Kristina remembered only too well how it felt to face that alone. She had been afraid, unsure of the changes happening within her body and to her emotions. There hadn’t been anyone to share with. Her great-aunt Maudie had sat in the living room, crocheting inch after inch of yarn into bright rows but saying hardly a word during all those long months of waiting. Even afterward her only comment had been to tell Kris she could stay in Maple Ridge if she wanted. It had been the loneliest time, the very worst time, in Kristina’s life.
The back door opened, and she tensed, knowing she had been listening for that sound ever since she’d arrived home earlier in the day. Tucker was back. She heard his footsteps crossing the kitchen floor, coming toward the living room ... and her. Her fingers curled into the pillow as she waited for him to find her.
She felt his gaze on her and slowly turned to meet it. He looked tired, and she had a fleeting remembrance of the way he’d looked that day in the courtroom — disenchanted and discouraged. Kristina hurt for him, and she wished there were something she could do. But she realized there was no resolution to their situation. It was impossible. She had known that once he knew the truth, his love for her would be locked behind a dozen other emotions; she’d accepted that, yet she found herself waiting for his smile, waiting for him to say everything was all right.
He said nothing. He only stood watching her. When he walked into the room and sank onto a chair opposite the sofa where she was sitting, her fingers dug a little deeper into the throw pillow.
“I’m sorry I left you stranded at the cabin.” Kris tried to clear the nervous flutter from her throat. “I should have waited for you.”
“I needed the walk,” he said crisply. “And once I reached the main highway, it wasn’t hard to get a ride into town.”
“Well, I am sorry.”
“Don’t be. Not about that.” It was a cool statement that made her instantly more alert, but Tucker seemed calm and unemotional as he faced her. “Tell me why you gave our child to strangers, Kristina.”
“I told you that it wasn’t a matter of giving her away.”
“All right, then. Tell me why you chose not to keep her and bring her up yourself.”
The bitter edge in his voice made a clean slice through her composure, and her stomach knotted with regrets. “Tucker, I made the best — the only — decision I could make under the circumstances.”
“What circumstances?” he asked. With his elbows resting on the arms of the chair and his hands clasped at a forbidding angle across his chest, Kris could feel the intangible strength of his anger. “I think I deserve at least that much explanation, don’t you?”
“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, Tucker, but I deserve the courtesy of patience. There’s no need to interrupt me at every turn.”
He dismissed her objection with a shrug. “You have my undivided and silent attention.”
Kris sighed and eased her grip on the pillow. “I told you how my parents felt. They were very angry with me. At the time I thought it was because an illegitimate grandchild would be a major embarrassment to them. Now that I’m older, I believe it was an anger born of fear. They were afraid I was going to ruin my life by saddling myself with a child. Their concern was for me, not for the baby. And when I refused to have the abortion, my father thought he knew exactly how to handle my rebellious nature. He sent me here to Maple Ridge, the end of the world. My great-aunt lived in this house, and I was supposed to go quickly out of my mind with boredom and guilt and realize the wisdom of my parents’ advice.
“I’ll admit it almost worked, Tucker. Great-aunt Maudie didn’t have a lot to say, and even when she did, it didn’t make much sense. Maybe if I hadn’t been quite so headstrong, things might have turned out differently. But the harder my family pressed me to end the pregnancy, the more determined I was to keep the baby. By the time I passed the fifth month all communication between us was cut off. My father was a stubborn man.” She paused, remembering. “I suppose he still is.”
She lifted her gaze to Tucker’s, but he was staring at his hands and wouldn’t meet her look. “After a couple of weeks of watching Aunt Maudie crochet, I stopped feeling sorry for myself and took the first step toward maturity. I decided I had to have some means of support, so I enrolled in the local high school and got a part-time job at Ruth’s gift shop.
“For months I worked harder than I’d ever imagined anyone could work, but I earned my diploma and managed to accumulate a modest savings account. I also caught a cold that wouldn’t get better.” Tucker was watching her now, but the past spread a dark shadow between them, and Kristina couldn’t think of any way to banish it.
“On the doctor’s orders I spent the week before the baby was born in the hospital in Russellville. Resting was supposed to build my strength, but I couldn’t sleep or eat. All I could do was think. About you. About the baby. About how I was going to take care of her. It was the lowest point in my life. But when I held her in my arms for the first time, I knew there wasn’t a sacrifice that was too great to make for her.”
Reminiscent tears changed her voice to a whisper. “It wasn’t until the day before I was supposed to bring her home to Maple Ridge that I began to question my decision. I’d known, of course, that I’d have to find someone to stay with her while I worked. Aunt Maudie was too old, and her hearing wasn’t very good. All of a sudden I realized what it would mean to leave my daughter in another person’s care. I began to consider what her immediate future was going to be like: a constant shuffle between day care and a baby-sitter at night while I attended classes at a junior college in Russellville. I knew I had to have more education in order to provide even a small measure of security.
“In many ways, Tucker, I was still a child myself. I didn’t know who I was. How could I guide such a precious and important life as hers?” Kris smoothed the pillow with her palm and then laid it aside. “Rationalizations, of course, but I was afraid. I’d never had any responsibility at all, and suddenly I felt the weight of more than I’d ever imagined. There was no one to talk with except Ruth, and I’d hardly known her long enough to ask for advice. She never once mentioned adoption, but I could see for myself how much she loved Melinda and Michael, how good their adoption had turned out for them.”
Tucker shifted his position and leaned forward, listening and yet seemingly very far away. Kristina released long-suppressed emotions on a sigh. “I was unprepared to be a mother. I wasn’t even legally an adult, but I was responsible for creating another life. A life conceived by accident. Unplanned. Unwanted. I finally took a long look at what I had to offer and realized that it was beyond my ability at that time —physically, mentally, and emotionally — to provide anything more than unlimited love.”
She met his intense regard squarely. “That wasn’t enough for her, Tucker. If I’d kept her, as I badly wanted to do, the sacrifices wouldn’t have been strictly mine. She would have sacrificed the right to be welcomed into a family that had planned and hoped and dreamed for her. She would have paid part of the price for my mistake. The hardest thing I’ve ever done was to sign those papers, and there hasn’t been a day since that I haven’t wondered if I did the right thing.”
With a ragged breath Tucker dropped his head into his hands and began to rub his temples in slow massage. “Would you do it again?”
The words were rough and uneven, and it took a full minute before Kristina felt the cutting edge of their pain. Did he have any idea what he was asking?
“Don’t, Tucker. I did what I felt I had to do ... for her. Please don’t ask me to make a judgment now. It can’t be changed. No matter what.”
His gaze snapped to her impatiently. “No more excuses, Kris. I want to know if you’d make the same decision again.”
She stood, angry because he was angry, hurting because she knew too well how much he hurt. “Yes, Tucker. Given the same circumstances, yes. Yes, I would.” Turning to leave him, she stopped as he took hold of her wrist.
�
�How could you give her to a stranger, Kristina? How could you do it?” he asked quietly, his anger defeated by the pain that she recognized — the pain that for her had become a soft, ever-present hurt.
“I loved her, Tucker.” Her eyes grew misty with emotions. “I ... loved her.” She slipped her hand free and left him then, knowing there was nothing more to be said, nothing more to be done.
Alone in her room she longed for the release of tears, but none would come. Even when she heard the sound of Tucker’s car in the night. Even when she realized he had left her home and her life. She comforted herself with logic. She’d been prepared for his leaving, hadn’t she? Why should she cry about something she’d known would happen, something she’d accepted long before?
But as the hours crept toward midnight, her acceptance gave way to despair, and she cried for all the things that might have been and now could never be.
* * * *
The road stretched beyond the headlights like a thread unraveling from a piece of cloth.
Endless.
Meaningless.
Going nowhere because he didn’t know where to go.
Tucker gripped the steering wheel and pressed down on the accelerator. The Mercedes shot forward in a burst of speed that tightened his hold on the wheel.
What was he doing? he wondered. Why was he risking life and limb in a mindless attempt not to think ... or feel? It was pointless. He couldn’t escape the memory of her voice, the look in her eyes, the knowledge of what she had done. “Oh, Kristina,” he moaned softly. “Why did you have to tell me?”
Slowly the car lost speed as Tucker realized the significance of his words.
Why did you have to tell me?
Not “Why didn’t you tell me before?” or “Why did you do it?” Not any of the questions he had asked her but a deep-seated wish to turn back the clock, to return to yesterday, when he hadn’t known the truth.
That was impossible, though. Everything was impossible, except following the highway to some unknown destination. He didn’t care where he went as long as it was away from Kristina.
Yet the only place he wanted to be was with her.
Flexing the stiffness from his fingers, Tucker stared at his hands. Surgeon’s hands, skilled and competent, able to repair and mend a body, but totally inept when it came to matters of the heart. This must be the year for disillusionments, he thought wryly. First the malpractice suit and now Kristina’s betrayal. Odd that he felt more threatened by the latter. Six months before, his career had been the focal point of his existence. How quickly that focus had changed to Kris. How easily her town, her friends, her life-style had become his.
Now he felt homeless, a man without a country or a purpose. A surgeon stripped of his confidence, a father robbed of his child.
But that wasn’t entirely true, he knew. His confidence in his professional ability had been slowly returning ever since he’d arrived in Maple Ridge, The lawsuit had been an unpleasant incident, but he had gained a new and valuable perspective on his career. The knowledge that he was a father was a tremendous shock, but was it really the betrayal of trust that he’d at first believed?
Tucker guided the car to the shoulder of the road and stopped to consider the possibility. He had analyzed every word Kristina had said, and he had tried to comprehend her reasoning, but perhaps it was time for him to analyze his emotions and motivations. Had he been robbed of his child?
Or had he simply been relieved of the obligation to make the decision that Kris had made?
She had tried to contact him, but he’d returned the letter unopened. Why hadn’t he read that letter? Had he unconsciously been protecting himself from any possible responsibility? He had been idealistic and ambitious at that point in his life. Hadn’t he told Kristina there was no room in his schedule for her? And there certainly hadn’t been room for any mistakes.
But he had made mistakes. Innocent ones, but mistakes just the same. She shouldn’t have lied to him, but then he’d been old enough to recognize her inexperience, and still he’d ignored the clues as if they hadn’t existed. She had been vulnerable, and he had thoughtlessly taken advantage. Then he had sent her on her way without so much as a “see you later.” And when she’d written to tell him of the consequences of their special weekend, he hadn’t bothered to read her letter.
Tucker brushed a weary hand through his hair and stared at the twin beams of the headlights reaching futilely into the darkness. He couldn’t understand why Kristina hadn’t tried again to contact him, but he couldn’t entirely blame her either.
How could he honestly say what his reaction would have been if he’d known about the baby? He had been a different person then, full of his own plans and importance. What right did he have to judge Kris for making a decision she felt was best?
He loved her.
No matter how he felt about anything else, he knew that hadn’t changed. He couldn’t deny, though, that the knowledge of his paternity made a difference in his relationship with Kristina, bonding them in one way, separating them in another. But how could he justify his impulsive departure from her life? He needed to talk to her, wanted to share his uncertain thoughts and feelings with her. After all, when it came down to the bottom line, who else could possibly understand?
In sudden decision he started the car and made a U-turn onto the highway. The Mercedes skimmed the miles as Tucker watched for familiar road signs. He hadn’t realized he’d driven so far, but it seemed to take hours to reach the outskirts of town. It was after midnight, and Maple Ridge was quiet as he drove through the streets, past the unfinished construction that would soon be a hospital, past the municipal building and the Gazette office, past Ruth’s shop and the grocery. For a few minutes Tucker savored the pleasant feeling of being a part of this community and knew that he didn’t want to leave.
Kristina’s house was dark except for the pale light that illuminated the back porch steps. He turned onto the graveled driveway and saw Kris standing beside the opened door of her car. In the glare of his headlights she lifted a hand to shade her eyes, and he smiled at the enchanting picture she made. Her hair was a disheveled halo of silvery gold. She was dressed in faded blue jeans and one of his shirts. He hadn’t realized he’d left the shirt behind, but it pleased him somehow that she was wearing it now.
As he stopped the car directly behind hers, Kris ran to the passenger side of the Mercedes and pulled open the door. “Tucker,” she said in a breathy rush, “I’m on my way to get Jena. She’s in labor, and Matt can’t get his truck to start.”
“Get in. I’ll go with you.” He waited for Kris to slide onto the seat beside him before he reversed and backed from the driveway. Despite the tension of the afternoon and evening, Tucker felt a sudden sweet delight in being close to her again. “If this is a code three,” he said lightly, “you’ll have to be the siren and I’ll blink the lights.”
Her gaze came to his in momentary surprise. “Just concentrate on driving as fast as you safely can. When Jena called, she said there wasn’t any great hurry, but I could hear Matt in the background yelling something about the National Guard. He goes a little crazy at times like this.”
“I suppose most men do at times like this.”
A tiny smile touched Kristina’s lips and Tucker’s heart. “I suppose. At least Jena is calm. She said she really wouldn’t mind having the baby at home, but I’m not sure Matt would survive. Having you there might help.”
“Why?”
“You’re a doctor, Tucker.”
“A surgeon, Kris. I haven’t delivered a baby since I was an intern, and I really would prefer to keep it that way.”
“But in an emergency?”
“I’ll drive faster. Whatever the record time is in getting from here to the nearest hospital, I’ll break it.” He slowed the car to make a left turn. “We’ll just keep our fingers crossed that Jena is right and that the new Saradon baby isn’t in a great hurry to be born.”
Kristina said nothing,
and when Tucker glanced at her inquiringly, he sensed that her thoughts were far away. She was pleating a fold in the material of his shirt, but her eyes were focused on something beyond the boundaries of the night. A question formed in his mind and dropped, unbidden, into the quiet. “Was our baby in a hurry to be born, Kris?”
The subsequent hesitation lasted a seemingly endless second. “No. I guess she knew I needed all the growing-up time possible before she made her appearance in the world. Even once my labor started, she wasn’t in a hurry.”
Tucker searched for words to express something, he wasn’t sure what. But there was nothing to say. Not now.
“Amber,” Kris said in a throaty whisper. “I don’t know what her name is, but I think of her as Amber. In a way you chose that name, Tucker. After the first time we made love in front of the fireplace, you told me you’d remember me always in amber. It seemed fitting to give our daughter a name that was a symbol of the happiness we shared that weekend.”
The Saradon mailbox gleamed a silvery welcome, and Tucker felt both relief and regret that there wasn’t time to reply. Amber, he thought. His daughter ... and Kris’s.
“What took you so long?” Matt jerked open Tucker’s door even before the car came to a stop in the driveway. “My wife is having a baby, you know. Jena, will you come on?” He motioned toward Jena, who was sitting on the porch steps complacently watching the proceedings as if she had a front-row ticket for the Saturday night fights.
With a worried sigh, Matt retraced his steps, helped Jena to her feet, picked up her small suitcase, and led her to the Mercedes. Tucker exchanged a brief sharing glance with Kristina, and then both expectant mother and father were inside the car and it was time to go.
The trip to Russellville was made in record time and was marked by an uneventful conversation between Kris and Jena. Tucker said little, and Matt maintained an obviously painful silence that ended abruptly at the entrance to the hospital. Matt ordered everyone inside as if he were a general in charge of army maneuvers and then, the moment Jena was whisked away by a smiling nurse, he promptly collapsed and had to be led to the nearby waiting room.
A Distant Summer Page 13