Do You Take This Child?

by Marie Ferrarella

  Just like that? Without giving him a chance to explain? To try to reason with her? It didn’t seem like something she would do. But then, maybe he’d misjudged her, after all.

  Slade grabbed Sheila by the arm and turned her around to face him. “I lied to you because you wouldn’t marry me any other way.”

  He had lied, lied about something inherently important. He’d used her own feelings against her. And he’d do it again. Just the way Edward had. Edward, the bright, young, promising resident who had conveniently neglected to tell her that he had a wife and baby waiting for him in another state. Almost eight years in her past, it still stung to remember. She’d sworn to herself then that she would never be hurt like that again. And here she was, doing it all over again.

  “So what does that mean? That I’m married to a liar? To someone I’m going to have to doubt every time he opens his mouth?”

  He stared at her. He knew she’d be upset, but this reaction seemed to be totally out of proportion. “Aren’t you exaggerating just a little?”

  He thought it was a joke, she thought. Didn’t he realize how violated she felt? If she couldn’t trust him, what was left?

  Damn you, Slade. I loved you. Now you’ve ruined that for us.

  She raised her chin, forcing tears back. “Oh, I don’t know, am I? You lied about something very basic, to a woman in labor —”

  “I lied to you because you were in labor.” He had to make her understand. His own temper began to fray at the edges. “There wasn’t time to convince you, remember?”

  She shook her head, dismissing his excuse. How could she have been so stupid as to actually let herself be talked into this? Wasn’t one lesson enough? But at least then she hadn’t married the man. Then she’d had the opportunity to walk away.

  “All I will remember is that you lied to me. I hate being lied to,” she said fiercely. “It undermines the entire foundation of our relationship. Now if you tell me that the sun is rising, I’m going to have to look out the window.”

  Damn it, what was the matter with her? Sure he’d lied, but it wasn’t as if he had a wife and five kids stashed away somewhere. Just a father. A pretty damn nice father at that.

  “I think that’s a pretty safe bet.” Sarcasm outlined his words.

  It only served to make her angrier. And feel more betrayed. “This isn’t funny.”

  “No, it’s not,” he agreed, struggling with his temper. Losing it wasn’t going to solve anything. “And it’s not logical, either.”

  He was good with words, she had to remember that. They were his stock and trade. Not like Edward, who’d been clumsy once he’d been discovered. That had been via the telephone, as well. She’d picked up the phone while he’d been in the shower. It had been his wife on the other end, asking if he was going to be able to get any time off to come home at the end of the month. It had been a hell of a coda to their lovemaking.

  “Maybe not to you,” she said coldly. “Maybe because you deal with lies all the time.” She wasn’t making any sense. Sheila sighed, dragging a hand through her hair. It was her fault, she thought. Her fault for believing things would be different this time around. “Look, I was pretty shaky about entering into this marriage. I still am.”

  She raised her eyes to his. Damn it, she still cared. More the idiot she.

  “And you’ve just thrown an entire pile of blocks on the ‘con’ side of the scale. I need some time to work this out for myself.” Time to harden my heart against you and move on.

  He couldn’t believe what she was saying. “So you’re throwing me out?”

  Sheila pressed her lips together. She wanted to, would have felt better if she could, but right now, she wasn’t up to physically doing anything. Her whole body felt like a lead weight. “No, I’m ushering you out,” she corrected him.

  Playing for time, Slade nodded toward the window. “Into the rain?”

  She blinked, surprised. When had that begun? “It’s raining?”

  He laughed shortly. “With all the yelling you’re doing, I can see how you could have missed the sound of thunder.” Slade jerked a thumb toward the window. The sky was completely black, and the tree right in front of the house was dueling with the wind and the rain, its branches swatting away the onslaught. “Right now it’s pouring outside.”

  Yes, it was. And pouring inside, as well, she thought. “Why aren’t you wet?” she asked numbly.

  What difference did that make? “I stuck close to the eaves coming in.” Slade blew out a breath. He didn’t want his marriage to disintegrate over something petty and insignificant. He tried again. “Look, maybe I did lie.”

  Her head snapped up. Fire melted her numbness. “Maybe?” He really thought it was nothing, didn’t he? And when there would be other women, would that be nothing for him, too? “Hearing you’re a bastard will be news to your mother.” Her mouth curved, but there was no humor in the smile. “Seems she and the father you never knew want to come and see the baby.”

  Damn. He’d called his parents with the news the night Rebecca had been born. He wasn’t a model son, but he always tried to stay in touch for the major events. And this had been a major event with a capital M. He hadn’t thought it would backfire on him, not until he’d had an opportunity to tell Sheila the truth about what he considered a white lie at most.

  He scrubbed his hand over his face. “Did you tell her anything?”

  Sheila looked at him, incensed. Did he think she was as heartless as he was? “What, that she’d raised a pathological liar? No, I didn’t. I didn’t want to upset her.” Her eyes narrowed accusingly. “Which is being more considerate of her than you were of me.”

  He had no idea how to initiate damage control. He’d never been in a relationship that really mattered to him before. None of them had ever progressed to the level where feelings were exposed and raw, as hers apparently were.

  “Sheila, I tried to tell you.”

  Oh, no, he wasn’t going to compound one lie with another. “When?” she demanded. “When did you try to tell me?”

  He wished fervently now that he had managed to tell her. God, how he wished he had. “The other night, after your parents left—” he began.

  Sheila shook her head. The expression on her face told him that he’d struck out his only time at bat. “No, I would have remembered hearing you stutter out an explanation.”

  “I didn’t get the chance,” he insisted, his temper flaring again. Damn it, what was wrong with her? He’d lied for the very best of reasons, because he didn’t want to lose her or the baby. Didn’t she realize that? “I started to tell you, but the timing wasn’t right.”

  Her look cut him dead. “Yeah, right.”

  “I thought that maybe you’d take it hard.” He frowned. “Apparently I didn’t even come close to guessing how hard. I didn’t say it because I wanted this to have a chance of working.”

  Stepping away from him, she threw up her hands in exasperation. “How, by grounding it in a lie?”

  He crossed to her and tried to put his hands on her shoulders, to hold her, but she shrugged him off. Sheila held her hand up in front of her to stave off any other moves. She didn’t want him touching her, didn’t want him confusing her.

  “No, I said I need a little time to work this through for myself.”

  He sighed. Maybe it would be better to give them both a cooling-off period. He glanced at the suitcases. “You want me to go tonight?”

  “No.” She felt tired, weary. “Like you said, it’s raining and I won’t throw you out into it. Tomorrow is soon enough.”

  For just a moment, he succeeded in cupping her cheek before she pulled away. “You’re making too much of this, Doc.”

  Despite everything, she still felt desire sizzle just at his touch. When would she learn?

  “Am I?” Her eyes challenged his. “You forget, I don’t have that much material to work with yet. You’re sexy, charming, and under pressure, you lie. How do I know that you don’t do that const
antly?” She already knew that he did. Once a liar...

  This was serious, he thought. Very serious. And he had no way of fixing it.

  Slade shook his head. “I don’t have any answer for that, Sheila, except that you have my word that I don’t.”

  “Your word,” she repeated. Did he think she was a complete fool? “Your word.” Her disbelief drew. “Garrett, I have no idea what your word is worth!” She felt tears forming and squeezed them away. Not now, not now. “It’s my own fault. I shouldn’t have said yes.”

  “But you did.” His voice was deathly still.

  She banked down her unease. Edward had railed at her when she’d confronted him with his lie. And tried to hit her. Sheila’s eyes were steely as she looked at Slade. “I can say no just as easily.”

  “But you won’t.”

  She couldn’t believe his gall. “Oh? And why won’t I?”

  Slade gave it everything he had. He felt as if he was fighting for his life. The battle was no less perilous than when he’d been running to escape enemy fire. “Because at bottom line, you’re as fascinated with this attraction between us as I am.” His eyes held hers, searching for confirmation. Reaching out to her soul. “At bottom line, you know it’s right.”

  Damn him, he was looking into her heart. She bluffed her way out. “Your bottom line must be a lot more secure than mine, because I don’t know any of that. I feel like I’m groping in the dark.”

  “You don’t have to be.” Wanting to shake her, he kicked one of his suitcases, instead. Sheila jumped as it fell over, hitting the tile. “Open your eyes, Sheila. Open your eyes.”

  Willing herself not to back away, not to give in to fear—or desire, she shouted at him. “They are open. And I’m not sure I like what I see.”

  Slade sighed, shoving his hands impotently into his pockets. This wasn’t going to blow over tonight. Not by a long shot. “All right, where do you want me to sleep tonight?”

  Sheila drew herself up. She’d won. But the victory felt incredibly hollow. “Anywhere but in my bed.” With that, she turned on her heel. “If you’re hungry, Ingrid made some stew. It’s in the refrigerator.”

  He wasn’t hungry, but he supposed he had to eat. He’d only had a burger all day. With a shake of his head, Slade headed toward the kitchen. “And the condemned man ate a hearty meal.”

  Sheila heard him and squared her shoulders as she continued walking up the stairs. She didn’t cry until she reached her room and shut the door.

  He was gone by the time she came downstairs the next morning. Slade had spent the night on the sofa. There was no bedding to indicate that—she doubted that he’d used any—but Sheila could detect just the lightest whiff of his cologne still clinging to the cushions.

  Without thinking, she drew a deep breath and felt a instant reaction tingling over her body. She doubted that she would ever be able to smell that brand of cologne again without thinking of him.

  Without wanting him.

  “Like Pavlov’s dog,” she muttered under her breath. But that would have to change.

  Sheila dragged a hand through her hair as she padded, barefoot, into the kitchen. She wasn’t going to let it get to her. Wasn’t going to let him get to her. She’d made a mistake. A major one, but it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be undone.

  Except for the best part. Rebecca.

  It was better this way, she told herself. Better that she find out now that he was a liar than later, when there was a lot more at stake.

  Like there wasn’t anything at stake now.

  Sheila sank into a chair at the table, feeling as if she’d suddenly been deboned.

  Did she really want to undo it? Did she really want a divorce?

  Everything pointed to yes. Except for her heart. She just didn’t know. For the first time in her life, things weren’t clear in her mind. Even with Edward, the stinging realization that she had been used had been quick, sharp, as had the break. She never looked back, never took one of his phone calls.

  But this time, she was torn. She honestly didn’t know what she wanted to do.

  “Good morning, Doctor.” Ingrid breezed into the kitchen. Hair piled haphazardly on her head, dressed in shorts and a faded blue T-shirt, Ingrid looked as young as springtime. “You look as if you need some coffee,” she diagnosed briskly. Ingrid poured her a cup. “Mr. Garrett just left.” She placed the cup in front of Sheila on the table. “What shall I do with the suitcases?”

  Cup raised to her lips, Sheila abruptly stopped and looked up at Ingrid. “Suitcases? I thought you said he left.”

  “He did.” Ingrid placed her own breakfast plates into the dishwasher. “But he did not take all of them, only the small one. The others are still standing beside the door where they were last night.”

  He thinks he’s coming back. Damn, that bastard, he thinks he has me wrapped up around his finger.

  Never mind that she was undecided about the future. He wasn’t supposed to feel so cocky after what he’d done. He wasn’t supposed to think that he could just come waltzing back as if nothing was wrong.

  Sheila set her cup down. “Leave them there,” she told Ingrid. “He can pick them up when he gets back from wherever it is he’s gone.” That’d teach him to be so cavalier.

  She realized with a pang that she didn’t even know where he’d gone. He hadn’t told her. She hadn’t given him the opportunity to tell her.

  How to mess up your life in one easy week, she thought sarcastically. She could give lessons.

  Sheila could tell by Ingrid’s expression that the young woman thought this was a little odd to say the least, but mercifully she was too well mannered to point something like this out. Sheila wasn’t up to any explanations.

  Ingrid merely nodded. “Of course, Doctor. I will tell my mother when she comes today.”

  Today was the woman’s day to clean, Sheila thought. She’d completely forgotten. She usually wasn’t home when Mrs. Swenson came to do housework. She didn’t want to be here now. Eva Swenson liked to talk, and more than that, she liked to listen. She would be asking questions about the baby and Slade the moment she walked in.

  She looked out the window. Last night’s rain was a thing of the past. The sun was shining into the kitchen, bathing everything in a warm glow.

  So why did she feel so cold?

  She had to shake this feeling of bereavement, Sheila told herself.

  “It is a beautiful day, is it not?” Ingrid was saying as she poured a cup of coffee for herself.

  “Yes. Yes, it is,” Sheila agreed with feeling. She rose to her feet. It was a beautiful day, and she was going to celebrate it by dressing Rebecca up and taking her to the office to show her off.

  Just the way, she thought with a smile, so many other mothers had done when they brought their baby in for her to see.

  “Ingrid, Rebecca and I are going out. If I don’t get back in time, say hello to your mother for me.”

  “Do you want me to get Rebecca ready?” Ingrid offered. “I just love dressing her. It is like having a living doll to play with.”

  Sheila laughed softly. Ingrid was little more than a child herself, she mused, suddenly feeling aeons older. “No, this time I’ll do it.”

  It would make her feel better, Sheila thought as she left the room.

  Going in and showing off her daughter to her nurses and her partner made her feel wonderfully normal. But it didn’t help alleviate the strange ache that was in her heart, or fill the emptiness inside.

  “It’s not because I miss him,” she said to Rebecca as she drove back home. “He hasn’t been gone long enough to miss.”

  But he was, she thought. She missed him terribly, and it was less than twenty-four hours since she’d seen him. Sheila supposed that made her a class A-1 idiot.

  “Hello, what’s this?” she murmured to herself as she turned the corner and drove down the street to her house. It was the last on the block.

  There were three cars parked along the curb direct
ly in front of and behind her driveway. She knew the people who occupied the condo next to hers were on vacation. At this time of day, her other neighbors were at work, or so she thought.

  “Looks like someone’s having a party in the middle of the day,” she said to Rebecca as she pulled up into her driveway.

  Sheila pulled up the hand brake and got out of the car. Coming around to the passenger side, she opened the rear door and picked up her baby.

  This was her reality, she thought, holding Rebecca close. “Let’s go home, Becky. It’s been a very long morning.” And the night, she thought, threatened to be even longer.

  Sheila heard voices coming from inside the house as she put the key into the lock. Maybe Ingrid was having company, she thought. It didn’t seem likely. Ingrid was the type to ask before taking liberties. But then, Sheila thought ruefully, she was second-guessing everyone incorrectly these days.

  “Hi, Ingrid,” Sheila called out as she turned to close the door. “We’re back.”

  “Well, it’s about time.”

  That definitely wasn’t Ingrid. The voice sounded vaguely familiar. Dropping her purse on the floor beside the suitcases that were such a painful reminder of yesterday, Sheila turned around to see who the voice belonged to.

  There were four women sitting in her living room. Four women and five babies divided between them. They sat surrounding the antique coffee table, which was covered with gaily wrapped gifts. Multicolored ribbons streamed down in profusion to the floor like saucy, tangled ringlets. All four women were her patients, and they had all recently delivered. The oldest baby there was only five months older than Rebecca.

  For a second, Sheila was speechless. She crossed to the barely visible coffee table and looked at the collection of smiling face. “What are you all doing here?”

  Marlene Bailey Travis, head of her own advertising firm, was accustomed to taking charge of situations. She was the first to answer.

  “We wanted to see the newest addition to the baby-of-the-month club.” She nodded at her sister, Nicole, and the other two women, women she had become fast friends with as they had all sat in Sheila’s waiting room over the long months before their babies were born. During that time, Sheila had been more than just a doctor to them. She’d been a friend they could turn to with any questions, any time, night or day. It was time to show their appreciation. “Do you realize that between the five of us, we’ve covered the last five months in succession?”