Cause for Alarm

by Erica Spindler

  "Because you're not involved with the baby. You need to be. If you were, you'd feel differently. You'd feel a part of her and what's happening to our lives."

  "I know." He passed a hand wearily across his face. "I've been so busy, with new cases at the firm, with the campaign." He swore softly. "I'm sorry, Kate. You know I don't take change well. And this one's been a doozy."

  She laughed at that. It was true; he didn't enjoy change. She, on the other hand, welcomed it with open arms. He would come around. Of course he would.

  "I suppose that's why God gave most couples nine months to adjust to impending parenthood."

  He crossed to the rocker and knelt down beside it. "Thanks for being so great." He kissed the baby's head, then Kate's hand. "It's going to get better, love. I'm going to hire someone to help me with campaign work, I'm going to adjust." He lifted his face to hers. "Never stop loving me, okay? Not even when I'm behaving like a horse's ass."

  She smiled through her tears. "Not even then."

  21

  Long after Emma had fallen asleep and Kate had gone to bed, Richard sat in the rocking chair in Emma's nursery, staring at the crib. The room was dark save for the soft glow of the night-light, and every so often the infant would stir and whimper, then fall silent again.

  Richard passed a hand over his brow, weary and disheartened. Tonight, for Kate, he had gone through the motions with Emma. He had held and rocked her; he'd given her her bedtime bottle and even changed her diaper. Or tried, anyway; he had been all thumbs at that.

  Kate had watched him, flushed with pleasure. With happiness and pride. Emma, too, had seemed pleased with his attention. She had kicked and gurgled and waved her arms. And when he had fed her, she had looked up at him with wide, trusting blue eyes.

  With eyes, a gaze, designed to melt the coldest heart.

  It hadn't melted his.

  What the hell was wrong with him?

  Richard stood and crossed to the crib. He gazed intently down at the child for long moments. His daughter, he reminded himself. His. And Kate's.

  So, why didn't he feel anything but anger? Anything but resentment and failure?

  Because he had always gotten everything he wanted.

  Had always been the one in control, the one who made things happen. It had been the way of his life; was the way he expected his life to be.

  Not this time. This time he hadn't gotten what he wanted, he hadn't been able to control the situation, mold it to his liking. He'd been told no. And he didn't like it. Not one damn bit.

  Unable to look at the child a moment more, he left the nursery. After making certain Kate was still asleep, he retrieved the bottle of Jack Daniel's and a glass from the bar and went to his study. There, he poured himself a shot, tossed the drink back, then poured another.

  Richard crossed to the French doors that led out to the first-floor gallery, pushed aside the drape and gazed out at the black night. He swore under his breath. At first he'd watched Kate and Emma with pleasure and affection. They made a charming picture; he had been warmed by Kate's obvious happiness.

  But as the days and weeks had passed, he'd found himself becoming resentful and jealous. Of the time Kate devoted to Emma. Of her obvious and complete love for the child.

  He had found himself wishing the baby would just… disappear. That he would wake up one morning and find that adopting Emma had been nothing but a disturbing dream and that he had his old life back. His wife back.

  What did those thoughts say about him? About his character?

  He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, disgusted with himself and his thoughts. With the answer.

  He felt like a snake. A loser. A failure.

  He could never tell Kate the truth. Not about this. It would devastate her. She wouldn't understand. She would never look at him the same way again.

  He couldn't bear to lose her.

  He dropped his hands. If only he felt like a father. If only he looked at Emma and got all gooey-eyed with love or puffed up with pride. If only he didn't look at her and remember his own failure. That he hadn't been able to impregnate Kate. That he hadn't been able to give his wife the one thing she'd wanted more than anything.

  He shot blanks, he reminded himself bitterly. He was half a man.

  Unable to bear his own thoughts a moment more, he opened the French door and stepped out onto the gallery. The midnight air was cold; it went straight to his head, clearing it. He breathed deeply, several times, releasing the pent-up breath in a rush.

  It was the change in their lives causing him to feel unsettled and resentful, he told himself for the umpteenth time. The alteration of their life-styles. His feelings for Emma would deepen. Soften. They would. He was an adult, a good person; he could make that happen.

  He would make it happen.

  And when he did, everything would once again be as it should be between him and Kate. He would be in control of their lives.

  And he and Kate would be happy again.

  22

  From her vantage point at the sidewalk café across the street, Julianna watched the employees pour out of Nicholson, Bedico, Chaney & Ryan. They laughed and joked with one another, some paired off, obviously heading for an after-work get-together, others called cheery good-nights as they hurried to their cars.

  In the ten weeks since the baby had been born, Julianna had been busy. She had mastered Kate's smile and laugh, the cadence of her speech. She had practiced her walk until it had become second nature, had shopped for clothes and accessories Kate would choose, scouring the discount store racks until she found a few good, select items. She'd had her hair cut and styled to replicate Kate's. She had worked out until ready to drop with exhaustion, firming muscles gone slack during pregnancy.

  Now she was ready for the next step, the one that would take her that much closer to her destiny.

  That much closer to Richard.

  Julianna's heart began to pound with anticipation. These past weeks, keeping her distance from him had been agony. Waiting for the right moment to meet him, using caution and reason when all she had wanted to do was throw both to the wind and be with him, had been the hardest thing she had ever done. She loved him beyond reason.

  Desired him in a way that left her weak and trembling and desperate.

  In her dreams they had been together. She had spent her nights making love with him, acting out her every fantasy of their future together. In the mornings she had awakened with the sheets tangled around her legs, her pillow wet with tears of longing.

  And regret. That the night had ended. That once again Richard would be away from her, in her heart but not her arms.

  Though it had been agony, reason had won out. Julianna had played it smart, had held back, carefully weighing the pros and cons of where they should meet the first time. A chance meeting in a bar, through his country club or at the health club, had all been considered and discarded. None of those would allow her the opportunity to insinuate herself into his life and his affections.

  No, she and Richard had to meet through the professional arena, she had decided, most likely through his law firm. To do that, she needed an "in" at his firm. Someone who would vouch for her; someone he trusted who would introduce them.

  That's where she came in. Her girl.

  Julianna returned her attention to Nicholson, Bedico, Chaney & Ryan and the employees emerging from the building. This was the five o'clock crowd, the secretaries, assistants, and other clock-punching, working stiffs.

  Richard never left work at five. None of the partners did. They either left early or much later. It was a sign of their status within the firm, of their importance.

  Julianna had quickly learned the firm's hierarchy. It hadn't been difficult. Most people didn't realize how much they revealed to the world without saying a word. Things like, what their station in life was. How they felt about themselves. Whether they were liked or loners, meek or aggressive.

  The partners strode with purpose; they
held themselves in a way that shouted their exalted place in the world. They wore expensive, impeccably cut suits; gold glinted at their wrists. The partners, she had learned, either left work with one of the other partners or an overworked assistant, one frantically scribbling notes while struggling to keep up with their boss's long, purposeful stride.

  Julianna sipped her soft drink, searching for her girl. Finally, she spotted her. She emerged from the building and scurried down the front steps. As if eager to catch up with her co-workers. As if afraid that if she didn't she would miss an invitation to an after hours teˆte-a`-teˆte.

  She caught up with the group; none seemed to notice.

  Julianna felt almost sorry for the young woman. It was pathetic, really. To be so hungry for attention. To be so obvious about it.

  Julianna took another sip of her drink, studying the other woman. She didn't appear to be that much older than Julianna. She had straight, brown hair of a medium length and wore wire-rimmed glasses. She carried a briefcase in an attempt, Julianna suspected, to look like a higher-up instead of an underling. She wore ill-fitting suits, ones she had no doubt chosen to look more professional, older and smarter. Instead, they emphasized the opposite. She looked woefully out of place, like a lost little girl wearing her mother's clothes.

  Pathetic, Julianna thought again. A dowdy-looking wanna-be. Wanna-be more than the secretary she was. Wanna-be liked. Accepted. Part of the group. Popular.

  No doubt about it. She was the one.

  For days now, Julianna had watched her. She always left the firm alone. As the others streamed around her, chatting and making plans, she kept her head down save for the surreptitious, hungry glances she sent them. Glances the others either didn't notice or chose to ignore.

  Julianna laid two dollars on the table, stood and left the restaurant. She followed her girl at a comfortable distance, unconcerned with hurrying-she knew she parked her car in the lot around the corner, that she lived in an apartment in Covington, and that she spent almost every evening alone at a coffee café called Bottom of the Cup.

  That's where they would become friends, Julianna had decided. Best friends. Starting tonight.

  23

  Bottom of the Cup was one of those places where singles went to meet each other, the nineties version of the pickup bar. The specialty of the house was caffeine instead of alcohol, the music folksy rather than frenetic, and smoking an absolute no-no.

  It was also a place where the terminally unlikable could sit alone but hopeful without seeming too out of place or too desperate.

  In the time Julianna had been tailing her girl, the closest the woman had come to meeting someone had been when a guy at the next table had asked her to pass a couple packs of sugar.

  Julianna smiled. Her girl's luck was about to change. "Hi," Julianna said, stopping beside her table. "How do you like it?" The young woman looked up from her book, her expression stunned. "Are you talking to me?"

  "Of course I am, silly." Julianna held up her copy of Dead Drop, purchased an hour ago and in anticipation of tonight. "I'm reading Luke Dallas's new book, too. What do you think?"

  Color crept up the other woman's cheeks. "I like it a lot. Though I don't usually read this kind of fiction. I like books that are a little more substantial."

  Julianna didn't have a clue what she meant by that, but smiled brightly. "Me, too. Can I join you?"

  "Sure."

  Julianna set down her coffee and book, then took the seat opposite the other woman. "I'm Julianna."

  "I'm Sandy Derricks. It's nice to meet you."

  Julianna reached for a packet of sugar and added it to her café mocha, then glanced at Sandy's cup, feigning surprise. "Look, we like the same coffee." She leaned toward her conspiratorially. "We're practically sisters. So tell me, Sis, what other books do you like to read?"

  Looking embarrassed but pleased, Sandy rattled off a list of authors and books, none of whom Julianna recognized. She sipped her coffee, pretending interest, her mind running ahead to what she would say next and how she would work Nicholson, Bedico, Chaney & Ryan into the conversation.

  She found her opportunity a short time later. "I really appreciate your letting me sit with you," she said. "I'm new in town and don't know anybody. I haven't even found a job yet."

  "Really? I've lived here all my life. Well, not here. In New Orleans. I moved over here because of a job opportunity."

  "No kidding." Julianna brought the cup of oversweet coffee to her lips. "Where do you work?"

  "At a law firm. Nicholson, Bedico, Chaney & Ryan." She sat up a bit straighter, obviously proud. "I'm Chas Bedico's assistant. He's one of the partners."

  Julianna widened her eyes. "Wow, lucky you. I'd kill for a job like that." She sighed with exaggerated frustration. "I sure hope I find something soon."

  After that, they chatted about nothing for a long time. Finally, her coffee long gone, Julianna glanced at her watch. "I can't believe the time. I guess I'd better go." She stood. "You want to meet again tomorrow?"

  "Tomorrow?" Sandy repeated. "Me and you?"

  The other woman looked so disbelieving, Julianna had to force back a smile. "Why not?" She lifted a shoulder. "What do you say we meet here, at eight o'clock? We'll talk about the book some more."

  24

  Kate sat in her office at The Bean. Though still on maternity leave, she had popped in to tally the time sheets and do payroll. On the desk in front of her lay the Tulane Alumni Association's invitation to Luke's lecture and book signing. Unbeknownst to Richard, she had dug it out of the kitchen trash. She wasn't sure why she hadn't told him. Perhaps because she had known he wouldn't understand, that he would react with unreasonable and unsubstantiated jealousy, that he would claim Luke's friendship didn't matter to him and try to intimidate her into letting it die.

  But Luke's friendship did matter to her. She missed it. She missed him. She wanted the opportunity to patch things up. She wanted the opportunity to tell him how sorry she was for…everything.

  She reached for the phone, thought better of it and drew her hand back. She had already called him three times, had already left three messages, the last pleading with him to meet with her and Richard when he came to town.

  He'd returned none of them.

  His silence was her answer. Luke didn't want her friendship. He didn't need it, or her, anymore. He didn't want her in his life, he had made that clear.

  Let it go, she told herself. Let him go.

  She pushed away from her desk, and crossed to Emma, asleep in her car carrier in the corner. Kate smiled, feeling lucky-not to have to choose between a job and motherhood, not to have to leave her child every day. She would have hated that, would have hated missing her smiles, her many firsts, seconds and thirds.

  The way Richard did.

  She thought of Richard. Since their argument over leftover pizza and Emma a couple of weeks ago, he had been away in the evenings much more than usual. But when he'd been home, to her great relief, he had doted on Emma. He seemed to finally be taking pleasure in his daughter, in being a father.

  Becoming parents had been a huge adjustment for them both. Stressful. Anxiety producing. She shook her head. Even wonderful life changes caused stress. She knew that. The problem was, she'd had her eyes focused for so long on the dream of becoming a mother, the ramifications of the actual event had blindsided her.

  Kate returned to her desk and the waiting time sheets. Her gaze fell once again on the invitation. As it did, her thoughts returned to Luke. Would he enjoy being a father? she wondered. She knew from the bio on his books that he was still single. Had he ever wanted to marry? Did he long to be a parent, to share his life with children, as she and Richard had?

  Fat chance, she decided, smiling to herself. A big success now, brushing elbows with Hollywood, no doubt the last thing he wanted was a wife and kids. He was probably dating some twenty-year-old starlet, for heaven's sake.

  "Kate?"

  She lifted her gaze. Marilyn s
tood grinning in the doorway. "What's up?"

  "Not a thing. While we were in a lull, I thought I'd come and chat. I've missed having you around."

  "Come on in." Kate smiled and pushed aside the time sheets. "I wasn't getting much done anyway."

  "I saw that." Marilyn made herself comfortable in the chair in front of Kate's desk. "You looked like you were a million miles away."

  "I confess, I am a little preoccupied." Kate glanced down at Luke's invitation, then back up at the other woman. "Have you ever lost a really good friend? Someone whose friendship was important to you? Really important?"

  "Yeah, I suppose. I had a couple really good girlfriends in high school. We were as close as sisters. But we drifted apart after graduation."

  "Do you miss them?"

  "Not them, no. But I do miss what we had."

  "Ever thought of calling them, of getting together again?"

  "We actually did. We met and had lunch." One corner of Marilyn's mouth lifted in a rueful smile. "It wasn't the same. We didn't have anything in common anymore." She shrugged. "We kind of sat there, wishing we had something to say. Struggling to find some common ground to latch on to."

  "Did you ever find anything?"

  "The past. That's all there was." Marilyn met Kate's eyes. "Why the trip down Memory Lane?"

  "An old friend," she said, picking up the invitation and handing it to Marilyn. "He's going to be in town, and I'd love to see him."

  "You know Luke Dallas? The Luke Dallas?" She tipped her head, studying his press photo. "He's so cute."

  "We went to Tulane together. He, Richard and I were really good friends. The best of friends."

  She handed the invitation back. "So, what's the problem?"

  "We had a fight right before graduation and haven't spoken since." Kate sighed. "I don't know if it's becoming a parent or what, but it's been gnawing at me lately. I want to try to repair the rift. I need to."