A Baby Affair

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  Angie thought she should find out so she could start buying clothes and things for the nursery. And yet, she hesitated, and she couldn’t figure out why.

  Craig had talked to her about the sex of the baby that very first day they’d met. He’d seemed to want to know, too. It was a valid response. She understood that.

  But every time she picked up the phone to call the Parent Portal, to have someone look at her chart and tell her, she got butterflies in her stomach and turned her thoughts back to work. It began to weigh on her—this indecision—because she didn’t understand it.

  She talked to Angie about it one day as they sat over lunch celebrating a newly signed contract with the lace maker in the south of France. Her sister thought maybe she was hoping for one sex over the other and was afraid of feeling disappointed.

  It made sense—especially for Amelia, who couldn’t stand to, in any way, not be perfect for those she loved. And yet, Angie’s theory didn’t ring true.

  Imagining a life raising a son was equally as heady as imagining a life with a daughter; each was different in some ways, and gloriously the same in others. They both brought exciting and wonderful possibilities.

  She put the fear of calling the clinic down to pregnancy hormones any time it overwhelmed her. Those were a great catchall. And a legitimate possible culprit.

  They were the reason she was beginning to look forward to her rides with Craig so much. Why those rides were becoming the highlight of her weeks. Because of hormones.

  She’d read that a side effect of pregnancy could be a woman craving sex more, figured that having that particular malady was better than having morning sickness, which had left her completely alone thus far.

  And just like morning sickness did for other women, she knew her raging sex drive would soon disappear.

  The last Sunday in February marked the sixth week of bike riding. They’d been taking longer, though still moderately paced, routes and that Sunday had predetermined to meet at an entrance to the private beach that Amelia’s condo had access to. From there they were biking along an ocean-view walkway that meandered for several miles, having been converted years before from a railroad track.

  Craig had been getting more and more nervous about her biking on roads with vehicles, which had been his main reason for vetoing her suggestion that they ride along the cliff at the edge of town. She’d pointed out that if it wasn’t safe for her, it wasn’t safe for him, either, but the comment had kind of slithered off to the ether, where it most likely belonged.

  His comment to her, while seeming personal, had, in actuality, been in line with their agreement. He’d been looking to the safety and well-being of the baby she carried. While her comment...it could only have been an expression of her concern for him.

  Of course, human beings commonly expressed compassion or concern for perfect strangers. It was one of the beauties of being human—the oneness of the experience and the bonding of souls simply because they were of like species.

  As always, she’d worn leggings and an oversized T-shirt for the ride, strapping her water bottle beneath her top and below her bump, which was becoming noticeable. She might not look pregnant yet to a stranger on the street, but to anyone who knew her, she’d definitely put on girth. Her weight gain, while a little below average for a woman at twenty weeks of pregnancy, was still within the acceptable range.

  Craig had the bikes down and waiting by the time she approached. The sight of him in his usual bike shorts and a black spandex, short-sleeved top made her normal brain malfunction and she was suddenly seeing a vision of him standing there without clothes. Inviting her to do with him what she liked.

  Oh, Lord, she liked...it all. Everything. His hands. His lips. His tongue. Him.

  At least, in the vision that she quickly shoved away she did. In her mind and heart...she knew better.

  It was hormones.

  “You feeling okay?” His concerned expression got her all riled up again. Having this...this...man care...she kind of melted a little.

  “Of course,” she told him. And wondered what he’d do if she blurted out that she was feeling flashes of desire over him. “I feel great.”

  But not as great as his smile looked, or felt down to her core, when he poured it on her. It had only been two days since she’d seen the man—not months. She could not possibly be starved for the sight of him.

  It was just the hormones.

  * * *

  She was wearing another damn, oversized T-shirt. Craig was starving for the sight of Amelia Grace carrying his child and he got a flowing T-shirt. How many of those things did she own?

  Still, it gave him another dose of those femininely muscular and long legs. From there he allowed himself a quick glance at her face, which was expressive and intriguing because you never knew what it was going to show you next. And those eyes changed colors—from green to gold—based on what she was feeling, not necessarily what she was saying.

  She wasn’t fine. Had looked away when he smiled at her, and her hand had jerked when he’d touched it with the bike handle. Something was bothering her.

  And it wasn’t his to own. Or even borrow long enough to see if he could fix it.

  So he got on his bike. Waited for her to mount hers. And started off down the paved path that was wide enough for two-way traffic, and for them to ride side by side. She started out behind him, anyway, and he was concentrating on the things that were in his circle of control. The use of the most expedient muscles for pedaling, the straightness of his back and the strength of his grip on the handlebars. He took in the ocean off to the distance on his right. Some of the people who were on the path with them. A couple of joggers. Three in-line skaters passing in the other direction.

  Clouds blocked the sun that Sunday afternoon, making the seventy-three-degree temperature seem chillier, and laying a gray shadow over their surroundings, but he took in a breath of air that felt...alive. More alive than he’d been in a long time.

  He slowed his pace a bit, meaning she’d either do so, as well, to stay behind him, or ride up to join him. Choice was hers.

  “How’s Talley doing?” she asked as she joined him.

  “Great.” He gave her a quick smile so she’d know she was welcome beside him. That the conversation was welcome. Thursday’s ride had been through city neighborhoods and they’d passed the vet. He’d told her all about his dog, that Talley had an appointment there the next day to have her numbers run again, one more time, just to see where they were at. “Everything’s within normal range.” Sugars, most importantly—that meant the pancreas was doing its job again.

  “Oh, thank goodness.” The emotion in her tone was startling. She’d been worried about his dog? Was she an animal lover, then?

  “Does your condo association allow pets?” he asked her. He hadn’t noticed a pet park or dog-walking area when he’d been there.

  “Yes,” she told him. “That was a must for me.”

  “You have one?” Perhaps a cat who’d deigned him not worthy of her appearance the one time he’d been inside her place.

  “Not right now. But I don’t want to live someplace where I can’t ever have one.”

  The woman was just so fascinating to him. Contradictory, and yet...not really. Either she just plain couldn’t make decisions and so had to plan for every eventuality, or she knew herself well enough to plan for the possible eventualities.

  “You like pets, then.”

  “Yeah. But I was thinking about my baby, too. What if he wants a dog someday? I want to live in a home that can accommodate that.”

  He. For a long time, she’d been using she most often. Did that mean she knew the sex of the child? She’d had the ultrasound weeks ago. He’d wanted to ask, but thought it best to let her share as she saw fit any information that was nonessential to health and security.

  But...he. There’d be a
boy in the world who was a part of him. Who might look like him. Have the same birthmark on his shoulder. The same ear shape. The same thick beard that required twice daily shaving if he wanted to go without shadow...

  He did a mental retake, brought himself back to the topic at hand. Pets. Innocuous as always.

  “Did you have a pet growing up?” he asked.

  “Tiki,” she said, barely missing a breath as they pedaled. “She was a Poochin—a cross between a poodle and a Japanese Chin. We got her for Christmas when Angie was two and I was three. I think, with Angie getting so independent, Mom wanted another baby in the house.”

  She was smiling, which made him smile. Angie came up a lot in Amelia’s conversation. He’d asked to meet the other woman, but Amelia had never responded to his request. And, of course, he couldn’t push.

  “How long did you have her?” he asked, eager for another peek into her private world.

  “Until my junior year of high school. But we almost lost her once, which is why I could relate to what you were going through with Talley.”

  Two bikes were coming from the opposite direction and Craig sped up to allow Amelia to fall in behind him and be more safely out of the way. When she rejoined him, he asked, “What happened to Tiki to make you almost lose her?” It was like he couldn’t stop himself from soaking in whatever she’d offer up. He had to know everything he could know about this beautiful woman. For his peace of mind where the baby was concerned, yes, but he could no longer deny that there was more to it than that. That his interest was more personal.

  “The vet thought she had cancer.”

  He’d been expecting a near‒car accident. Or a runaway incident. Maybe a dangerous bug bite.

  “He said we needed to do a biopsy, which would cost about six hundred dollars. Duane said spending that kind of money on a ten-year-old dog was wasteful and said we couldn’t have the test done.”

  “But your mom had the test done, anyway,” he surmised when she didn’t finish her story. “Did the vet agree to take payments in installments?”

  “Nope. Duane said no and Mom always did what Duane said.”

  Ah. The lightning bolt hit him late. Based on what she’d told him about her mother, about herself, in relationships, he should certainly have seen that one coming.

  They pedaled silently for a block or two. Slowing their pace. Most of the time they had the sidewalk to themselves—due mostly to the cloudy sky, he figured.

  “So what happened with your dog?” he asked when he couldn’t find a way to just let it go.

  “Duane told Mom we should have her put to sleep.”

  Anger flared in his gut, and harsh words stopped just short of flying out his mouth as she continued.

  “Angie and I stayed up most of that night. Crying. Holding her. And the next morning we went with Mom to the vet. I asked him if there was some way to do the test and let Angie and I work off the payment. We’d already agreed we’d clean poop out of cages if we had to, or spend Saturdays washing floors...”

  Her smile was more quirky than sad. And again he was filled with admiration. And something more. An understanding, maybe. Amelia Grace was not a woman who said things she didn’t mean. She thought things through. She looked for her answers. And she implemented them. The baby she was carrying was proof of that.

  “An older woman in the waiting room overheard me and offered to pay for the biopsy,” Amelia was saying. “Turned out she lived not far from us, had a lot of money and was all alone. Angie and I visited her after school a few times a month at least for the next few years, until she moved to be closer to her son. She had the most amazing stories to tell...”

  “And Tiki?” he asked, grateful for that nameless older woman. Gratified at the validation that many good and decent people lived in the world.

  “She didn’t have cancer. She just had a clogged duct.” Amelia’s words brought relief, even though he’d calculated the dog had lived another three years.

  “And how did you explain to Duane that the dog hadn’t been put to sleep?”

  “We told him the truth. At which time he’d told my mom that he was glad they hadn’t wasted the money on a test that proved unnecessary to begin with. But to be fair, he was drunk all three nights this was going on.”

  There was no bitterness in her tone. And he figured he knew why. While Amelia had been unable to control much of what happened to and around her while she’d been growing up, she’d taken control of her life, pieces at a time, as she’d been able. Like finding a way to save her dog. And in doing so, by finding her own powers, she’d found acceptance for what had been.

  If he were to be completely honest with himself, he didn’t really need to see her anymore to have peace of mind where his child was concerned. That baby might not live in a traditional home, might not live in the type of home Craig wanted for him and his family, but he or she was going to have one helluva fantastic mother.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Amelia really enjoyed the ride that Sunday afternoon. Even more than usual. Talking to Craig was like talking to her counselor sometimes—she could say things without worrying. Her words weren’t going to hurt his feelings. Their opinions didn’t need to coincide with the other’s desires.

  His combination of knowledge and experience gave him good insights.

  And he was a good listener.

  And yet, she wasn’t paying him to listen to her. Nor was he bound under any kind of laws or certification to withhold his own opinion, or to draw out hers.

  They just talked.

  And he listened because he chose to do so, not because it was his job. Just as she did when he talked about Talley and the other things going on in his life—like his mom and dad’s thirty-fifth anniversary coming up that summer. He wanted to make it special for them but wasn’t able to land on what to do. Or the partner who was leaving his clinic to make more money in Los Angeles. They’d had a good talk about the value of money, how much was enough, a few Sundays before. They both wanted enough financial security to be able to do the things they wanted to do, but neither of them felt the need to live more lavishly than their current circumstances. He hoped to have a small yacht someday. Something big enough to spend the night out on the ocean. She wanted to be able to take her child on meaningful and exciting trips around the world. And to have season passes to Disneyland.

  He wanted a house full of kids and she couldn’t help thinking what a great dad he would make. She wanted just the one child she was having, or at the most two. She had a business to run and didn’t want to stretch herself so thin that she had to miss functions, not be available to help with homework or to just be present and sit and listen to her child regurgitate everything that had happened in her day.

  She didn’t want to miss any of the chatter.

  And as they fell silent and the conversation started to replay through her mind, she couldn’t deny the pang of sadness she felt at the realization that her own child wouldn’t get the benefit of having any dad, let alone Craig.

  As they pulled to a stop at a little shack with restrooms, a vending machine and a couple of benches inside, she noticed that there wasn’t anyone else around. They were often by themselves when they rode, but because they were on the paved exercise path, and because there’d been others out skating and jogging and riding with them, she was surprised to have the bathroom completely to herself. The bathroom need that was becoming more prevalent these days. She did her business and came out to find Craig standing under the roof of the open portion of the shack.

  Walled in on three sides, the open portion faced the trail and behind that the ocean in the far distance with acres of natural parkland with some trees in between them and the shore of huge boulders a few feet below.

  “Didn’t you say you’d read there was zero chance of rain today?” Craig asked as she came back out into the little vestibule with the be
nches and vending machine.

  “Yeah,” she told him, glancing out at the nearly dark sky.

  “I did, too.”

  Apparently the weather report had been wrong. And she’d been too busy enjoying her time with him to pay attention to a path that had been slowly emptying of people.

  “You think we can make it back without getting wet?” She wasn’t worried. Wasn’t really even bothered. Sitting alone with him in the little shack through a downpour didn’t sound dreadful. She had a vision of a cabin in the wilderness, all-day rain, and her and Craig, cozy inside, and pushed it quickly away. She had to stop seeing castles in the clouds.

  Craig had pulled out his phone, was asking his virtual assistant for a weather report.

  The report came back that there was a twenty percent chance of rain. Amelia followed him outside. Turned a circle, still looking up at the sky.

  “It’s completely blue over there,” she said, pointing inland. Another biker, heading back toward town, slowed down, mentioned the darkness coming in over the ocean. The three of them discussed heading back or waiting it out, just in case.

  The other biker, a man about their age, was going for it, finishing his ride. Amelia figured they could, too.

  Craig had the exact opposite idea. “The track will be more slippery,” he said. “I don’t want to take any chances on you falling.”

  She wasn’t going to fall. His concern was overkill. And nice. Beyond nice.

  She could easily become addicted to the attention he gave her.

  But it was getting darker. The path really could get slick. And so she let herself stay alone in the shack with him, waiting out the rain.

  * * *

  Craig felt better about waiting out the storm, figured it was the right choice for the baby’s sake, just until the dark clouds dissipated, and yet, he knew it would have been much better for them had they left. Or for him. Sitting there, in a tiny little three-walled shack, seemingly alone in the world with Amelia Grace, felt...intimate. Personal.