And Baby Makes Three

by Rebecca Winters

  ‘Valencia’s going to be good,’ Jared said. ‘It’s a winding circuit, challenging-chances to overtake.’

  Kaye had to admit that he didn’t talk down to Mike, but discussed the track sensibly. In the face of her little boy’s blissful happiness her annoyance faded, just a little.

  Soon Hal and his family were ready to leave. Jared rose to depart with them.

  ‘Nice to see you,’ he said politely to Kaye.

  He gave her a nod, ruffled Mike’s hair, and was gone.

  ‘Mum, you should have asked him to come home with us,’ Mike protested.

  ‘He arrived with his friends. He has to leave with them,’ she said mechanically.

  Her words seemed to echo in a void. The world, so full and vibrant a moment ago, was empty and desolate again.

  ‘Come along, now,’ she said. ‘Let’s go home and make sure Sam’s all right.’

  Her grandparents had planned to attend the pageant, but Sam’s sudden toothache had sent them hurrying to the dentist in alarm. But all was well. Kaye could see that as soon as she reached home.

  ‘So it wasn’t too bad?’ Kaye said.

  ‘Bad?’ Ethel echoed scathingly. ‘He’s had the time of his life: couldn’t take his eyes off that pretty nurse.’

  ‘A man needs his pleasures,’ Sam declared, getting carefully out of his wife’s way.

  Kaye especially loved them when they were like this: cracking jokes, chuckling together. It was typical of them that they had always wanted her to call them Sam and Ethel.

  ‘No need to make us old before our time,’ Sam had said. Which Kaye thought showed some style, considering they were in their seventies.

  ‘There’s more to love than romance,’ Ethel had told her once. ‘A good laugh matters just as much-well, almost.’ And, watching them, Kaye knew it was true.

  Over tea Mike told them all about his wonderful afternoon. They were suitably impressed. Not until the child had gone to bed did Sam say carefully, ‘That is him, isn’t it? Mike’s father?’

  The subject was never discussed. They knew, but were discreet.

  ‘Yes, it’s him.’

  ‘Did he-you know-say anything?’

  ‘What would he say? I’ve never been able to tell him, and I don’t think he remembers much.’ Her tone was cool and ironic.

  ‘Perhaps it’s time he knew?’ Ethel suggested.

  ‘Force it on him? No, thank you. The night it happened he wasn’t completely sober, and he didn’t really think we went all the way. I wasn’t even sure myself until I found I was pregnant. Can you imagine trying to convince him, begging him to believe me, joining the other hopeless females who go chasing after him?’

  Try as she might to speak rationally, the note of bitterness crept into her voice.

  ‘You really hate him, don’t you?’ Sam said gently.

  ‘No, I don’t hate him. I’m just angry. Who does he think he is, walking back after years away? Acting like he’s some sort of deity and we’re all supposed to gasp and applaud. I’ve managed very well without him so far, and I’ll manage even better in future.’

  ‘Aren’t you being a bit hard on Jared?’ Sam asked.

  ‘Hah! If only you could have seen him. He barely remembered me. Oh, he put on a good performance, but I could tell he was scrabbling around in his memory. I won’t hear from him again and that suits me fine.’

  ‘Well-time for bed,’ Ethel said.

  Kaye bade them goodnight, took a final look at the sleeping Mike, then went downstairs to sit in the garden, gazing up at the moon, wishing with all her heart that she hadn’t met Jared again. His second rejection would be a thousand times harder to take.

  Her cell phone rang.

  ‘It’s me,’ he said. ‘I’m just across the road.’

  Answers jangled in her head. Who do you think you are? Go away, I’m finished with you. You’ve got a nerve.

  ‘I’m just coming,’ she whispered.

  The house faced a park. Emerging from the front door, she could see him standing beneath the trees, watching for her. The light of the full moon was just enough to show that he was full of tension, which seemed to ease as she came nearer. At last she saw him smile, and wondered if he was really overwhelmed with relief-or was that just his usual charming act?

  Be careful, warned her inner voice. Don’t trust him for a moment.

  ‘I thought you’d be long gone,’ she said, trying to sound indifferent.

  He made a face. ‘Here today and gone tomorrow, that’s me. Most of the time anyway. But sometimes it’s nice to linger and talk about old times. It’s good to see you again. Look what I brought you.’

  He held up a bottle of wine, the very same kind they had drunk that other night.

  ‘You said this was your favourite,’ he reminded her.

  ‘How did you ever remember that?’ she gasped, touched even against her will.

  He grinned. ‘I guess I just-remembered.’

  No man had the right to be so charming. It wasn’t fair. But she was on her guard.

  ‘There’s a bench over there by the pond,’ he said. ‘Let’s sit down. Give me your hand.’

  She did so, but reluctantly. Touching him was dangerous.

  By moonlight they made their way to the bench and he poured the wine.

  ‘Sorry they’re only plastic cups,’ he said.

  ‘Mmm. Delicious.’

  ‘Let me look at you,’ he said, twisting on the bench and turning her gently with his hands on her shoulders, so that they were facing each other. Leaving his hands there, he studied her, his head on one side, then on the other, smiling, as if to tell her not to be offended.

  ‘Hmm,’ he said at last. ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘Not sure I pass muster?’

  ‘No, I’m not sure it’s the girl I remember. You’re different.’

  ‘You don’t remember that girl at all,’ she said with cool irony. ‘You forgot her the next day.’

  He made a face. ‘Some women linger longer than others. I recall somethings about her. She was a cheeky imp, always ready with a smart answer.’

  ‘Oh, that’s me. Definitely. As you’ll find out if you try to get clever.’

  ‘Ah! And “getting clever” means-?’

  ‘Anything I want it to mean. I’m like that. Awkward.’

  ‘Good. That’s how a woman should be. I don’t like the compliant, submissive kind.’

  ‘Oh, please! Who do you think you’re kidding? The compliant, submissive kind is all you have time for.’

  ‘No, no-that’s just the public image.’

  ‘Yeah, right!’

  He grinned. ‘I’m not as bad as I’m painted, honestly.’

  ‘Don’t let your admirers suspect that,’ she said coolly. ‘They like to think you’re worse than you’re painted. If you start coming across as a decent fellow it could cost you a fortune in sponsorships.’

  ‘Ah, yes, macho is better.’ He struck his forehead. ‘I must try to remember how to do that. I’m sure I’ve got a book about it somewhere.’

  ‘You probably wrote it.’

  ‘You see too much,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid of you.’

  ‘That’s better.’ She struck an attitude, declaiming, ‘Fear is good. Fear is what I like. Fear is constructive.’

  He edged away. ‘I’m getting more scared by the minute.’

  She raised her plastic cup to him, sipped the wine, then rose and strolled slowly away. She needed to set a distance between them until she was more certain of her control.

  She was shocked at herself. She’d meant to be so levelheaded-a responsible citizen and devoted mother, efficient, practical. Part of her was managing that, but the other part was like a dazzled teenager on her first date.

  But in some ways he was her first date-then and now. Over the years she’d been out with other men, but nothing had come of it because no man could touch her heart.

  Then this one man had had come bursting out of the shadows, reminding her
of how easily he’d conquered that very heart once, and how fatal it would be to let him do it again.

  She must play him cleverly; drawing him close for Mike’s sake, but protecting her inner self. An excitement was rising in her, but she beat it down. Control. Common sense.

  Right! She had it now.

  ‘Stop just there,’ he called.

  She did so, half turning to find him leaning back on the bench, enjoying the view.

  ‘You’re definitely not her,’ he said. ‘She was a skinny little thing, no curves. Now, you-’

  ‘The odd curve or two,’ she agreed. ‘I owe that to Mike. There’s nothing like having a baby to make you go in and out.’

  Now, she thought, he would ask about Mike. Surely it must occur to him to wonder-especially about the name? But, if so, he was keeping it to himself.

  ‘Then I reckon I have to give in and admit that it’s really you,’ he said.

  ‘Disappointed?’ she asked.

  ‘No,’ he said softly, and suddenly the humour was gone from his voice, and from his eyes, leaving only intensity. Just one word, but the world had changed.

  ‘Come back,’ he said, taking her hand and leading her back to the bench. ‘No, wait-you’re cold.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said, although she was beginning to feel the breeze.

  ‘No, you’re not. Here.’ Removing his jacket, he slipped it around her shoulders and gave her a brief squeeze. ‘Shall we find somewhere indoors?’

  ‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘It’s nice out here. I come here sometimes to enjoy the peace.’

  ‘I expect Mike likes to play here with other kids.’

  ‘Not really. He enjoys noisy games, where he can shout at the top of his voice.’

  ‘Ah, yes. I remember that feeling.’

  She thought of the clamour that had always been part of his life-not just engines, but people. He was a natural talker, and liked to surround himself with folk who had plenty to say. It was almost as though he feared the silence.

  But now she saw him leaning back, his face raised to the sky, eyes closed, his expression suggesting deep satisfaction-like a man enjoying a rare pleasure.

  He opened his eyes.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ he said softly. ‘Usually I don’t get anything like this.’

  ‘Yes, your life has always been noisy.’

  Did she only imagine that he gave a faint shudder?

  ‘Noise, noise, noise,’ he murmured. ‘Once I was fine with it. Now it seems to beat on me. I’ve even thought-sometimes-what am I doing? There’s got to be more to life.’

  ‘You mean give up racing and do something else?’

  ‘Well, I could always be a cab driver,’ he said significantly.

  So he did remember that evening-right down to a daft little joke they’d exchanged.

  ‘You’d be a rotten cab driver. Everything would have to be done your way.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said, theatrically lofty, ‘because I’m always right.’

  ‘Yes, I do remember that much about you,’ she agreed. ‘It’s how you always win.’

  ‘I don’t always win,’ he murmured.

  He spoke so quietly that she wondered if she’d been meant to hear at all.

  ‘You do according to Mike,’ she said. ‘He’s your biggest fan. Thank you for being so nice to him.’

  ‘He’s a great kid. You must be very proud of him.’

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  Now he would ask her about Mike-who had fathered him, what had happened in her life since that night. But he said nothing, and she stared, becoming increasingly puzzled.

  But perhaps it wasn’t so surprising that Jared couldn’t see that Mike was his. There was no likeness. Jared’s hair and eyes were both dark, his face lean and tense. Mike’s hair was fair, his eyes blue, his face chubby. Their only resemblance lay in the hint of wickedness in their eyes. But how could he see that?

  ‘Perhaps we should be going back,’ he said, and she wondered at the note of unease in his voice.

  ‘Yes, I mustn’t be away too long.’

  Slowly they made their way back along the path that led to the street. What should she do next? she wondered. This might be her one chance to tell him about Mike. Shouldn’t she take it, risking his indifference? Or, worse than indifference, hostility. But at least then she would know where she stood.

  She took a deep breath. ‘The fact is-’ She stopped suddenly, staring ahead.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked.

  ‘There.’ She pointed through the trees to where they could just see her home across the road. ‘The light’s come on in Mike’s bedroom. He gets bad dreams sometimes. I’d better go and see if he’s all right.’

  He came too, following her into the house just as Sam was climbing the stairs with a glass of milk.

  ‘Is he all right?’ Kaye asked.

  ‘I think so. We heard him calling in his sleep and went in. He says he’s just thirsty.’

  ‘He won’t ever admit to having bad dreams,’ Kaye sighed.

  ‘He probably thinks they’re for wimps,’ Jared said.

  They all looked up as Mike came flying out onto the landing, glaring down the stairs at them, astounded at the sight of Jared.

  ‘I’m not having nightmares,’ he cried. ‘I’m not, I’m not.’

  ‘All right, all right,’ Jared said easily. ‘If you say so.’

  He moved a few steps up, meeting Mike who had descended far enough to glare at him.

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Then you’re luckier than I am,’ Jared said, sitting on the stairs as though this was the most natural thing in the world. ‘Boy, you should see some of my dreams. Real nightmares.’

  ‘You?’ Mike stared, not really believing what he’d just heard.

  ‘Sure. Sit down.’ He moved over so that Mike could settle beside him. Down below the others kept silent, watching and holding their breaths.

  ‘Sometimes my job’s dangerous,’ Jared said. ‘That can be the most fun, but you need to find a way of coping. Dreams can help.’

  ‘Help?’

  ‘You relive it in your sleep, and sometimes you wake up knowing that you’ve been through the worst. Or at least knowing what you should do.’

  ‘I don’t do dangerous things,’ Mike protested. ‘But I-’ He stopped cautiously.

  ‘But you still have the odd shouting match with yourself when you’re asleep? We all do sometimes.’ Jared’s tone became confiding. ‘It happened to me a lot when I was a kid, because I began to understand that I couldn’t always make the world do what I wanted.’

  ‘But the world does everything you want now,’ Mike said.

  ‘Mmm, sometimes. Now and then you have to compromise. For instance, I’m planning to take your mother out tomorrow night, but she hasn’t agreed yet so I’m counting on you to help the negotiations.’

  ‘Mum!’ Mike squeaked, outraged.

  ‘Yes, darling.’

  ‘Why didn’t you say yes?’

  ‘Because I haven’t been asked yet,’ she said, glaring at Jared.

  ‘Oh, did I forget that detail?’ he asked innocently. ‘I can’t think why.’

  ‘I can,’ she said, torn between indignation and amusement. ‘It was the quickest way of making me dance to your tune.’

  ‘Yeah, that must have been it,’ he mused. ‘Well, how about it, Mike? Do I have your permission?’

  ‘What about my permission?’ Kaye demanded.

  ‘I’ll leave this to you,’ Jared told Mike with a wink.

  Mike nodded. ‘Don’t worry. She’ll be there. Promise.’

  ‘When the two of you have finished telling me what to do…’ Kaye observed.

  Neither of them took any notice of her. They were too busy shaking hands.

  ‘I think you should go back to bed now,’ she told Mike.

  ‘Promise,’ he demanded.

  ‘Now, look-’

  ‘Promise or I won’t go back to bed.’

&
nbsp; She glanced up at Jared. ‘Then I’ll have to-but only to please Mike.’

  ‘That’s understood,’ he said solemnly.

  ‘Bed,’ Ethel commanded Mike.

  He nodded and put his hand in hers. Having got his own way he was as docile as a lamb.

  Kaye showed Jared to the door.

  ‘Sorry to do it like that,’ he said, ‘but I need to get you to myself. We have a lot to talk about.’

  She nodded. ‘Yes, we do.’

  ‘I’ll call for you tomorrow night, at seven.’

  ‘Good. Then you’ll be in time to help me put Mike to bed. He’d never forgive us if you didn’t.’

  ‘That’s what I hoped,’ he said quietly.

  He touched her face with gentle fingertips. Then he was gone, walking away through the park.

  Kaye almost closed the front door, but kept it open just a crack while she watched him vanish into the darkness. One question had been answered. A hundred more still remained. But the sudden peace and contentment in her heart were overwhelming.

  Later that night, in his hotel room, Jared threw himself on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to come to terms with the evening. In one way it had been just as he expected. In another it had been a stunning surprise.

  He’d known Kaye would be changed, but he’d been unprepared for what he’d found: a woman with sad eyes and a way of withdrawing into herself without warning. She retained the wit of her younger days, but she was no longer light-hearted. Instead there was an air of haunting mystery that had never been there before.

  His fault? Almost certainly. He must find out and comfort her, if she would let him. Perhaps her barricades were there to exclude him most of all? And could he blame her? No. He must accept the blame as his own.

  Another new experience.

  But the biggest shock had been Mike. Sitting on the stairs, reaching out to the child by sharing things they had in common, realising that they were one in mind and perhaps in heart-nothing in his life had prepared him for that. If this dazzling little boy turned out not to be his he would be bitterly disappointed.

  But he had no fear of that.

  From his pocket he took a small photograph of a pretty girl with a rounded face, fair hair and blue eyes. It was his own mother, taken when she was young.