His brief glance at the baby, dressed in a pink sweater and cap and buckled into her stroller, was indifferent. He said hello to Mary first. Then he turned to Natalie. "I need to talk to you. Will you come upstairs?"
Suddenly the beautiful day was obscured by the seriousness of his mood.
"I'll take Annabelle inside," said Mary quickly. "I imagine the little dear could use a dry diaper by now." She wheeled the collapsible stroller through the door, which Jake held open for her.
Natalie climbed the steps with Jake right behind her. Inadvertently her eyes were drawn to the spot above the mantel where Lisa's portrait had hung. The empty spot had been filled with a seascape. Natalie took a seat in one corner of the sofa at a right angle to the painting and looked around.
She hadn't been in this room, hadn't been any farther than the kitchen, since the day she and Nancy had helped Andrew pack Lisa's clothes and personal belongings. There were a few changes.
In a corner to the left of the fireplace, two delicate Louis XVI chairs had been replaced by utilitarian bookshelves and a small television set.
Lisa had hated a TV in the living room.
A beautiful china tea set had been removed from the low table in front of the sofa. In its place were a bundle of well-thumbed blueprints, a couple of file folders, a newspaper and the remote-control device for the TV, all aligned rigidly with the edges of the table. The desk section of the beautiful antique secretary was folded closed, hiding the carved pigeonholes, the tooled-leather-and-gilt writing area.
Lisa had always left it open, not for any practical purpose but as a display surface for an exquisite brass-and-crystal inkwell.
Except for those alterations everything else remained the same. The sofa on which she sat was a camelback Chippendale, upholstered in white damask. The draperies and swags at the windows were silk taffeta and puddled stylishly on the hardwood floor. Another chair was covered in burgundy moiré, reflecting the predominant color in the oriental carpet.
Jake obviously spent a lot of time in this room, and as a consequence, it had taken on a subtle masculine air despite the elegance of its furnishings. Or maybe it was that his presence dominated the room so completely. Actually it was quite nice. More lived-in, not so very formal, yet still lovely.
He stood looking down at her, his expression unreadable. He had jammed his hands into the back pockets of his jeans.
Natalie was the first to look away. "I just remembered. You lost your home office as well as your den when I moved in," she said, indicating the paperwork.
He shrugged off her unspoken apology and sat on the other corner of the sofa. "This works fine." He crossed one ankle over his knee. "Would you like something? Coffee? A soft drink?"
"No, thank you."
"I signed the papers selling Lisa's business yesterday."
Natalie nodded. "Nancy came to the hospital after I gave birth. She told me that you were negotiating."
They were silent for a moment. She opened her mouth to ask him what this was all about. But before she could speak, he said, "It's a nice day for a walk."
She blinked. "Yes. I think I had a touch of spring fever today." She waited, wary of his mood. He asked her where they went. She told him. They talked about the city's commitment to maintaining the parks.
Suddenly he looked away. "I was holding on, Natalie," he said in a low voice. He propped his elbow on the high arm of the sofa and worried his jaw with a knuckle.
She was confused by the remark. "Holding on?"
"Yes. To Lisa's business and consequently to Lisa. I finally realized that nothing is going to bring her back."
All at once she understood. "No, nothing will bring her back," she said gently. "But it's hard to let go of every contact."
"It's hard to let go, period. It's hard to move on." He surged to his feet, made a quick, restless circle of the room, then came back to sit down again. "But I have to. I have to."
"Why did you want to see me, Jake?" she asked at last, though she had an idea by now that she probably knew.
"Mary told me that you'd called your old boss in Charleston about a job."
She sighed. Of course. She'd seen him talking to Mary yesterday. "Yes, I have begun thinking about it. Dr. MacGregor wanted me to stay in town until after my checkup. But that's only a week away. By then I hope to have something lined up."
He stretched his arm along the back of the sofa, bringing his fingers to within inches of her shoulder. "I have an idea I'd like you to think about."
Whatever it was, he didn't look completely comfortable. He pulled at a stray thread on the hem of his jeans. She smiled encouragingly. "What is it?"
Instead of answering directly he asked, "How is the work going on your manuscript?"
He knew she had written in December to the agent who had agreed to look at the book, explaining the delay. "I received a letter from the agent a few weeks ago, saying that he was still interested. He suggested that I send the chapters I had completed. So I did." Two-thirds of the manuscript had gone in the mail last week. "Why?"
"How much time will it take to finish?"
"Since this is my first attempt at fiction, I'm not exactly sure how long. Probably another four months, or maybe I can finish in three."
"I think you should continue to live in the apartment until then."
Her eyes widened. "What? I thought you couldn't wait to get rid of me."
He looked at her, meeting her eyes directly. His own were smoky with some sort of emotion that she couldn't interpret. His voice, when he spoke, was low. "I never said that. You did."
"But you said—"
"I said I had no intention of having a family. I didn't say I wanted to get rid of you."
Natalie remained motionless for a minute, searching her memory. She remembered the first statement, vividly. She wasn't sure about the second. "Do you mean under the same conditions?" she asked guardedly. "Me living on your largesse?"
"How many times do I have to repeat myself?" he said, suddenly impatient. "It's your money."
"Jake, you know how this whole subject bothers me," she responded sharply.
He shook his head. "I should know. You've reminded me of it enough times," he snapped. "I don't know where you got this hang-up."
Her own irritation heightened. "Only people who don't have to worry about money can treat the subject so cavalierly. Maybe you don't remember…" She bit off the end of the sentence.
"I do remember how you and Joseph struggled, how his illness swallowed your savings." He paused before he spoke again. "Actually, you have plenty of money. The remaining funds in the trust were deposited in a new account as soon as the baby was born." He picked up a folder from the table. "Here is your passbook. I received my own accounting a few days ago."
She looked at him speculatively, but she didn't take the passbook. "You did?"
He tossed it back on the table where it skittered across the smooth surface to come up against a stack of papers. "Did you even read the stipulations in our original contract?"
"I glanced through them," she said defensively. Jake and Lisa were like family; she had simply skimmed the papers. She had no reason not to trust them. But both the medical staff and the attorneys had insisted on dotting all the i's and crossing all the t's. It seemed that Jake and Lisa had paid as little attention as she had. She sighed, resigned. "Okay. How much is there?"
He named a figure that surprised her. Then he went on to explain. "You didn't take anything out during the time you worked for John. And even after you quit, you still had additional income from your magazine articles. If you remain in the apartment it should be enough to last for a while."
"Even to pay Mary's salary," she mused. She wasn't convinced this was the right thing to do, but she was tempted. The apartment had become like home to her. It was certainly more comfortable than anything she'd he able to afford in Charleston. She wanted to stay, she admitted, but she didn't think it would work.
And she wondered about h
is reasons for offering.
She'd barely seen him since the baby was born. The one dinner at Tibernio's had not turned out well. The atmosphere between them had been tense. Then she had another thought. "Is this another case of your not wanting to let go of something, Jake?"
She expected him to deny it, but, instead, he hesitated. "I don't think so."
"The adoption…"
"The adoption will go through. I've given you my word." He turned so that his broad shoulders backed against the arm of the sofa and faced her directly. "The truth is, I don't want you to go." There was no doubt that his answer was sincere, but his expression was unreadable. She didn't know what to say.
With a fidgety movement, Jake rubbed the fabric of the sofa behind her head, wanting to touch her, wanting to slide his hand under her hair, to stroke the back of her neck. He'd barely seen anything of her since the child was born. No, that wasn't true. He'd seen her; she hadn't seen him. He felt like some kind of voyeur, but every night he'd been at the window. He knew of her habit of walking in the garden, so he'd watched.
Her magnetism was stronger than ever. Was he trying to hold on to her because of Lisa?
Though the two were lifelong friends they were very different women. Lisa had been like bright sunlight—energetic, gregarious, sociable, loving. Natalie was moonlight—serene, gracious, gentle, feminine.
His feelings were the consummate paradox. Though his heart was still heavy with sorrow, he often ached with desire for this woman. He was going crazy trying to reconcile the two feelings.
At last she turned to him, tucking her foot under her. "Jake, I don't think it would be a good idea for me to stay."
"What do you mean?"
"You were disturbed by my being pregnant. You would be more disturbed having Annabelle around," she told him. "She isn't exactly quiet." Natalie was genuinely concerned about that factor; she didn't want Jake to ever resent the baby for any reason.
He smiled and finally succumbed to temptation, sliding his hand under her hair; his thumb stroked the side of her neck. It was the first overt signal of sensual awareness he'd sent since the kiss he gave her when Annabelle was born. "You should be worrying if you will disturb me. I am."
The last time they had this conversation, she'd been hurt by the outcome. She didn't intend to be hurt again. "Once before, you said something was happening between us." She spoke slowly, but her thoughts tumbled in her mind at a speed that made her dizzy. "You said then that you felt like you were cheating. If I stay, what do you think will happen?"
His thumb slid from her neck around to touch her lips. His eyes followed the motion. "I know damn well what I want to happen."
She was taken aback by his bluntness and aroused by his touch. His thumb moved to trace the curve of her ear. "And if it does, are you going to feel guilty?" she asked, her voice thick. She didn't want to be having this conversation. But she had to know. "Do you think Lisa would approve?"
His eyes met hers. "I don't think Lisa's approval is relevant one way or another. This is between us. And, no, I won't feel guilty."
"But, Jake—"
He withdrew his hand but checked her protest by placing a finger over her lips. His lingering touch was warm and silenced her as effectively as a kiss would have. "No 'buts.' I won't push you. Think about staying here until your book is finished."
He removed his finger. She nodded, but she had to moisten her lips before she could speak. "All right, I'll think it over."
* * *
"So are you going to stay?" asked Mary when she got back downstairs.
Natalie cut her eyes to the older woman. "You knew what the subject of the conversation was to be before I did. I'm surprised you don't know what my answer is."
"You are going to stay," said Mary with a satisfied smirk.
"I haven't decided yet."
* * *
It was a week later; she and Mary were having breakfast. "Don't forget that you and Annabelle both have doctors' appointments this afternoon. I'm going along to help you manage."
"Thanks, Mary." She knew that sometime soon she would have to take the baby out alone with diapers and blankets and bottles and toys, but the very thought scared her to death.
She worked until three o'clock, then gave a regretful look at the computer. She had no idea how long the checkups would last, but she probably wouldn't be back for hours. Mentally she said farewell to the characters and went to dress.
"Have you packed?" she asked Mary when she saw her in the living room with the baby.
"All packed," Mary told her as she tied Annabelle's hat under her chin. They were going to drop off Mary's suitcase before they went to the doctor. From now on, for as long as Natalie and the baby were here, Mary would go to her home at night.
Natalie crossed to lift Annabelle from her infant seat and cuddled her close for a moment. She cradled her head and crooned to the sweet-smelling baby. "Don't you look pretty today, all dressed up, little precious?" She nuzzled her tummy.
Mary had dressed her in a pair of pink corduroy overalls with bright pink flamingos on the bib and a white turtleneck with flamingos on the sleeves. She wore little lacy pink socks.
Annabelle smiled.
Annabelle's smiles were something to see. Even Mary admitted that it was no longer gas.
* * *
It was after six when the three of them returned from the doctors' appointments.
Jake was waiting in the garden. He held the gate. "Everyone healthy?" he asked.
Natalie felt the color rise in her cheeks. Dr. MacGregor had pronounced her fit for anything. She knew from the childbirth classes—and so did Jake—that the six-week checkup was usually when husbands and wives were told they could resume their sex lives. "We're both very healthy, thank you."
He fell into step beside her. "Have you decided to stay here until you finish your book?"
"Yes, I'm going to stay," said Natalie, surprising herself with the positive answer.
Mary smiled and disappeared inside with the baby, whispering to Annabelle as she went.
Natalie watched them go, wondering what it was she said when she whispered like that. She turned to Jake. "I need to help her get Annabelle ready for bed. This time of day is rather hectic. Mary is going home tonight, and we're running behind."
"Sure." He stood there, hands in his pockets, looking down at her. If he had been different, if he'd shown any interest at all in Annabelle, she would have asked him to come in. She would have given him a glass of wine. After the baby was settled, after Mary left, they could have ordered in supper. "Well—" She turned to go inside.
"Natalie?"
She paused with one hand on the doorjamb. "Yes?"
"I'm glad you thought it over. I'm glad you're staying."
"Me, too." She smiled and closed the door.
It hadn't been an easy decision; she had thought of little else since he made the offer last week. She had been torn. One minute she would decide that she must return to Charleston. She would be too uncomfortable here. Besides, if Jake wanted to see her, Charleston was only forty-five minutes away.
The next minute she would decide to stay. The apartment was comfortable. Mary was wonderful with Annabelle; she could work without worrying that she might be neglecting the baby.
But there were other arguments, less well defined. She was halfway in love with that extraordinary man upstairs. He was funny, and kind, and sexy. He had been deeply wounded, and he had vowed he would never commit himself again. Knowing that nothing permanent would come of this, should she settle for having as much of him as he would part with before they both moved on?
She wouldn't make any attempt to remove Annabelle from his presence, but she wouldn't try to encourage or push him into taking part in the baby's life, either. If a relationship were to develop between father and daughter, it would grow naturally, or it would not grow at all.
She didn't know which of those reasons had prompted her decision to stay, but now that it was made
she wouldn't look back. She would stay here, work on the book and see what happened next. If the decision turned out to be the wrong one, if she got hurt, well, it would be her own fault.
* * *
The next morning Mary arrived early. Natalie had a sneaking suspicion that she thought the apartment would be in an uproar, with Natalie pulling her hair out and Annabelle screaming. But the baby had behaved like an angel.
"Good morning," she said cheerfully when Mary let herself in. Annabelle was watching the mobile from her infant seat, and Natalie was dressed and finishing her second cup of coffee.
"Good morning," answered Mary. "Has Jake left for work yet?"
"I haven't heard him."
Just at that moment the door upstairs slammed and they heard his heavy footsteps. Mary opened the door and called him.
He came to the door, stuck his head in. "Hi," he said to Natalie.
"Hi," she answered.
"What's up?" he asked Mary.
"We have a crib that needs to be assembled. Will you help us with it?"
"Wait, Mary." Natalie got to her feet and joined them at the door. "Where are we going to put it? That room is so crowded already that you can hardly walk in there."
"We're going to do some rearranging," said Mary. "If you are going to stay here for several more months, we have to get that baby a comfortable place to sleep."
"I have to meet the inspectors at the building site on Saturday. What about Sunday afternoon?" Jake said.
"That's fine. I'm taking the weekend off. Natalie, can you—"
"I'm not going anywhere," Natalie agreed.
* * *
On Saturday night, by the time she finally put Annabelle to bed, Natalie was worn out. She collapsed on the sofa, sliding down until she sat on the end of her spine. Her white slacks were a wrinkled mess. She pulled at the hem of her blue knit shirt to catalog the damage. Two big blobs were obviously formula. There were a few other stains she didn't particularly want to identify. With a sigh, she let the shirt fall.
A knock roused her from her stupor. She rolled her head and peered through the kitchen to the back door. Jake. She couldn't even summon any enthusiasm for him. She motioned him to come in, and then her hand fell heavily to the cushion.
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