Marriage by Contract

by Sandra Steffen

  She walked toward him, stopping close to him but not quite touching. They both stared out into the darkness, neither of them knowing what to say. An owl hooted, a lonely sound that matched the ache in Beth’s chest. Crossing her arms against the chill of the autumn night, she said, “Neither Andreanna nor Maria knows that I can’t have children, do they?”

  His only response was a slight shake of his head.

  “Does anyone in your family know?”

  His eyes flickered to hers, then shied away. Beth knew without asking. She asked, anyway. “Why haven’t you told them?”

  He straightened but didn’t turn to face her. “I couldn’t bring myself to tell them. I’m sorry.” There was a current in his voice, like a taut rope being strummed with one finger. It was a sad sound, a sad declaration, a sad truth.

  Beth closed her eyes against the tears threatening to roll down her face. “Don’t be sorry, Tony. You’re bright and ambitious and good-looking. You have strong family ties, strong family values, high ideals. You have so much to give, so many wonderful traits to pass on to a child. There’s nothing wrong with yearning to see reflections of those traits in your sons’ and daughters’ faces, or with wanting to see bits and pieces of your personality in theirs.”

  He faced her stiffly, as if it required effort to look her in the eye. “Then, you understand?”

  She nodded.

  “You’re an incredible woman.”

  An incredible, infertile woman, she added to herself.

  Tony watched a tear slowly roll down Beth’s face. He felt like a heel. Worse, so much worse. The last thing he’d wanted to do was hurt her. But he couldn’t help it. He’d been dodging these feelings for weeks. Somehow, they’d caught up with him. Now he found himself looking for family traits in every one of his sisters’ kids. He loved Christopher, dammit, but he wished the baby had his eye color, his blood, his…something. Anything.

  There. He’d allowed himself to think it. And lightning hadn’t struck him down. He almost wished it would. What kind of a father was he?

  “I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice heavy with pain.

  She held up her hand to silence him. Tony took it, drawing her into his arms. He kissed her, heard her gasp and kissed her again, hoping to convey in actions what he couldn’t put into words. “I’m sorry, Beth.”

  “So am I.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry for. You didn’t do this. It was an act of fate.” He kissed her again, hard, swift, then more gently, drawing a response from her. She relaxed against him, her sigh of sorrow slowly turning to need.

  He didn’t deserve her, but he kissed her again, anyway, and touched her. He swung her into his arms and carried her inside, through the dimly lighted living room and on up the stairs. He didn’t stop until he’d reached their bedroom, and then only to unbutton her shirt and peel away the rest of her clothes.

  She whimpered when he stepped away to remove his own shirt and jeans, and clung to him as he lowered her to the bed. What followed wasn’t a profound performance. Such things required forethought and planning. And Tony didn’t plan, he only reacted to the need pulsing through him, the need to give something to her, and the knowledge that he couldn’t give her the one thing she wanted and deserved.

  His fingers stroked, parting her most private flesh. She gasped and moaned deep in her throat. Her head lolled back and her eyelids slipped down, and he could wait no longer. He made them one, their hips finding that age-old rhythm. They moved together until the blood pounding in their ears obliterated her hurt and his regret, and the fact that neither of them knew how to make things right. And then, when it was over, they wrapped their arms around each other and silently told themselves that everything would be all right.

  * * *

  “Has Tony apologized?”

  Beth’s gaze climbed from the water spot she’d been staring at in the center of the cafeteria table to Karen Sloane, who was looking at her from the other side. Trying on a faint smile, Beth said, “Why do you ask?”

  “Does that mean you don’t want to talk about it?”

  Beth stopped drawing figure eights on her tray. “Is it really so obvious?”

  Karen pushed her fingers through her short light brown hair and shook her head. “That’s questions—four, answers—zero.”

  For the first time all night, Bethany’s smile was genuine. “You’re something else, do you know that?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid I do.” Karen’s sense of humor was only one of the things that made her one of the most popular doctors at Vanderbilt Memorial, even though she was only a second-year resident. The two women had been little more than friendly acquaintances until Karen’s eight-year-old daughter had been trapped in a cave during the mud slide, caused by the massive thirty-six hour rainstorm in June. In the ensuing months, a deep friendship had formed between them. Beth knew Karen would listen, but she didn’t know what to say. Tony had apologized for failing to tell his family about her inability to have biological children. As far as apologies went, Beth had never received anything like Tony’s. He was sorry for hurting her, so sorry that nearly everything in their lives had taken on a kind of desperation. Even their lovemaking had changed, becoming more intense, more instinctive, more powerful.

  “It’s all right,” Karen said quietly. “I know firsthand that sometimes apologies are enough, and sometimes they’re not.”

  Beth empathized with her friend. When Detective Stryker had stopped her and Tony to tell them that a girl matching Annie Moore’s description had been seen in Grand Springs, Beth had had a tiny inkling of what Karen and her husband, Cassidy, had gone through while waiting for their child to be pulled safely from a cold, dark cave. She and Karen had had heart-to-heart talks since that night, but tonight, Beth didn’t know what to say.

  “Are you okay?” Karen asked.

  Beth’s nod was automatic, and a little sad.

  “All newlyweds go through a period of adjustment,” Karen said, reaching for her coffee.

  Beth nodded, but no matter what Karen said, few husbands had to adjust to something as life-altering as his wife’s inability to conceive his child. Beth knew Karen had enough problems in her life right now. They showed in the circles beneath her eyes and in the expression deep inside them. “Are things any better between you and Cassidy?”

  Beth didn’t know how a person as petite as Karen could release such a huge sigh. Her gray eyes were trained on her coffee, her voice strangely tired as she said, “I know tragedy sometimes brings couples closer, but it hasn’t worked that way for Cassidy and me. We thank God every day that Vicky was saved, but he and I have grown more distant than ever. Our little girl was the reason we got married, and I’ve never regretted her or anything about her for even an instant. But I’m not sure it’s going to be enough to hold Cassidy and me together forever.”

  Beth’s heart went out to her friend. “Oh, Karen, I’m so sorry.”

  Blowing on her steaming coffee, Karen said, “So am I, Beth. So am I.”

  Since there was nothing left to say, they changed the subject to more pleasant topics such as Vicky’s new colt and Christopher’s first belly laugh. Karen and Beth parted, laughing, but their eyes reflected their private worries. They went their separate ways at the elevators, Karen heading to surgery, Bethany to the emergency room on the first floor.

  Time passed slowly. The only patients to wander into the ER were a handful of rain-soaked trick-or-treaters with tummy aches, and one man who’d sprained his ankle when he fell off the roof of a haunted house. With too much time on her hands, Beth could do little except think. About Tony. And Christopher. And what Karen had said about whether or not Vicky was enough to hold her and Cassidy’s marriage together.

  She was still lost in thought when her shift ended and she was finally able to go home, her mind still in turmoil when she fit her key into the door they now kept locked, tiptoeing into the dimly lit kitchen. There was an open jar of Grandma Rosa’s Italian sauce near the
stove, and an empty baby bottle near the sink. Dropping her purse on the table, she reached up and slowly began to loosen her braid while making her way up the stairs.

  “There, there, that’s my boy. Shh. You’re a tired guy, just look at those heavy eyelids. Yeah, there you go. That’s it. Go to sleep. Shh.”

  She followed the soft murmur of Tony’s voice down the hall. By the time she reached the doorway to Christopher’s room her hair was loose around her shoulders and her heart had lodged in her throat.

  Tony was leaning over the crib, his feet bare, his shirttail out, his shirt unbuttoned. Noticing her presence, he placed a finger to his lips, cast one last look at the child who appeared to be sleeping peacefully, then motioned for her to meet him out in the hall. Once there, she whispered, “Has he been crying?”

  Tony nodded. “He rolled over for the first time tonight and scared himself.”

  Beth melted a little inside at the depth of wonder in Tony’s voice. “He rolled over?” she asked.

  This time Tony grinned. “I was talking to him from the doorway. In order to see me, he had to pick his head up so far he lost his balance and tipped over. I think he’s going to be a holy terror when he’s two, but I’m telling you, that kid’s gifted. Just wait. He’ll be a linebacker someday, or maybe a rocket scientist or a business tycoon. Our son is going to be anything he wants to be.”

  Beth melted the rest of the way, a piece of her heart sliding all the way into her stomach before spreading outward through her body. It happened every time she and Tony talked about Christopher, every time she heard the wonder in his voice and saw the pride in his eyes. Tony hadn’t come to terms with her infertility, at least not completely, but he loved Christopher as much as she did. It was as if that baby was the link between them, their mutual ground, the tie that bound them together.

  Tony’s cheeks and jaw bore the evidence of how long it had been since he’d shaved. His eyes and cheeks were drawn with fatigue. The past month had been hard on her, but it had been harder on him. He knew he’d hurt her, and Anthony Petrocelli wasn’t a man who lived easily with that knowledge. It only made her love him more.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  Smiling past the emotions threatening to make her lips tremble, she said, “Oh, that you’re the only man I know who can look exhausted and sexy at the same time, for one thing.”

  “That a fact?”

  He was also the only man who could deliver such a question with just enough insolence to make it sound like a statement. She smiled tiredly, and he went utterly still for a moment, then slowly reached out to cup her cheek with the palm of his hand.

  She felt a tightening in her throat and a flutter someplace lower. She covered his hand with hers, slowly gliding her fingers along his arm, on up his shoulder, to the back of his neck, where it took no persuading whatsoever to draw his face to hers.

  As if her kiss was all the invitation he’d needed, he took over from there. He back-walked her into their bedroom, half lifting her the last remaining steps to the bed.

  His kisses had taken on a new urgency these past few weeks, his lovemaking reaching a new level of intensity. Her nurse’s uniform came off so easily she should have gasped. As if too impatient to wait for her to ease him out of his clothes, he whisked them off, then came to her, joining his mouth to hers even though they both knew kissing would never be enough.

  She twined her arms around his strong back because she loved him, and because the things he did to her, with her, for her, made her forget about everything except this moment with this man. She sighed when he worked his own brand of magic on her body. He groaned when she worked her brand on his. They came together with so much passion, so much feeling, so much need, it made Beth’s head spin and her heart fill to bursting. She almost blurted out her love for him. At the last minute, she kissed him, instead.

  Listening to the thud of his heart beneath her ear a short time later, she tried to move to her own side of the bed. His arms tightened around her, even in sleep. It seemed he needed this closeness as much as she did. In time, he’d come to terms with her infertility. Meanwhile, they had this, and they had Christopher. For now, that was enough. Closing her eyes, she drifted off to sleep.

  * * *

  “Just look at you. You’re so-o-o big,” Beth crooned, lifting Christopher’s arms over his head.

  He kicked his feet and flailed his arms, screeching and cooing with obvious glee. Fastening the second tab on the fresh diaper, she couldn’t resist planting a kiss on his soft, round tummy. He giggled out loud, and Beth did, too.

  She whisked him into her arms, breathing in his clean scent. She’d just finished giving him his bath, and he smelled so sweet she couldn’t resist nuzzling his neck and dancing him around the room. She took him with her down the stairs, stopping in the laundry room for an armful of his clean sleepers and little shirts.

  They’d had a very busy day. They’d met Janet and Chaz at the newly reopened Grand Springs Diner for lunch. Although Beth hadn’t been able to ask a lot of questions with Chaz hanging on her every word, Janet had happened to mention how much MacKenzie had liked her new coat. The comment went over her six-year-old nephew’s head, but Beth shared a knowing smile with her sister. After lunch, she and Christopher had dropped in on Jenna at the Silver Gypsy. Jenna had muttered something in Romany when Beth had asked about Gib, which led her to believe that Tony’s best friend hadn’t made much progress with one petite Gypsy.

  Tony had been waiting for them when they’d arrived back home. While Christopher napped, they sat out on the deck dressed in fleecy jackets to ward off the chill in the air, and sipped hot coffee. Tony had been called to the hospital around five. Now it was almost six o’clock, and the sun was low in the sky.

  “Just look at that view,” she said to Christopher, stopping at a window overlooking the backyard.

  Spring was supposed to be the time of hope and renewal. It was fall, and Beth had never felt a stronger promise of fulfillment. The air was full of it, rife with its sweet scent. The leaves had reached their peak weeks ago, but the days were sunny and the nights crisp and clear.

  As far as she was concerned, she had good reason to feel so jubilant. She loved staying home with Christopher, loved watching him change and grow every day. The adoption proceedings were almost final, and she was married to a wonderful man who happened to be incredible in bed. She couldn’t give him biological children, but she’d given him Christopher, and he already loved this baby beyond words. Everything was going to work out. She felt giddy with hope and possibilities.

  The phone jangled from the kitchen. She moved Christopher to her other shoulder and reached for the telephone with her right hand. “Petrocelli residence.”

  “Beth. This is Florence Donahue.”

  “Hi, Florence. What are you doing working on a Saturday? Don’t you know it’s a glorious day outside?”

  The silence on the other end of the line made Beth stiffen. She could picture the older woman sitting behind her cluttered desk, wearing one of her many flowered dresses, chewing nervously on her lower lip. “Florence, is something wrong?”

  “I came into the office to catch up on some paperwork this afternoon. Someone stopped in a few hours ago. Someone who wants to see you.”

  Beth couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

  Mrs. Donahue’s voice shook with emotion. “It’s Annie, Beth. She wants Christopher.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Beth was dying inside, her throat so full of fear and misery she couldn’t breathe. A thousand thoughts pummeled her mind, a thousand protests, but only one question formed on her lips. “Why now, Florence, after all this time?”

  Mrs. Donahue sighed into the phone. “She said she’s been working, saving her money so she could get a decent place for her and Christopher to live.”

  “She has such a place?”

  “Yes.”

  Beth died a little more.

  “Evidently, she’s been waiting
to come forward until she turned eighteen. It seems there’s been abuse in her past, and she wanted to make sure the authorities couldn’t send her back to her mother.”

  An invisible hand closed around Beth’s heart, cutting off her blood flow. She shut her eyes and placed her fingers over her trembling lips.

  Mrs. Donahue’s voice grew softer, thicker, as if she were fighting tears, too. “I explained the legal process to her, how a search was conducted, what forms were filed in court and how her parental rights were terminated. She said she asked you to take care of Christopher for her. She never intended it to be forever. She said you’d understand.”

  Beth’s first instinct was to throw the phone down and run. Someplace far away. Where Annie could never find her and Christopher. But the memory of the look on Annie’s face, of the tears streaming down her young face and of the trust in her eyes when she’d asked Beth to take care of Christopher rendered Beth immobile.

  “Beth. Are you there?”

  Beth would never know how she managed to squeeze anything past the lump in her throat. “Yes, Florence, I’m here.”

  “I asked Annie to wait for me in the outer office so I could speak to you in private. As a social worker licensed with the State of Colorado, I want you to know that you have no legal obligation to return the child to his birth mother. As I said, her legal rights to Christopher were terminated in a court of law. If she chooses to pursue this it could take years, if ever, for those rights to be returned to her. There really is no telling how it would turn out. A judge could award custody to you and Tony. You can fight this, Bethany. What do you want me to tell Annie?”

  Christopher wiggled at her shoulder just as a tear squeezed out of the corner of her eye. Gazing down at him, Beth thought she loved everything about this baby, from his dark, flyaway hair to his soft, round cheeks to the size and shape of each pudgy finger and toe. But she loved his blue eyes most of all.