by Susan Fox
Jamal waggled a finger at him. “Don’t go there.” Then he laughed. “Believe it or not, we sat up all night talking.”
“Talking? What did you find to talk about all night?” Jamal wasn’t known for being wordy.
“You know. Her job, my job. Parents, schooling. What she wants out of life. What I want out of life.”
Jake stared at the other man. “Hell, I’ve known you ten years and we’ve never talked about that shit.”
Jamal shrugged. “That’s a woman for you.”
“Yeah, I guess.” He’d had those same conversations with Brooke. After a few seconds, curiosity made him ask, “So, what the hell do you want out of life?”
“The usual, I guess. Good woman, couple of kids. Job I enjoy. House, maybe a dog. Did you know Karen has a German shepherd?”
“Well, hell.” Brooke had a cat, and her family had horses. There was something to be said for animals.
A few minutes went by in silence, and then Jamal asked, “You thinking I’m crazy? You can’t see me teaching some little boy or girl how to play basketball?”
“Huh. Yeah, I can.” It surprised Jake, but the picture was clear in his mind. “You’d go for staff sergeant, and it’d really be a desk job?”
“Likely. Figure priorities gotta change when you hook up with someone special.”
Damn, this might be the last assignment he and Jamal worked on together.
“Action,” Jamal said under his breath.
Two Black Devils had entered the bar and were drifting over to the pool tables.
Jake took a couple swallows of beer. “So you’re going to see Karen again?”
One of the pool players made eye contact with one of the gang members.
“Thought I might head up that way when we get back. How about you and Brooke?”
It seemed like all Jake had done since he left Caribou Crossing was think about Brooke. He remembered the sex, sure, and her dynamite body, but also some weird things like both of them reading in her living room. Riding and line dancing together. Helping her prepare meals in her cozy kitchen. Sitting down with her family.
Reluctantly he shook his head. “Don’t see it happening. She’s got a good life going for her. Doesn’t need me.”
“Yeah, but do you need her?”
“Don’t need anyone.”
The college kid headed for the men’s room, down a corridor at the back of the bar. After a few seconds the gang member went after him. Jake said, “Here we go.”
“Got it.” Jamal had already lifted his smartphone like he was going to make a call, but instead surreptitiously snapped photos before putting the phone to his ear. Into the phone, he said, “You two got pretty strong chemistry.”
“Yeah, that’s for sure.” He swallowed, confessed. “And I care about her. But it wouldn’t be fair to her. I can’t come and go in her life. She’s not that kind of woman. She wants stability, peace. She doesn’t want some guy who spends his life like this.” He gestured around the smoky bar.
“You plan on doing this for the rest of your life?”
“Don’t know what else I’d do.”
“Don’t see the basketball thing working for you?”
Jake gave a snort. “Guess I don’t see myself as a parent. Most parents fuck up their kids’ lives. Don’t want any part of that.”
“You think I’d fuck up my kid’s life?”
Jake thought about the question. “You’d try not to. Besides, seems to me Karen’s got her head on pretty straight.”
Jamal gave a private little grin. “So you’re seeing me and Karen?”
“Aren’t you?”
“White gal.”
“Didn’t seem to bother her. Does it bother you?”
“Nah. Poor mongrel kids, though. White, black, and Hispanic.”
“Could be pretty.” Jake grinned. “If they take after Karen, not you.”
Jamal lowered his phone and pretended to dial another number, but really he was taking more photos as the college kid came back down the hall. From the way he was sniffing, it looked like he’d gotten himself a sample of the merchandise. The kid said something to his friends and they abandoned the game of pool before it was finished.
As the group left the bar, Jamal closed his phone and put it away. “Free table. Shoot some pool?”
“Why not?” The two gang members were still there, maybe looking to make another connection.
Jake kicked back his chair and stood up. Then he leaned over and muttered, “When you go to Caribou Crossing, get Karen to take you line dancing.”
“Line dancing?” Jamal rose to join him. “Brooke do that?”
“She’s good.”
“Bet she’s good at most anything she chooses to do.”
“That’s the truth.” Jake picked up his beer glass and drained it.
“Never saw you like that with anyone before.”
“Like what?”
“Relaxed. Happy.”
Happy. What kind of word was that?
“Get us some more drinks, will ya?” he told Jamal. “I’ll grab the table before someone else gets it.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
In the morning, Brooke didn’t take her pill. She did mail the letter on the way to work, and arrived at Beauty Is You with a bag of donuts and a racing pulse. By the end of the morning she felt panicky and had trouble holding herself together until the end of the day.
What a relief to sit in Dr. Allenby’s office in her usual chair. This man had, quite probably, saved her life. She could always count on him to help her. She told him about the skipped pills and her symptoms.
He shook his head, smiling sympathetically. “I didn’t tell you to stop taking lithium. We wouldn’t do it that way, cold turkey, we’d taper it off gradually. But in any case I doubt your anxiety is the result of skipping two pills. You’re doing it to yourself, Brooke.”
“You think so?”
“You’re scared what will happen without lithium, and now you’re making it happen. You’re also, quite understandably, anxious about the decision you have to make. Once you make up your mind, whichever choice you make, you’ll feel more settled—as long as you don’t rush the decision. You need to be sure. Especially if the decision is to terminate. Once it’s done, there’s no changing your mind. And, given your age and personal situation, this is likely your last chance to have a baby.”
She shook her head vigorously. “No, I wouldn’t keep the baby. I’d make a terrible mother. Look what I did to Evan.”
“Brooke, Brooke. We’ve been over this so many times before, but clearly we need to do it again. You are not the same person now. You were a child when you had Evan. A selfish, immature teen. You were in a dysfunctional marriage with a man who was a terrible husband and father. At some point, precipitated by losing your family and by the stresses of marriage to Mo, your illnesses came into play. You’re a different person and you know it.”
She listened to every word, and yes, he’d said them before. She’d said them over and over in her mind as well, these past five years. Now, she took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “You’re right. And I know I’m a good grandmother to Robin and I plan to be wonderful with Jess’s baby. But that’s different from having a child of my own.”
“You’re planning on baby-sitting the new baby? Maybe keeping the baby and Robin at your place overnight so Evan and Jessica can have a little time alone?”
“Yes, but—”
“You’re right, Brooke, that’s not the same as being a mom twenty-four/seven. But don’t underestimate yourself. Don’t make decisions based on who you were, not who you are now.”
“Who I am now is a forty-three-year-old bipolar woman. I don’t want to raise a child. As for the pregnancy, it’s possible something horrible could happen—to me or to the, uh, fetus.” She couldn’t call the thing inside her a baby.
“I’d do my best to make sure that didn’t happen. The goal, in treatment during a pregnancy, is to minimize
fetal exposure to toxins while maintaining the mother’s mental health. But yes, there are risks.”
“It could inherit my bipolar.”
“True. But as I said yesterday, you know the kind of environmental influences that can trigger a problem, you know the kind of symptoms to look out for, you know a fair bit about treatment. You’re well equipped to deal with a child who has a problem.”
“I wouldn’t keep it, and adoptive parents wouldn’t know all of that.”
“They might, especially if one of them has bipolar, or they already have a child who does. If not, they’d learn.”
She leaned forward and studied his face. “Are you saying I shouldn’t terminate?”
A smile flashed. “Are you still trying that old trick? You know I’m not going to tell you what to do. Except to say that you need to think about it seriously in light of the woman you are now. Consider your strengths and, yes, your weaknesses too. Be honest. Think about what you want, how you feel.”
She watched his face intently as he went on.
“Imagine terminating, and how you’d feel after. Imagine going through eight more months of pregnancy, feeling that fetus grow inside you, laboring to bring your baby into the world, then handing that little girl or boy over to adoptive parents, in hopes they’d take good care of it.”
Her baby. Hers and Jake’s. How could she be sure it found good parents?
“Then,” the psychiatrist said, “imagine what your life would be like with a baby in it. A toddler, a teenager. You’d be—let’s see—over sixty when the child graduated from high school. That’s not old these days, but it’s not young either. And then there’s college, university, whatever else the child decides to do with his or her life. When you have a kid you’re in it for the long haul. And if the father really is out of the picture, you’re in it alone. Your family and friends will help, but the responsibility will be yours alone. It’s not easy being a parent, and it’s less easy when you’re a single one.”
She nodded slowly. “Last night, I pretty much decided to terminate. I just wanted to get all the facts and give it a bit more time before I made up my mind.”
“Let’s taper you off the lithium for the next few days, and monitor you closely. I’ve photocopied a few articles for you, and I’d suggest you discuss this with your family.”
“I can’t. I’m too embarrassed.”
“They love you, Brooke. They’d understand.”
Maybe. But she’d caused Evan so many problems in the past. She wanted to help him now, not be a burden.
Dr. Allenby stroked his beard. “I still encourage you to talk to the father.”
“I wrote to him,” she confessed.
“Excellent. So, let’s give him a chance to get your letter and respond, before you decide.”
It wouldn’t change anything. Still, she didn’t mind waiting a few more days before she made a decision that was so . . . irrevocable.
Dr. Allenby turned the discussion back to the anxiety she was experiencing, and how best to cope with it as well as how to monitor her condition.
By the time she left his office, Brooke was feeling calmer, though she had no idea what she’d say to Jake if he called.
But Jake didn’t call, not in the next week, and no letter came.
During that week, Brooke read the articles Dr. Allenby had given her and took a reduced dosage of lithium. She saw the psychiatrist three times and worked at staying healthy and calm as she followed his instructions, trying to envision what her life would be like depending on which of the three options she chose.
If she terminated, could she view that decision practically, as the best thing for all concerned, or would she feel horrible? If she carried the baby to term, could she hand it over to someone else and trust her own judgment in finding parents who’d give it everything it deserved?
If she had the baby and kept it . . . The idea was terrifying. The idea was exciting and heartwarming.
She was a new woman. Perhaps she really could do it, and do it well. If she wanted to.
The day Brooke caught herself picking out girl names and boy names, she realized she’d made her decision. She had stopped thinking of the life inside her as a fetus, as an it. To her, it was a growing boy or girl. Her child. That child might not turn out perfect, but she loved him or her already.
Sunny was curled on her knee as she lounged in the cushioned loveseat on the front porch, catching the last rays of sun. She picked him up under his shoulders and looked into his eyes. “Guess what? We’re having a baby.”
Then she laughed, and tears of joy slid down her cheeks. “I’m having a baby.”
She went inside and phoned Evan’s house. Jessica answered and Brooke said, “How are you feeling?”
“Healthy as a horse,” Jess said cheerfully. “I may be able to get through this pregnancy without morning sickness.”
“I sure hope so. Say, I was wondering if the three of you would like to come over for dinner tomorrow night?”
Brooke spent Saturday fussing nervously, and was relieved when she heard the sound of horses in her driveway. She went out to say hi and saw not only Evan on Rusty, Jessica on Conti, and Robin on Concha, but also Beanie on a lead rein held by Robin.
Evan dismounted and handed Rusty’s reins to his wife, then came to hug Brooke. “We thought it’d be fun to go for an evening ride after dinner.”
“That does sound fun.” If they were still speaking to her.
Jessica and Robin deftly took off saddles and bridles, and turned the horses into the small paddock beside Brooke’s rental property, a paddock Jessica’s father, Wade Bly, had built specifically for that purpose after Brooke moved in.
Brooke had made chicken and herbed dumplings, one of her and Robin’s favorites, for dinner, but was so nervous she had to force herself to eat. She only picked at the strawberry cheesecake she’d baked, and as soon as Robin finished, she said, “Rob, there’s something I need to talk to your mom and dad about. Why don’t you go get the horses ready for our ride?”
Her granddaughter looked only mildly curious. “Sure.”
When the girl left the kitchen, Evan said, “What’s up, Mom? You’re not yourself tonight. Are you okay?”
She should suggest they all go into the living room and sit somewhere more comfortable, but her body was trembling so badly her legs might not hold her up.
Brooke wrapped her arms around her still-flat belly. There’d be no hiding the fact of her pregnancy once she was a few months along. She lifted her chin. “Yes, I’m healthy. But I’m pregnant and I’m keeping the baby.”
They looked so stunned that she found herself laughing. “It’s okay, I’m happy.”
Evan’s brow was furrowed. “But how did this happen?”
She laughed again, suddenly in high spirits. “Much the same way as you and Jess got pregnant, I expect.”
“But . . . but . . .” Evan stammered.
Jessica put a hand over her husband’s. “I think Ev wants to ask who the father is.”
“You know my cousin Arnold—” she began.
“Oh, Jesus, you and your cousin!” Evan said. Then he shook his head. “Right, he wasn’t your cousin, he was a cop. So, you . . .” He couldn’t seem to finish the sentence.
“Had sex,” Brooke said crisply.
“You’re my mother!”
“I’m a woman. I enjoy sex. Get over it.”
Jessica prodded Evan’s arm. “Yeah, get over it. Way to go, Brooke. But did you intend to get pregnant?”
Brooke shook her head. “We thought we were being careful, but I guess we weren’t careful enough.”
“Oh, Christ!” Evan snapped.
Jessica poked him again, then focused on Brooke. “You say you intend to have the baby. What about the father? What’s his name again? Is he going to—”
“Marry you,” Evan broke in. “He’s damn well going to marry you.”
Brooke scowled at him. “Stop acting like you’re my father. My pa
rents and Mo’s forced us to get married, and look how that turned out. No, we’re not getting married. Jake and I—his name’s Jake Brannon—had a wonderful time together and I’m extremely fond of him but all we wanted was a temporary fling.”
“What kind of example are you setting for Robin?” Evan asked.
“Evan!” This time Jessica glared at him.
He buried his head in his hands and dug his fingers into his scalp. When he lifted his head he looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, Mom. But this is a shock.”
“It was for me too.”
Now he reached across the table and gripped both of her hands. “How are you? You really are happy about this?”
She nodded. “It took me a while. I did a lot of thinking. Then I realized I . . . I already loved my child. I know it’ll be hard and there are risks. But this is a second chance for me. I can be a mother again, and this time do it right. Tell me you don’t think I’m completely foolish.”
“I think you’ll be a wonderful mother to this child,” he said stiffly.
She bit her lip, wishing she could remake the past. “Oh, Evan. I wish I’d been that kind of mother to you.”
“Yeah.” His eyes were sad. “Me too. But if this is what you want, I’m happy for you.”
Jessica leaned over to put her arm around Brooke. “We’ll be pregnant together. We can shop for maternity clothes. And gosh, Brooke, our kids will grow up together.”
Brooke’s eyes filled with tears. “My child and my grandchild, growing up together. It’s strange, isn’t it? But wonderful too.”
Evan rose and came over to bend down between Brooke and Jessica and put his arms around both of them. “Yes, I guess it is pretty wonderful.”
She guessed how difficult the words, the acceptance, were for him. What had she done to deserve such an amazing, generous son?
Then he straightened. “Uh, not to be rude, but you’re a little old to be having a kid, aren’t you? Is it safe?”
No way was she going to worry them by revealing that she was going off lithium. “Safe enough. I’ll take good care of myself and my doctors will look after me.”