Keeping Caroline

by Vickie Taylor

  She stood, watching the lightning in the distance, and crossed her arms over her chest. “You say you want to get on with your life, look to the future, but you can’t. Because you haven’t accepted your past.”

  “Because I don’t want another baby, like you?”

  “In part.”

  “You think another baby would make everything better? Make me forget about Brad?” He dragged a hand through the wild waves the wind kicked up in his hair. “Jesus, Caroline. Children can’t just be replaced, like puppies from the pound.”

  Thunder battered the old house, and Caroline was glad for it. The shaking ground covered the tremors his words shot through her.

  She’d been a fool to think a year would make a difference. A fool to leave Matt, knowing she was pregnant, without telling him about his child. She had hoped that time would heal his grief as it had healed hers, or at least diminish the pain. She hoped he’d be able to love another child.

  She’d been wrong.

  Matt rose and paced to the porch rail and back again. As he passed by the front door, he stopped, listening. Jeb, fully recovered now, banged randomly on his keyboard, singing the same verse from a nursery rhyme over and over and laughing.

  Matt tilted back his head. “How can you stand to live with that every day.”

  Her heart sinking, she understood instinctively that Matt didn’t mean Jeb’s bad singing, but the sounds of a child having fun. Of life.

  The first fat drops of rain fell like blood against a crimson sunset. In the kitchen, Jeb hit a particularly discordant note. Caroline closed her own eyes and almost smiled. “How can you stand to live without it?”

  Nothing had changed at Mahoney’s, Sweet Gum’s local saloon. The tabletops were still scarred, the chairs still didn’t match and the alley out back was still cleaner than the men’s room.

  Matt sat alone, picking the label on his beer. He’d already had two bottles, and really shouldn’t have ordered the third. Not without a designated driver.

  But even sitting in a bar, staring at beer he couldn’t drink, was better than going back to the Johnsons’ and lying in bed, looking up at the ceiling and trying not to think.

  About anything.

  Ah, hell. He lifted the bottle and took a long swig. Then another. By the time the Jimmy Buffet fan at the jukebox had run through the singer’s entire repertoire and someone else had put on one of those New Age punk pieces of garbage, five empty bottles littered Matt’s table. The sixth still had a little bit left in it.

  Under the bottom curve of his bottle, he saw a pair of boots. Not the work boots the farmers or ranchers in the area wore. Oh, no.

  These were patent leather jobs, knee high, with heels chunky enough to block a car on. Between the top of the boots and the bottom of the miniskirt stretched a long length of smooth, slim thigh.

  Slowly, Matt lowered the beer bottle.

  Gem ran her tongue around her lips while her eyes laughed at him. “Well, if it isn’t Mr. Wham-bam-no-thank-you-ma’am.” She scooted her little bottom into the chair next to him.

  Too next to him.

  He edged to his right, away from her.

  “And here I thought you were too pristine to land in a joint like this.”

  “What’re you doing here, Gem?”

  She reached for his beer. He swung it away. “Who says I have to have a reason?”

  “Where are the twins?”

  She drew back, almost a recoil. “They’re okay.”

  “I’m sure they are. Caroline would never let anything happen to them.” He checked his watch. “But you’re three hours late to pick them up.”

  He thought he saw a flash of guilt, of humanity, in her fine-boned features, then the tough street face covered it up. “Well, if you’re going to be that way.” She scraped her chair back and started to walk away.

  He snagged her wrist. “You’re also underage and on probation.”

  She struggled to pull free, but he held tight. “So call a cop.”

  “I am a cop.”

  The blood drained from Gem’s face. “I— She didn’t tell me.”

  “Obviously. Now what are you doing here?”

  “M-my car wouldn’t start. This guy gave me a ride is all. He wanted to stop here awhile, then he’s going to take me home so I can borrow a car to go pick up Max and Rosie.”

  “Lame, Gem. You’re going to have to do better than that.”

  “Really,” she squeaked, pulling harder on her wrist.

  “Where is this guy?” Matt had a few words for any man that would bring an obviously underage girl to a bar.

  “He’s not a guy, exactly. He’s just a kid. My age.” Her head swiveled, her gaze scanning the sparsely populated tables around the room, probing the dark shadows around the pool table. “I—I don’t see him.”

  “Uh-huh.” Matt let go of her wrist and pushed his hand into the small of her back, turning her toward the door. “Let’s go.”

  “Go where?” Her voice rose like a frightened child. Which, he figured, was exactly what she was.

  “To get your children,” he told Gem gruffly. The farmhouse was the last place he wanted to be right now, but he couldn’t just leave Gem here. “Caroline can take you home. Have you been drinking?” he asked.

  “No.”

  He squinted at her in the shadows outside the bar.

  “Really,” she squeaked.

  “Good.” He held out the keys to the truck he’d borrowed from Mr. Johnson. “You drive.”

  Despite Gem’s appearance, and her behavior, he believed Caroline was right about the girl. She had a long road ahead, as did her babies. But with Caroline’s help, she just might make it.

  Caroline stopped pacing when she saw the headlights beam up from the bottom of the hill.

  “Is it her?” Savannah asked.

  “I don’t know.” Realizing she had chewed her thumbnail down to skin, she lowered her hand. “It must be. God, I hope it is.”

  “Jeb, go into the kitchen, please,” Savannah said.

  “I wanna stay and see the fight.”

  “There isn’t going to be a fight. Now go to the kitchen.”

  “But, Ma!”

  “Go on, little rebel,” Caroline said, laughing. “There’s chocolate-chip cookies in there. In the cow jar about a foot to the left of the sink.”

  Even with the cookie incentive, Jeb’s steps were slow, measured. And not because he was worried about running into anything.

  Caroline nearly jumped out of her skin when she turned and saw it wasn’t Gem standing in the doorway. “Matt? What—”

  He swept his feet across the Welcome mat, then pushed the screen open and stepped inside. Only after he’d crossed the threshold could Caroline see the girl cowering behind him. He reached back and pulled her inside, but he did it gently.

  “Gem?”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Caroline,” she said to the floor.

  She stepped closer to Gem. Sniffed. “Do I smell beer?”

  “It’s him, not me!”

  She shifted her gaze to Matt, who just shrugged and headed for the kitchen. “Mind if I get some coffee?”

  Of course not, she would have said if he’d still been in the room. She winced, remembering Jeb had been banished to the kitchen. Served Matt right, not waiting for her to answer. Besides, her husband could hold his own with a five-year-old.

  She hoped.

  Gem told a dubious story about her car not starting, and getting a ride home from a guy named J.J., who took her to the bar instead, then disappeared, stranding her. By the time the tale was told, Matt had reappeared, looking none the worse for wear after his latest Jeb encounter.

  Maybe he’d smoothed things out with the boy. She could only hope.

  Turning back to Gem, Caroline sighed, swimming in a tide of sympathy for everything the girl had been through in her young life, but knowing she couldn’t show it. “Gem, you know I’m going to have to report this to your probation officer, and to Max an
d Rosie’s social worker.”

  Gem’s shoulders jerked. Her birdlike hands fisted. “No. Please!”

  “I don’t have a choice. I’ve already taken Max and Rosie back to your foster parents for the night. You’ll have to explain why you weren’t here to pick them up.”

  “But they’ll send me to juvie for breaking my probation.”

  “There’ll be a hearing.”

  “I’ll lose my babies.”

  “That’s up to the judge.”

  Gem screeched, launching herself at Caroline. Matt’s big body was between her and Gem before the girl got halfway there. Gem stumbled in her high-heeled boots. Matt caught her by the upper arms, held her upright.

  Her chest heaved and her face twisted. “You can’t do this!” she screamed, clawing to see over Matt’s shoulder. “I hate you! Do you hear me? I hate you, and I’m going to get you for this.”

  When Gem’s knees buckled, Matt turned her arms loose. She crumpled to the floor like a broken doll, sobbing.

  Caroline would have gone to her, but Matt held her back. She slapped at him ineffectively. She was the closest thing to a mother Gem had, and damn him, he was blocking her way to her child.

  Savannah restored sanity to the house.

  She curled up next to Gem, let the girl cry for a few moments, then lifted her up, helped her to the door, talking all the while, rubbing her back, making that human connection that Gem had lacked in her early years, yet needed so badly.

  At the door, Savannah stopped for her purse and looked back to Caroline. “I’ll see that she gets home. Can Jeb stay here?”

  Caroline nodded numbly. When Savannah and Gem were gone, she turned, surprised to find Matt’s hands still on her waist. His green eyes were calm, concerned, and mesmerizing.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Of course.” She pretended she could shrug off what happened. For about a second. Then the tears came, half choked. She should have pulled away from Matt. She wasn’t his responsibility any longer; he wasn’t her protector. She shouldn’t want, much less need, his comfort.

  Indecisive, she swayed until his arms came around her, then she buried her face against one of his solid shoulders until the storm inside her was spent.

  She’d had her cry, and Matt had seen for himself that she was better now. He should probably go, while Caroline was upstairs putting Jeb to bed. But the truth was, he didn’t want to leave. As he’d stood there with her sobbing into his shoulder, he’d realized this was the first time they’d touched—really touched—since he’d been in Sweet Gum.

  Matt’s family had always been touchers. From quick hugs to long, drawn-out embraces, someone’s arms were always around someone else. Being alone over a year now, he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed touching someone.

  Touching Caroline.

  Even as he thought it, he cursed himself.

  He was a pig. That was the only explanation. His focus should be on getting out of Sweet Gum, not getting into his wife’s bed. Besides, he’d just be setting himself up for another loss. Caroline might be upset enough to take his comfort tonight, but come morning, she would only run away from him again.

  Still, that didn’t mean he couldn’t stay a while longer. Just to make sure she was okay.

  When Caroline came downstairs, the coffee was ready. He had a mug waiting for her. “Jeb okay?”

  “Sound asleep. After asking a million questions about what was wrong with Gem and repeating every bad word she said at least twice, just to make sure he’d heard right. And he still wants to pet Alf.”

  “We’ll see,” Matt hedged.

  Caroline sipped her coffee and took a seat on the couch. “I figured you’d be gone.”

  “You’re the one prone to walking out in the rough spots.”

  Her cup froze midway to her lips.

  Matt rolled his head back. “Damn, I’m sorry. I don’t know where that came from.”

  Arms moving stiffly, she set her cup on the end table. “That’s all right. At least you’re being honest for once.”

  After an uncomfortable silence, Matt tried to get the conversation going again. “So what’s the story with Gem?”

  “Not much to tell. Gem was removed from her parents’ home for neglect. She went into foster care, but by then she was already pregnant. She’d been picked up for shop-lifting a few times. Nothing major, she’d just gotten in with a bad crowd. She really wants to keep her babies.”

  “You think that’s the best thing for them?”

  Caroline considered a long time. “I don’t think it’s my decision.”

  “But if you could, you’d take care of those kids yourself. And their mother.”

  She didn’t deny it. In fact, she smiled.

  He shook his head. “You always did take in every stray in the neighborhood.”

  “They’re children, not strays.”

  “Okay, poor choice of words. But nobody gives a damn about them but you.”

  “That’s not true. Savannah cares. And the foster family Gem and her girls are staying with. And the owner of the diner where she works. I’m just one of a dozen people—”

  He held up his hand. “I get the point.”

  “No.” She lurched to her feet and walked toward him until they were face-to-face. Her eyes shone, fiercely bright with maternal protectiveness. “I don’t think you do.”

  “Caroline…” He took a step back. She pursued.

  “You’ve forgotten how to care about anyone except yourself and your hostage takers anymore. Forgotten what it’s like to love, and be loved.”

  “I haven’t forgotten, Caro,” he said softly.

  “Then why don’t you ever show it?” She was nearly shouting.

  “Because I just don’t have it in me anymore. I don’t have the heart to watch these kids fall down and scrape their knees and cry when they lose their favorite toy and—”

  “And get sick and die?”

  He clamped his mouth shut. Took one slow breath through his nose. “I was going to say, ‘and let total strangers pick them up and take them to bars.”’

  She turned away. “Sure you were.”

  Reaching out, he threaded his fingers through the heavy curtain of hair at her nape to the satin flesh underneath. Her muscles jumped beneath his touch as he massaged out the lumps of tension.

  Watching her struggle for control, he realized how much he’d taken away from Caroline over the past few years. And how little he’d given. He’d been selfish to hold on to her so long. Mothering was as natural to her as breathing. It was what she did, who she was. Because of his choices, his fears, she was living a life without the one thing she wanted most—a child.

  Seeing her with Jeb and the twins and Gem, it had finally sunk in. If he couldn’t, wouldn’t, give her a child, then he had to let her find someone who would.

  The thought of Caroline with another man curdled whatever had been in his stomach. A wave of nausea brought the taste of stale beer to his mouth, but he straightened his shoulders. “I’m a bastard, I know. And I never deserved you. Now I deserve you even less.”

  She turned, but he couldn’t bear to break the contact, so he let his hand slide around her neck as she moved.

  “What brought that on?” she asked.

  “I know you care about the kids you’re taking care of. But it’s not too late for you, you know?”

  “Too late for what?”

  He rubbed circles with his thumb over the spot where her flesh barely contained her pounding pulse, relishing the feel of life in her. Knowing what he was doing was right, even if it tore him apart. “To have a child of your own.”

  “Are you offering your…services?”

  “No. I’m too old to raise another baby.”

  “You’re thirty-nine. That’s hardly ready for the old folks’ home.”

  “You’ve lost track of time. I turned forty two months ago.”

  “No excuse. Just admit it. You’re afraid to have a baby.
”

  Though he had to talk around a lump the size of Baltimore in his throat, he finally admitted the truth. “Yes. I’m afraid to have a baby. After everything we went through with Brad, with the things I see on the street every day, I’m not willing to risk it. But you’ve got time. You could find someone else.”

  The suggestion hit her like forty-kiloton blast. The woman she used to be curled inside her, scorched. Devastated. “Is that why you’re really ending this now? So I can have what I want? Or are you just trying to ease your own conscience?”

  “I haven’t lost track of time. You’ll be thirty-seven in a few months. Even now you’d be in a high-risk category if you got pregnant. If you don’t find someone soon, it will be too late.”

  “How do you know I haven’t found someone already?” The tone was supposed to be jaunty, but it sounded pathetic instead.

  “I’ve known you all your life, remember? You wouldn’t break your marriage vows, no matter what I’ve done to you.”

  “So you’re letting me go for my own good? So I can go find some young stud to give me what I want.” She laughed shakily. “Maybe I’m too old to raise another husband.”

  He smiled. It was a little wan, but it was a smile. “Who says you have to marry the guy?”

  “Matt!”

  “Single women raise babies by themselves all the time now.”

  Her fingers had turned to ice. She picked up her coffee cup, desperate for the last of the heat from the untouched liquid within. “I can just see it. I put on my support bra and spandex girdle, color my hair platinum-blond and walk into some bar. In between choking on the smoke and wincing at the blaring music, I walk up to some young hottie with big muscles and say ‘Excuse me, but you look genetically sufficient. Would you like to father my child?”’

  Matt shoved his hands into his pockets. “‘Genetically sufficient’?”

  “You know…tall, broad-shouldered, good teeth.”

  “Is that why you picked me? Because I was genetically sufficient?”

  “No, I picked you for your hands.” Caroline reached for her husband’s hand. She’d always loved his hands. The long, thick fingers. The calluses on the undersides of his knuckles. The well of his palm that was as soft as Hailey’s behind.