and closing the door to her room.
By the time they wandered back into the living room, Jack had settled into one of the large chairs draped with cloth diapers doubling as spit-up towels. The tension that might normally have presented itself in a room containing two men who had once loved the same woman seemed blessedly absent.
“Thanks for coming Jack.” Blake took a seat opposite him. Rob shot him an odd look.
He glanced at his phone then tucked it into his inside jacket pocket. The new lines of exhaustion lining Jack’s eyes weren’t lost on Blake.
“Sure. What’s up?”
“I wanted us to talk about how we’re going to handle things going forward.”
Suzanne shifted in her seat. Craig draped an arm around her shoulders. Blake stared at Jack but the room stayed quiet.
“She wants to go back to work in a few weeks but I don’t think Katie should go to a group daycare.”
“What exactly are you proposing?” Rob’s voice was tight. Blake didn’t look at him.
“I was wondering if we could convince her to hire a nannie or something.”
“It’s Sara’s baby. She’s made that infinitely clear to the rest of us. What part of it are you not getting?” Jack kept his voice light.
“I know but…”
Rob stood and walked out of the room, palpable anger trailing in his wake. Blake ignored his exit. “I promised her I’d help with this. So this is me, helping, okay?”
Suzanne leaned forward and put a hand on his knee. He flinched, but she kept it there.
“Blake, I know you want to help her, but she’s got to get through some of this on her own. Your need to smooth everything out isn’t helping her.”
He stood and started pacing the small room. “I’ll tell you what then, if you guys all think I’m wrong then forget I said anything.”
Jack rose and stood in Blake’s path, hands on his shoulders. “I’ll help you. I don’t want the baby in some germ-infested room with half-trained teenagers in charge.”
“Since when are you an expert on day care?” Suzanne aasked.
He glared at her then turned back at Blake.
“But you have to back off a little bit, man. Suzanne is right. Sara has to work her way through this on her own. It’s what she wanted, remember? I’ll help you convince her. She can pay for it. Think that will fly with her?” He glanced at Craig who nodded. “I gotta go.” He ran a hand through his hair.
Blake nodded. “Thanks Jack. It’s a deal.” Rob stood in the kitchen doorway his gaze flat and noncommittal. Blake’s heart sped up. He knew this was the right thing. Sara needed his help. He’d promised her he would. She needed him.
He dropped into a chair and watched Jack and Rob shake hands after which Rob turned his back and returned to the kitchen without another word. The baby monitor at his elbow bleeped. He smiled as he made his way back to her room.
Screw Rob. This was his family and he’d handle it how he wanted. He knew he’d drawn a line in the sand by not telling Rob his plan to get Jack on board with the no-daycare thing. He also knew Katie at home with a nannie meant he’d get more time with her.
The small girl flailed around, her thin cries taking hold and becoming full-fledged wails of “where the hell is my food?” Blake smiled at her. “My darling, don’t cry. Uncle Blake is here for you, always.” Rob appeared with a warmed bottle of Sara’s breast milk, handed it to him and walked out of the room without saying anything.
Chapter Nine
Sara stared at the amazing assembly around her patio table. She took in the birthday girl—her now two-year-old daughter—sitting in her high chair giggling, the center of attention, icing smeared across her face.
Countless sleepless nights behind her, she’d jumped back into work with a vengeance. She’d even convinced Blake that Katie was ready for daycare, that she needed the social interaction with other kids to bring her down off her pedestal. Sara knew the girl was in for a surprise when she realized there were others like her, just as important in the scheme of the universe.
The weird niggling feeling that had haunted her for past few months rose again. She looked down at her hands – hands that held, soothed, changed diapers and clothes, even cooked halfway decent meals for her child. They seemed separate from her somehow.
She touched her hair. She’d gotten it cut shorter than she’d ever had it a year ago, mostly out of self-preservation. Getting up and ready for work had turned into a virtual three-ring circus with a baby, then a toddler, in the house. Since Katie had recently taken to sleeping with Sara, claiming “bad dweams,” it seemed easiest to just let her. But of course, all the parenting books advised against that.
All the work she’d done, all the baths taken, books read, green vegetables consumed and she still didn’t feel like a legit mother. The imposter syndrome was strong, so strong sometimes it overwhelmed her. Why she’d demanded to go down this path alone she had no idea. It would have been so much easier, not to mention likely better for Katie, to just say “yes” to one of Jack’s many proposals. To let him ease their way with his money and eagerness to manage everything.
The girl’s squealing laughter floated in through the open window. Sara frowned. Her support group currently surrounding the girl had been a lifesaver, but as her work level ramped up, taking her away more evenings and weekends, she felt the tenuous connection she’d made with her daughter slipping. Wandering back out to the patio, she observed the small girl, her light brown curls haloing around her face in the humid night, huge green eyes trained on her uncle who would not leave her side for a second.
“Sara!” her father called from the back door. “Bourbon?”
“Cabinet in the dining room, Dad.” She took a deep breath, trying to relax but for some reason still felt on edge. “I’m worried about them.” Her father stood next to her sipping his drink.
“Yeah, he’s a little obsessed isn’t he?”
Sara sighed and leaned into her father’s side. “Well, I let him be I guess. So my fault, like everything else it seems.” She turned away from the group, the sight of Craig there alone without Suzanne searing her just as deeply.
“Bake!” The little girl burbled making the adults around her erupt with joy. Sara sighed, stood, and headed back inside. God knows she had enough people taking care of the child. She felt a tad superfluous actually. And fat, she sighed and poured another glass of red wine.
“Hey sexy.” Jack’s deep voice penetrated her self-pity party.
“When did you get here?” She ignored the zinging in her nerves at the sight of him. He’d been mostly absent for the better part of Katie’s first yea
rs. Never mind how much she needed him.
Never mind that I never asked him for help. What’s he supposed to do? Read my mind?
“Just now. Seems like the birthday girl has her audience. Thought I’d find you instead.” Sara closed her eyes at that. How did he know? He handed her a bouquet of wild flowers and a bottle of her favorite Pinot Noir.
“Nothing for Her Highness?” Sara heard the whiney tone in her voice and tried to quell it. She was certain no other mom in the universe ever resented anything about their own child. It was one more thing she sucked at.
“Of course.” He pulled a present from behind his back. “Where?”
“Out there.” She gestured to the open French door. He smiled and set it on the kitchen counter.
“Are you trying to get in my pants? If you are, you’re scoring pretty high so far. Granted, I’m desperate.” He laughed, a deep, throaty sound she associated with a different life, a different era. The “before baby Sara.”
“No. Not really. Although, I wouldn’t turn it down. Here, let’s open this.” He pulled the cork from the pinot, grabbed two glasses, and filled them. Ecstatic noises floated in from the patio.
“Thanks.”
He leaned in close. Too close. She shut her eyes and stepped away. She knew if she didn’t, she’d give in, cave to the one thing she wanted - had missed for years now.
“You look great.” He lifted his glass to her.
“No, I’m still a cow.”
“Sara?” Rob peeked in, saw Jack and smiled. “Hey, Gordon.”
“Hey.”
Sara sipped her wine. Jack held out his hand. Sara took it and they wandered outside to many cheers and cries of “Ma! Ma!” from the little girl.
By midnight the crowd had dispersed but for Jack, Blake and Rob. Sara sat, feet tucked up under her as Blake put the snoozing Katie to bed. Jack sat next to her. When he’d put a hand on her leg at one point for emphasis, a quick thrill of desire shot through her.