Her Motherhood Wish

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  He did. Completely.

  “And don’t forget, I’m here for you, too,” Elaina added. “I get that this can’t be easy. Feeling responsible like you do. But you have to know that things like this... We try to find scientific explanations, but in the end...a sick baby...sometimes it’s just fate...”

  He knew she was right.

  And hoped to God the baby he’d helped make wasn’t sick.

  Chapter Six

  Cassie didn’t sleep well. Chamomile tea helped—she got some rest, but not a lot. Up early Sunday morning, she put on black spandex running shorts with a white T-shirt and went for a walk on the beach. A group of her college friends was coming to town later that morning for brunch at a five-star restaurant set up on stilts overlooking the ocean. Any of them that could make it met once a month, taking turns driving to each other’s towns—all within an hour or so from LA.

  She’d announced her pregnancy at the last one, and everyone had been incredibly supportive. Of the twelve of them, she numbered five unmarried. Two were divorced. One had been living with her lover for almost a decade. The other was completely career driven and just not interested in marriage. They’d all made it to the May brunch, and every single one of the eleven had had tears in her eyes as they’d hugged her.

  That morning, for the first time ever, Cassie didn’t want to go to the brunch. Until she knew more, she just couldn’t fathom the idea of eleven friends hovering over her, needing to help, with her not knowing how to let them. And until there was known reason to worry, she wasn’t going to make the situation bigger than it might be.

  Okay, she wasn’t telling anyone besides Wood, because then it would feel more real. It might just be one of those things...a shadow on a film that indicated no more than that.

  She had to keep telling herself that. Focusing on the chance that the coming test might show nothing wrong with her baby was her only way to calm the panic. To survive the waiting. Inaction didn’t sit well with her. If the results didn’t come back good, there’d be plenty of time for worrying.

  The sand cool beneath her feet, she walked as far north as she could, ending at a rocky inlet that rose into cliff side. Most of Marie Cove was set several hundred feet above sea level, making it less attractive for tourists wanting beachside vacations. She had her portion of the mile-long beach to herself and, down by the water, walked in ankle-deep, standing there as the waves moved in, splashing her up to her calves, and then rolled back out again.

  Her father had once told her that the waves were like life. They might come in and bring stuff—good or bad—and then they went away again. Nothing was always, he’d said. Not the good, but not the bad, either.

  Looking down, she couldn’t see what that particular wave had just brought in. The rising sun was still low on the horizon, but glinting off the water. What she did know was that this moment in her life would pass. She’d handle what was to come, and there would be good waves ahead.

  Didn’t make the prospect of brunch with eleven friends who knew her well any easier to manage. Not when she felt so incredibly alone, small and frightened. The only thing stopping her from canceling was the fact that everyone was driving to Marie Cove, since it was her turn to host.

  When her phone vibrated against her butt, signifying a new text message, Cassie pulled it from the pocket of her shorts, hoping her friends were canceling. One at a time? All eleven of them?

  More likely one of them couldn’t make it...

  Wood.

  She’d waited the rest of the afternoon and evening on Saturday, expecting a return message from him. When he’d failed to respond, she’d been unreasonably disappointed. Not because she feared he’d come anyway—she’d somehow known he wouldn’t—but because he hadn’t tried to change her mind.

  Still standing up to her ankles in water, she touched the text icon and then his name.

  I told Elaina about our situation. May I give her your number so she can call you?

  Not necessary, she responded instantly.

  Just want you to know you aren’t in this alone. My biology is partly responsible, and as one human being to another, I care.

  Tears came to her eyes at his response. Such a stupid, uncalled-for thing. Tears.

  If you won’t take her call, will you at least let me take you on Wednesday?

  With a couple of steps, she was out of the water, sand caking around her feet, typing on her phone with shaking fingers. She didn’t stop to think. Just typed.

  Yes. Thank you.

  Phone in hand, she walked quickly back down the beach and then up to her yard, heading straight for the shower. She had a brunch to get to.

  And suddenly she wasn’t dreading it as much anymore.

  * * *

  Sitting at the kitchen table alone Monday night, Wood cut into the chicken thigh he’d grilled, took a bite, enjoyed it, cut the next one and handed it down to Retro, who took it gently and chewed before she swallowed. Had she wolfed it down, she wouldn’t get any more. Manners were important.

  Elaina had called to say she wouldn’t be home until late. That was happening more and more. Wood was pretty sure she was seeing someone. When he’d asked her about it, she’d told him there was no one important to her. He didn’t believe her. And he also hurt for her.

  Would she ever believe that loving another man didn’t mean she’d loved Peter less?

  After dinner he took Retro for a run and then met a couple of guys from work, both job supervisors, for a beer at an upscale club they liked to frequent. Socializing was good. It wasn’t long before they’d been joined by four beautiful women, all of whom were entertaining and looking for fun. But, though he enjoyed the occasional flirtation, he wasn’t in the mood. And wasn’t into the loud music, either.

  Leaving his second beer unfinished, he headed out, restless, yet not ready to get in his truck and go home. Feeling unsettled didn’t sit well with him. He was the fix-it guy, not the one with something that needed fixing.

  Marie Cove’s Main Street was a bustling, well-lit four-lane road filled on both sides with restaurants, clubs and shops that could rival anything in Beverly Hills. He walked among people, all of whom had probable destinations, not even sure where he was headed.

  He and Elaina needed to move on—and out—from their complicated situation, even though it was platonic. He’d known for months. Had been prepared for a while, but having her absent so much in nonwork hours, maybe getting closer to that time when she was ready to end living arrangements that had grown comfortable, could explain his unease.

  Yet it didn’t. Truth was, he preferred nights out alone to sitting at home with the love of his brother’s life shut away in her suite. Though he’d never been romantically in love with Elaina, it bugged the hell out of Wood that he had been unable to make her happy. And maybe bothered him some that until she was gone, he couldn’t have more than casual, no-strings-attached relationships with anyone else.

  A group of women, early-to midthirties, professional looking, passed, sounding to him as though they were all talking at once. They seemed to all hear each other. He’d never understood that. In the next second, he wondered about the older couple, midsixties maybe, both in shorts and nice shirts, holding hands as they passed him. On their way to a late dinner? Or on vacation?

  People surrounded him. One or two alone, like him, most in groups or couples. It was the way of life. He didn’t begrudge them. Or envy them, either. He just couldn’t find his peace that night.

  It wasn’t until the third group of women passed, and he found himself studying them, that he admitted to himself he was looking for one woman in particular. One who wouldn’t have been at a club, drinking or dancing. But might be out to dinner. Or in one of the fancy bars where lawyers met important clients to discuss business. He couldn’t just happen to run into her unless he was out and about.

  What did it say ab
out him, a thirty-six-year-old guy who’d spend his evening wandering aimlessly just to catch sight of a woman he couldn’t get off his mind? Probably that he was pathetic. He didn’t much care what anyone thought of him, though. Cassie might be with clients. Or friends. For all he knew, her parents drove down every Monday for a visit. But no matter whom she was with that particular Monday night, he sensed she must be feeling more alone than she’d probably ever been. Alone with her fear. Her worry. Her battle not to give in to either.

  He wanted her to know that she truly wasn’t alone. That he had a stake in the outcome of the upcoming test. That he cared about that outcome. And not just because of his bone marrow.

  What he really wanted to do was call her.

  He didn’t want to scare her off again.

  Up one side of Main and down the other, he wrestled with himself. Walked off some tension. Let the voices and bustling and sights around him distract him a bit. And still he wasn’t ready to head home.

  Retro would be ready for bed. Wondering where he was. Lying beside his dog in the dark, or with the TV on, or sitting up reading didn’t appeal to him. His mind, in its current state, would linger places it shouldn’t be.

  An hour and a half after he’d left the club, Wood stopped in at a small, more quaint than ritzy, place across the street from his truck. Sat on a stool at the bar, ordered a beer on draft and pulled out his phone.

  Hey, he typed. Hit Send. Dropped the phone on the bar next to his glass. Sipped and tried to let go of this absurd pressure to connect with someone he barely knew.

  She was alone and pregnant. The child was biologically half his. He couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it. The baby wasn’t really his. At all. And yet...it was half him. His seed. His genes. It could look like him, maybe even dislike grape jelly as much as he did.

  His nerves tensed when his phone vibrated against the wood of the bar top.

  Hey.

  Leaving his phone where it lay, he read her reply as it popped up on the screen.

  Took another sip of beer. Watched the bartender mix a scotch sour. Heard a woman flirt with the two older guys at the end of the bar.

  And, of course, he eventually, after a good two minutes, picked up his phone.

  How you doing?

  The phone had barely left his hand before her response came back.

  Okay.

  Not “good.” Or “fine.” Just “okay.”

  Two things came to mind. She had to be worried. And she was talking to him.

  What did you have for dinner?

  Innocuous. But keeping her company. If she wanted it. If not, she wouldn’t answer.

  Taco salad. You?

  Grilled chicken with camp potatoes

  The kind you make in foil on the grill? she replied.

  Yeah. He was surprised she’d known that.

  My dad used to make them.

  Right. An uneducated man, like Wood. But that was not the reason she’d chosen his sperm. So why did he keep coming back to it?

  He wanted to think he had no concerns about his intelligence. Knew full well his mental capabilities.

  And yet, when he viewed himself as he figured the world saw him, he had to wonder why he’d made the choice not to further his education when he’d finally been in a position to do so.

  He needed to get over himself. So he told her about Retro, the Lab who’d shared his dinner. Found out that she didn’t have any pets but had thought about getting a cat, because they were self-sufficient if left alone for long periods of time. And then that she’d had a dog as a kid, a Corgi, but that it died when she was in high school.

  She’d had a busy day at work. And had six meetings the following day, as well. She was more of a night person than early morning but was still up by dawn most days.

  She liked milk chocolate, but not dark. Steak but not roast. And took her coffee black.

  You at home? He’d run out of food questions.

  Yes. You?

  No. Downtown. He named the place.

  You are not texting me while you’re out to dinner.

  Nope. Just sitting at the bar having a beer.

  Alone?

  Yeah. Alone in a bar, texting her. Like she was the only thing on his mind.

  Oh. Her reply was short.

  Yeah. He felt a need to explain. To say more. But didn’t. Would make things too complicated.

  Figuring he’d effectively ended the conversation by not responding to her last text, he was surprised when his phone vibrated again.

  Do you like peanut butter?

  Yeah, why?

  I’m making cookies. I’ll package some up for you. A thank-you for Wednesday.

  She was making him cookies. Thinking about him.

  Wood was still grinning about that as he lay in bed an hour later, listening to Retro snore beside him.

  Chapter Seven

  She was not helpless. She was not out of control. She hadn’t felt the baby move yet, but that didn’t mean anything was wrong. She wasn’t even five months pregnant. Wasn’t supposed to be feeling movement yet.

  There was a healthy heartbeat on the sonogram.

  And she had bone marrow lined up if they needed it.

  But what if...

  Just as her head started to run away with her for the zillionth time Tuesday night, Cassie’s text notification sounded.

  Wood again.

  Asking her if she’d ever gone skydiving.

  She hadn’t. He had. Said that while it seemed scary at first, once you took the training, it was mostly just a matter of trusting the process. She’d never been up in a hot air balloon, either. He’d flown them for a time, to earn extra money. He’d never been on a commercial train. She had once, in Europe, an overnight trip from Paris to Barcelona. He’d never been in-line skating. She used to do twenty-mile skates to let off tension during law school.

  As soon as she answered one question, he came back with another. She knew what he was doing. Distracting her from the fear that she wouldn’t admit to. How he just seemed to know how to help, she couldn’t explain, but didn’t question, either.

  Cassie was smart enough to accept kindness where it was offered.

  For the sake of her baby.

  Maybe she’d ask Wood to be the baby’s godfather. Down the road. If things went well. It was something to think about, anyway.

  Or maybe everything would be fine and they’d go their separate ways and these days out of time would fade into distant memory, transporting them back to strangers who passed on the street without saying hello.

  The thought made her sad. And she didn’t think that these excruciating hours that seemed to crawl at the pace of years would ever become distant memory to her. No matter what happened, she was never going to forget. Or take life for granted again, either.

  She was up before dawn on Wednesday morning. She’d taken the day off work, after all. The doctor’s office had told her she might have some cramping. She’d also been told she could resume normal activity immediately following the procedure, but she couldn’t be sure she’d have the proper focus her clients deserved that day. Thought maybe she’d spend the afternoon lying on the beach. At the moment, the thought of the sun’s warmth brought comfort.

  By six thirty she was pacing. Wanting to call her mother. But refrained when she imagined the worry she’d hear in her voice. She had to get through the procedure first. To be able to tell everyone that everything went fine, the placenta wasn’t damaged in any way. And they had a healthy...boy or girl?

  Her friends had asked her at brunch on Sunday what she was hoping for: a son or a daughter. She’d told them all she wanted was a healthy baby. There must have been something in her voice as she’d answered, because no one pushed her after that.

  No one had asked questions, either, which had been a b
lessing.

  She buzzed Wood in at the gate when he typed in her code and was waiting outside by the time his truck pulled up, a bag of homemade cookies in her hand. In black jeans and a polo shirt, he jumped out, opening her door for her—a completely unnecessary but compassionate gesture—and closed it behind her once she was inside.

  She watched him as he walked, not meaning to notice that he was the hottest guy she’d ever known, but aware anyway. The square of his shoulders, their breadth, the bulge of muscle in his arms, the way his chest tapered to that completely flat midsection... She couldn’t see any lower than that, and as her gaze moved back up toward that thick and curly blond hair, and the strength in his features, she caught him looking back at her.

  Checking up on her, she was sure. And she flushed with shame as she realized she’d been lusting over a man who was only there because her baby might need his help.

  She’d been feeling that way because at the moment, she’d do about anything to keep her mind off what was coming. She wouldn’t know anything right away, of course. She was aware of that. But just to know that the amniocentesis was done, that the baby was unharmed by the test, would be a relief.

  While she sat, mostly frozen, beside him, Wood talked about the weather during the ten-minute drive to the doctor’s office complex across from the hospital. Innocuous conversation that required nothing of her, and yet provided a tiny bit of distraction at the same time. Kept her somewhat grounded in the world around her, and not completely consumed by the one inside her.

  Checking in and filling out the requisite paperwork didn’t take nearly as long as she’d expected, leaving too much time to sit and wait for her name to be called in a room that was mostly deserted, since she’d taken the first appointment of the day.

  But before panic set in, Wood started talking about boys and girls, baseball bats and hair ribbons, building scenarios with each—not necessarily gender-related ones, either. At one point her daughter grew up to be the youngest baseball player to beat Babe Ruth’s home run record.