by Marie Force
Trying desperately to absorb it all, Brian took a deep breath. When he looked up, the three of them were watching him, all of them rigid with anxiety. “I understand what you’re saying about not telling Zoë. I hear you on that, Cate. I don’t want to upset her life any more than you do. But I have a stipulation of my own.”
“What’s that?” Tom asked.
“I want my parents to know she’s mine. I want them to know she was born on Sam’s birthday, the first birthday after he died.”
“They’ll want to be involved in her life,” Tom said, the fear written all over his face.
“They’ll do—or not do—whatever I ask them to. You have my word on that.”
Cate and Tom exchanged glances.
“I guess we could live with that,” Cate said.
“There’s one other thing,” Brian said. “I want to spend some time with her. I want to get to know her. Carly and I could take her away for a few days under the pretense that we understand what she’s going through since we lost our friends, too.”
“I don’t know about that,” Cate said, glancing at Carly.
“You’re close to her, right?” Brian asked Carly.
“Yes.”
“So why would she think it odd to be spending a few days with you and your fiancé?”
“She wouldn’t, I guess.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“It’s up to Tom and Cate,” Carly said. “They’re her parents.”
“Can we sleep on it?” Cate asked. “We need to talk about it.”
“Of course,” Brian said.
Cate hugged her sister and then surprised Brian by hugging him, too.
“We’ll talk to you in the morning,” Cate said as she and Tom moved toward the door.
“Cate?” Brian said.
They turned back.
Brian went over to them. “I don’t like that this was kept from me, but that has nothing to do with you two, and it doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the enormity of what you guys did for Carly and Zoë and for me, too, I guess. So, um, thank you.”
Tom shook his hand. “It’s been our pleasure,” he said in a hushed tone. “Entirely our pleasure.”
Brian saw them out the door, and when he turned back to face Carly, he had absolutely no idea what to say to her.
Chapter 22
Brian wandered over to the antique armoire that held Carly’s television. On the shelf above the TV was a cluster of framed family photos. He picked up one of Zoë and studied it.
“How old was she here?”
“I think maybe eleven.”
“Do you have other photos? From when she was little?”
Carly went into her bedroom and came back with a thick photo album, which she handed to him.
His expression tight and unreadable, he sat on the sofa and flipped the book open to find Zoë as an infant, squalling with outrage during her first bath.
“She lifted her head off my chest on the fourth day and looked me right in the eye, as if to say, ‘Bring it on, world.’ She’s been going full tilt ever since.”
Brian ran a finger over a picture of Zoë, bright-eyed and alert. “I want to know everything—how you felt when you were pregnant, what the delivery was like, whether you breastfed her, how old she was when she went to live with Cate and Tom, what schools she’s gone to, who her teachers were. Everything.”
Overwhelmed by his intensity, Carly rested against the back of the sofa. “I was sick as a dog for the first three months of the pregnancy. That was actually the first sign I was pregnant. I was so sick.”
Brian winced. “I can’t imagine anything worse.”
“Oh, I can,” Carly said with a chuckle. “Labor was no picnic, let me tell you.”
For the first time since Cate and Tom had left, he looked right at her. “It was bad?”
“Horrible. Twenty-four hours of hard labor. The doctor wanted to take me to the hospital for a C-section, but the idea of them taking me from the house petrified me. So I summoned the energy from God knows where, and she was born a short time later, at seven in the morning, screaming her head off.” She smiled at the memory. “In the fifteen years we were apart, I never wanted you more than I did in that moment. I wanted so badly to share her with you. I was overjoyed and heartbroken at the same time. I’ve never experienced anything quite like it.”
As she watched him study every photo, Carly’s stomach tightened with anxiety. He was sitting right next to her, but there were miles between them. The distance frightened her. What will I do if he can’t forgive me?
“How much did she weigh?”
“Eight pounds, nine ounces, twenty inches long.”
“What’s her middle name?”
“Ann.”
“Shit, I don’t even know what her last name is.”
“Murphy. Zoë Ann Murphy.”
“You always said you’d name your daughter Jordan.”
Surprised he remembered, Carly said, “I found I couldn’t use that name under these circumstances.”
“Did you name her Zoë? Or did Cate and Tom?”
“I did.”
“I like that name. It’s unique.” Brian flipped to photos of Zoë as a toddler, her face covered in spaghetti sauce, surrounded by bubbles in the tub, and dancing in high heels and a pink tutu. “God, she was just so adorable,” he whispered.
Carly nodded in agreement. “She came out with the bright, sunny disposition she still has, although she’s been giving Cate fits the last year or so with her teenager attitude.”
“How long did you have her? After she was born?”
“Almost two months, and yes, I breastfed her. I loved that.”
“I wondered why you seemed, you know, bigger there.”
“I got to keep them,” Carly said with a laugh.
“But there’re no other signs you had a baby.”
“Probably because I was so young. I bounced back fast.” She fiddled with the fringe on the blanket that hung over the back of the sofa. “Faster than I did from giving her up.”
“It was hard.”
A statement, not a question, Carly thought. He knows me well enough to imagine what it was like. “Yes,” she whispered, traveling back in time to the very darkest days of her life.
“Carly?”
Pulling herself out of the past, she glanced at him. “It’s difficult to talk about, even after all this time.”
“You don’t have to. Not now if you’re not up to it.”
“Do you hate me for this?” Her eyes filled, but she made no move to wipe away her tears. “Because I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”
“I don’t hate you. I hate that I never knew I had a daughter. I hate that I was with your mother the other day, and the whole time she and I were talking, she knew I have a daughter, but I didn’t. I hate that, Carly.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so very sorry. I was so certain I’d done the right thing, but you were right earlier when you said I should’ve let you decide for yourself.”
He reached for her hand. “You probably did do the right thing,” he conceded. “We were both such a mess after the accident.”
“That night, on the Fourth of July, when I lied to you about being on the pill?”
He nodded.
“That’s the only time I’ve ever lied to you about anything. I swear.”
“I know, and I also know you could’ve lied to me today, but you didn’t. You didn’t even hesitate.”
“I saw you watching her, when she was pitching, and part of me wanted you to figure it out. I wanted you to know she’d gotten her fastball from you.” Her voice caught. “I hated keeping her from you, and I did think of your parents when she was born. I did, Brian. That broke my heart, too.”
“You understand why I want them to know, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.”
“I can’t get over her being born on Sam’s birthday,” he said, still incredulous. “It’s just
unbelievable.”
“That was such a gift in the midst of it all. I can’t begin to tell you what it meant to me at a time when everything else was so uncertain and painful. To think that maybe Sam was keeping an eye on me…” After a long moment of silence, she said, “Are we going to be able to get past this, Bri?”
He hesitated, only slightly, but he hesitated nonetheless. Hurt radiated through Carly.
“I need some time to get my head around it.”
“Our wedding is in two weeks.” She hated the stammer in her voice, which conveyed just how afraid she was that she might’ve lost him for good at some point during that long day. “We can postpone it.”
“We don’t have to decide anything tonight.”
That he even had to think about it… Carly stood. “I’m, um, going to take a shower,” she mumbled, needing to get out of there before she lost it completely in front of him. In the bathroom, she shed her clothes and tossed them into the wicker hamper. Standing under the pulsing water, Carly was racked by sobs. When her legs would no longer support her, she sank to the floor of the tub and stayed there until the water turned cold. She trembled violently as she fought her way into her robe and tied it tight around her waist.
Her reflection in the mirror was nothing short of frightening, so she didn’t linger. She brushed her long curls and secured them in a ponytail. When she emerged from the bathroom, she found Brian absorbed in the photo album, so she left him to it. Lying facedown on her bed, she hugged a pillow tight against her chest and was surprised to discover there could be more tears.
After a while, Brian came in and stretched out so he faced her.
She wiped frantically at her face, not wanting him to see the devastation.
He stopped her and finished the job himself. “That night? The Fourth of July? I never forgot it,” he said as he brushed the dampness from her cheek. “The way you took my hand and led me inside. You floored me with that, Carly. My heart was beating so hard I was afraid it would burst right through my chest.”
Carly hiccupped and fought a losing battle to stop the tears.
“If I’d known you weren’t on the pill anymore, I probably would’ve risked it, too. That’s how badly I wanted you. I’d missed you so much since the accident. I guess what I’m saying is I don’t blame you for taking that risk at a time in our lives when we had nothing else. I relived that night, and the last time at the willow—the night of the accident—probably a million times when we were apart. Those memories sustained me. So even knowing what I know now, I don’t regret what we did that night, Carly. I couldn’t.”
“But you regret I didn’t tell you about Zoë. You’re angry.”
“I want to be angry, and I was earlier. I won’t deny that. I want to be outraged over everything I missed with her. But more than anything else, I’m sad. To think of you going through what you did, having to make such big decisions, having to give up your baby after everything you’d already lost.” He shook his head with regret.
“The pregnancy, waiting for her, knowing your child was growing inside of me… She was the only reason I survived that first year without you. And after she was born, I briefly entertained the illusion I could keep her. But I couldn’t sing to her, I couldn’t comfort her when she cried, I couldn’t even tell her how much I loved her. I couldn’t take her for a walk or for a ride in the car when she was colicky.”
Brian’s eyes were bright with tears as he listened to her.
“It was Cate’s idea, actually, that she and Tom might be able to help. It seemed so good on paper—Zoë would have a normal home and upbringing with two parents who would love her, and I’d get to keep her in my life. But in reality…”
Brian held her hand tight against his chest.
“I had trouble weaning her, and after she was gone, I produced milk for days. It just kept coming, as if someone hadn’t gotten the memo that there was no longer a baby to feed. I was hugely, darkly depressed. I won’t deny I thought about how easy it would be to just end it all. I hate to even admit that, but it’s true.”
“Carly,” he said, tears spilling down his cheeks as he brought her into his arms.
“After a couple of weeks, my dad finally laid down the law and gave me an ultimatum—either I got a job or went to school or he would kick me out of the house. I’m still not sure if he actually would’ve done it, but I suspect he would have. I spent that whole night working up the nerve to leave the house. I got dressed for work at three o’clock in the morning and then sat on the edge of my bed until it was time to go. At five thirty, I got up, went downstairs, and walked out the door like I’d been doing it every day. I think I was able to do it because I had nothing left to be afraid of. Leaving the house was no big deal after losing you and Zoë.”
“You were so brave.”
“No, I was shattered, but over time, amazingly enough, I began to feel better. The job helped, and getting this place of my own did, too. In many ways, Zoë helped the most, though. As she got older, we just had this thing. I don’t know. I can’t explain it. It didn’t matter to her that I couldn’t talk. She loved me anyway, and in a lot of ways that saved me, you know?”
As he nodded, Carly noticed his face was still damp with tears.
“You really think it’s wise not to tell her the truth?” he asked.
“I really do.”
“So many people know, though. What if it comes out years from now and she hates us all for keeping it from her?”
“It won’t come out. The only people who know are my parents, Cate and Tom, Craig and Allison, Caren, and Dr. Walsh, who’s retired now. Caren’s husband Neil doesn’t even know and neither do Tom’s parents. We all understood at the very beginning how important it was that no one know.”
“The lawyer in me wonders how you do something like this and not create a paper trail.”
“We put Cate and Tom’s names on the birth certificate.”
“So they never actually adopted her?”
“No.”
Brian groaned. “Shall I enlighten you as to the potential legal ramifications of that?”
“Please don’t. The important thing is no one who knows would ever in a million years tell her, Brian. Never. I know you’re just finding this out, and I understand how horribly shocking it must be for you—”
His eyes flashed, but with emotion, not anger. “Do you? Do you really?”
“No, I guess I don’t. But what I was going to say is she’s such a great kid. You’ll see that once you get to know her.”
“I saw that in thirty seconds today.”
“Then you’ll not want to do anything to change who she is, will you?”
“I hate that fearful look you keep giving me, like I’m some unreasonable ogre who’s going to turn your whole life upside down.”
“You already have,” she said with the first smile she had mustered in hours. “But in all the best ways.”
He combed his fingers through her still-damp curls. “I let you think, for a second earlier, that I’m having doubts about marrying you, Carly. That was wrong of me. I’m upset and all churned up inside over finding out about Zoë, but I’m not having doubts about us. Not after hearing the whole story. So I don’t want you awake all night worrying about that, okay?”
She tried to swallow the huge lump that suddenly settled in her throat. “Okay.”
He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Brian Westbury loves Carly Holbrook, forever and always.”
She dissolved into deep, racking sobs.
Brian held her tight against him until the sobs became hiccups. After a long while, she slept.
Chapter 23
Carly awoke often during the night, and each time her first thought was to see if he was still there. He slept on top of the comforter, still dressed in shorts and a polo shirt. Her robe had twisted around her, so she gently removed his hand from her hip, got up to shed the robe, and slid under the covers. She laced her fingers through his and watched him for a l
ong time before exhaustion overtook her and she fell back to sleep.
The next time she opened her eyes, it was morning, and Brian’s back was to her as he stared out the bedroom window. His hair was wet from the shower, and he had changed into a T-shirt and faded jeans that hugged him in all the right places. He held a steaming mug of coffee as he watched the action on Main Street.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked, her voice hoarse from sleep.
“That we need to buy a house and cars.”
“I don’t have a license anymore.”
“You can renew it.”
“I don’t know about that. It’s one thing to ride in a car. It’s another thing altogether to drive one.”
He turned away from the window and came over to sit on the bed. Handing her the coffee, he said, “You’ll have to try it and see how it feels.”
“One of these days, maybe.” She took a sip from the mug and gave it back to him. “Did you sleep?”
“Off and on. How about you?”
“The same. I dreamed about the accident. That hasn’t happened in a long time.”
He seemed startled. “You dream about it?”
“Not as much as I used to but occasionally.”
“I do, too.”
“Really?”
He nodded.
“I never knew that. My dream has changed a lot over the years, but some parts are the same. There’s always someone in the car I can’t get to. Sometimes it’s Sam and the others. And then it’ll be you and Zoë and other kids I know belong to us. The smell is the one thing that doesn’t change. It’s the same god-awful smell as that night.”
He winced. “In my dream, I see it happening over and over. Like yours, the dream comes and goes. It always knocks me for a loop for a couple of days afterward.”
“Me, too. I feel sort of like I did in the days just after it happened.”
He shook his head with regret. “I can’t tell you how badly I wish I could go back in time to make it so you didn’t have to see what you did. So neither of us had to. If you hadn’t seen that, you never would’ve stopped talking or locked yourself away in your parents’ house. The loss would’ve been unbearable, but we would’ve been able to go ahead with our plans, despite it.”