As if in protest, a little body part jabbed Susan in the left side. Another joined in on the right side.
“Great,” she mumbled with a weak smile as she opened her eyes to look down at the growing mound of her stomach. “You’re in line with my thoughts now. Well, just watch it, you two, some of them are not meant for little minds.” She’d just have to trust them to tune out when necessary.
Like when she told Michael about them. Or rather, about there being two of them.
Her conversation with Seth two weeks before had backfired. She’d meant the words for him, but the memories had spoken to her, as well. Her mother had told her to be strong. To have courage. She was ashamed of how little courage she’d had where Michael was concerned these past months. But no more.
With that thought, she decided on the cow look and donned the denim jumper. Pulling a brush through the layers of her hair, she was pleased that the natural streaks hadn’t lost any of their luster. Maybe if she could keep his attention on her face and her hair, he wouldn’t notice that she’d gained fifteen pounds in four months.
She could always hope.
At least until she opened her door to him twenty minutes later. His warm green eyes met hers for a moment. A great moment. But then they started to travel.
“Wow,” he said, staring at her belly.
“Yeah.”
“That can’t be comfortable.”
She felt like some kind of freak. “It’s not so bad.”
For a second, he looked back up to her face, but then, as if drawn by a will of their own, his eyes focused again on her midsection. “You’ve still got five months to go.”
Probably more like four since her doctor expected her to deliver early—but, hey, who was counting. “Women have babies all the time, Michael,” she told him, wishing he’d quit staring at her. “It’s no big deal.”
But it was. And they both knew it.
GRINNING, Michael sat back and watched his ex-wife at work. He’d forgotten how truly amazing a Susan show could be. She’d bet on every race, somewhere between eleven and fifteen of them, had tally sheets spread on the table in front of her, and was somehow watching enough of all the races, on numerous monitors, to keep track of her winnings.
“Damn,” she muttered.
Or losses.
He’d given up betting an hour ago, appreciating the sport of Thoroughbred racing a whole lot more than the betting. He was also keeping one eye on the baseball game being broadcast over a nearby monitor.
“Go, baby,” Susan said, her eyes riveted to one screen.
Susan, on the other hand, loved the gambling.
Go, baby. Baby. He still felt the shock of Susan’s protruding belly every time he thought of her standing in that doorway this morning. He’d known for months that she was pregnant. You’d think he’d have been prepared for the evidence. He hadn’t. He wasn’t.
“You ready to go?”
He glanced up to find her looking at him. “Only when you are.” According to the clock, they’d been there a little more than three hours. And though the racing continued until eleven o’clock at night, he was hoping to have Susan in bed long before then.
Placing no new bets, Susan still watched until her cards had dwindled down to nothing.
“How’d you do?” Michael asked, smiling as she frowned over the final tally.
“Up twenty dollars,” she announced with satisfaction.
“An afternoon of fun, and money, too.”
“Can we walk for a while?” Susan asked as they passed through the elaborate entranceway and back out into the Kentucky sunshine.
Looking around at the parking lot, Michael said, “Here?”
“My leg’s cramped.” With her hands in the pockets of her jumper Susan glanced up too quickly for him to gauge her expression. Then she perused the hills off in the distance. “Besides,” she said, “I need to talk to you and I don’t want to do it in the car.”
Curious, Michael set off with her, wondering what was suddenly so important that it couldn’t wait until they got back to the house.
“What’s up?” he asked, when she appeared to be having difficulty getting started.
Another couple of steps, a glance toward the hills again. A deep sigh. “I’ve known something about this pregnancy for a while now, and I put off telling you, but it occurs to me that, as my friend, you should know.”
He wondered how long she’d rehearsed to get those words just right. “You know the sex of the child?” he asked. He’d wondered. He knew they could find things out these days, that most people knew what they were having long before the pregnancy became obvious to the rest of the world.
“No.” She shook her head. And then looked over at him. “You think I should?”
“Of course I do,” Michael walked beside her, hands in the pockets of his jeans. He studied the grass ahead of him.
“Why?”
He probably shouldn’t be advising where he didn’t belong. “Seems obvious.” He looked down at her—shying away from the belly that was so visible from that perspective. “If you know the sex of your child, you can make smart purchases. Take your nursery, for instance.” He warmed to the subject. “You decorate for girl or boy, rather than generic baby, and the room should see the child all the way through toddlerhood.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” She was frowning. At least he thought she was, based on the tone of her voice.
“You’d make much more practical selections with clothes, as well.” He kept right on talking. “And you’d be able to purchase everything before the birth so as to be more completely prepared.”
Hearing himself carry on, Michael shut his mouth, uncomfortable. Where on earth had all of that come from?
“Okay.” Susan wrapped her arms around her middle, brushing his side as she did so. “My next appointment’s on the twenty-first. I’ll ask about it then.”
“Not unless you want to, Sus,” he was quick to assure her. “Don’t do anything on my account.”
She nodded, picking up her pace a little as they wandered farther from the raceway. “The appointment’s still almost three weeks away. I have plenty of time between now and then to decide.”
Good. This was her pregnancy; she should do things her way. “What was it you wanted to tell me?”
Eyes focused straight ahead, Susan said, “There’s not just one child to buy for. There are two.”
“Two.” He wasn’t sure he understood. “You’re having twins?”
He stopped abruptly, stared at her.
Susan nodded.
“Twins?” He resumed walking, hands clasped tightly behind him now.
“Yes.”
Michael glanced down at her, then looked ahead once more. She didn’t have much to say, he thought, considering the significance of this news.
“They’re sure?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“How sure?”
“Completely sure, Michael.” She sounded a little exasperated. But oddly sympathetic, too. Seemed to him she should be seeking sympathy right about now. Two babies. Hell.
“I’ve listened to the heartbeats.”
Oh. Nodding, Michael walked on. “Maybe they made a mistake.” He tried to offer her what hope he could. “Maybe they just caught the same heartbeat twice.”
He didn’t even know if such a thing was possible, but he had to say something. Try to reassure her that things might not be as bad as they seemed.
“I had an amniocentesis. There are two babies.”
That was that, then. “God, Sus,” he said, putting an arm around her shoulders. “Some luck.” What on earth was she going to do?
Two babies. Instead of one child growing inside her there were two. Michael’s blood ran cold. Instead of fathering one child, he’d fathered two.
There wasn’t a swear word he knew that could express how he felt.
“It is luck, Michael,” Susan was saying softly, almost dreamily. “At my age, I was probably g
oing to have to settle for an only child, especially since I’m alone.”
Aghast, Michael stared at her, his arm falling to his side. “You sound like you’re happy about this,” he said.
“I am.” Her eyes glowed as she met his gaze, glowed with happiness, with awe.
“You’re nuts.” Brilliant, Kennedy, just brilliant. But he couldn’t think of another thing to say.
“I don’t think so.” She stood up to him unblinkingly. “I get two children but only have to go through one pregnancy.”
“You’re alone, Susan.” Wasn’t she getting it?
“Even more reason to go through this only once.”
“It’ll be two against one.” He tried to make this clearer to her. “Two babies to carry, two diapers to change, two pairs of screaming lungs, two hungry mouths.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing I have two arms, two hands, two ears and two breasts, huh?” she asked him, completely undaunted.
“You’re nuts,” he said again and turned back toward the car, leaving her to follow him.
Leave it to Susan to speed blithely ahead, certain she could cope. She had no idea what lay ahead. No idea how busy she was going to be, how exhausted.
He slowed his gait a little, waiting for her to catch up. Of course, it wasn’t as though she had any choice in the matter. She couldn’t very well send one of them back.
Putting his arm around her shoulder, he pulled her against him, letting her know in the only way he could that he was sorry for what he’d said. His heart gave a lurch as he felt her arm slide around his waist.
He’d fathered not one child, but two.
He was deserting not one child—but two.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“I’M QUITTING soccer, Mom.”
Laura stilled, the pan of spaghetti sauce bubbling wildly beneath her unmoving spoon. When Seth had first left she’d dreaded hearing those words and then cried tears of relief and thanksgiving when they hadn’t come. Now, almost ten months later, here they were.
“Why?” Deep breaths. Think.
“It’s a dumb game and we have a dumb team.”
More deep breaths. She started stirring again, measuring her breathing by the slow steady passes of the spoon. “It’s not a dumb game, Jeremy,” she told her nine-year-old son. “In Europe, it’s as famous as football.”
“We have a dumb team.”
Where was this coming from all of a sudden? Why?
Most importantly, how did she beat it? Soccer had given Jeremy direction, kept him off the streets and out of the trouble he’d been heading into—fast.
“You guys have had a decent season,” she reminded him.
Slouched over the kitchen table, his face twisted by the hands on either side of his cheeks, Jeremy looked miserable. It was Friday night, his sister was at a friend’s house for the entire evening, and Laura was making his favorite dinner. By all rights, he should be feeling pretty good.
“We’d’ve been number one if Seth hadn’t quit on us.”
Feeling guilty for that, for the fact that the team had suffered, the other boys had suffered, because of decisions Laura had been forced to make, she couldn’t deny her son’s accusation.
“You’ve hung in with the team all year, Jeremy,” she pointed out instead. “You’ve practiced hard, improved incredibly.” Glancing over, she saw that her son was hanging on her praise. “So why quit now?” she finished softly.
Shocked when tears sprang to Jeremy’s eyes, Laura dropped the spoon, turned down the heat on the homemade spaghetti sauce and joined Jeremy at the table. Dinner could wait.
“What is it, honey?” she asked him.
Jeremy looked up at her and his silent anguish broke her heart.
“What is it?” she asked again. Fear was burning her stomach. Something was very, very wrong.
It seemed he was finally going to answer her, but then he shook his head and lowered his eyes.
“Jeremy.” With a hand under his chin, Laura gently lifted his head until his gaze met—and held—hers. “We don’t shut each other out, you and I.” Her voice was as firm as her insides were not. “We promised, remember?”
“I just don’t want to go no more,” he said sullenly, pulling away from her.
She was getting more frightened by the minute, but that only made her more determined. “I’m not letting this go, Jeremy,” she told him. “We’ll sit here all night and all day tomorrow if we have to, but you’re going to tell me what this is about.”
Chin quivering, he gazed up at her again, his eyes filled with bitterness. With anger. And with a whole load of hurt.
“I saw Seth with another woman.”
“What?” Laura’s throat closed on her. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but it certainly hadn’t been that. “Where?”
“Across the street from the park.”
“Where across the street? When?” Seth had been in the neighborhood? She couldn’t even contemplate the rest of her son’s bald announcement. Not if she was going to keep her composure.
“Under that big droopy tree, the one that practically covers the road,” he said.
“You’re sure it was Seth?”
“He was in his Bronco.”
“You’re sure it was his?” Jeremy had to be mistaken. That was all there was to it.
“It had his work parking sticker on it, Mom,” the boy said as though he was questioning his mother’s mental capacities. “I could tell by the shape.”
“When was this?”
With a shaky sigh, Jeremy slouched back in his chair. His chin was planted firmly on his chest.
“He’s been coming practically every week since he quit.”
“What?” Laura was so shocked she yelled the word.
As though he’d expected the reaction, Jeremy calmly nodded. “I don’t think he wants us to see him the way he always hides under that tree and doesn’t ever get out of the car.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” she whispered, her lips frozen. Seth had been around, watching Jeremy, every week all these months?
Not looking at her, the boy shrugged. “I was scared you’d send him away from there, too.”
Oh, God. “Jeremy, I told you—”
“I know, Mom. Seth didn’t want to marry you. He was going to move on sometime....” He parroted the words she’d said so often those first weeks after Seth had gone.
“But, Mom, I didn’t see why you couldn’t let him stay around until he decided to move on.”
She stared at her son silently. Lost. Alone. Afraid.
“I liked having him there,” Jeremy said defensively. “Watching us...”
“And that’s why you stayed on the team?” she asked, reality dawning.
“A little bit.”
Choking back tears, Laura watched the dejected face of her son, completely uncertain what to do next.
“But I’m not going anymore,” Jeremy told her, looking up at her with angry eyes.
“Because of the woman.” She could barely say the word. Why in hell had Seth done it? Why, if he had another woman in his life—which surely he did by now—had he brought her over here? To watch Laura’s son?
She hated Seth the next instant when fat tears welled up in Jeremy’s eyes and dripped slowly down his dirt-streaked face. “I don’t want to see him with anyone else, Mom. I want him to love you.”
Laura pulled the boy into her arms comforting him as she silently wept.
LATE FRIDAY NIGHT, long after he’d made love to Susan, Michael lay awake in the bed he’d once shared with her, in the room that had once been theirs and tried to see a future. The picture was gray, blank. Cold.
“We need to talk, don’t we?”
Startled by the soft voice beside him, he turned his head. “I thought you were asleep.”
“I was. For a while.”
“How long have you been awake?” Why in hell did it matter? Except to distract her from her original question.
�
�Long enough.” Sighing, she raised herself on one elbow, pulling the sheet over her naked breasts.
Michael wished she hadn’t done that. Hadn’t shown him her beauty and then covered herself. Hidden herself from him. He wanted nothing more than to bury his face between her lush breasts, inhale her sweet scent, love her. Lose himself in her. Again. Forever.
“Even if I couldn’t see the misery in your eyes, you’re so tense I can practically feel your muscles quivering.”
Michael willed his muscles to relax, trying for nonchalance. “Your imagination is working overtime. Go back to sleep, Susan.”
“Michael?” She waited for him to look at her. Which he did. Eventually. “Don’t lie to me,” she said.
Her beautiful blue eyes, warm with compassion, were too much for him. He couldn’t continue the charade.
Leaning over her, he took her lips in a kiss that was meant to distract her and distracted him, instead. Her mouth opened beneath him, soft and welcoming, and he was lost. Nothing else seemed to matter when he was with Susan like this. Only her. Only them. Together.
Until she broke away. “Not now, Michael,” she said, shifting toward her side of the bed. “Not like this.”
Frowning, frustrated on top of everything else, he sat up—not bothering to cover himself up the way she had. He wanted her. He wasn’t embarrassed about that.
“Like what?” he grumbled.
“With secrets between us.”
“There are no secrets here.”
Laughing without any humor at all, Susan slid out of bed and into a robe so quickly he admired her finesse. But only because he didn’t want to focus on anything else.
“I lived with you for ten years, Michael,” she told him, “and I’ve been sleeping with you for the past three.”
He knew that but liked the sound of it anyway.
“In all that time, if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that it takes you about two seconds to fall asleep after sex.” Glancing at the clock, she delivered her closing line in superb prosecuting-attorney form. “It’s been exactly one hour and twenty-four minutes and you’re still awake. Something’s wrong.”
“You timed it?” he asked sarcastically.
My Babies and Me Page 13