Once Around

by Barbara Bretton

"I'm coming with you," Spencer said.

  Jessy was so surprised she couldn't speak. He'd shown a marked reluctance when it came to the more physical aspects of pregnancy. She was even more surprised when he held her hand through the procedure. The pains were growing more intense, and she bled through two pads before they wheeled her upstairs to a room on the sixth floor.

  "I can't believe this is happening." She couldn't hold back her tears any longer. "I don't want to lose this baby."

  "You won't," he said. He brushed back her hair from her forehead in a gesture- so tender she almost believed he loved her. Which he didn't. She knew that. She couldn't let herself forget it. He was just being kind, that was all.

  "Your life would be easier," she said. "You could walk away from me and never look back." The rich boy from Greenwich and the poor doctor from Mississippi—it sounded like a Fifties. B-movie, the kind that always had an unhappy ending.

  "Do you see me walking away?"

  "You're here for the baby," she said. "I understand that. I don't mind."

  "Damn it, Jess, I'm here for you."

  It was the right thing to say. She appreciated the effort even if she didn't for one minute believe the words. But as the hours wore on and the doctors waited to see if they could get the bleeding under control, she began to wonder if just maybe there might be more to his words than she'd first thought. He held her hand. He dealt with the doctors and nurses. He made it clear that she was the first priority, that her health and well-being came even before the baby's. She disagreed, but his concern moved her deeply.

  "It's touch and go," Jack Rosenberg told her after he'd evaluated the test results. "If we can stop the contractions and get you through the next twenty-four hours, I think you're home free,"

  He explained the situation with a string of medical jargon that she explained to Spencer when Jack left. Spencer turned white.

  "Sit down," she said. "You don't look very good."

  "I'm fine," he said. "I'm worried about you,"

  "Don't," she whispered. "Don't be so kind to me. I know you don't love me. You don't have to pretend."

  "I'm not pretending anything, Jess. I care what happens to you."

  "I don't want you to care what happens to me," she said. "I want you to love me."

  "I do," he said quietly.

  Hospital noises, the harsh glare of the bedside lamp—they all vanished. There was only Spencer.

  "Would you say that if I lost the baby?" Her voice was scarcely a whisper. The question frightened her even more than the answer.

  "I'd say we'll have other chances."

  "You're lying."

  "Not about this, Jess. You're the last thing I think about at night and you're the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning. When you look at me with those brown eyes of yours, I think I can conquer the world. I don't know if that's love. I only know that I've never felt this way before and I don't want it to end."

  "Yes," she said.

  His eyes met hers. "Yes?"

  She nodded. "Yes."

  "You won't be sorry, Jess. We can make this work."

  And because she wanted to very much, she almost believed him.

  #

  Jessy was released from the hospital on Wednesday morning with a clean bill of health.

  "And you're sure she's okay?" Molly asked Spencer, who had called her at Rafe's to give her good news.

  "She and the baby are both fine." He sounded exhausted but elated. "I have some more news."

  "Personal or professional?"

  "Both," he said. "Which do you want first?"

  "Professional," she said without delay. "Let's get it out of the way."

  "Robert wants a meeting with you this afternoon."

  "You know my feelings about that."

  "I think you should consider it, Molly. He's willing to make some concessions."

  "Forget it," she said. "I'm not interested."

  "You don't know what you're letting yourself in for," Spencer said. "If he decides to play hardball, the first thing his attorney will zero in on is Rafe. I don't think you want that to happen."

  "I'm not doing anything wrong," she said. "I'm not the one who walked out and straight into the arms of another woman."

  "That's all true," he said, "but it won't sound that way after the other side gets through with, it."

  "It's the day before Thanksgiving," she said. "What kind of idiot would suggest a meeting today?"

  "I'm not going to touch that one," Spencer said, "but I do recommend that you let me schedule something with him for next week."

  "We'll talk about it tomorrow. You and Jessy will be able to have dinner with us at Miriam's, won't you?"

  "That's the second thing I wanted to talk with you about," he said. "Jess and I are getting married tomorrow and we want you there."

  #

  The next twenty-four hours were like outtakes from an old Marx Brothers movie. Molly called Miriam to tender Jessy's regrets, and the second the old woman heard the reason she popped up with an offer that amazed everyone involved.

  "They can get married in my house," Miriam said in a tone that brooked no disagreement.

  "But you don't even know them," Molly protested. "That's asking much too much of you."

  "I'll decide what's too much, missy. If you can't offer hospitality to strangers on Thanksgiving, when can you?"

  Molly could find no argument for that. She set about making phone calls to florists and bakeries, trying to find somebody who could deliver on the shortest notice possible. A bakery in Flemington said they could help out and volunteered to send someone over with a cake meant for a canceled day-after-Thanksgiving wedding.

  She called Jessy and was surprised to hear how nervous the woman sounded. This was everything she'd ever wanted, and she sounded as if she was scheduled to appear before a firing squad. Spencer was the one who sounded relaxed and happy. None of it made the slightest bit of sense, but she didn't have time to worry about it. There were too many other things she needed to get done.

  Like finding out whether or not the fridge in the main house was big enough to hold a chocolate mousse cake.

  She grabbed her sweater and dashed out the door. She was halfway across the gravel drive when she heard the sound of a car crunching its way toward her. It was either the bakery or Rafe. She turned around and almost fainted dead away when she realized she was looking at Robert behind the wheel of a slate gray Saab with New York plates.

  He looked at her and didn't smile, which was fine with her. She wasn't in the mood to smile at him. She hadn't laid eyes on him since the day he walked out. She waited, expecting to feel a rush of anger or warmth or something, but instead she felt as if she were looking at a stranger.

  That was her husband climbing out of that fancy car. She'd lost her virginity to him. She was carrying his baby. You'd think she would feel something, wouldn't you, some small burst of emotion. Any emotion.

  "You're looking well, Molly," he said as he approached. "Pregnancy agrees with you."

  "Oh," she said sweetly, "you noticed. You missed a trimester or two, Robert. I guess even you can't ignore the changes." She met his eyes. "So how did you find me?"

  "People talk. I listen. It wasn't hard." He held out his hands, palms forward. "Believe it or not, I didn't come here to fight.''

  "So why are you here?" As if she didn't know. "I already told you I don't have time for a meeting."

  "Diandra and I are leaving tonight for the Caribbean."

  "How wonderful," she said. "Thanksgiving on the sand." '

  He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and withdrew an airlines folder. "I bought you a ticket," he said. "Two tickets really. I reserved a suite overlooking the water. You can even bring your boyfriend. This whole thing could be over by Sunday."

  "Forget it," she said. "Not interested."

  "There's no chance for us,' he said. "I thought you knew that."

  "You just don't get it, do you?" she as
ked. "We're not playing by your rules any .longer, Robert. I have a say in things now, too, and I say I'm not going to the Caribbean.'

  "The divorce is inevitable, Molly. It's going to happen. Why not let it happen sooner rather than later?"

  "The baby," she said simply. "You gave up all rights to the baby the day you walked out the door."

  "You can't cut me out of the child's life."

  "Really? Just watch me."

  "You've seen the settlement. I'm being more than fair. I'm willing to own up to my mistakes."

  "Doing that well, are you?" She couldn't keep the edge from her voice. She didn't even try. "You must be a happy man, Robert. That's what you always wanted."

  "I told you I regret my mistake. What if I made the custody issue negotiable? Would you fly down to the Caribbean this weekend and get the divorce?"

  "Our marriage might be negotiable, but my baby isn't. I'll make a deal with you: You keep the house and the car and the money. I'll keep the baby."

  She didn't wait for his answer. This time she was the one who turned and walked away.

  #

  The wedding of Jessica Wyatt and Spencer Mackenzie took place at twelve noon on Thanksgiving Day in the library of Miriam Cantwell's house. Dr. Van Lieuw gave Jessy away while his sister played Lohengrin on the piano. Ginny the housekeeper and her husband Harry were in attendance as were a few of the neighbors who were home for the holidays. Welcome candles glowed at every window, both in the main house and the carriage house. Miriam presided over the festivities from a motorized wheelchair that was festooned with flowers. She wore an elegant pale blue dress with a brocade collar and she appeared to be having the time, of her life.

  Which was more than anyone could say about the bride.

  "Jessy's hands are shaking," Rafe whispered to Molly. "She looks as if she's going to faint."

  "Look at Spencer." Molly shook her head in amazement. "He looks calm and collected." And happy. She couldn't help but notice the look of happiness in his eyes as he and Jessy exchanged rings. None of it made the slightest bit of sense. Nobody in his or her right mind would ever have predicted this wedding, and they certainly wouldn't have predicted Jessy to be the one who looked like she wanted to bolt and run.

  Molly had been the picture of contentment at her own splashy wedding. She'd sailed through the proceedings on a cloud of happiness, secure in the knowledge that this marriage would be forever and a day, that nothing—not time or circumstance—could possibly come between her and Robert. She hadn't figured that life itself would do exactly that. Seeing him yesterday had left her with nothing but relief and a mild touch of residual sadness that she could have settled for so little the first time around.

  But there was the baby, the one wonderful thing she had to show for her years with Robert. She wouldn't have missed this baby for the world.

  She wondered about Rafe's wedding. His marriage. Had he believed it was forever, too, or had he somehow known it came with an expiration date like milk and cents-off coupons? Did he ever think about his ex-wife and wonder how he would feel if she walked through the door? Suddenly Molly wanted to know everything them was to know about him. She couldn't get the image of him, alone and living in his pickup truck, from her mind. She couldn't bridge the gap between his married life in. Montana and that. Miriam's words had cut deep into her heart. At first she'd been so afraid of what she might hear that she'd blocked out the sheer wonder of the story. He'd been, as low as a man could get, but nothing had been able to crush the basic kindness in his beautiful soul.

  How had he ended up living in his truck? What had happened between him and his wife that sent him across the country into a downward spiral of loneliness?

  Tonight was the night she'd ask those questions. It was time she found out more about the man she loved.

  #

  The bride and groom left not long after dinner. Rafe shook Spencer's hand then hugged Jessy. She felt like a hummingbird in his arms, all fluttering heart and fragile bones.

  "It's going to be okay," he said to her. "You're going to be happy."

  "I must be crazy," she whispered. "We don't stand a chance."

  "Nobody does. It's up to you to beat the odds."

  She looked up at him as if he'd said something profound, and when Spencer pulled out of the driveway, Jessy turned and blew a kiss to Rafe.

  "What was that all about?" Molly asked. "Flirting with new brides isn't kosher."

  He grinned and draped an arm around her shoulders. "Jealous?"

  She shot him a saucy look. "Should I be?"

  "No," he said, no longer kidding around. "You shouldn't."

  He tilted her face up toward his and kissed her deeply. She tasted like ice cream and pie. Tonight, he thought. Tonight he'd tell her how he felt, the wonderful things he saw in their future, the father he wanted to be to her child.

  "Miriam's. exhausted," Molly said as they walked slowly up the drive to the main house, the candles glowing warmly in each window. At that moment he had everything he'd ever wanted in life, and it could only get better.

  Dr. Van Lieuw met them at the door. "The happy couple left on their honeymoon?"

  "Two nights in a B and B, then it's back to work for both of them," Molly said. "I guess they'll schedule a honeymoon later on."

  Van Lieuw nodded, but Rafe sensed he wasn't paying attention.

  "What's wrong?" he asked the doctor.

  Van Lieuw glanced over at Molly then back again at Rafe, and there was something about that look that told Rafe everything.

  "It's Miriam, isn't it?" he asked.

  "Yes," Van Lieuw said quietly. "She's gone."

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Three days later Miriam was buried in the family plot north of Stockton. She had specified in her will that she wanted: a brief, private funeral, and her wishes had been met. A few people took the lectern to say a few words of praise, but it wasn't until Rafe started to speak that Molly began to cry. She didn't really know Miriam, of course. Her loss was one of association, not history the way it was for Rafe. He spoke briefly and eloquently about what Miriam had meant to him, and when he sat down again, there wasn't a dry eye in the house.

  He reached for. Molly's hand, and she held it tightly, Wishing she could ease the sorrow he felt over the loss of his friend. Of course Miriam was much more than a friend to him. She was family. His sorrow ran deep and wide. He hadn't slept last night.. Neither had Molly. She'd lain awake upstairs, listening to the sound of chisel against wood as he worked on the cradle.

  She hadn't told him yet about Robert's unexpected visit. With the preparations for the wedding, there had been so much going on that she simply hadn't had the chance. Or at least that's what she told herself. Then Miriam's sudden death had relegated Robert's visit to an even lower level of importance. Besides, she'd handled it. She'd stood up for herself against his offers of money and her freedom and proved she was no longer the needy pushover of a wife he'd known. When she'd turned her back and walked away, she'd regained a part of herself she'd believed lost forever.

  The mourners went back to Miriam's house for a buffet meal put together by Ginny and her husband. Miriam's relatives surrounded Rafe, peppering him with hugs and questions and memories. Molly mingled the best she: could, but she felt terribly out of place. Rafe must have sensed it because a second later she felt the familiar, loving weight of his arm around her shoulders.

  "You look beat," he said "I know you didn't sleep last night. Why don't you go back to the carriage house and take a nap?"

  "I would," she said, "but I can't sleep in the afternoon."

  "Go rest," he said. "There are some books on the nightstand that'll put you to sleep."

  She didn't want to leave but she knew that she needed to get off her feet for a little. while. "Just for an hour," she said. "I want to be with you when they read Miriam's will."

  "There won't be any surprises," he said. "I'll continue paying off the carriage house to the bank, same as before." />
  She hoped he was right. Death had a way of changing everything. Agreements that worked smoothly suddenly fell apart in the face of family pressure and legal wrangling.

  Jinx was waiting on the top step. "Poor baby." She bent down and tried to scratch Jinx's head but couldn't quite reach. "You can sleep on the bed with me," she said as she opened the door. "I promise."

  She fed Jinx while her tea was brewing, then carried the mug upstairs. Rafe was right. She was beyond exhausted. The thought of undressing for just an hour was terribly unappealing, so she laydown carefully on top of the feather bed and closed her eyes. She heard Jinx's nails tapping their way across the floor then felt the slight dip of the mattress as the cat landed next to her. Jinx fell asleep within two seconds.

  "You snore, "Molly muttered. "What a dirty trick."

  Rafe had said he had some sleep-inducing books on the nightstand, but she didn't see anything more than 'a woodworking catalog. That would do it, she thought, but she'd been hoping for something a little more intriguing. Maybe he meant to say in the nightstand, not on it. She slid open the drawer of the one closest, on Rafe's side.

  Perfect. A dog-eared copy of On the Road was buried under a pile of old letters, bank statements, and photographs. Her father had worshipped at the altar of Kerouac and Kesey, which was probably one of the reasons she'd never read either man's work. Now was as good a. time as any to see what the attraction was all about. Her dad no longer had a hold over her life. She was in charge now, and it felt wonderful.

  She sat up against the headboard and opened the book. She hadn't finished the first paragraph when she noticed a photograph on the comforter next to her. He must have been using it as a bookmark. Sarah, it read on the back. His wife? She turned it over and was surprised to see a photo of a newborn baby, one of those I'm two hours old shots of a wrinkled little red face swaddled in blankets.

  A niece, she told herself. A friend's daughter. Maybe one of Miriam's grandnieces. She put the photo aside..