Marriage by Contract

by Sandra Steffen

  Tuesday night seemed to take forever, as did Wednesday. Beth and Tony had dinner together both evenings. They talked about the baby, the weather, his work, but there were long stretches of silence when they faced each other, quiet and uncertain. They said good-night after crawling into bed together, but they didn’t kiss, and they didn’t make love.

  Thursday morning, Beth picked up the legal document. After strapping Christopher into his car seat in the car, tears gathered in her eyes. They seemed to come out of nowhere with so much force she couldn’t stop them. Christopher stared up at her, his expression so serious she cried harder, promising him that everything would be all right all the while.

  When the tears finally stopped, she dried her face and kissed the baby tenderly. And then she went to the Silver Gypsy to see Jenna.

  * * *

  Christopher was fascinated with the faint purl of wind chimes and the brightly colored scarves overhead. “Just look at him,” Jenna exclaimed. “He’s getting a double chin.”

  Beth smiled. “He’s gained half a pound since we brought him home.”

  “He looks healthy, all right. You, on the other hand, look like hell.”

  Pretending to be interested in one of the new necklaces Jenna had designed, Beth shrugged. “In order for Christopher to put on weight, someone has to feed him. Often. I’m running low on sleep these days, that’s all.”

  Jenna made a most unbecoming sound. “What a crock. You’re one of those people whose eyes become luminous when you’re tired, and you know it. Come on,” she said, swishing through the beads in the doorway leading to the tiny back room. “We’ll brew a pot of tea and you can tell Auntie Jenna all about what’s bothering you.”

  Jenna was three years younger than Beth and looked about as auntlike as a sheikh’s belly dancer. Her long black hair swished when she walked, her strappy sandals showcasing small feet and narrow ankles. She was five three and had once said she’d been built low to the ground for easier maneuverability. Suddenly Beth found herself sitting at the tiny glass table in one corner, sipping strong tea and telling Jenna about her married life with Tony.

  “We’re both miserable,” she said, nearing the end of her account. “We’re so fidgety and edgy and polite, I want to scream.”

  “Of course you’re fidgety. You’re sleeping with a man who can’t touch you.”

  “Do you think I should move back to the spare bedroom?”

  Jenna snorted. “Few marriages work without sex, especially when one of the parties involved is nicknamed the Italian Stallion. I think you should take up where you left off several days ago.”

  Beth shook her head. “That’s interesting advice coming from someone who hasn’t had a date in years.”

  Jenna’s brown eyes twinkled like her Gypsy ancestors as she said, “We’re not talking about my sex life. We’re talking about yours. It’s a good thing, because I haven’t taken a man home in so long I hardly remember who puts what where. Be a pal and refresh my memory. Details would be good. Lots and lots of details.”

  Beth threw a linen napkin at her and took another sip of her tea. “I don’t think I can go back to the way things were before.”

  “Why not?”

  When Beth didn’t answer, Jenna nodded knowingly. “Aaah. I think I’m beginning to understand. You’re afraid of getting hurt. But you can’t guard your heart against falling in love, Beth, no matter how hard you try. If it happens, it happens. You’ll have to accept it, along with the risks that go with it.”

  Her best friend’s advice may have been well intended and sound, but Beth didn’t know if she could follow it. Maybe marriages couldn’t work without sex, and maybe she couldn’t protect herself from being hurt. But now that she’d thrown this up between her and Tony, she didn’t know how to get past it.

  “I don’t know, Jenna. I want my relationship with Tony to be more than just sex between two consenting adults. I want emotion and passion.”

  Jenna narrowed her eyes and lowered her chin. “Oh, my God. You want the fairy tale. Just remember how uncomfortable glass slippers would get in the long haul.”

  Shaking her head at Jenna’s terminology, Beth said, “I don’t know how you’ve made it this long without meeting a man who can match you wit for wit.”

  “There are none out there. Believe me, I’ve looked. Just remember the reason you got married in the first place.”

  “For Christopher,” Beth said quietly.

  “For Christopher,” Jenna seconded.

  Propping her chin in her hand, Beth said, “How is it that you always seem to be able to keep sight of what’s important?”

  Jenna flicked her hair behind her shoulders and busied herself at the tiny sink. “It’s a curse. And that’s exactly what I’m going to put on you if you don’t get out of here and let me get some work done.”

  “You’re the best, Jenna.”

  Jenna rattled off something in another language. With a mild shake of her head, Beth settled Christopher in the crook of her left arm and reached into the gigantic purse she carried these days. Fumbling around for a diaper and an extra bottle, she drew her hand out. “Here,” she said, pressing a tissue into Jenna’s fingers. “You missed a tear in the corner of your eye.”

  It took a lot to render Jenna Maria Brigante speechless. Beth rather enjoyed it, but since she didn’t need a hex added to her list of problems, she and Christopher went home. She spent the rest of the morning wondering what she would do if she actually allowed herself to fall in love only to have Tony decide he couldn’t live with the fact that he was never going to bring a child of his own into the world.

  It’s what Barry had done, she thought, rocking Christopher later that afternoon. The baby turned his face into the crook of her neck and sighed as if he had everything he needed. In that instant she realized that this situation was very different from her situation with Barry. When he’d left her she’d had no one. Now she had Christopher, and as soon as the adoption was final, nobody would ever be able to take him from her. Jenna was right. No matter what happened between her and Tony, Christopher would always be her son.

  Chapter Nine

  Tony entered his house the way he always did, via the back door. Trudging into the kitchen, he dropped his jacket over a chair and glanced around for a sign of Beth. She was nowhere in sight, but the kitchen was immaculate. In fact, the only things out of place were an empty baby bottle and a used teacup by the sink. A legal-looking document on the table caught his eye. With a sense of dread he understood all too well, he strode on over for a closer look. He scanned the top page and scowled. He’d been doing a lot of that this week, so much in fact that the people at the hospital had started steering clear of him. He could handle their furtive glances and obvious sidesteps, but the next person who asked him if he’d been taking ornery lessons from Abigail Horton was going to get a piece of his mind. As per Florence Donahue’s instructions, he’d rearranged his work schedule so he could be here to care for Christopher while Beth worked. Normally she worked on the weekend, but this time she was working the Thursday afternoon shift. A quick glance at his watch told him he’d arrived home with a few minutes to spare. Deciding that Beth was probably still getting ready, he headed for the stairs.

  The entire house was quiet, except for the occasional note of a home-sung lullaby filtering down the open staircase. He’d heard her sing to the baby before, but he’d never known a lullaby to be desire-inducing. Man, he had it bad.

  Following the sound of that low, sultry voice, he strode to the doorway of Christopher’s room. Beth was waltzing the baby around the room in a dance so slow and graceful it made his lungs feel too large for his chest. Christopher’s eyes were open, but Beth’s were closed, the expression on her face dreamy and full of maternal love.

  She was wearing her nursing uniform. The material looked soft, as if it had been washed a hundred times, the fabric following the graceful contours of her slender body. A shudder went through him, a direct result of all the da
ys of watching her, of wanting her and not having her.

  She placed Christopher on the changing table, completely oblivious to his presence and to the chaotic turn his hormones had taken. “Whoever said there was no such thing as love at first sight?” she crooned, unfastening the baby’s tiny pajamas. “I took one look at you, and I was lost, yes I was.”

  Tony stood motionless, listening to the lull of her voice. Her smile enticed, her eyes danced. He’d never seen so much emotion, had never heard so much tenderness, had never witnessed so much pure pleasure in another woman’s features. That tiny baby brought Beth to life as a mother, and in a way Tony had never thought about before, Chris brought her to life as a woman, too.

  The desire Tony had been fighting changed subtly, only to be replaced with something he liked a lot less. Jealousy. He ground his teeth together, calling himself every name in the book. What kind of man was jealous of the attention his wife paid to an innocent child? A man who hadn’t made love to his wife in almost a week, that’s who. If that didn’t change soon, he was going to go out of his mind.

  Beth must have noticed the glide of his hand into his pocket, because she looked up, her smile nearly buckling his knees. “Are you ready to tackle your first night alone with your son?” she asked.

  That wasn’t all Tony was ready for.

  He almost snorted. “What’s the matter? Don’t you think I can handle it?”

  Beth’s chin came up like a whiplash, her eyes searching Tony’s face. He looked a tad ornery. He’d been looking like that a lot lately. Swallowing, she glanced at Christopher, and suddenly she felt unsure. “Maybe I should call in sick.”

  “I deliver babies for a living, Beth. I think I’m qualified to handle Chris for one evening, for crying out loud.”

  Of course, she thought to herself. Tony was extremely qualified to care for Christopher on his own. She was being paranoid. It was just that in the almost two weeks they’d had him, Christopher had never been out of her care, and these last few days, Tony had been as grouchy as a bear with a sore paw.

  “I know you’re qualified,” she said, instilling her voice with as much calmness as she could muster.

  “At least we agree on something.”

  She didn’t allow herself to stare, mouth gaping, at the man she’d married. Instead, she went back to the task of diapering Christopher, snapping his sleeper as if she’d been doing it all her life.

  “Tony,” she said, finishing the task, “I know you’re perfectly able to handle Christopher tonight, but if you’re too tired or if you run into problems or simply want some company, your mother and two of your sisters offered to baby-sit.”

  Tony shook his head slowly, feeling like a kid who’d just had a temper tantrum in a public place. Strolling farther into the room, he said, “I know. I’ll keep them in mind for backup, but like Mrs. Donahue said, this will be good bonding time for Chris and me.”

  She seemed to study his expression for a long time. Either she didn’t realize that his face had been so prone to frowns all week that the smile he was trying to give her hurt, or she was too prudent to comment, because she smiled in return and placed Christopher in his arms.

  “He just finished eating, so he should be ready for a nap soon. If he needs a clean sleeper, they’re in this drawer. The extra blankets are here.”

  “Beth.”

  She stopped talking and turned to look at him.

  “We’ll be fine. I’ll feed one end and diaper the other. I promise to take good care of him. Now, go. You’re going to be late.”

  Christopher let out a little squawk as if to accent Tony’s statement. Beth looked from one to the other, evidently realizing that the baby was in good hands. She strode toward them, lithely leaning down to whisper a kiss on Christopher’s forehead. Tony held his breath, wondering if she was going to do the same to him. When she turned, calling goodbye over her shoulder, he told himself he wasn’t disappointed.

  From the doorway, she said, “Do you have any questions?”

  He shook his head. “How about you?”

  Her gaze slid from his, then slowly climbed back to his face. “There is one thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “I was just wondering if you’ve been spending time with Abigail Horton.”

  She didn’t wait around for his comment. That was okay. He didn’t know what he would have said, anyway.

  The scent of her expensive perfume lingered in the room after she left, the expression on her face lingering in his mind even longer. He wondered if she’d been aware of the smile that had stolen across her face at her stab at wry humor. He wondered if she’d had any idea what that smile of hers had done to him.

  Tony thought about scowling, but he looked down at Christopher, who was staring up at him, and he smiled, instead. He hadn’t taken lessons from Abigail Horton, no matter what anybody said. But old Abigail could have taken a tip or two from him this past week.

  “Bye, you two,” Beth called up the stairs. “See you shortly after eleven.”

  “We’ll be here,” Tony answered.

  By the time he walked to the top of the stairs, the foyer was empty. Moments later he heard the back door close. “Well, kid,” he said to Christopher. “It looks like it’s just you and me. Bethany said she’ll be back around eleven. We should be able to handle things for the next eight hours without too much trouble, right?”

  The baby stared up at him silently.

  “That’s okay. You don’t have to answer. I know what you’re thinking. This should be a piece of cake.”

  * * *

  A piece of cake, hell, Tony thought, stiffly switching Christopher to his other shoulder. The baby cried when he jiggled him. The baby cried when he patted him. He cried when he laid him down and picked him up. He’d been crying for the better part of the past three hours. And Tony was at the end of his rope.

  Chris wouldn’t eat. He wouldn’t sleep. He wouldn’t burp.

  It was like his and Beth’s wedding night all over again. Tony racked his brain trying to remember what Beth had done that night and every night since. She’d made it all look so easy.

  “Easy, my eye,” he murmured in Christopher’s ear.

  Christopher seemed to listen. Was it possible that his cries were beginning to wind down as he drew in a shuddering breath? Was his little body relaxing, his knees straightening slightly, his muscles softening just a little? Tony was almost afraid to hope.

  “That’s better,” he murmured, to himself or Chris, he wasn’t sure.

  The baby turned his head toward the sound of the masculine voice. He stared up at Tony’s face. Tony held his breath. Before his very eyes, Christopher’s lower lip jutted out in a little pout and his chin started to quiver. And then holy hell broke loose all over again. Tears squeezed out of his eyes and a high-pitched cry worse than fingernails on a chalkboard bellowed from his throat.

  “What are you doing to that poor kid?” Gib yelled from the doorway.

  Tony jumped, which startled Christopher, making him cry all the harder. Tony swore under his breath. “What does it look like I’m doing to him?”

  “Can’t you make him stop?”

  Tony shot his best friend a penetrating look. Gib, who had grown used to Tony’s moody side years ago, limped into the room. “Maybe a pin’s poking him.”

  Tony snorted. A lot of help Gib was going to be. He may have been an expert in tactical maneuvers, but he didn’t even know that babies rarely wore diapers with pins anymore.

  Tony knew he could have called his mother or any one of his sisters for help. But they’d surely recognize the strain in him, and he simply wasn’t willing to discuss his sex life, or his lack of a sex life, with the females in his family. So, he’d called Gib. At the time, it had seemed like a logical course of action. Now he wasn’t so sure.

  All six foot two, two hundred and twenty pounds of Gibson Malone was looking bewildered and extremely unhelpful. “Maybe he’s hungry.”

  “Of course he�
��s hungry,” Tony answered. “He hasn’t eaten in more than three hours.”

  “Then, why don’t you feed him, for crying out loud?”

  Gee, Tony thought to himself. Why hadn’t he thought of that?

  Realizing that they weren’t going to solve anything by shouting at each other over the top of Chris’s dark head, Tony took a deep, calming breath and lowered his voice. “He won’t eat for me. He wants Beth. He’s not the only one.”

  Gib leaned heavily on his cane, his eyebrows the only part of him moving. Not much got past Gib Malone. Tony had a feeling he was going to pay for that little slip of the tongue. But right now, with Christopher screaming his mad little head off, Tony didn’t care. Right now, he had a baby to take care of. It shouldn’t have been so difficult. He’d handled hundreds of babies. Now that he thought about it, most of those had been screaming, too. Great. He brought babies into the world screaming, and he seemed to have the same effect on his new son.

  “Here,” Gib muttered. “Let me try. Maybe the hair on your chest is tickling him. Where’s your shirt, anyway?”

  Tony didn’t see much sense in explaining that he’d evidently left Chris uncovered too long when he’d been changing his diaper. The wet shirt had been a surprise, but the kid had a darned good aim.

  He placed the wriggling infant in Gib’s big hands. “He’s strong, but you’ve still got to support his head.”

  Gib’s mouth dropped open, a look of wonder crossing his face. “I can hardly tell I’m holding anything. How much does he weigh?”

  “Just under six pounds.”

  Tony removed his eyes from Christopher long enough to glance at his friend. Gib’s blond hair looked freshly washed and was secured at the back of his head in a stubby little ponytail. His face was clean-shaven. The man had seen horrors he wasn’t at liberty to discuss. Right now, his hazel eyes, eyes that were as changeable as the seasons, were trained on Chris. “He’s got a lot of cry for a six-pounder.”