The Misconception

by Gardner, Darlene

  Marietta sat stiffly on an uncomfortable-looking leather chair, wearing an unbecoming tweed suit that had orange as a base color. The camera panned in on her, and lettering appeared at the bottom of the screen proclaiming her an evolutionary biologist from Kennedy College in Washington D.C. Considering they were just introducing her, apparently he hadn’t missed much.

  Jax thought it was all quite impressive until he got a good look at her face. It was light green, sort of like the effect St. Patrick’s Day revelers got when they spray-painted their faces in an effort to capture the holiday spirit.

  He moved closer to the television, trying to locate the controls for tint so he could fix the facial tones. Then the camera switched to the host of the show, who wasn’t green. Douglas Donaldson’s telegenic face glowed with health and the usual warm tones of skin. Donaldson said something Jax couldn’t quite hear, and the camera panned back to Marietta.

  Yep, she was still green. To make matters worse, the chair she sat on was a rich burgundy. Jax winced. The orange of Marietta’s suit wouldn’t have been such a bad contrast to burgundy if it hadn’t been mixed with green.

  A sick feeling crept into his stomach, but he bet it was nothing like the one churning inside Marietta’s. He’d seen first-hand evidence of her morning sickness.

  Marietta said something, and he turned up the volume just as the camera cut back to Douglas Donaldson.

  “We’re very happy to have you here today, Dr. Dalrymple,” Donaldson said. Jax backed up until he was sitting on the bed, never taking his eyes off the screen. “We heard from other scientists earlier in the show who talked about evolution’s effect on physiology, social structure and survival skills. I understand you’re going to talk about sex.”

  Marietta nodded. “Specifically, sex and motherhood.”

  “Yes. You have a somewhat unorthodox take on the subject, as evidenced by your recent scientific paper, Motherhood Without Males.”

  Jax tried to catch the breath that had suddenly whooshed from his lungs. He’d thought she was going to talk about Sex Without Love or Quantity Versus Quality or any of a hundred other topics on which she had drastic views.

  But Motherhood Without Males? When the seed he’d planted was growing in her belly?

  “Yes, that’s correct, Mr. Donaldson,” Marietta said.

  “But how could that be? Motherhood without males seems to be a classic oxymoron.”

  “It isn’t an oxymoron at all. Considering the options women have today with artificial insemination, at least some part of a man has to be present at conception. That’s an inarguable truth.” Despite her greenness, Marietta’s voice was strong. Jax would have been proud of her for fighting through the nausea if she’d been discussing anything else. “My point is that, for some women, men become superfluous after conception. They simply aren’t needed.”

  “Like hell they’re not.” Jax shouted at the screen at the same time Donaldson cleared his throat.

  “That’s certainly an interesting viewpoint,” he said, “but I’m not sure I understand the scientific basis for your argument. Throughout time, women have needed men to play integral roles in familial structures.”

  “Way to go, Douglas, my man,” Jax told the host, even though he suspected Donaldson wasn’t his type of man at all. It looked as though not a hair on the man’s very erect head would move if he slapped him on the back.

  “With all due respect, that’s simply not true.” Marietta swayed a little but righted herself admirably. Sweat broke out on her lime-colored brow. “Some women, without a doubt, desperately need the resources men can provide to help them raise their children. But that is not true of all women.”

  “So what’s your point?” Jax asked the screen.

  “It would help if I gave you a little history on the subject,” Marietta continued as though she had heard him, which of course she hadn’t even though he was talking in a voice several decibels too loud. “In societies of old, women were poor and essentially powerless compared to men. So it made evolutionary sense for women to seek out men with resources.

  “Going back even further in time to the Ice Age and the dawn of humans, life was so rigorous for prehistoric women that they needed men to help them and their children survive. They never knew when a mastodon or a saber-toothed tiger would appear on the scene.”

  Jax relaxed a little. He didn’t see where Marietta was going with her argument, but now she was making as much sense as she ever did. Despite it all, he couldn’t help being impressed by how brainy she sounded.

  “That’s all well and good, but I’m afraid I don’t see how you made the leap that mothers don’t need men,” Donaldson said, echoing Jax’s thoughts.

  “Simple.” Marietta closed her eyes briefly before continuing. “We live in a brand new world. Females have made tremendous strides in the workplace, and an entire class of economically independent women has sprung forth. It’s women like us — I’m including myself in the equation — who don’t need men.”

  “Bullshit,” Jax shouted.

  Two heavy raps sounded on the connecting wall between Jax’s room and the next one down the hall.

  “Hey, keep it down. I’m trying to sleep in here,” a gruff voice that sounded familiar shouted back, proving conclusively that even the best hotels could use thicker walls.

  On the television screen, Donaldson screwed up his perfect brow. “I’d respectfully have to disagree with you on that point, Dr. Dalrymple. I’m a married man myself. Because my wife is a lawyer who works long hours, we split child-rearing duties. I maintain that our three children need me as much as they need her.”

  “You’re damn right they do,” Jax said, making an effort not to shout.

  “That may be true in your case, but I maintain that it doesn’t follow in all cases.” Marietta, true to character, wouldn’t listen to reason. “We can look at the animal kingdom for examples. It’s the norm, rather than the exception, for male animals to take no part in rearing their young.

  “The female elephant uses the male for copulation but has decided he’s more trouble than he’s worth. The mother and her calf live in a herd of females with no paternal involvement, thus proving the utter uselessness of the male.”

  Donaldson, to his credit, kept a better grasp of his cool than Jax did. “But how pertinent is it, Dr. Dalrymple, to apply animal behavior to human behavior?”

  “Yeah. How can you do that?” Jax’s voice rose to crescendo proportions, but he couldn’t help it.

  Two more raps sounded on the wall.“I said keep it down,” the voice screamed in now-recognizable fury. It belonged to Savage Knight, whose name fit him just as well outside the ring as it did in.

  “Guess the Knight’s not much of a morning person,” Jax muttered.

  “There’s a direct correlation.” Marietta pursed her lips and, if possible, got a darker shade of green. Jax forgot about Savage Knight. She didn’t say anything for long moments, and Jax hoped Donaldson kept empty receptacles on hand. Before long, Marietta started to talk again. “Which woman do you think is most likely to divorce? The one who can support her children on her own? Or the one who is financially disadvantaged? Women today are constantly deciding in favor of motherhood without males, just like the elephants.”

  “I’d like to ask you a question, Doctor,” Donaldson began.

  Marietta nodded but didn’t reply. She not-so—

  surreptitiously took out a small plastic packet from her suit-jacket pocket and opened it. Jax recognized her bounty as a salted cracker just before she popped it into her mouth.

  “You’re an attractive woman,” Donaldson said. When she wasn’t the color of an avocado and munching on crackers, Jax amended. “If you were expecting and the man who got you pregnant offered to help out, wouldn’t you take him up on the offer?”

  “She is pregnant,” Jax yelled at the screen. “And I have offered.”

  The pounding from the adjacent room got more savage. That made sense considering the o
ther wrestler’s act consisted of using the ropes like giant rubber bands to bodily fling himself at opponents while emitting savage screams. “Hey, I’m a reasonable man,” Savage Knight shouted. “But I asked you to KEEP IT DOWN IN THERE.”

  Jax turned up the volume on the television as high as it would go to drown out the ruckus next door and waited for Marietta’s answer. She was so unpredictable he had no idea what she’d say. Maybe she’d confess she was pregnant and advocate that like-minded women try a more secure version of her Conception Connection. Or maybe she’d announce her plans to build a space station that allowed mothers and children but no men.

  Either way, it was adamantly clear to Jax that she hadn’t listened to a word he’d said. She had no intention of marrying him and letting him play an integral role in their child’s life. He might as well have been talking to air for all the attention she’d paid him.

  “Well?” Donaldson prodded when Marietta didn’t answer.

  Marietta put up a hand while her face went into contortions that were painful to watch. The same facial contortions Jax had witnessed in her office just before she’d sprinted for the bathroom. To the untrained eye, it probably seemed like she was considering a particularly difficult question. Marietta swallowed and stared into the camera.

  “You know as well as I do, Mr. Donaldson, that scientists strive not to let personal experience color their pursuit of scientific truths. But my answer is that women have to learn to rely on themselves instead of the unreliable promises of men.”

  The credits began running across the bottom of the television screen, and Donaldson announced that was all the time they had. Jax’s hand accidentally hit the remote. The channel changed, and Marietta’s green and determined face was replaced by that of a young, long-haired beauty shot in soft focus and holding up an intricately designed box that contained a diaphragm.

  “The next time he reaches for you,” she said in a breathless voice, “reach for Sperm Shun, birth control you can rely on.”

  Jax picked up the remote and switched off the television. He’d been willing to give Marietta time to come to her senses about marrying him and giving their child a two-parent home, but the little stunt she’d pulled on national television convinced him he needed to take drastic measures.

  The task at hand was Herculean, but he wasn’t daunted by it. He meant to infiltrate her world, and he knew exactly how to do it.

  But first, he’d have to deal with the savage who was now trying to knock down his hotel-room door.

  Chapter 13

  Business. Jax had said he had business he couldn’t get out of, which was exactly what he’d claimed in the hotel room when she’d believed him to be Harold McGinty.

  Not for the first time, Marietta wondered what kind of business was so important it drove a man to leave steamy sex in a hotel bed and then a nauseous woman he’d made pregnant.

  Her concentration too shot to focus on her article for the Journal of American Biology, she pushed her wheeled chair back from her computer desk and rose. She’d been in the middle of a sentence describing the eight-second mating act of the baboon, but her baboon would just have to live with coitus interruptus.

  A warm breeze blew through the open window in her den, bringing with it the scent of spring. The white blooms of the dogwood trees visible through the window did a wind-aided dance, rivaled in beauty only by the shimmering pink of nearby cherry trees.

  The Sunday-afternoon splendor was so mesmerizing that Marietta would have forgiven herself if it were the weather distracting her. But she wouldn’t lie to herself. Thoughts of Jax had sidetracked her from the usually enthralling subject of primate mating habits, and that was unforgivable.

  She hadn’t had any choice but to think about him after he’d issued that ridiculous, eminently unworkable proposal in the toilet stall and bribed her into eating bean curds before rushing away on business. But that was two weeks ago.

  Worrying about whether he really would claim his paternal rights had occupied the better part of the first week, in which he’d bombarded her with telephone calls.

  But, in the end, rebuffing him had been ridiculously easy. She’d turned off her home answering machine, told the biology department secretary she wasn’t taking his calls and hung up whenever he managed to get her on the phone.

  After three days, he’d given up, proving he was just like every other irresponsible man she’d ever met. Sure, one of his sperm had managed to penetrate the membrane of her ovum, but he had millions more where that one came from.

  Jax talked a good game, but he was a man, and men had inexhaustible, replenishable supplies of reproductive material. Because of that, his single-sperm investment in her unborn child was extremely low.

  Which was precisely why she should concentrate on holding food down and getting enough rest rather than wasting any more time thinking about Jax. Especially because she was glad — very glad; no, make that intensely, exceedingly glad — that he’d reverted from expectant father back to sperm supplier.

  As such, he didn’t warrant another thought. No matter how deep seated her evolutionary desire to hold onto a man who could protect and provide for her.

  She’d been standing at the window for five minutes, but only now did her mind process what her eyes, with their newly fitted contact lenses, were seeing. Parked in front of her row of townhouses was a white moving truck with an open trailer hitch, from which spilled extremely large, broad-shouldered men toting heavy, wood-intensive furniture.

  It could only mean one thing. A man was moving into the vacant townhouse next to hers. Because she was sure the for-sale sign had been up just last week, that was more than a little odd. Unless her previous neighbor had decided to rent instead of sell, there hadn’t been much time to finalize a deal.

  The phone rang just as two movers hoisted an overstuffed cinnamon-colored sofa from the truck, and Marietta crossed the room to answer it. “Hello.”

  “Tracy?”

  “No, it’s Marietta.”

  “Of course. I’d forgotten how much alike you two sound.” The man’s voice was familiar, but Marietta couldn’t quite place it. “Is Tracy there?”

  “No, she’s not,” Marietta said slowly, her stomach clenching as a suspicion of the caller’s identity gripped her. But she had to be mistaken. It couldn’t be who she thought it was. “Can I take a message?”

  “Sure. Just tell her Ryan called and the gang from the Black Eyed Peas concert is still meeting at Paddy’s Pub tomorrow night at nine.”

  “Ryan.” Marietta ground out the name, hardly able to believe her suspicion had proved correct. “Ryan Caminetti.”

  “Last I checked, that was still my name.” A click sounded on the other end of the line, signaling an incoming call. “Listen, Marietta, I’ve got to go. I’m expecting an important call. Nice talking to you.”

  The phone line went dead, and Marietta stared at the receiver in dismay before she put it back on the cradle. Her sister’s no-good husband had some nerve calling here, acting as though he were still on good terms with Tracy. Remembering what he said, alarms chimed in her head. He hadn’t issued an invitation, but confirmed one that had already been extended. And what did the reference to the concert mean? Did it mean Tracy had been meeting with Ryan?

  Marietta heard the rattle of a car’s engine through the open window and hurried to the window, watching as her sister’s battered cherry-red Honda pulled up to the curb behind the moving truck and a low-slung black sports car she didn’t recognize.

  Tracy got out of the car, smiled widely and dashed across the lawn to where one of the behemoth moving men stood with his back to Marietta’s townhouse. Then she anchored a hand on his shoulder, stood on tiptoe to reach his cheek and kissed it.

  Marietta staggered backward in shock. Cavorting with her no-good ex-husband. Kissing strange moving men. What had gotten into her sister?

  She dashed down the stairs, wondering which subject to tackle first. Ryan. Definitely Ryan. Smooching
a stranger wasn’t her sister’s brightest move, but it paled in comparison to re-establishing contact with Ryan of little faithfulness. Besides, she could understand the buss to the behemoth. From the back, the man had a magnificent build rivaled only by the physique of the man she swore she wouldn’t think about anymore.

  She flung open the door before Tracy could open it herself. Her sister’s smile seemed even sunnier than usual, probably because she was wearing canary-yellow leggings and a matching overshirt decorated with brightly colored geometrical shapes.

  “Hey, Mari, you’ll never guess who—”

  “You just had a phone call,” Marietta interrupted. “From Ryan. He said something about you meeting him tonight at Paddy’s Pub.”

  Her sister’s smile disappeared. “Don’t look at me that way, Mari. I should have mentioned he might call, but it’s no big deal.”

  “No big deal? We’re talking about Ryan Caminetti here.”

  “Who’s Ryan Caminetti?”

  The rich, sexy voice came from behind Tracy, shocking Marietta into silence. Her eyes slid past her sister and zinged upward to the man’s symmetrically proportioned features before it came to rest on his incredibly soft lips. Jax. The behemoth Tracy had been kissing wasn’t a moving man at all. It was her baby’s sperm supplier.

  How could she have missed him when she’d thrown open the door? How, for the second time in a matter of weeks, had she allowed herself to be stunned by his appearing act?

  “Ryan Caminetti is my husband,” Tracy answered, moving into the house. “We’re separated.”

  “So what’s shocking about him calling you?” Jax asked as he trailed after Tracy. “Hey, Marietta.”

  Not one of her muscles had moved since he’d invaded her sanctuary, not even the ones controlling her mouth, which she feared was hanging open in shock. She forced her jaw to close, but it just dropped open again when she took in his appearance.