A Natural Father

by Sarah Mayberry

  He looked down into Lucy’s face, into her warm brown eyes, and he acknowledged a truth he’d been hiding from himself for the past months. Lucy was a lover, a giver. A natural caregiver, a nurturer. She was born to be a mother.

  And he was sterile.

  Sitting in her flat with her head on his shoulder, he could only see one future for their relationship. He could only see pain on both sides. Anger. Resentment. All places he didn’t want to go again. Couldn’t. It had taken him a year to drag himself out of the depression he’d fallen into at the end of his marriage. He didn’t want to even imagine what it would be like to have to get over Lucy.

  But he was going to have to. Because he was holding an impossible dream in his arms.

  He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, then traced her cheekbone with his thumb. She looked into his eyes, a small frown creasing her face. He lowered his head and kissed her, closing his eyes so he could consciously savor the moment.

  I love you. I think you’re wonderful. I want you to be happy.

  Lucy’s eyes remained closed for a few seconds when he lifted his head. He studied her face, wanting to remember her like this—soft and loving in his arms.

  Then he reached for his cell phone.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Calling Andrew.”

  “He won’t pick up. I’ve tried already, three times.”

  “He might pick up if he doesn’t recognize the number,” Dom said.

  “Oh. Good idea. Sneaky, but good.”

  He smiled tightly. Lucy gave him Andrew’s cell number and he punched it into the phone.

  As he’d hoped, Andrew answered almost immediately.

  “Andrew, it’s Dom. Lucy wants to speak to you,” he said.

  He handed the phone over and listened as Lucy spoke to her brother-in-law, explaining Rosie’s state of withdrawal, asking him to make contact with her, wondering when he planned on coming home. It was a short call, and he could tell by Lucy’s face that she wasn’t satisfied with the answers she received to any of her questions.

  “He’s still angry. And hurt,” she said.

  “He’ll get over it. He loves her.”

  “Sometimes love isn’t enough, though, is it?”

  He shook his head. “No, sometimes it isn’t.”

  No one knew that more than him.

  Lucy stood with an effort and rubbed the small of her back.

  “I’m going to go check on Rosie again, let her know I’ve spoken to Andrew. Even if it wasn’t very satisfactory.”

  “Okay.”

  He glanced toward the door. He wanted to go. Needed to go, because he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep it together.

  “Would you mind waiting?” she asked tentatively.

  He wanted to reassure her that he would always be there for her, that she would never have to doubt his support. But she was going to hate him enough in the weeks to come without him digging a deeper hole for them both.

  “Sure. Whatever you need,” he said instead.

  She smiled gratefully before turning away.

  “Remind me when I get back how lucky I am,” she said.

  He remained silent as she opened the connecting door to the house and slipped through.

  Lucy was lucky. She was about to become a mother. And he was about to spare her the pain of choosing between loving him and her lifelong dream.

  For a moment, he was so overwhelmed by anger and frustration that he wanted to throw back his head and howl.

  He didn’t. He took a deep breath, let it out again, and waited. There would be time enough for him to withdraw from Lucy’s life over the next few days and weeks. Soon enough she would understand that it wasn’t going to happen between them. Today, right now, she needed him, and he couldn’t deny her what she needed. Not yet, anyway.

  There’d be plenty of time for that later, when she hated him.

  * * *

  ROSIE HADN’T MOVED from her curled position on the couch. Even though she was covered with a thick blanket, her hand was cold to the touch when Lucy sat on the edge of the couch and took it in both of hers.

  “I just spoke to Andrew. He answered his cell when Dom called.”

  Rosie opened her eyes and turned her head slightly toward her sister.

  “You spoke to him? Is he okay?”

  “He sounded angry,” Lucy said. There was no point lying.

  Rosie’s eyes closed again. “Did he say anything?”

  “He doesn’t know when he’ll be home. I told him you were pretty upset. That might make a difference.”

  Her sister’s body tensed beneath the blanket.

  “Why did you do that?”

  “I thought it might make him come home.”

  Rosie wriggled around beneath the blanket so that she was facing Lucy and not the back of the couch.

  “I don’t want him to come home because he feels sorry for me.”

  “Isn’t the important thing that he’s here? That you guys start talking again?”

  Rosie glared at her, then started pushing the blanket off herself.

  “When he comes back I want it to be because he wants to, because it was his decision. Not out of pity or a misguided sense of responsibility.”

  Rosie swung her legs to the floor and shoved the blanket all the way off. Lucy stood.

  “Sorry. I thought he should be here,” she said.

  Some of the indignation left her sister’s face and her shoulders slumped.

  “It’s okay, Luce. Thank you.”

  “It’s going to be all right,” Lucy said.

  “Sure it is. I lied to my husband every day for six weeks and he just found out about it, and everything is going to be dandy.”

  Lucy winced at her sister’s acid sarcasm but she figured that fiery, angry Rosie was better than apathetic, catatonic Rosie. Much better.

  “God, my mouth feels disgusting,” Rosie said. She walked to her bedroom then into the ensuite bathroom. Lucy stood in the doorway as Rosie began to undress.

  “What are you going to do?” Lucy asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Maybe we could go to the hotel so you guys can talk.”

  “No,” Rosie said firmly. “He’s angry with me. He has every right to be angry with me. The least I can do is let him have the space he needs.”

  “You’re a better woman than me, then.”

  “I didn’t say it was going to be easy,” Rosie said as she turned on the shower. “You think I don’t want to go over there and throw myself at his feet? I tried that last night and it didn’t work.”

  Lucy watched her sister sadly. She had no idea what to say, what advice to offer.

  “What about counseling?” she finally suggested.

  Rosie’s head came up.

  “You mean, like a shrink?” Her sister looked appalled.

  “Hey, if it’s good enough for Tony Soprano…” Lucy joked.

  Rosie frowned. “I don’t think so.”

  She stepped beneath the spray, and Lucy went to sit on the bed while her sister showered. She wasn’t long and soon she came into the bedroom, the towel wrapped sarong-style around her. She was frowning, her wet hair dripping down her back.

  “I mean, I wouldn’t even know where to find a counselor,” she said. “And what would I say to them?”

  “Claire Miller saw someone last year when she was going through her divorce,” Lucy said. They’d both known Claire since they were kids, and she knew her sister respected the other woman. “I could get the number from her. And I guess you just tell her what’s going on and how you’re feeling. She’ll take care of the rest.”

  “It’s a woman?” Rosie asked.

  “Yep. Claire said she was great. Helped her get her shit together.”

  “I’ve got a lot of shit that needs getting together,” Rosie said grimly.

  Lucy shrugged. “Gotta start somewhere.”

  Rosie nodded, looking thoughtful.

/>   “I need to do something. I need to show Andrew that I care, that this means everything to me.”

  “You need to stop giving yourself a hard time for feeling the way you feel, too,” Lucy said. “There is no edict from the skies that says every woman must have children. You’re allowed to not want them.”

  Rosie sighed and sat next to Lucy on the bed.

  “If only it was as simple as that. It’s not like I can’t imagine a little baby who looks like Andrew. A little part of him. When I think of a baby in those terms, it seems crazy not to do it. But then I start thinking about everything else…”

  Lucy looked at her sister, hating the worry and sadness and fear creasing her face. Her sister had always been there for her. When they were kids, she’d made sure Lucy never missed out on anything, even if it meant sacrificing herself. She’d protected Lucy in the schoolyard and stepped in to take the brunt of their mother’s temper or sadness when things were precarious at home. Even as adults, she’d been the stalwart of Lucy’s life, the person she turned to before her mother, before her lover. Lucy understood that was partly because deep down she’d always known Marcus was unreliable, but it was also because she trusted her sister implicitly, with any crisis or problem or secret.

  “You know,” she said slowly. “You say you’re not maternal, but you’ve been looking after me for years. And I’ve seen the way you fight for your clients, the way you go beyond what’s required to support them. You care, Rosie.”

  “Then why am I so scared of being a mother? So scared I lied to my husband?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe because you bore the brunt of all the uncertainty when we were growing up. I always had you to turn to, but you had no one when Ma was out working or was too wound up to be there for us. Maybe in your head, you equate being a mom with all of that.”

  “If that’s true, then why don’t you?” Rosie asked.

  Lucy kissed her sister’s cheek and smoothed her damp hair from her forehead.

  “Because I had you to be my mom, stupid. I learned from the best.”

  Rosie stared at her, her eyes filling with tears.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Lucy said.

  This time, she meant it.

  Dom was waiting when she returned to her flat. He looked up from reading a magazine when she entered.

  “Sorry I was so long. She’s up, she’s talking, I think she’s even going to have some breakfast.”

  “Good stuff. What can I do to help?” he asked.

  “Kiss me?” she asked.

  He put down the magazine on the coffee table.

  “Like that’s a hardship.”

  His arms were strong and warm as they came around her. She pressed her face into his chest and inhaled his smell. It was like coming home. She couldn’t believe she’d been so foolish as to deny herself this happiness and comfort. Dom was not Marcus. Dom was…one in a million.

  “I think you’re wonderful,” she said, her words muffled by his sweater.

  He squeezed her a little tighter in response. She closed her eyes. That wasn’t what she’d really wanted to say. Not even close. She took a deep breath.

  “I also think I’m falling in love with you,” she said.

  He went very still, then she felt his hand on the back of her neck.

  “Lucy,” he said.

  She waited for him to say something else, anything else, but he didn’t. She told herself that he’d already made his declaration to her that day in the car, but she’d be lying if she didn’t admit to feeling disappointed. Quickly she pushed the feeling away. They’d had one night together. She trusted him. She knew he felt the same way. It was there every time he touched her or looked at her. She didn’t need to hear the words.

  That night, Dom collected takeout Indian and she, Rosie and Dom watched an old action movie in the flat. Andrew still hadn’t made contact and Rosie couldn’t settle in the house, so they made up a bed for her on the sofa when it was clear that exhaustion was kicking in after a day of high anxiety and emotion.

  “I appreciate this, Luce. And sorry for cramping your style,” Rosie said as she pulled the blankets up to her chin. Her gaze slid over Lucy’s shoulder to where Dom waited in the kitchen.

  “I’m not sure I know what you’re insinuating, young lady,” Lucy said primly.

  Rosie smiled wearily. “Good night.”

  Dom turned from rearranging the magnets on her fridge door when Lucy approached.

  “Don’t worry about deliveries tomorrow if you want to spend the day with Rosie,” he said.

  “Thanks. Maybe I can start chasing up clients from last night,” she said. She had no idea if her sister was planning on going into work, but it was nice to have the option of supporting her if she needed to.

  “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do,” he said. He stepped forward and kissed her gently on the lips.

  As always, his touch heated her blood, and she pressed closer and opened her mouth beneath his. He didn’t pick up on her cue to deepen the kiss, however. Instead, he pulled back, but not before pressing a kiss to her forehead.

  “You know, you don’t have to go home if you don’t want to. Just because Rosie’s on the couch doesn’t mean you can’t stay,” she said.

  “Not that it’s not very tempting, but I’ll be up early and you might as well grab sleep while you can,” he said.

  She wanted to tell him she didn’t mind being woken in the morning, but then she remembered the way he hadn’t responded to her declaration earlier. For the second time that day, doubt gnawed at her as he pulled away from her.

  She reminded herself of the certainty she’d felt last night, the rightness of being with him. She trusted him.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” she said as she followed him to the door.

  “I’ll call,” he said.

  He kissed her once more, then he was gone.

  It wasn’t until she’d shut the door and turned out the outdoor light that she realized he’d avoided answering her directly.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ROSIE WOKE from a restless sleep to the sound of a door opening. She squinted at the glowing digital clock on her sister’s DVD player. Three in the morning. She guessed Lucy was going to the bathroom and rolled onto her side, hoping she’d be able to kill a few more of the long, dark hours till dawn with sleep rather than staring at the ceiling the way she had last night.

  “Rosie?”

  Her heart slammed against her chest as she recognized Andrew’s voice, lowered to a whisper.

  “Rosie, are you in here?”

  She sat up. She could see his tall body silhouetted in the doorway to the house.

  “I’m here,” she whispered back.

  “Thank God. The bed was empty and I was worried…”

  She stared into the darkness.

  “You were worried?”

  Hope flared inside her. Andrew had come home in the middle of the night and he’d been worried when he hadn’t found her in their bed.

  Maybe he wasn’t angry with her anymore. Maybe he was ready to talk.

  She started to get off the couch but he was already moving toward her. She settled for pulling her knees in tight to her chest as he sat beside her.

  “I was worried,” he confirmed.

  She could see his face now her eyes were adjusting to the dark. He looked tired and concerned, just like he’d said.

  “Don’t worry about me,” she said, shaking her head. She didn’t deserve his consideration.

  His eyes searched her face.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left last night. I should have stayed and let you explain—”

  She leaned forward and pressed her fingers to his lips.

  “No! Don’t apologize to me. I lied to you, Andrew. I was a chickenshit and I lied to you and I hurt you. Don’t you dare let me off the hook.”

  “Rosie,” he said, but again she pressed her fingers to his lips.

  “No. No,” she said.r />
  His hand came up to pull her fingers away from his mouth.

  “You always were stubborn. And tough on yourself.”

  She swallowed a lump of emotion as he wove his fingers with hers. His hand felt so big and strong and precious. So familiar.

  “Do you mind if I finish what I was saying?” he asked.

  She just stared at him.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” His thumb swept across the back of her hand. “I was sitting in my hotel room, feeling hard done by, going over and over it all again. How pissed I was at you for lying to me. How stupid I felt. How I couldn’t believe you’d do this to me. I mean, you never lie, Rosie. You’re one of the most honest, forthright people I know. You can’t even fib on a survey. I’ve seen it eat you up. And then it hit me. I realized how absolutely terrified you must have been to take those pills and not tell me. What it would have taken for you to get to that point.”

  She started to cry as he lifted their joined hands and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

  “I’ve been pushing for us to have a family for so long, and you’ve been doing everything you can to push back. And I ignored it, because I didn’t want to think about it, because I figured it was just cold feet or worry about money or worry about the practice. I didn’t give you many options, did I?”

  She sniffed inelegantly and wiped her face on the sleeve of her pyjamas. “I could have talked to you. Like any sane, normal person would have. I could have told my husband how I was feeling.”

  “I know. And the fact that you didn’t is what kills me the most, Rosie. Because it means you were so scared you couldn’t, and I hate that more than anything. I hate the idea of you being so messed up about something that you couldn’t even share it with me.”

  He shifted his head and she saw shiny streaks on his face. He was crying. It was the final straw. Even though she didn’t deserve his comfort or his understanding, she threw herself into his arms.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered as his arms came around her.