“No.”
“Hey, this is a two-way street. Are you telling me you don’t want kids? Ever?”
Just when she thought things had turned for the best, he was throwing her a curve. What if Zach never wanted children? She'd never considered that.
She felt stunned. If that were the case, her decision made this fall would have to stand. But after the last two nights, she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to walk away from love.
“We can’t have children, Caitlin,” he said a long moment later.
“Just because your dad died young and you got a rotten deal with your stepfather doesn’t mean you won’t be a terrific father. I know you will be.”
He brushed back her hair and kissed her. The darkness wasn’t the cozy place it once had been. Caitlin wanted to see his expression. She wanted to rail against his stubborn stance. Why was he so adamant against having children? She knew he’d be a great father.
“Listen to what I’m saying, Caitlin. We can’t have children.”
“I don’t see why you are so against it—”
“Dammit, listen! Cannot have children. Not won’t, not delay. Can not.”
She didn’t understand. “Why not?”
He released her and sat up in the bed, drawing the sheets down with him. The sudden cool air against her skin didn’t chill her as much as Zach’s words.
She sat up, straining to see him in the dark.
“What we have is good, Caitlin. We love each other. I’ll stay with you, be with you. We’ll do things like all married couples. We’ll have a good life.”
“As we would with children.”
“I can’t have children,” he said heavily.
“What do you mean you can’t have children?” she asked.
He sighed and got out of bed. She heard the sound of his jeans being pulled on. Afraid of what he would say next, she clutched the covers to her, trying to recapture the warmth.
“I cannot father a child,” he said from the darkness.
“What?”
“I’m sterile. I had mumps when I was a teenager. There’s no way I can ever father a child.”
She stared at the place from which his voice came, picturing him in her mind, wishing the lights were on. The words echoed in her mind. Sterile.
Licking dry lips, she carefully asked, “How long have you known that?”
“Since I was seventeen and my younger sister gave me the mumps. The doctor had me tested afterward.”
The words hit like a hammer. He’d wooed her and courted her and married her all the time knowing he could never have children. All these years she’d thought he was scarred by the experiences with his stepfather. That when they were ready, that when he was secure in her love, they’d start a family and he could finally experience how loving one could be.
Instead she’d been kept in the dark. He’d always known they would never have a baby.
“How could you not tell me, Zach? How could you marry me and not share this important fact? What were you thinking?”
Her eyes were dry, the pain in her heart threatened to rip it apart. She was hurt beyond tears. He had to have known she would one day want children. All couples who married had children. At least all the ones she knew did.
Yet he’d never given her a hint that they'd never have a child together.
Until tonight.
Just when everything looked perfect, he’d hit her with this.
“There are lots of couples out there who have very happy lives without children,” Zach said stiffly.
“Maybe if we’d built a solid marriage over the last six years, we’d have a chance. But this is more than I can deal with.” Caitlin felt a part of herself die. “We’ve been married six years! You couldn’t find a minute in all that time to tell me?”
“And have you say, sorry Charlie, I’m out of here? I’ve already had one woman turn on me, I didn’t want another. We didn’t discuss children at the onset. And over the years, we never talked about it. It was Sally’s death that gave you the idea. Admit it. What we have is good, Caitlin. Don’t turn your back on that!”
To her, having a family was fundamentally important. She was alone in the world except for friends and for Zach. She wanted children and grandchildren and large family gatherings at holidays. She wanted love and quiet sharing times. Laughter and funny sayings of children to treasure. She yearned to share her life with offspring. Tell them about her parents and Aunt Sally, and even Tansy. To have continuity down through the ages.
But that was never going to happen.
Zach had known that and not told her. In six years, he’d never shared that crucial fact.
She tried to absorb the magnitude of his revelation, but she was numb. She pushed aside the covers and rose. The nightie was somewhere on the floor, but she didn’t even try to find it. It scarcely provided any covering. She went to the door and out into the hall and to her room. Closing the door, she locked it. Turning on the light, she quickly dressed in warm sweats and crawled into her bed.
Her thoughts were in a jumble, but overriding them all was the knowledge that if she stayed with Zach Brandenburg, she would never become a mother.
And he'd known that all along.
Zach stood by the empty bed, listening to her walk down the hall, the closing of her door, the snick of the lock. He stared into the darkness, knowing his last hope had died.
It was only after several minutes, when he began to feel the cold, that he roused himself enough to get dressed. No point in getting back into that bed they’d shared. The memories would be more than he could deal with. He flipped on the light and found a sweatshirt. Dressing quickly, he pulled on socks and his shoes. Maybe a walk would help.
Hell, nothing was ever going to help.
He’d suspected this day might come. From the first moment she’d begun to talk about having children, he’d known he’d have to tell her. It hadn't seemed important before. She had children at school, he was gone a lot. But all fall she’d talked about it on the phone calls and their e-mail.
Why couldn’t she have been some woman all caught up in her career who didn’t want to have children? Or the favorite aunt of dozens of kids, so having her own wouldn’t be as important.
Why couldn’t he be enough?
He’d deliberately stayed away these last few months, hoping to delay the inevitable. It had worked, sort of. He’d squeezed a few more weeks out of his marriage. It would end for certain now. Getting a job in the States had nothing to do with it. Even if he were home every night, she’d never stay.
How ironic that he was finally willing to change and it would do no good.
He went downstairs. The outline of the Christmas tree reminded him of the gift he’d given her. It had hurt a little that she had nothing for him. But she’d been coming from an entirely different direction. He hadn't dwelt on it, but maybe he should have.
Yet, all he could remember was how beautiful she looked in the nightgown. At least he’d been given that.
Heading for the kitchen, Zach looked for the bottle of whiskey he’d had the other night. The way things were going, he was going to become good friends with alcohol.
He stopped and shook his head. He didn’t need that crutch. The only thing it had accomplished the other night was to give him a headache in the morning.
He turned on the lights. It was two o’clock in the morning. Too dark to go for a walk, too early to be up, but he didn’t feel a bit sleepy.
Mostly he felt lost.
Astonished, he sat down and gazed out of the dark window. He was a highly respected journalist. He had friends and acquaintances on three continents. He could write his own ticket for his career.
Yet without Caitlin, without their marriage, he felt adrift.
Like he’d felt when his father died. And when his mother had transferred her allegiance to her new husband virtually deserting her only son.
Anger took hold. If Caitlin only wanted a sperm donor, let her find on
e. If the bond they’d built over the years wasn’t enough, so be it. He couldn’t change that. He’d tried to rebuild their ties, to keep his marriage strong, but against this he had no defense.
Caitlin awoke late. She had been a long time going to sleep. The sun was shining, its glare reflecting off the snow, almost blinding in its brilliant light. Feeling groggy and out of sorts, she lay in bed wondering if she ever had to get up. Maybe she could just stay beneath the covers and not deal with life.
But she had things to do. Now more than ever she needed to decide if she was moving here, getting a divorce and moving on with her life.
Slow tears welled in her eyes. How could Zach have not told her? It spoke more to the flimsy strength of their marriage than anything. Granted, they hadn't discussed children before they married. Actually never discussed children at all.
She’d said she wanted a baby this fall and he’d brushed it aside.
But she’d always thought they’d have children eventually. He had to know that.
Even if they didn’t want children, wouldn’t a husband have shared that major item of information with his wife?
Only if they had a strong marriage.
Which, obviously, they didn’t.
The tears ran down the side of her face, wetting her pillow. It had been cruel of Zach to insist he stay for Christmas, for him to tell her he was returning to the States for good and then when her hopes were at their highest, to tell her the truth.
Her heart felt as if it were breaking. There would be no little boy with his daddy’s dark hair. No little girl wanting to know the facts about everything. No children at all with Zach.
Ever.
By the time Caitlin rose, she had a headache and was mildly hungry. She took a quick shower. Going downstairs, she was prepared to ask Zach to leave. If he refused, she’d leave. Abby would let her stay with her family until Caitlin could make other arrangements.
The house was silent. The Christmas tree wasn’t lit, though its fragrance still filled the room. Caitlin barely glanced in. She went to the kitchen, gearing up to confront Zach.
It, too, was empty.
Where was he? She looked out the window. There were prints in the snow, but nothing to tell her where he'd gone. To the carriage house? On one of his walks? She didn’t care.
She prepared a sandwich and ate it standing. Geared up to confront him, she felt let down he wasn’t around.
Once she’d eaten, she went back upstairs, carrying her cleaning supplies. There was one more bedroom to clean and the second floor would be taken care of. The work gave her something to do and the exercise would burn off some of the anguish--she hoped.
The afternoon passed slowly. As she worked she made mental lists of things needed such as curtains for all bedrooms. The rugs in the rooms had been taken out and would require a thorough cleaning. She wanted a night-stand for the room she was working on, there wasn’t one. Maybe she should paint the bedrooms. She could use a different color for each one.
For the time being, she’d keep the furniture. It was functional.
And she didn’t need baby furniture.
She blinked back the tears. Nothing had changed from the day she left Washington. Granted for a short time she’d thought her world had changed. She’d thought she and Zach would have it all.
Instead she was back to square one—end the marriage and find a man who’d love her, stay with her and give her children.
When she finished the last bedroom, she vacuumed the hallway, and wiped down the bath.
Tomorrow, if she was still here, she’d begin on the ground floor.
Caitlin carried all the supplies downstairs. Leaving them in the dining room, she glanced at the stack of journals. She wasn’t in the mood to read about Tansy and her life. It had an unhappy ending, just like Caitlin’s.
She frowned. Not like hers. Zach was still alive and well. Tansy had lost her husband to death.
Caitlin swallowed. In comparison, she had so much. Tansy would have given anything to see her Jonathan again. Caitlin and Zach had spent several wonderful days together.
Going into the kitchen, Caitlin realized it was after four and she still hadn’t seen or heard Zach today. Had he left? She raced back upstairs to check his room.
The bed was tumbled as it had been last night. Her new nightgown was in a pile on the floor. Zach’s duffel bag was opened on a chair. Some of his things were strewn about. He hadn’t left.
So where was he? she wondered as she went back to the kitchen. The cradle seemed to mock her, gleaming in the light. She should never have had Zach bring it up. Never cleaned it up and dreamed dreams as she envisioned a baby lying asleep in it. Their baby.
Chapter Twelve
Caitlin put the ham in the oven to warm again and began to heat some vegetables. It was growing dark and she still hadn’t seen nor heard from Zach. Where was he? Despite her heartache, she was growing concerned. She’d checked the carriage house and found an excuse to go next door to see if he was there. On her way back from Mrs. Watson’s, she realized Zach’s car wasn't in the driveway. Had he left without taking his things?
She stayed in the kitchen, not wanting to be reminded of their fun decorating the tree by using the living room. Christmas was over.
She heard the car in the driveway. Anger flared again. She wanted to rail against him for keeping her in the dark for so long. Why hadn’t he told her long ago?
Though she couldn’t think when the appropriate time would be. Had she told him about her appendectomy? She thought so, but maybe not. Still, it wasn’t the same thing. He’d known she wanted a baby this fall. The first time she’d brought up the subject would have been an appropriate time to tell her.
He hadn’t because she would have left. He explained that.
Tears welled again. She dashed them away and began to calmly slice the ham when he entered the kitchen.
She heard the slap of papers on the table and turned.
“Your aunt did write a family history and turned a copy into the local library. They had a genealogy section with lots of information. All you want to know about Tansy and Jonathan is in there.”
“You went to research Tansy and Jonathan?” she asked in disbelief. He’d turned her world upside down and then gone off to do research?
“Wrapping up loose ends, Caitlin. I’ll be leaving in the morning.” He walked through to the dining room. A moment later she heard his step on the stairs.
No apology, no sign of regret. She stared at the thick stack of paper. He had flung them down and walked away.
Tying up loose ends.
She crossed to the table. Picking up the stack, she noticed several paper-clipped sections. One was a family history, another was the history of the house and a third looked like official documents from the county clerk’s office. Zach had obviously spent all day locating this material. He knew she’d wished to know more and had found what she wanted.
She sat at the table and began to read what her aunt Sally had written more than twenty years ago. When the buzzer sounded, it jarred her. She got up and turned off the stove and oven. Serving her plate, she went back to the table and picked up the pages. She’d read in her room.
Passing Zach’s room, she hesitated by the closed door. What was there to say?
“Dinner’s on the stove,” she called, and turned for her room. She closed that door and sat in the chair near the window. Reading as she ate and then continuing when she finished eating, Caitlin was fascinated by the history her aunt had unearthed.
Saddened, too, to learn that Tansy had never remarried. She’d mourned her Jonathan all her life. And it had been a long one. She had died in the 1830s, at the age of ninety-two. She’d lived in the house Jonathan had built—the large house built for a family to grow in—until her death. It had been filled with love and laughter and children. Her cousin Timothy Williamson and his wife had had eleven children. And Tansy had helped raise every one.
Caitlin looked away from t
he history, wondering how much of what Tansy felt would be in the later journals. For a moment a shiver of apprehension coursed through her. What if she were more like Tansy than she wanted to admit?
What if she never found another man to love as she loved Zach? What if she mourned him all her life and lived to be in her nineties? She yearned for children, but not every woman who wanted a baby had one. Tansy had loved her cousin’s children. How much must she have missed having her own with Jonathan?
The house had been in her family for years, but came down through Tansy’s cousin, not Jonathan. Their last name had been White. It was Tansy’s cousin Timothy who had been the first Williamson to live in the house.
Aunt Sally even wrote about the locket, saying it had been lost during the Civil War, just as Zach had guessed.
Sally lamented the fact her nephew, Caitlin’s father, had not wanted the old house. It should stay in the family. She hoped her grandniece would bring it back to life, and so she ended the history.
Caitlin could never sell it. Not after all this.
She might never fill it with children, but it was her heritage and she would hold on to it.
She didn’t feel herself falling asleep, but woke with a stiff neck sometime later. It was almost 4:00 am.! She quickly dressed for bed and crawled into the cold sheets, going back to sleep. This time she dreamed she was an old woman, alone in a big house, with Tansy’s necklace. She sat in front of a fireplace in the kitchen and lamented war.
When Caitlin awoke again, it was mid morning. She needed to talk to Zach before he left. She couldn’t let things end like this.
He sat at the kitchen table, his duffel near the back door, when she entered a short time later. A hot cup of coffee held in his hand. He was reading one of the journals.
“Good morning,” he said without looking up.
“Good morning. Ready to leave, I see,” she said. Her heart raced. Sadness overwhelmed her. Six years of love and worry and loneliness and sparks of sheer joy crowded the memories of her mind. She saw a fabulously handsome, virile man sitting at her table, and her heart skipped a beat.
The Christmas Locket Page 13