Born in the Valley

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  The nights they’d spent creating scenarios of what it would be like to be parents, the doctor’s visits, listening to that heartbeat inside her, the hundreds of names they’d picked out only to discard each one and begin again. The countless times he’d rubbed her growing belly with lotion…

  “You don’t regret having her, do you?” he asked as the horrible thought occurred to him right in the middle of his reminiscing. She sure hated those stretch marks now that she’d lost weight.

  Bonnie tried to sit up, which only brought her breasts and hips against him. “Of course not,” she said, settling back. Her eyes were huge in the moonlight. “Never! Katie is so special. I’d give up my life for her.”

  “I still remember the day we found out you were pregnant.”

  It had been a Saturday and they’d gone together to buy the home pregnancy kit. And then she’d made him wait outside their bedroom while she’d done the test. He’d burst in, anyway, when her thrilled scream exploded throughout the house.

  “Me, too,” she said, her voice softening. “I was incredibly happy. I didn’t have any idea how great it was going to be once I actually held her.”

  They were quiet for a moment, a contented quiet. A together quiet. Like they used to share.

  “Remember all the hours it took to find just the right crib?” he asked, enjoying the escape to a happier time. “It had to be antique white with spiral spindles, only three inches maximum between the bars.”

  “And the wallpaper.” She grinned. “I can’t believe how many days I spent trying to decide between horses and rainbows.”

  “It’s a good thing you didn’t have to, or the nursery still wouldn’t be done.” He smiled, recalling how excited she’d been when she’d found a paper that had horses on a carousel with rainbows in the background.

  Excited. Happy. His. He’d come in from work that night to be greeted by her exuberant “Guess what?” as she’d launched herself at him, throwing not only her arms around him, but her legs, too, catching him off guard. Luckily the couch had been behind him and they’d fallen onto its cushioned softness. As he remembered, it had been a good half hour before he’d ever found out what she’d been so excited to tell him.

  And then, without warning or forethought, as they lay there intimately entwined, the solution to the undefined problem became crystal clear to him.

  “Let’s have another baby.”

  Hips that had been pressing into his withdrew, not far, but then, the bed wouldn’t allow her to move any great distance.

  “Katie’s three,” he reminded her. “Potty-trained. The timing’s good.” He paused, but not long enough for her to reject the idea. “If we wait much longer, there’ll be too many years between the kids for them to have anything in common.”

  Her hands had dropped, and she ran her fingers along his arms. “You said you didn’t want a bunch of kids.”

  The irony was not lost on him. She’d always wanted a big family. The thought of several kids to provide for, several kids taking his and Bonnie’s time until they had none left for each other, had only made him feel trapped.

  “I’m not talking about a bunch of kids,” he told her, allowing the weight of his hips to rest completely on her. “Just one more.”

  She didn’t say anything. Her fingers were almost frantic as they drew small circles on his upper arms. Her breathing had quickened.

  And she wouldn’t look at him.

  “Is that a no?” he asked, bracing himself for her answer.

  She shook her head. And relief swept over him.

  With a surge of protectiveness—and feeling very much in love—Keith bent to kiss her softly. “Talk to me, honey.”

  “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

  “That you want a baby. That you don’t.” He loved her so much, needed so badly for her to be happy. “Just talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking. Let me in.”

  “You are in,” she said, stroking his face lightly, her sweet touch making his desire for her immediate again. It astounded him that a gesture as simple as her fingers on his skin could ignite him. “You’re in farther than anyone has ever been.”

  It should be enough. Goddammit, it should be enough.

  “I’m just tired, Keith. After years of struggle with the business and heartache with my dad and worrying about Greg, I’m finally coming down.”

  She kissed him, a full-tongued, wanton kiss that was meant to take him to the place where only the two of them could go together. Sliding his arms beneath her, Keith pulled her closer, kissing her back with every bit of energy he possessed.

  She was hungry. Generous. She wanted him.

  “I’m still amazed by this,” she said softly. Her eyes were glinting, her lips smiling as she studied him.

  She was there. Loving him.

  Keith grunted, stripped off her pajamas and explored every inch of her newly thin body.

  There was absolutely no doubt that this woman needed him.

  Was it possible that the problem was his? Had he somehow imagined the change he was perceiving in her? Was his mind taking him down a dangerous road he didn’t need to travel? Was this remoteness of hers no more than a small case of emotional exhaustion, just as she claimed?

  His heart filled with hope, with a resurgence of the peace he’d begun to take for granted over the past few years.

  “Now,” she moaned. He drew out the moment, savoring it, her, them.

  “Nooowww.” Her groan was louder.

  He settled his body in the cradle of her thighs, slid up—

  “Wait!”

  He froze, confused by the alarm in her voice. “What?” he asked, concerned, afraid something was wrong.

  “This.” She’d reached inside the cupboard behind them and pulled out the condom he’d thought they weren’t going to use.

  Aroused beyond the ability to analyze anything but his need to have sex, Keith held himself up while she unrolled the condom around him. He plunged inside her before she’d completely finished.

  The human body was incomparable. It could accomplish all manner of tasks, from the menial to the perilous; it could also transport, transcend, divert. Keith let Bonnie take him away, his mind wholly on their physical communication.

  It was physical. It was exciting. And it was empty.

  They weren’t making a baby.

  And he had no idea why not.

  THE THIRD LETTER from Mike Diamond arrived eight days after the fire. It appeared in a pile of mail that also included the insurance forms she had to fill out.

  She waited until everyone was busy feeding lunch to a passel of hungry kids before she tore open the envelope with her landlord’s return address.

  Keeping one eye on the space outside her glass-enclosed office—making sure she was alone—she perused the letter quickly.

  The tone was more congenial than she’d expected, considering that this was the third letter in almost as many weeks. But the entreaty was just as insistent.

  He wanted her to relocate Little Spirits. He had a buyer in Phoenix for the small Shelter Valley strip mall in which the day care was located, and the deal apparently hinged on the early termination of Bonnie’s three-year lease.

  According to Mike Diamond, the day-care noise level, as well as the deluge of drop-off and pick-up traffic during rush hour each business day detracted from the strip’s appeal. A couple of weeks before, after receiving Mike’s first letter, Bonnie had placed an anonymous call to the Phoenix-based management company Diamond had named. She’d found that they did indeed have a policy that precluded day cares from renting in any of their strip malls.

  A guffaw of laughter sounded just around the corner from Bonnie’s office. She quickly filed Diamond’s letter with the other two in a folder at the back of the file drawer in her desk.

  It had taken her more than a year to land the right location for Little Spirits. Shelter Valley was a small town, and there just weren’t many places that had enough space, private kitc
hen facilities, the right zoning, an outside play area and met all the other specifications. And although she was doing well, she wasn’t making enough to build her own facility.

  Which meant that Diamond’s continued and very determined hounding should upset her.

  Six months ago, she’d have thrown his letter in the trash—after first expending much frustration in tightly wadding the paper. Today she knew only that she wasn’t moving. Tomorrow? She couldn’t say.

  That didn’t mean she hadn’t considered letting Mike Diamond out of the lease.

  Leaning back in her chair, eyes closed, Bonnie thought about the fire that could have solved the problem for her the week before. If only the Kachina County volunteer firemen hadn’t been so damn good at what they did—responding so quickly to the call. If there was no building, there’d be no choice to make.

  “I saw a letter come in from the Diamond Company. Did they rent that space next door?”

  Bonnie jumped as Beth Richards, Greg’s wife, stepped into her office. Beth volunteered at Little Spirits almost every day now that she was a woman free to look at life’s options. She’d sold the cleaning business that had kept her and her son fed while they were hiding out in Shelter Valley the previous fall.

  “No,” Bonnie said, looking over the insurance forms she’d just received. She hadn’t told anyone about Diamond’s request yet. She knew that her family and friends would want to help her fight, and she had no idea what she wanted to fight for. Or if she wanted to fight at all.

  “Darn.” Beth dropped into the chair across from Bonnie—just as she had all those months ago when she’d shown Bonnie the missing-persons postcard depicting Beth and her toddler son. “It’s been what—three months now? I was really hoping something would go in soon. Preferably a bookstore. I hate having to go all the way to Phoenix to buy Ryan new books.”

  Bonnie smiled at the woman who, while casually dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved sweater, still looked like a fashion model. “You could always open one.”

  Beth shook her head. Moving to the edge of her chair, she grinned. “I can’t run a store and the Montford classical music department, too.”

  Squealing, Bonnie ran around her desk and hugged Beth. “No kidding? You got the job?”

  “Will called this morning.”

  The happiness she felt for Beth—and for her brother, whose life was finally falling into place—dispelled some of the confusion weighing her down. Her family was settled, healthy, content.

  They talked about the logistics of the job for a couple of minutes. Ryan would be a regular student at Little Spirits, which was something they both agreed would be good for him. And though she’d be giving up her volunteering, Beth would still be able to spend some afternoons with her son.

  “You have an odd look on your face,” Beth said as the two women walked through the multipurpose room toward the playground where the kids were loudly engaged in an after-lunch recess.

  Bonnie shrugged and shook her head, afraid to speak in case the tears she was fighting won despite her efforts. What was the matter with her? She had it all. Why wasn’t that enough?

  Linking her arm with Bonnie’s, Beth pulled her away and out another door. “Let’s walk.”

  Which meant talk.

  She should argue. She had work to do.

  Or did she? The children in her care were all being watched by competent employees. Paperwork, other than the insurance forms, was up-to-date.

  “Tell me what’s going on.” Beth released her arm as they circled the day care and strolled out to the desert beyond. “And before you say nothing, let me tell you right now that answer’s already disqualified.”

  “I’m just ti—”

  “Nope.” Beth shook her head. “Tired isn’t going to cut it, either. You’re the most energetic person I know, Bon, and besides that, I’m not just talking about this week. The guys might not have noticed yet, but you’ve lost your spark.”

  “Keith noticed.”

  “I don’t think Greg has, but then, he’s not looking. All he knows is that you’re married to the man you love, have the child you’ve always wanted and the career of your dreams.”

  “I know.”

  On the other side of the desert lot was a quiet residential street. Beth took the sidewalk away from town. And said nothing. Bonnie’s new sister-in-law, who’d quickly become her closest friend, already knew her well.

  “There’s really nothing wrong,” Bonnie said slowly, wanting above all to present her case honestly. “As you said, I have everything I’ve ever wanted. And I’m incredibly thankful for that.”

  Someone needed to clean the gravel out of the cracks in this sidewalk.

  “But?”

  “I don’t know,” Bonnie said, frustration welling up inside her. She glanced at the clear, blue Arizona sky—illuminated by a sun that was already heating this March day to Midwest summer temperatures.

  She slid her hands into the pockets of her slacks. “Have you ever had the feeling that the role you’re playing isn’t significant?”

  “Of course you’re significant, Bonnie!” Beth said, stopping to stare at her. “My gosh! This entire family revolves around you.”

  “Only because I got here first,” she said. “It could just as easily revolve around you.”

  “But you—”

  “That’s not really what I meant,” Bonnie continued, cutting off Beth’s rebuttal. “And you’re right. I have no business feeling like I do and I’m just going to stop.”

  She turned, heading back toward the day care.

  “No.” Beth grabbed her arm. “Wait. I’m listening now. Talk to me.”

  Feeling ungrateful and selfish, Bonnie tried really hard to convince herself that if she just kept working on it, she could make these feelings go away.

  She’d been trying for months.

  “I just feel my life is too small, that I’m not doing enough with it.”

  Beth started to walk and Bonnie fell into step beside her. “With my education and capabilities, I could be helping the homeless or abused women, making some kind of real difference. Sounds crazy, huh?”

  “No. Not at all.”

  “The world is filled with people who need my help more than the relatively privileged, well-loved kids who come to my day care.”

  “We don’t have a lot of homeless people here,” Beth said softly. “And though I’m sure there are some, there probably aren’t many abused wives, either.”

  “That’s part of the problem, I think. Shelter Valley is such a protected—and protective—place that I’m isolated from larger realities.”

  “So you want to leave town?”

  “No!” Bonnie ran her fingers through her hair, trying to massage the ache from her head. “Of course not. Maybe I just need to feel needed.”

  “Which you are, of course, by so many people.”

  “Yeah, but not in the way I mean.” She tried to find words to articulate things she wasn’t sure she understood. “Last week, after the fire, Shane Bellows helped me clean up. All I did was talk to him for an hour and yet I left feeling I’d really used my life for a greater good. He was responsive and just so happy to be part of an adult conversation. He needs a friend, Beth, someone who’ll treat him like a grown man with something to contribute, instead of the half person he’s sort of become. It’s that kind of satisfaction I’m missing. I think.”

  “Be careful with Shane, Bonnie. You’ve got a history with him that could trip you up.”

  “No worry there. He’s not at all the man he once was. That history is dead and gone.”

  “From what I understand, even the doctors aren’t completely sure how much Shane’s mind has been altered.”

  “He’s completely harmless, Beth, if that’s what you’re getting at. His doctor didn’t think there was any problem with him working around small children, which he certainly would have if Shane posed any kind of threat.”

  “Just be careful.”

  B
eth waved as a car passed. Mr. and Mrs. Mather. They’d been one of her house-cleaning clients, Bonnie remembered.

  “You think I’m crazy, don’t you.”

  Bonnie wished Beth’s opinion didn’t matter so much.

  “No.” As if by previous consensus, they both turned the corner, slowing their pace as they started down another deserted street. “As a matter of fact, I completely understand.” She spoke in a low voice, holding Bonnie’s full attention.

  “You know how I spent my youth, Bonnie. Training to be a concert pianist is completely consuming, draining every ounce of energy you have and then demanding more. I gave it everything and somehow managed to get my business degree, as well. And then, after my parents were killed and I was on my own, I suddenly found myself with skills and discipline and drive, and nothing important to contribute. People were dying every day while I played scales.”

  “Hardly.” Bonnie still got chills every time Beth sat down at the piano. The woman brought something elemental, spiritual almost, to everything she played.

  “It’s how I felt,” Beth insisted. “And that feeling drove me straight into the trap James Silverman and Peter Sterling set.”

  It was the first time Bonnie had ever heard her friend mention her ex-husband and his partner. The two men who’d, in the end, contracted a killer to ensure her death.

  “I wanted to make a difference, to stand for something, to help save the world in some significant way.”

  Taking Beth’s arm, a silent support, Bonnie ached for her friend, ached because of the memories Beth would never completely escape.

  “The cult allowed me to believe I was contributing something huge, and that feeling drove me for a long time, Bon. Far longer—and farther—than it should have. It drove me into turning a blind eye to things that were not only immoral but illegal, as well.”

  Sterling Silver, the cult run by Beth’s ex-husband and his doctor partner, had been shut down the previous year when Greg had gone searching for the identity of the woman he loved. James Silverman and Peter Sterling were currently serving life sentences in separate Texas prisons.