The Birth Mother

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  His chest felt like it was being squeezed in a vise as he asked the first usher he found for directions to the closest phone. Dear God, let her be all right.

  Dropping a quarter into the slot, Bryan punched in his number, his finger frustratingly slow on the numerous buttons, and finally heard the line to his home phone ringing.

  “Nick? You okay, sweetheart? I can be there in twenty minutes,” he said as soon as his niece picked up the phone.

  “I’m fine, Uncle Bryan. I’m really sorry to bug you. I wouldn’t have, but Calvin called and he’s someplace where he can’t be reached, so he’s calling back in half an hour. He told me I had to page you, or I wouldn’t have, honest.”

  Bryan sagged against the wall in relief. “Bother me already, okay, Nick? It’s what I bought the pager for, remember?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So what’s Calvin want? He’s not coming home, is he?” Bryan’s workaholic partner had just left for a vacation with his family, the first he’d taken since he and Bryan had opened their business ten years before. Bryan had a feeling it had been either that or be served with divorce papers.

  “He didn’t say he was. He wanted to know if you heard from a Mr. Wonderly about some kind of tapes.”

  “Tell him everything’s fine and to quit worrying and enjoy his vacation. Better yet, tell him I’m not taking any more calls from him until next week.”

  “You want me to tell him that?”

  “Yep. And if he starts to give you a hard time, you have my permission to hang up on him.”

  “I can’t do that!”

  Bryan smiled as he listened to the horror in Nicki’s voice. At least he’d managed to get a rise out of her.

  “Sure you can. It’s easy. You just put the phone back in its cradle without saying goodbye.”

  “Okay…if you want me to.” She sounded like he’d asked her to burn the house down.

  “I do. So whatcha up to?” Bryan was reluctant to hang up. Not just because he’d rather talk to Nicki than listen to the symphony, but because she’d finally called him. He wished she’d do it more.

  “Watching TV.”

  “You got all your homework done?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And you got Mrs. Baker’s number right by the phone?” he asked. Their next-door neighbor was a widow, and a godsend, checking on Nicki for him whenever he couldn’t be home.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Did you feed the fish?”

  “Uncle Bryan, we don’t have any fish.” She sounded like she was smiling.

  “Right. I knew that. So, anything sound good for a snack? I can stop by the store on my way home.”

  “No. That’s okay.”

  And just like that he’d slammed into that brick wall again. It wasn’t okay. Not to Bryan. It wasn’t okay at all. Because Nicki needed a hell of a lot more than she was telling him. And suddenly he remembered Jennifer, the woman waiting just beyond the doors for him to return. Not his date. Not someone he could fantasize about taking to bed with him. Nicki’s mother.

  “I’ll stop for some of those cupcakes you like. If you don’t want any tonight, you can take them to school with you tomorrow.”

  “You don’t have to, Uncle Bryan. Honest.”

  Bryan slouched against the wall, suddenly more tired than he’d ever been in his life. Month after month went by, and they were making no progress. “I know I don’t have to, Nick. I want to.” He paused. “I’ll be home soon.”

  “I can stay home late by myself.”

  “You do great alone, Nick, but I still don’t like to leave you there by yourself. The symphony’s almost over, I’ll drop my client off, grab the cupcakes and be home. We can watch Taxi together. How’s that sound?”

  “If you want to. But you can stay out later if you want. It doesn’t matter.”

  It doesn’t matter. Those were the words that worried Bryan most of all. Nothing seemed to matter to Nicki anymore. He’d been warned to expect apathy from her, as well as himself, as they went through the grieving process, adjusting to losing their entire family in the blink of an eye. But it had been almost a year, and while he sometimes still woke up with that sick feeling in his gut, he was able to look forward to things again. But Nicki wasn’t. He was getting more and more concerned that her apathy was passing the boundaries of normal. Nothing mattered.

  Nothing, that is, except finding her biological mother. She’d just asked Bryan about it again the day before. And Bryan had lied to her. He’d told her he hadn’t found her birth mother yet—because he was still no closer to knowing whether or not Jennifer had a place for Nicki in her life. If he had to guess, he’d guess not. And there was no way Nicki was strong enough to hear that. So, with no other choice, he’d lied to her. Just as he was, by omission, lying to Jennifer. Nevertheless he wasn’t going to tell either one of them about the other until he could be surer of the outcome.

  He hung up the phone and went back into the auditorium, determined to do whatever it took to get Jennifer to open up to him and get the whole thing over and done with. No more fantasies. Reality was just too important.

  JENNIFER LOOKED forward to his good-night kiss all the way home. She’d been thinking about it all evening, every time she’d felt his arm brush against hers or he’d leaned over to whisper something to her. She’d been anticipating his kiss like a silly schoolgirl, and yet she couldn’t seem to stop. Had it just been a fluke the other day in her office, the way he’d made her feel?

  Her blood was barreling through her veins as Bryan pulled up in the visitor parking at her building. Tonight they weren’t at the office. Tonight they weren’t working. Tonight the kiss would be more than an accident.

  “I love this time of year,” he said as they walked together toward the ornate front doors of her apartment building. The Georgia air was warm, balmy. A gorgeous spring evening.

  “Because of the basketball play-offs, right?” It was all Dennis talked about when they weren’t talking about work or Tanya.

  “Nope. The flying.” He held open the door for her before the doorman could get it.

  She looked at his tie. “Flying.”

  “Mmm. It stays light longer now, but it’s not summer vacation yet, so the skies aren’t too crowded.”

  “You’re a pilot?”

  “Yeah. Since I was a teenager. I was barely eighteen when I bought my first plane.”

  She pushed the button for the elevator. “Do you still have your own plane?”

  He nodded. “A Cessna four-seater. There’s nothing like being up there in a world all your own. You’re never going to get freer than that. Do you like to fly?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never flown in anything smaller than a 737, and I’m usually working the whole time we’re in the air.”

  “I’ll take you up some time, if you like. We can go to dinner at a great place I know in Huntsville.”

  “Alabama?”

  “Yeah, and they’ve got the best red snapper I’ve ever had.”

  The man was incredible. And maybe just what she needed. “If you’re serious, I may just take you up on that.”

  The Day, Jennifer thought, was coming up fast. Another couple of weeks and it would be twelve years. Twelve long years, and facing that day never got any easier. No matter how she tried to convince herself otherwise, the what-ifs, the recriminations, the guilt were always there. And the wondering. But maybe this year she wouldn’t have to be alone with her guilt. Maybe, if she spent the day with Bryan, she wouldn’t hurt so bad.

  “I’ll give you a call next time I’m going up,” he said.

  The elevator came and Jennifer stepped inside with him, glad to find they had it all to themselves. She put in the key for the penthouse and pushed the button that would take them up to the top floor. And when she turned, he was looking at her.

  “So what did you think of the cello concerto?” she asked, nervous again.

  He grinned at her. “The truth?”

  She nodd
ed.

  “I think the Wonderly-soup account is going to benefit from it greatly.”

  “The Wonderly-soup account?”

  “Mmm. I think it was during that concerto thing that it finally hit me what was missing from the campaign.”

  She grinned. “You didn’t enjoy the symphony, did you?”

  “There were some good parts,” he said, holding her gaze with his own. Jennifer felt as if she was going to melt right there beneath his sexy brown eyes.

  The elevator doors opened, and she stepped out, sliding her key into the lock that would let them into her penthouse.

  She didn’t really know what to do next. She’d never brought a man here with anything intimate in mind.

  The penthouse door opened and she turned. Invite him in, idiot. “I really enjoyed myself tonight.”

  He brushed his fingers along her cheek. “I did, too.”

  “In spite of Mozart?”

  “He wasn’t that bad. I think half my problem is the setting. I’d probably like him a whole lot more if they’d put on an outdoor concert, up on Stone Mountain, say, with everybody wearing shorts and lying around on blankets in the grass.”

  It sounded wonderful to her. Especially if he took her along. “I’ll let you know if I ever hear of one,” she said.

  “You do that.”

  He was looking at her the way he had in her office right before he’d kissed her. And this time she was ready for him. She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted to feel his arms around her again more than she’d wanted anything in a long time.

  “Well, good night,” he said, and stepped back into the elevator.

  Jennifer hadn’t even noticed that he’d been holding it open. Before she had a chance to respond he was gone.

  “HOW’S TANYA?” Jennifer asked Dennis the next day over a midmorning cup of coffee in his office. She hadn’t slept much the night before and it was her fourth cup of coffee so far.

  “Great! Just great. Her show was a huge success. Requests have been pouring in for more paintings. She even had a call from someone in New York. He wants to set up a one-woman exhibition for her.”

  “A New York show? All by herself? How long will it take her to get ready?”

  “It’ll have to be after—” Dennis stopped.

  “After?” After another five or six months?

  “After she, uh, gets enough new paintings done to carry another show,” he said, stirring more sugar into his coffee.

  Damn. How long were they going to wait before they told her they were expecting a baby? She knew lots of people who’d had babies.

  Just none that were close to her.

  She pictured herself listening to the intimate details of the growth of Tanya’s baby and having to celebrate every development with them. She thought about walking into an infants’-wear department, of looking at the overwhelming array of garments, holding them up and hearing Tanya marvel at how tiny they were.

  “How long will that take?” She should just tell Dennis that she knew about Tanya’s pregnancy. That she’d probably known before Tanya did. That even if Dennis’s secretary hadn’t slipped the news, Jennifer had recognized the symptoms, anyway.

  “She told the guy it would have to be next summer.”

  “And he’s willing to wait that long?”

  “Yeah. He’s already booked the date. The second week in July.”

  “So you’re going to New York,” Jennifer said, forcing a smile. She was happy for her friends. They deserved it—and more.

  Dennis fidgeted with the picture of his wife he kept on his desk. “Tanya’s counting on you coming with us, Jennifer. She says she can’t do it without you there.”

  Jennifer thought of the baby Tanya was carrying. It would be seven or eight months old by then, and the focus of every moment of their lives. She started to sweat. “I don’t know if we should both be gone at once,” she said, hating herself for her sudden weakness. She didn’t understand what was the matter with her.

  “We’ll see what happens when—” His phone rang and Dennis broke off.

  Jennifer couldn’t help noticing he hadn’t tried very hard to persuade her. Was Dennis really that unsure about her ability to handle being around their baby? Even for a few days? He knew her better than anyone else on earth. And yes, she generally avoided being around babies because they made her remember, but it wasn’t like she couldn’t handle those memories if she had to.

  “Yes, I did see them…I agree…Great, we’ll look forward to seeing the finished product.” She listened to Dennis’s conversation, telling herself she was overreacting. Dennis was probably just waiting for Tanya to tell her their news. And she’d be excited about their new baby long before it arrived; she just needed a little more time to get used to the idea.

  “Sure, she’s right here,” Dennis said, holding out the phone. “It’s Bryan Chambers.”

  Jennifer stood up. “I’ll take it in my office.”

  “He’s on line two,” Dennis said, his brows lifting in surprise.

  But Jennifer wasn’t thinking about Dennis’s reaction as she left his office. She needed to know what she’d done wrong the night before. And she certainly wasn’t going to ask within earshot of her vice president.

  “Hi,” Jennifer said, picking up the phone as soon as her office door was closed behind her. She sank into the blue upholstered high-backed chair behind her desk.

  “Jennifer? Good.” Without waiting for her to speak, he went on, “I’m working on the next series of television ads for One Price, and I’ve got an idea I’d like to run by you.” He sounded so formal. So impersonal.

  “Shoot,” she said, picking up a pen to sign a couple of letters Rachel had left for her.

  “So far we’ve appealed to your wealthier customers, to businessmen and to the working class. This time I want to go for the housewife, the family man and Grandma.”

  “All at once?” She put the signed letters in her out tray.

  “If we can.”

  What had happened to the man who’d come to her door wearing bright blue-and-yellow suspenders the night before? “How?”

  “By including children in the scripts. We show you in a series of short spots, giving a Teal Automotive coloring book to a couple of kids while their parents shop for a car, explaining One Price to a little boy who’s in with his parents buying a car, and fastening a baby into the built-in child seat in a Windstar.”

  Jennifer set her pen down slowly, deliberately. “I’d rather you think of something else.” She pushed up the sleeve of her pale pink suit, looking at her Rolex.

  “Of course, if you insist, I will, but I think you ought to at least give the idea some thought. Talk it over with Dennis, if you’d like. A series of spots like this would not only be cost effective, but time effective, as well, reaching several markets at once.”

  She didn’t hesitate. “I don’t need to talk to Dennis. I’d rather not do it.”

  There was a pause on the line, and Jennifer knew she was handling the situation badly. Still, she felt like she was being bombarded with babies all of a sudden. It should have helped her to realize that her reactions were largely because of the impending anniversary, that she was always a little sensitive this time of year, that she’d be fine once The Day had passed again, but she still didn’t feel any more inclined to hold someone else’s baby.

  “Mind my asking why not?” Bryan’s voice, softer now, made her feel like a heel.

  “I’m not very good with kids.”

  “What’s to be good about? They say their lines, you say yours, you smile at them, and it’s done.”

  Except for the baby. If it cried in her arms, they could have to redo the take. Heaven only knew how long she’d have to be holding it. “I’d just feel better if you could come up with something else,” she said, looking over her schedule for the rest of the morning.

  “Well, whatever you say…”

  She’d disappointed him. “Bryan?” She pushed her calendar asi
de.

  “Yeah?”

  “Did I do something wrong last night? Something to send you away?” She was beyond caring if she made a fool of herself. She needed to know.

  “No. Why do you ask?”

  “One minute we were having a good time, and the next you were gone.”

  “The symphony was over.”

  “But that didn’t mean the date had to be. It wasn’t even ten o’clock.”

  “Is that what it was? A date?”

  “I thought so,” she said.

  “So is that how you treat all your dates? With vague answers any time they get too close?”

  “Is that what I was doing?”

  “You’re doing it again. You answer my question with a question.”

  “I don’t have many dates that mean anything. I really don’t know how I treat them.”

  “Are you saying ours meant something?”

  “Maybe. You’re different, Bryan. And you don’t apologize for it or flaunt it. And you don’t seem to care that I’m the owner of Teal Automotive. It’s refreshing. It also helps that you’re no more interested in marriage right now than I am.”

  “It may not matter overly much to me that you are Teal Automotive, or that you’re one of the richest single women in the city, but I do like to know the people inside the women I date. Getting to know you is like trying to break into a cement cell.”

  Jennifer’s hand started to shake. “It’s…it’s hard when you’re in my position. You never know what people want from you, or if they even want you at all, rather than what you can do for them. You tend to get cautious after a while.”

  “Poor little rich girl, huh?”

  “Maybe. Except that I have a couple of close friends I’d trust with my life, so I don’t consider myself all that poor.”

  “So what does it take for someone to become your friend?”

  “Are you saying you want to?”

  “Maybe.”

  She smiled. If his “maybe” meant anywhere near as much as hers had, things were going to be all right.