Do You Take This Child?

by Marie Ferrarella

  He had seen it on a minor scale, between the benefit and now. His arm tightened around Sheila as he felt her head begin to nod against his shoulder. “What triggered it?”

  “Coming face-to-face with their own mortality, I guess. Discovering that they didn’t have forever the way they thought they did.” The way, she supposed, everyone did until they were shown otherwise.

  “Funny, I always thought I did.” Given his beat, he couldn’t think any other way. Fear tended to paralyze. Slade kissed the top of her head. “Now I just hope so.”

  She leaned her head back to look at him. “Does this come naturally to you, or do you practice?”

  He laughed, and she could feel the sound rumbling in his chest. “Every morning, faithfully, in front of my mirror. Why?” He pretended to be surprised. “Doesn’t it flow?”

  It flowed all right. And was as smooth as silk. “A little too quickly at times.”

  “That’s just because I want to get it out before I get confronted with your rapier wit.” It was one of the things he liked best about her, her mind. Of course, her body wasn’t exactly shabby, either.

  At moments, it was still hard to believe that he had actually committed himself to another human being. He supposed it was going to take time to get used to. He’d give it fifty years before throwing in the towel. “I bet you were a knockout as a little girl.”

  She wondered if he noticed that the photographs of her in the family room were all taken after she passed the age of twelve. “You would have lost that bet. I was painfully ugly as a child. Broke mirrors wherever I went.”

  He found that difficult to believe. Both of her parents were very striking. And there were her own looks to back up his assessment. “And they didn’t try to drown you?”

  She gave him a playful rap in the arm. She hadn’t done anything like that in years, she realized. Many, many years. “No, they ran away, like I said. Actually, I was probably the reason why they spent so much time doing charity work. To atone for bringing an ugly duckling into the world.”

  He closed his arms around her. “Well, you’ve sure made up for it now.”

  She knew better than to argue with a compliment. Sighing, she turned her head toward his on the pillow. “Slade?”

  “Hmm?”

  This felt right, too right. Disappointment had to be right around the corner. And yet, she fervently hoped not. “Do you think we’re going to make it?”

  There wasn’t a hint of hesitation in his voice. “Absolutely.”

  She wished she had his confidence.

  Seeing her parents suddenly in love after all these years had shaken the foundations of the world she had built up around herself. Because of them, she had just naturally assumed that careers and marriage could not possibly mesh successfully. Now, after all this time, her parents were proving her wrong.

  Why didn’t that make her feel more confident about her own marriage?

  The question became less and less important as she ventured carefully into each day and discovered to her amazement and vast pleasure that married life seemed to suit her. Dedicated, used to keeping long and ungodly hours, Sheila had anticipated going a little stir-crazy during her medical leave. She had also assumed that she would have trouble fitting the baby and, most of all, Slade, into her life.

  Set in her ways, she was accustomed to doing things her own way. As was he, she knew.

  When the compromises began coming along, they surprised her. She quickly learned that compromises were his specialty.

  “Then you’re all right with this?” she asked, surprised he was taking her request into consideration, much less in stride. She had asked if he could see about getting himself a beat much closer to home. She had no way of knowing that he had already reached the decision himself and that Andy was amenable to it.

  Slade was not above giving himself brownie points when the situation called for it. He thought it only fair that he be there for his wife and daughter. If agreeing with Sheila’s request made him seem heroic and selfless in her eyes, so much the better. The bottom line still remained the same. He was still going to try his best to be home as much as possible.

  “I’m okay with it,” he assured her. “Sure, I’ll miss it,” he admitted truthfully, and he knew he would. There was something almost seductive about danger. But so was Sheila. “But I’m married now. Both of us have to make some changes in our lives to accommodate each other. Otherwise, why bother getting married?”

  Sheila looked at him, utterly stunned by what he was saying. Did he really believe that?

  “When you live by your wits and every twenty-four hours comes with its own visa, which side of the bed you sleep on isn’t all that important,” he told her. She looked at him blankly. “Translated,” Slade kissed the tip of her nose, “don’t sweat the small stuff.”

  She laughed. “Very eloquent.”

  He locked her in an embrace that perforce could go no further. Yet. “I save my best stuff for you.”

  He made her warm when he looked at her like that. Without admitting it to herself outright, she was counting the days until she was healed sufficiently enough to make love with him. Time was moving much too slowly in that department.

  Tilting her head back, she kissed him. “I certainly hope so.”

  She tasted of strawberries and passion. The former was thanks to the jam she’d just had on her toast, the latter was something he was looking forward to.

  He raised and lowered his brows, leering wickedly at her. “Get your doctor’s approval and I’ll show you,” he promised.

  The temptation to give her a preview was enormous, but he’d only be torturing both of them. With a sigh, he released her.

  “I’ll have to go in for a few hours to talk to Andy. I know I can talk him into switching my beat, but it might require a trade.”

  “A trade?” She didn’t quite follow him. “What sort of a trade?”

  He’d already made his bargain with Andy, so he knew the ramifications. “The sort that dreams are not made of. I still might have to go away for a few days, but at least it’ll be stateside.” His mouth quirked in a grin. “If anyone shoots at me this time, at least they’ll be cursing in English.”

  “Shoots?” she repeated uneasily. The whole point of his remaining in the country was to avoid danger.

  He liked the fact that she looked uneasy. And that she worried about him. “Just kidding. But I will most likely be gone for a few days.”

  She was just getting used to having him around. The three of them were beginning to bond, to form a unit. And she’d discovered that she liked not sleeping alone—when she could get some sleep.

  “Oh?”

  Slade cupped his hand around his ear. “Was that a little remorse I hear?”

  Sheila pretended to frown. “Not remorse, exactly.”

  Yes it was, he thought, pleased. “But what, ‘exactly’?”

  If this thing was going to work, she had to be honest, she reminded herself. “Okay, I’ll miss you.” Sheila turned her face up to his. “There, will that satisfy you?”

  “For now.” Slade rested his hands comfortably on the swell of her hips. “We’ll work on ‘destitute without you’ for the next assignment.” He nipped her lips quickly, savoring the taste. “I like strawberry jam.” He winked at her. “Walk me to the door, wife.”

  “Yes, master.”

  “Good, very good.”

  She shoved him on his way.

  Sheila shook her head, grinning to herself as she closed the door behind him. It was actually working out. Of course, it was only a week into the marriage, but she was getting a very good feeling about this.

  And it wasn’t just because her parents had vaporized her concept of marriage. No, what gave her hope that things would work out for the best was Slade.

  She really wanted this to work now. She liked waking up in the morning beside him. Liked feeling his eyes on her when she looked up unexpectedly. This tall, brooding man actually had a sense of humor
about everything. Sometimes sardonic, sometimes whimsical, and always witty. He made her see that every light side had a dark side to it. And that the converse was true, as well.

  It was best, he told her, to concentrate on the light side. There was no point in brooding about things. That had surprised her. She liked the fact that he maintained a positive attitude, even after he had seen what he had of life.

  Best of all, she liked the way he held their daughter, as if Rebecca was something fragile and wonderful.

  All of that pointed to a good future together.

  Maybe, as Ingrid had predicted as she had stared into the wayward tea leaves on the bottom of her cup one morning, they were meant to be.

  Ingrid, with her sky blue eyes and her four-plus scholastic average, had solemnly believed in what she saw. “Tea leaves do not lie, Doctor. They have no reason to. You and Mr. Garrett were meant to be.”

  Meant to be.

  The phrase echoed in Sheila’s head as she walked into the living room. She could let herself believe that if she tried.

  Sinking into the armchair, Sheila closed her eyes for a moment, remembering how she had felt that night as they talked and made love until the sun came up.

  That was when, she realized, she’d fallen in love with him. She was just too busy at the time to notice. Her mouth curved as she continued remembering.

  The ringing phone chased away her daydream.

  “I’ll get it, Ingrid.” She hoped that the sound hadn’t woken Rebecca up. By her reckoning, the baby still had two hours to go to her next feeding. Sheila propped the receiver up against her ear and shoulder. “Hello, Pollack-Garrett residence.”

  There was silence on the other end for a moment, then a woman asked, “Is Slade there?”

  “No, he just left for the newspaper office. Can I take a message? This is Slade’s wife.”

  It was the first time she had ever said that, Sheila thought. Slade’s wife. How could such a small word have such a large effect on her? It still felt strange on her tongue.

  It sounded even stranger to her ear. “Slade’s wife?” The woman on the other end sounded delighted.

  Well, at least this wasn’t an old flame trying to track him down, Sheila thought, wondering if that was a touch of jealousy she was experiencing.

  “Yes. What can I—?” She got no further.

  “How wonderful! This is his mother. Rebecca.” The woman spoke in a breathless staccato. “I can’t tell you how delighted I was to hear that someone had finally managed to tame Slade long enough to get him to say ‘I do.” ’

  Sheila began to protest that if anything, the circumstances had been the other way around, but she never got the chance.

  “He said you were a knockout.”

  This was his mother, all right. She even talked like Slade, Sheila thought. She had a feeling that she was going to like Rebecca. “He tends to exaggerate.”

  The laugh on the other end of the line was rich and lusty. Definitely Slade’s mother. “I have a feeling that he didn’t. He used the same glowing terms to describe the baby. I just can’t wait to see you both.”

  An in-law. She had an in-law. A mother-in-law at that. Life was tobogganing right along, she thought. “Well, why don’t you come over tonight?” It was just past nine. That would give her a solid nine hours to pull herself together to meet her mother-in-law.

  Rebecca laughed, sounding pleased at the invitation. “It’s not that simple, dear. We live in Phoenix.”

  “We?” Was she one of those people who talked in the plural, or was there a pet coming along for the visit, too?

  “Yes, my husband and I.”

  “Husband.” The word caught Sheila off guard, but she recovered quickly. “Oh, you mean Slade’s stepfather.” He hadn’t told her his mother was married.

  “Stepfather?” Rebecca echoed. “Oh, my, no. His father. If Slade has a stepfather, I certainly don’t know anything about it.” She laughed at the idea. “Heaven knows, Lawrence is certainly enough man for me. He’s just like Slade,” she confided, “except that he’s getting gray around the temples. Melted my heart the first time I saw him.” She sighed nostalgically, then continued. “What I was calling about was to ask you if we could come for a visit next month. Lawrence has some time coming to him then. I forgot to make arrangements with Slade when I spoke with him right after the baby was born.”

  Sheila felt numb. “Next month will be fine,” she heard herself saying. She was on automatic pilot.

  It wouldn’t be fine, she thought. It wouldn’t be fine at all.

  Somehow, she managed to get through the rest of the telephone call, but she had no idea what she had said. All she could think of was what Rebecca Garrett had said to her in the first few minutes of the call.

  She was coming with Slade’s father.

  His father.

  “Damn it, Slade, you lied to me,” Sheila said aloud, anger throbbing in her voice. She felt as if she was tumbling off the top of a pyramid. “You probably lie about everything.”

  Drawn by the sound of Sheila’s voice, Ingrid peered into the living room. “Did you say something, Doctor?”

  Sheila stared at the telephone. That was what she got for believing, for being gullible. She took a breath and exhaled it slowly, steadying herself.

  “Yes.” Sheila rose to her feet. “We’re not drinking tea anymore, Ingrid. Your tea leaves lie.”

  Sheila didn’t bother explaining it any further as she walked out of the room, passing the bewildered young woman. She had some packing to do.

  The few hours Slade had anticipated turned into more than half a day. The twenty-minute meeting in Andy’s office mushroomed and grew until it encompassed the better part of the afternoon. He’d called home to tell Sheila that he would be late, but Ingrid said that Sheila wasn’t taking any calls. He wondered if she was ill.

  It made him antsy during the meeting.

  The downpour that accompanied him home didn’t help matters any.

  By the time he walked into the house, Slade felt tired and edgy. The ride back from the office had been a bear. There’d been three accidents on the road, tying traffic up in a huge, insurmountable knot. He was relieved to be back home again.

  “Honey, I’m home,” he called out, shutting the door behind him.

  He nearly tripped over the suitcases standing like ducks in a row beside the door. His suitcases, he realized when he looked closer.

  Sheila walked in from the family room, Rebecca in her arms. She’d been waiting for him to return all afternoon, waiting to have it out with him. Now that he was here, she was so angry, she had no idea where to begin.

  Slade gestured toward the suitcases. “Am I going somewhere?” he quipped. He didn’t like the look in her eyes, but he’d ridden out storms before.

  “Yes.” Her voice was stony, her expression unapproachable. What the hell had happened while he was gone? he wondered.

  “How did you know?” he asked casually, as if the sight of his belongings all packed up didn’t throw him. He had to leave in the morning, but it was only a seven-day jaunt. There was entirely too much luggage here. “Although, I think you went a little overboard. I don’t need every single thing I own for a one-week trip.”

  Oh, no, he wasn’t going to use his charm on her again. It was just a smoke screen. “Yes, you do. And it’s not for a week, it’s forever.”

  Maybe this was just a mood swing. If it was, it ranked as the mother of them all. “Did I miss something? Is this a parallel universe? Is there some stunningly handsome guy somewhere walking into a warm embrace right now in my place?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Can it, Garrett. You’ve used up your charm.”

  “No, I have a six-month supply I haven’t tapped into yet.” She didn’t smile. This was serious, he thought. Whatever happened, this wasn’t going to go away with a few quips. “What’s the matter, Sheila? Did something happen?”

  Yes, something happened. I opened up my eyes. “I had a telephone call t
oday.”

  He had no idea where this was going or what to expect. “And—?”

  “It was your mother. She wanted to know if she could come for a visit next month.” Sheila’s eyes held Slade’s as she waited for him to squirm. His expression was impassive. He was one cool customer under fire, she thought. “With your father.”

  Chapter Nine

  Oh, boy, Slade thought. This was going to take some very fancy talking on his part. She was angry and he couldn’t really blame her, although it was actually her fault that he’d lied in the first place.

  Before he said anything in his defense, Slade crossed to the doorway and called for the nanny. “Ingrid, could you take the baby upstairs, please? Dr. Pollack and I have a few things to discuss.” By the look on Sheila’s face, he didn’t think the discussion was going to be a quiet one, at least not to begin with.

  The next minute, Ingrid hurried into the room, a textbook tucked under one arm. There was a pencil peeking out from between the pages, a makeshift bookmark. Studying for exams, Ingrid felt a little harried at the moment, but one glance at the couple had her swallowing any words of protest she might have offered.

  “Of course,” she said quickly.

  “It’s time for her nap,” Sheila instructed. She did her best to keep the anger out of her voice, but it was difficult, standing in the same room with Slade.

  How could he? How could he?

  It was Edward all over again. There were no words to describe how she felt.

  Sheila gently handed Rebecca over to the young woman and waited until Ingrid left the room and was presumably out of earshot.

  Then she gave it to Slade with both barrels. “We have nothing to discuss,” she corrected him heatedly, her voice thick with emotion. “We got married under false pretenses. You lied to me. Case closed.” With that, she turned her back on him and began to walk out of the room. She wanted to get away from Slade before her emotions overwhelmed her completely.