Nesting

by Renee Mackenzie

  Chapter Eighteen

  Balance

  Kenny had been working on the baby’s cradle at the shop after hours and on weekends. He wanted it to be a surprise for Dori, so he told her everyone had been working overtime to get some big jobs out the door. He couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when she saw the cradle. It was early in the game to be making baby things, but he thought it might bring them good luck if he got it started.

  Dori was under the weather from the surgery to retrieve her eggs. Right after that, Kenny’s sperm and her eggs went on a date in a dish at the lab. He hoped they were playing nice. Their stuff had to incubate for a few days, and then it’d be Macy’s turn for her procedure.

  At least Dori didn’t have to take any more hormones. It’d been rough for a while. Kenny gave her the shots, and all she gave him was hell, like he couldn’t ever do it right. Her mood swings meant that one minute she was bitching, and the next she’d get way too excited about things moving along so good. He sure hoped she wasn’t getting her hopes up for nothing. There were still all kinds of things that could go wrong, and then they would have to start all over again.

  Kenny had given Dori shots of one thing twice a day for ten days. After that, he had to give her a shot of something else one night at midnight. The needle for the middle of the night shot was huge. That stuff was called hCG. The human-gonadot-something, as Kenny called it, was to mature her eggs. Once upon a time, he never would have guessed he’d know so much about this stuff. Sometimes lately, he even felt sort of smart.

  Kenny knew a cradle wasn’t especially practical, but it would be like a family heirloom. That was why he wanted it to be perfect. He didn’t care if it took a lot more time to make it balanced so it would swing just right. It didn’t matter how careful he had to be to keep the temperature and humidity steady to be sure the wood didn’t warp. He didn’t care about all the extra work, because it was going to be worth it.

  Kenny was using maple for the cradle. It was no secret that was his favorite. Maybe it would be his baby’s favorite, too. “My baby.” He laughed out loud. He was dying to say something like, “Hey, look at this picture of my kid.” He just wanted it to hurry up and be there.

  For her surgery, they gave Dori drugs so she’d sleep and not remember anything. Then they did something in there with a needle that Kenny didn’t want to know the details about. It might not have been as bad as her hysterectomy, but it was bad enough. While they were doing that, Kenny was in a little room on the other side making his deposit. Some guys can’t do it in that sort of situation, but he didn’t have a problem. He just closed his eyes and thought about Dori doing him in the old Maverick. With memories like that, who needed girly magazines?

  Kenny pulled out several maple planks and put them on the workbench. He was going to match the grain and plane them to dimension, to be sure the opposing parts were exactly the same. For the cradle to move right and be safe, it had to be exact. Balanced. He felt one of those metaphors sneaking up on him, but he fought it off with a big whiff of the wood.

  He knew Jack had never done anything like that for Jeremiah. Kenny was gonna love being one up on his cousin. Hell, in the being there for his baby department, Kenny was gonna be a bunch up on the jerk.

  Kenny thought he heard something at the back door. It was Dori. Damn it, that girl just had surgery and sure as hell isn’t supposed to be driving.

  Dori walked in and started looking around. She was clutching something in her hand. “Where’s everyone else?” she demanded.

  “Ah, they, ah…” He saw his pay stub in her hand and knew he was busted.

  “You lied to me? You aren’t allowed to lie to me, Kenny Brewer.”

  The words roared out of her, and he could only think maybe those hormones weren’t all out of her yet after all. “Sorry,” he said.

  “Sorry? Did you think I wouldn’t notice there’s no overtime on your check? What the hell have you been up to?” She started nosing around, craning her neck to look toward the break room.

  Kenny wanted to tell her what he’d been up to was bending over backward so far that he thought he’d either snap in two or stay bent like a sapling after one of those unexpected ice storms. He wanted to remind her that he’d been as happy as a pig in shit until she started this baby crap. What he didn’t want to tell her though, was now that she’d got this thing started, all he ever thought about was having a kid. And he was scared shitless that if something went wrong, he couldn’t go back to being happy like they were before.

  Kenny didn’t say any of that. Instead, he said, “Well screw me for wanting to surprise you with something nice. I don’t know why I even bother.”

  “A surprise?” She ran her hand along one piece of the maple, and he had to keep himself from being defensive and pulling it away from her. “What are you making?” she asked.

  He kicked at a scrap of oak. “A cradle.”

  “Oh, Kenny.”

  He took a big breath. “I hadn’t thought about there being no overtime on my check. You’re probably scared to death that our kid’s gonna be stupid just like me, huh?”

  “You’re not stupid.”

  “Any idiot would have known,” he said.

  “Yeah, but you’re not just any idiot. You’re my sweet, handsome, loveable idiot.” She saw the blueprints for the cradle and picked them up. “I love it.”

  “Look here.” He pointed to the base. “The trestle design will make it real safe.”

  She smiled and glanced around. “Is there anything else?”

  He thought about the rocking chair he’d decided not to make. Would she always expect more from him than he could actually deliver? He forced a smile. “Maybe.”

  †

  Macy carried J-man into his room and tucked him into bed with a kiss and a whispered goodnight. He’d drifted off on the sofa after Sharon helped him draw his dog, Bella, and a horse he’d named Buster. He was sound asleep, and Macy knew nothing short of a tornado would wake him once he was out.

  Sharon had come over to help distract Macy from worrying about her procedure the next day. When Sharon had asked if she was excited, Macy reminded her that the stats weren’t in favor of the embryo implant taking the first time.

  Macy had been giddy waiting for her to arrive, and she found herself unable to keep her mind and eyes off Sharon once she did get there. Macy couldn’t deny that she’d been thinking about Sharon more and more.

  She paused in the hallway and watched Sharon pick up a framed photo from the bookshelf. It was Macy’s favorite one, the one of her holding Jeremiah just after he was born. Sharon ran her finger along the edge of the frame, similar to the way she often outlined the base of her wineglass.

  Her glass stood almost empty on the coffee table. Macy had bought a bottle of Sharon’s favorite red wine, but she’d only had one glass. She told Macy she was on self-imposed restriction, limiting what she would allow herself each night.

  Sharon spoke without looking away from the picture. “You were such a beautiful new mother.”

  “Ah, past tense?” Macy’s audacity surprised even herself.

  Sharon gave Macy a puzzled look from over her shoulder. “You know what I mean.” She set the picture down and glanced at the others nestled between paperback mysteries and a field guide to regional birds.

  Next she picked up the picture of Macy sitting under the overpass by the canal. Surrounded by graffiti, Macy sat with her arms around her knees, which she’d drawn up to her chest.

  Macy walked across the living room and looked over Sharon’s shoulder at the picture. Her black eyes gazed back, and she saw herself, saw the content of the photo, not the photographer. Emma flitted through her thoughts but did not take root.

  Sharon still wasn’t looking at her. “When you told me about Grace offering to be Dori’s surrogate after all, you didn’t give me details about Dori turning her down.”

  Earlier, Macy had changed the subject because her emotions had threatened to get t
he better of her. “It seems Grace thought there was an income involved in the deal.”

  “Ah-ha.”

  “But the best part was when Grace said she thought Dori wanted family to carry her baby.” Macy took a deep breath, determined to keep her voice steady. “And Dori said, ‘Macy is family.’”

  Sharon turned and took Macy’s hand. The gesture was meant to comfort her, but it did much more than that. Sharon must have sensed it, because she quickly let go and returned her hand to the picture.

  Macy was left staring at Sharon’s back and arms. Her heart was pounding its way to her throat. Blood surged through her and pooled just under her skin and beneath her nipples. Her hormones caught a ride with the current. They raged.

  Desire had crept up on Macy. She couldn’t remember exactly when her thoughts had crossed the line from pure admiration to something less cerebral. Sometime after the surrogate contract and breaking up with Michael, Macy had started looking for any excuse to see Sharon. Shared glances and accidental touches sparked responses from more than one body part.

  Urgency coursed through Macy. Each heartbeat, marking time, reminded her that her body would soon not be totally hers. If all went well the next day, she would share herself with a part of Dori and Kenny; she would be host and guardian to a precious life.

  But for this moment, this blood, this skin, this ache was hers.

  Sharon put down the photo and smiled. “Hot flash?”

  “What?”

  “You’re bright red,” she said.

  “Oh.” Oh, indeed.

  Macy wanted her so much. She wanted to feel her inside her. She wanted to taste her. To be on the receiving end of those fingers, that mouth…

  “Are you okay?” Sharon asked.

  “Yes.” The word came out breathy, and Macy was immediately embarrassed. Had she really presumed Sharon would be with someone like her? After having such a romance with Jess, why would she settle?

  “Macy, you don’t look well.”

  Blood, like minutes, passed through her. One pulse at a time.

  Macy could smell the fruitiness of Sharon’s earlier glass of wine. She was glad that Sharon had decided to cut back on drinking, though not necessarily that night. She blurted out, “Have you ever wanted someone to the point that you felt you’d burst?”

  Sharon’s eyebrow cocked.

  “Of course you have. With Jess.”

  She nodded.

  Her entire life, Macy had been a fraud about anything that even resembled passion. Worse than faking an orgasm, she’d faked intimacy—with Jack, Michael, even Emma to a large degree. She’d never wanted anyone in such a complete, all-consuming way. And in wanting Sharon like that, she didn’t know how to react, or where to place the blame. Was it hormones? Karma?

  “And now?” Macy asked.

  “Now I remember all that I can without getting to the point of losing it.”

  “Losing it?”

  “Control. Sometimes remembering can be physically painful. Sometimes memories aren’t enough, or they’re too much.”

  “Do you fantasize about Jess?” Macy asked.

  “Oh, yeah. My biggest fantasy is to have the chance to be with her one last time, to be over-the-top passionate like we were before she got sick.”

  Macy leaned against the wall for some much-needed support. Her lower back, just above her tail bone, rested against the chair railing.

  “Let me help,” Macy said. “Let me be your one last time, your over-the-top.”

  “What?” Sharon looked only half-there, half-aware.

  Macy put her hands on Sharon’s hips and guided her closer. “Let me be Jess.” She brought Sharon’s hand to her breast. Surely she could feel how much Jess wanted her, needed her?

  “Jess is gone.” Sharon lowered her hand.

  Macy pulled Sharon against her. Sharon closed her eyes, and Macy felt encouraged enough to take the risk. She lightly touched her mouth to Sharon’s and sucked her top lip into her mouth. “One last time,” she whispered. “You and Jess…”

  With her hands entangled in Macy’s hair, Sharon pulled her closer. Her tongue found Macy’s and engulfed her with tingling and need.

  With both hands, Sharon tugged at Macy’s waistband, clawing until the silver disk slipped from its buttonhole. She slid her hand inside Macy’s jeans, pushed aside her damp panties, and found where her desire had pooled.

  Macy’s breath rushed out. She clutched the chair railing, its bottom edge digging into her fingertips.

  “Jess,” Sharon whispered.

  “Yes, yes.”

  Her fingers sank into Macy, and Macy melted into the wall.

  Then Sharon stopped. “Oh God.”

  She started to pull out of Macy, but Macy grabbed her hand, holding it to her, begging her without words to take control from her, for her.

  “We can’t do this,” Sharon said. “This isn’t right. Jess is gone and—”

  “Sharon, I’m sorry, but please don’t stop.”

  “You want this?” The question was asked into Macy’s neck. Her breath was hot, and Macy’s neck was wet with her sweat, or Sharon’s tears, or both. “You want this?” Sharon repeated.

  “I want this. I need this.”

  “Let go.”

  Macy released her grip on Sharon’s hand and braced herself for the emptiness Sharon would leave behind when she pulled her fingers out.

  Sharon pushed deeper inside, causing Macy to whimper. “You’re sure?” she asked, her voice ragged.

  “Yes,” Macy begged.

  Sharon whispered Macy’s name, and Macy knew it was no longer a game. Sharon’s mouth found hers, and her tongue echoed the searching, probing movements of her fingers.

  Macy reached for the button on Sharon’s jeans, but as Sharon took Macy’s hand and held it hostage against the wall, Macy understood.

  Sharon’s fingers twisted inside, and her hand flattened against Macy, smearing her with wetness, scrambling her thoughts, buckling her knees. She came hard against the palm of Sharon’s hand and relished that precious balance between control and the lack of it.

  Macy would have sunk to the floor had Sharon’s body not held her up. The contrast between the wall at her back and the softness of Sharon pinning her there was almost more than Macy could take.

  Sharon stood very still and pressed her body against Macy’s until Macy stopped shaking. Then Sharon whispered, “This can’t happen again.”

  Macy could think of so many reasons why Sharon wouldn’t want them to be sexual again. A stronger woman might have asked why, but all Macy could do was choke out, “Okay.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Implant

  The paper liner crinkled under Macy. When she put her feet in the cold stirrups, her thighs, buttocks, and lower back tightened. The memory of her muscles contracting the night before with Sharon sent a wave of heat sweeping over Macy’s skin.

  She steadied her breathing.

  Dr. Benson draped a sheet over her legs. Macy crossed her arms just under her breasts, and thoughts of Sharon crept in. Nothing could have prepared her for the longing she felt as Sharon sank deeper into her, or for the surge of feeling, physical and emotional, at the precise moment when—

  But Macy was familiar with the consequences of crossing that line in a friendship. This wasn’t the first time she’d felt guilt festering in her gut, or the aftershock of regret threatening to choke her.

  “Slide down farther,” Dr. Benson said.

  She did as she was told, and the sound of the paper became a hissing voice. Why can’t you leave things alone? First Emma, now Sharon. And what about Dorianne? Why are you really doing this for her?

  Macy squeezed her eyes shut. Leave me alone, she pleaded. Just leave me alone.

  Then she made a choice. No negative thoughts. She only wanted positive energy during the implant. She stared at the white-tiled ceiling and wondered what Jeremiah was doing at that moment. Her precious, sweet J-man, the one person she could trust
not to pass judgment on her. She imagined holding him, smelling the sun in his hair.

  “When you get home today, you’ll need to take it easy, but you’ll be able to resume your normal activities in three to four days.” Dr. Benson’s voice drifted from behind the tent made by the stark, white sheet draped across Macy’s knees.

  She closed her eyes again.

  “I’m now inserting the catheter,” he said.

  Cramps wracked her abdomen, and she arched up off the table a couple of inches. She took a deep breath and lay back flat.

  “This procedure sends some patients through the roof. Others barely know I’m there.”

  Macy was well aware of Dr. Benson’s presence. She took several more deep breaths. Once the surprise of the unexpected cramping wore off, she felt better. It wasn’t much worse than the bad menstrual cramps she had when she was younger, before having Jeremiah.

  “The uterus is a funny thing,” said Dr. Benson, almost to himself. He raised his voice a little and added, “It doesn’t like having something in it, so it rebels. Seems counter to—”

  His words were lost as Macy tensed and gripped the side of the padded table. She squeezed her eyes shut until the wave of pain subsided.

  “We’ll use progesterone to continue building the uterine wall, and you’ll have a pregnancy test in two weeks.”

  Macy whispered, “Okay,” but she wasn’t paying attention. She was thinking that when it was all over, she’d take Jeremiah somewhere special. Maybe the beach. Or to pan for gold up in the mountains. She knew he’d like that.

  “All done,” Dr. Benson said. He left the room, but the nurse stayed behind.

  Bearing down on her hands for leverage, Macy slid back. Why? The voice started again, before she could even get out of the gown and into her clothes. Why are you doing this?

  †

  Just as she’d done the day before, Cam shut the door behind her and watched as Jeremiah ran to his mother on the sofa. Cam tensed for a moment, hoping he wouldn’t jar Macy too badly with his enthusiasm to be home.