ONE EAGER BRIDE TO GO

by Pamela Burford

  Charli sighed. "I didn't want to make some kind of big announcement that we were trying, in case it takes a while. Or in case it doesn't take."

  Mrs. Rossi cackled. "If I didn't have this arthritis, I'd already be sewing the receiving blankets." As she said this, she rubbed her gnarled knuckles. Sunny thought for sure she'd spot Amanda's handiwork, but she never glanced down at her fingers as she told her granddaughter, "This time next year, you'll be cuddling your own bambino. I only hope I'm still around to see it."

  No one bothered to respond to that last, wistful statement. Mrs. Rossi had been bemoaning her imminent demise since before Sunny and the others had been born, and would no doubt do so for many years to come.

  "Look, Sunny," Raven said, "we all know this thing with Kirk is a terrible shock, but think about what you'd be giving up if you ended it now. In all other respects, he's perfect for you."

  "What's the use in postponing the inevitable?" Exchanging the spatula for long-handled tongs, Sunny turned the links of Italian sausage, wonderfully aromatic and striped with grill marks. "Nothing can come of this relationship."

  "Raven's right," Charli said. "You need a chance to come to terms with this whole thing. You need time to think about it. Instead of impulsively calling it—"

  "Impulsive?" Sunny gestured broadly with tongs. "You've known me my whole life, practically. What's the one thing I've always wanted? The only thing I've wanted? This is not some impulsive whim!"

  Charli looked pained. "I didn't mean that. I…"

  "Is it too much to ask for?" Sunny's voice had turned shrill; tears of anger and frustration filmed her eyes. "A family of my own. Children! I envy you, Raven. I'm jealous of what you have, and I don't like feeling that way. I don't like being the kind of person who—" Her voice broke. "I love you, Raven, you know that. I really am thrilled for you and Hunter. I just…"

  "I know, honey." Raven wrapped her arms around Sunny and hugged her tightly. "I know." After a few moments she pulled back and looked at her. "There are other ways."

  Sunny wiped a tear off her cheek. She took a deep breath. "Adoption's not for me."

  "Have you really thought about it?" Amanda asked. "I mean, what I'm hearing sounds like a knee-jerk reaction. An adopted child would be just as much your own as—"

  "I know that," Sunny said tightly. "And no, I haven't really thought about it because I've always known just what I want. And that's not it."

  The others exchanged a look. Charli said, "Maybe you should kind of expand your thinking at this point, consider things you never did before. Rather than give up a good man who loves you."

  How could Sunny make them understand? If her lifelong dream could never be fulfilled, then her life up to that point would have been a waste. All her sacrifices, all those years putting her mind on hold and running herself ragged at Wafflemania—all of it would have been for nothing. Sunny didn't think she could face that.

  As she transferred the burgers to a platter and put the hot dogs onto cook, she said, "You know, whatever the rest of you wanted in life, you went after. And got. Your careers, all that. You didn't lower your standards, your expectations. Why should I?"

  Mrs. Rossi spoke up. "How about a sperm bank?" The four young women stared at her. "I saw it on Dateline. The sperm, it comes from a medical student, a nice boy from a good famiglia. The mama, she give birth, not like adoption. It's a good, uh…" As she groped for the right word, she twirled her hand in front of her face, somehow blind to Amanda's Day-Glo paint job. "Compromesso."

  "Compromise," Charli translated.

  "Sì, compromise. It's a good compromise," she told Sunny with a brisk nod. "You do this."

  As far as Mrs. Rossi was concerned, the issue was clearly settled. Problem solved.

  "I appreciate the suggestion," Sunny said, "but it isn't the same. To me, a child represents the ultimate union of a man and a woman—part me, part the man I love." In a small voice she added, "I guess I'm just not ready to compromise on something so important to me."

  Quietly Raven said, "There's Ian."

  Something squeezed hard inside Sunny's chest. "Ian's a great kid. You know how much I … I love him."

  "And he loves you, too," Charli said. "Anyone can see that."

  Sunny didn't want to think about how close she and Kirk's son had already become. He'd lost his mother, and now he was going to lose her. The best thing she could do for Ian now was to keep her distance. To let him forget her.

  Mrs. Rossi didn't pull any punches. "That boy needs a mama."

  "Don't do that to me," Sunny pleaded. "That isn't what this is about."

  "It's part of what it's about," Charli said.

  "He's—he's not my responsibility," Sunny said, trying to put conviction in her voice, hating her friends in that moment for making her say these things, think these things. "If what Kirk wants is just a stand-in mother for his son, he's picked the wrong woman."

  "Is that what he wants?" Raven asked.

  Sunny couldn't lie. "No. I mean, I think he'd be happy if Ian had two parents, but that isn't what this relationship is about for him. He wants me for me."

  Amanda pulled off her sunglasses and looked her in the eye, and in that instant Sunny glimpsed the vulnerability her friend kept so deeply hidden, the legacy of two disastrous marriages. "Do you have any idea how lucky you are?" she asked.

  "Is 'lucky' supposed to hurt this much?" Sunny looked at each woman in turn. "Are you really going to put me through five more weeks of this?"

  Raven said, "Something tells me Kirk is hurting, too. Sunny, if we didn't feel so strongly that the two of you need each other, it would be different."

  "So there will be no reprieve," Sunny said.

  "You make it sound like we're sticking bamboo shoots under your fingernails," Amanda stated. "We're only holding you to the agreement you freely made."

  "Ha!" Mrs. Rossi stabbed her finger at Amanda. "You made the agreement, too. So don't say, 'No husband for me.'"

  Amanda smiled serenely. "How do you like your manicure, Mrs. Rossi?"

  Sunny's heart flipped over as Charli's grandmother splayed her fingers in front of her face and inspected them. Her expression never changed. "It's growing on me."

  "Nonni!" Charli stared slack-jawed at her grandmother. "You noticed?"

  "You think I could sleep with all of you yap-yap-yapping like gazzas?" Mrs. Rossi made talking motions with her hand. "I knew what this one was up to," she said, jerking her head toward Amanda.

  "Well, now that you've gotten over the shock—" Amanda smirked at the others "—what do you think of the color?"

  The old woman examined her nails again. "Eh. What else you got?"

  "I don't believe this," Charli muttered. "You wouldn't even let me put a coat of clear on your nails, Nonni."

  Sunny smiled wryly. "I think your mistake was asking, Charli."

  Amanda reached into her purse and dumped a multicolored assortment of little bottles on Mrs. Rossi's lap. "You look these over while I strip off this color." She produced a bottle of nail-polish remover and some cotton balls. "What do you think of the brick-red?"

  "You!" Outraged color flooded Charli's face. "You told me you didn't have any remover!"

  "No, she didn't," Mrs. Rossi corrected as she pawed through the bottles. "She said, 'Why would I schlepp it around?' What are dragon-lady press-ons?" she asked Amanda.

  "I'll bring some next time."

  * * *

  Chapter 10

  «^»

  Exiting Garrison University's physics building, Kirk left the walking path and cut across the lawn toward the ivy-covered main library. Now that the fall semester was in full swing, the campus was a swarm of noise and activity, with students hurrying from classrooms and labs to dormitories, dining halls, the student union and various libraries. It was late afternoon, the day warm but overcast, the air thick with the promise of rain.

  Kirk had had misgivings about leaving his position at prestigious Stanford University to teac
h here at Garrison. After all, Garrison couldn't hope to pull in the kinds of donations and endowments enjoyed by the larger institutions. Likewise, it struggled to attract the highest echelon of students, the brilliant young minds that flocked to the Ivies and the better-known research universities—the kind of student Kirk himself had once been.

  But what Garrison lacked in funds and prestige, it made up for in other ways. Classes were kept small; undergraduates were taught by full professors rather than grad students, and had ample opportunity to engage in research. Some exciting, innovative work was being quietly conducted behind these venerable redbrick walls.

  And while Garrison's administration liked to see its faculty members' names in the journals, the emphasis was on teaching rather than publishing. Kirk's office was across the hall from the classrooms where he taught; his students had plenty of access to him.

  All in all, this major move, while prompted by tragedy and loss, was turning into one of the best decisions he'd ever made.

  Kirk's thoughts were interrupted by a glimpse of long, reddish-brown hair at the periphery of his vision. Sunny, he thought, even as he told himself he was mistaken. It was some girl with similar hair; it had to be. He squinted into the distant crowd of students, lost sight of her, shook his head at his foolishness and continued on his way.

  The knot of students parted and there she was, his Sunny. He stopped dead in his tracks, staring as she strode briskly in the direction he'd come from. She wore an Asian-print T-shirt tucked into baggy denim cargo shorts, and had her leather backpack purse slung over one shoulder.

  "Sunny!" She didn't hear him. Loping toward her, he cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed, "Sunny!"

  She slowed and glanced around, finally spotting Kirk, who quickly closed the distance between them. He knew he was wearing a stupid grin, but he couldn't help it. He hadn't seen her since last Saturday, another of those tiresome double dates she now insisted on so the two of them wouldn't have to engage in any meaningful communication. He and Sunny hadn't been alone together since he'd told her about his vasectomy two weeks earlier.

  "You almost missed me," he said. "My last class just ended. I'm on my way to the library. There's a great little bistro there—I'll buy you some cappuccino and cherry cheesecake." He urged her along with a hand to her waist, but she stood rooted to the spot.

  "Kirk, I didn't come here looking for you."

  For an instant it was as if she were speaking in a foreign tongue. What business could Sunny Bleecker have on campus that didn't involve him?

  His confounded expression wasn't lost on her. Her features hardened, just a bit, and it struck Kirk that somehow he'd managed to insult her.

  "I registered for a course," she said. "There's this archaeological project where you help excavate a Native American village."

  "Yeah, I, uh, think I heard about that." Kirk was still mentally off balance, but he quickly recovered. "It's through the archaeology department here. Who heads up that project?"

  "Monica Goldfarb."

  "I haven't met her, but I've heard good things about her."

  Sunny glanced toward her destination—the social sciences building, just past the physics building—clearly impatient to be on her way. "I have to pick up some materials, and Dr. Goldfarb's assistant is going to meet with me to get me caught up. Basically it's a summer program, but there are still a few weeks of digging left and a couple of people had to quit, so they're letting me join late."

  "That's great. That's really … I never knew you were interested in that stuff."

  "I'm interested in a lot of things."

  "Well, yeah, of course you are. I guess I'm just surprised to see you, you know…"

  She smiled without humor. "Improving my mind?"

  "No. That's not what I meant."

  "I found out I can audit courses, too. Just sit in without earning credit. I'm thinking of doing that with a couple of history courses—if they're given at the right times. I already had to rearrange my work schedule for the archaeology project. Mike gave me a hard time about it," she said, referring to her boss at Wafflemania, "but I can handle him. After twelve years of being his most reliable waitress, I'm entitled to some concessions."

  "So. You're going to college."

  "Well, sort of."

  "Maybe one day you'd like to go for your B.A. You can do that part-time, you know. You don't have to quit your job."

  "I think I'll see how this works out first," Sunny said, but he could tell the idea had occurred to her.

  This conversation was typical of their interactions the past two weeks, Kirk thought, civil and even friendly, but a far cry from their previous warm intimacy. It was as if they'd never made love, as if they'd never lain in bed half the night discussing their deepest fears and desires. They could have been two casual acquaintances. Kirk couldn't help but wonder if this was how amicably divorced couples dealt with each other.

  During the several dates they'd had since she'd learned his secret, Kirk had respected Sunny's decision to remain platonic—not that they'd had the opportunity to be anything but, always being in the company of others. He was frustrated, both emotionally and physically. He'd hoped that by this point she'd have thought things through and concluded that their relationship meant too much to her to walk away from.

  He'd done his damnedest to sway her in that direction, but since she actively avoided being alone with him, and wouldn't even stay on the phone more than a minute or two at a shot, his efforts had met with little success.

  He said, "I'll walk with you."

  "Oh, that's not necessary. I—"

  "What do you think I'm going to do to you in this crowd of people?" Exasperated, he started walking, and glanced back to see her resigned expression as she reluctantly caught up to him.

  After a few moments Kirk said, "Ian's been asking for you."

  Her gaze snapped to his, and in the fleeting instant before she turned away, he saw the aching loss she couldn't hide.

  "I know you care about him," he said.

  "Of course I care about Ian." Sunny's forced nonchalance didn't fool Kirk for an instant.

  "He's confused. He asks for you, and I don't know what to tell him."

  Kirk wondered if Sunny was aware of how much her expressive features mirrored her internal struggle.

  "Tell him…" She broke off with a ragged sigh. "You don't have to tell him anything. He'll forget me soon enough."

  Kirk stumbled to a stop. Sunny resolutely kept walking. "Why, Sunny?"

  She took another few steps and stopped, her back to him, her entire body tense. After a moment she turned, and the bleakness in her eyes told him more than he wanted to know.

  Slowly he approached her, not wanting to make this discussion public as student traffic flowed past on all sides. "You're planning to end it," he said, "I know you are. So what are you waiting for? Why keep me hanging on? Hoping?"

  "It's not … I can't. I can't just break up."

  "I never thought of you as indecisive," he said, "or the kind of manipulative woman who maneuvers the guy into doing the deed."

  She studied the grass at her feet. "I can't explain it."

  "Well, whatever caused the state of limbo we find ourselves in, I seem to be the only one who hasn't been let in on it."

  Her head came up. "What do you mean?"

  "It's like there's some kind of secret society that knows more about our relationship than I do. Or did you think I'm too dense to pick up on the weird signals I'm getting? Grant and Hunter seem dead set on keeping me from breaking it off with you."

  Sunny's eyes widened; Kirk hadn't known she could look so vulnerable. "You wanted to break up?"

  "When it's obvious you're just going through the motions? Don't tell me you're surprised."

  After a moment she said, "I guess I'm not."

  "Look." He glanced around at the throng of people passing by. "Let's take this conversation somewhere private."

  Sunny started to shake her he
ad. Kirk grabbed her arm and propelled her toward the physics building, which they were passing en route to social sciences. "Why are you so determined not to be alone with me?" he asked. "Afraid your resolve might weaken? Afraid you might have to acknowledge—to me and to yourself—just how much we mean to each other?"

  She tried to twist away from him as they passed through the front entrance of the physics building. He wouldn't let her. She said, "I have to meet with—"

  "Goldfarb's assistant can wait. This won't take long. There's something we need to discuss."

  Sunny's look of alarm would have been funny if it weren't so telling. Clearly, the last thing she wanted was meaningful communication with him, anything that would make it harder to distance herself from him.

  "Where are we going?" she asked as he directed her up the stairs to the third floor.

  He didn't respond until they were in the large classroom where he taught thermodynamics. His scrawled equations still adorned the large chalkboard, facing his lab table and the rows of tables and chairs where his students sat. He nodded toward the nearest chair. "Have a seat."

  Sunny remained standing; she folded her arms. "I'm not some intimidated little freshman, Professor Larsen, so just say what you have to say."

  "I'm thinking of having my vasectomy reversed."

  She stared mutely for a few seconds, then plopped down into the chair he'd offered. He sat next to her, but said nothing, just let her absorb his words.

  He watched hope spread across her face. He heard it in her voice when she said, "I didn't know they could do that."

  "It's a delicate microsurgical procedure. It takes about three hours, according to this doctor I talked to—a lot longer than the vasectomy did. But the thing is, reversal isn't always successful."

  A burst of raucous conversation came from the hallway as a cluster of students passed the room. Kirk got up and closed the door, then returned to the seat next to Sunny's.

  She looked at him. "What are the chances of success? Did he say?"

  "Pretty high in my case, because it was done only ten months ago. It seems the longer you wait, the less likely they'll be able to reverse it."