A Mother's Secrets

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  “Everyone loved her.” And she’d chosen him. “But that’s because she was so easy to like. Emily was just one of those people who was comfortable in her own skin and so made others so. She had a way of taking things in stride, seeing the best in people.”

  He was making her sound like a saint. In her own way, she had been. He’d loved her deeply. And maybe he’d wished that she’d been a little less easygoing when it came to her time. To always being ready to help out, leaving them so little time alone together. Or so it had seemed to him.

  “So why did you need to sneak out of town to go on a date?”

  He shrugged. Kicked up some sand with his tennis shoe. Noticed Christine’s bare toes. He couldn’t picture Emily’s. Wasn’t sure he’d ever noticed them. Knew for certain he’d never found them the least bit sexy.

  What was sexy about toes?

  Maybe it was the red polish.

  A date. She’d asked about why he and Emily had kept their relationship a secret. Seemed so long ago—a completely different world. When in reality, the two of them had shared their first kiss right on that same beach.

  “There were people who thought that I wasn’t good enough for Emily. This town...with all its Beverly Hills types...her father being a judge...the country club...she was raised in that world, vacationed with those families, spent weekends on yachts. Had a full ride to college before she was born. I lived in a two-bedroom house across town from the beach, would only get to college on student loans, if then, and the only vacations we took were when we went camping.” He told it like it was.

  “And somehow you say that without sounding like a victim. Or sorry for yourself.”

  “Because I don’t.” The response was immediate. “I might not have grown up with monetary riches, but I never doubted that my life was filled with wealth.”

  “Even though your dad was sick?” she asked.

  For a second there he’d forgotten that he’d told her about the emergency room visit when he was eight. The day he’d met Emily.

  “He was my dad. We played sports together. He taught me how to catch fish. Did everything other families around us did. His kidney problem was just something that he dealt with. It wasn’t like it defined him or our family. He wouldn’t let it slow him down—other than the times he was in renal failure, and even then, he was always certain he’d be fine and wanted to know everything that was going on with me. Keeping track of things. Holding me accountable. Encouraging me. I never felt like he wasn’t there for me. He lived his life, rather than making a life out of being sick. He did what he wanted to do, almost until the day he died.”

  “He sounds like a great guy.” The words could have been placating. Polite. Instead, they sounded wistful, like she was sorry she hadn’t gotten to know him.

  “Emily was kind of uncomfortable around him.” He was surprised to hear the words come out of his mouth. Hadn’t even been aware of thinking them.

  “Why?” Christine didn’t look over at him. Or sound judgmental. She’d been watching the sand pretty much since they’d stepped out on it.

  Looking for treasure? Or for hidden pitfalls to avoid with bare skin?

  He didn’t have an answer. Wasn’t even sure why he’d made the statement. “I think she just felt so sorry for him. Her dad was so larger than life and mine...spent months at a time getting healthy enough to just go camping again.”

  “I think that makes him larger than life,” Christine said softly. “He certainly lived larger than most would have with his life.”

  She hadn’t stepped any nearer to him. He hadn’t moved over, either.

  And yet Jamie felt closer to her than ever before.

  Chapter Thirteen

  She’d wanted to kiss him. They’d been standing there on the beach and she’d almost leaned in...knowing that, Christine should not have taken pity on Jamie, with all the packing he had to do. He was a big boy. Could tape and load boxes. There’d been no reason for her offer to help him. Christine knew, as soon as she’d heard herself make the offer as they left each other at their vehicles on Sunday, that she’d been out of line. Which was why she cringed when she saw Olivia’s name come up on her caller ID the following Tuesday just as she was walking in the door from work. She had ten minutes to change into shorts and a T-shirt and get back out the door. Jamie was bringing enchiladas home for them to share before they got busy.

  And Olivia would be calling to ask Christine to stand in for her that night at the center.

  Olivia knew she could count on Christine as backup. And vice versa. More often the former, since Christine’s job didn’t often involve life and death emergencies.

  “Hey there!” she answered with forced cheer. “What’s up?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Just in a hurry to get changed.” She didn’t have to say why. She was busy. Olivia was busy. They didn’t report in to each other with every move they made. Which was partially why they worked so well as friends.

  “I’m rushing, too. I’m standing in for Mary in the kitchen before card class, but I just wanted to tell you, I saw Judge Sanders when I was at the country club for lunch today. Someone said the hottie he was with was his son-in-law.”

  “You saw Jamie?” Dr. Howe, dammit. Whatever she called him in private, to everyone else she knew him as Dr. Howe.

  “Jamie?” Olivia said the word slowly. “You’re calling a business associate, Dr. Jamison Howe, Jamie? Christine, what are you doing?”

  “He’s going to be in my hip pocket for the next eight months,” she reminded. “Coming to my doctor’s appointments. He asked me to call him Jamie.”

  The pause made her uncomfortable. “You’re sure this is a good idea? Spending so much time with the guy.”

  They’d already been through that particular discussion to the satisfaction of both of them, she’d thought. Which had helped her calm down over her growing feelings for Jamie.

  “You were the one who confirmed that studies showed that babies could hear in utero. And that bonding with the father was particularly beneficial in this case.”

  “I know. And as a doctor, I do believe it’s important. As your friend...hearing the way you just said his name... I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

  She didn’t want to get hurt, either. “My walls are up and fortified,” she assured her friend. “Besides, you know me. I’m not looking for a relationship. Don’t even want one. And guys like Jamie...they’re made for them. I need my independence. My freedom to work twelve-hour days and spend time at the center and have drinks with you...”

  No need to discuss the fact that she had the hots for her client/employer. Or that he’d told her he was attracted to her. She’d had hormone shots before she’d conceived. And now that she was pregnant, her body was producing more of them. That explained her increased libido. Just like the transference that he was suffering from.

  None of it was real.

  They just had to keep their eyes on the bigger picture.

  * * *

  “Welcome to the mess,” Jamie greeted her, holding what looked like a piece of framed wall art, as he pulled open the front door at the address he’d given her. “Dinner’s on warm in the oven, so we can eat first and then pack, or do some packing first.”

  In navy running shorts and a T-shirt, framed by cathedral ceilings and an expensive-looking light brown leather couch and love seat behind him, the man looked...melt her insides gorgeous.

  “Let’s do some packing first,” she said in spite of the fact that she was kind of hungry. It was best to stay busy during the time she brought his baby visiting. And most important that she be occupied at that moment. Stepping into his home, even with things out of place and boxes lining one wall, gave her a much more personal sense of him.

  She was already carrying his baby. She didn’t need to get any more personal. “You said you
were most intimidated by the china and glassware, so why don’t I start in the kitchen?”

  He’d mentioned his packing woes as they’d parted ways at their cars at the beach on Sunday. “Actually, I was hoping you’d help me out in the bedroom,” he said.

  Her gaze flew toward his, eyes open wide, heart pounding. He’d already turned away, was settling the frame in his hand, backside out, against a wall. “The closet and drawers are filled with Emily’s things,” he said. “I had no idea what to do with them and it was just easier to leave them where they were, but you’ve mentioned this women’s center you volunteer at. I like that the people in need earn spending dollars by taking classes to better themselves, and then spend them in the center’s shop for things they need. I’d like you to take a look at Emily’s things and see if you think women at the center can use them.”

  How a heart could change gears so quickly, she didn’t know, but Christine was no longer suffering from inappropriate sexual needs. Instead, she’d just grown a little fonder of the man inside that incredible body as she followed him up the open staircase.

  * * *

  “You sure you want me in here, doing this?” Christine stood in Emily’s walk-in closet, directly across the little hallway from the closed door of his identical in design clothes storage room. His was a bit less packed. The hallway, of sorts, was a small walkway of tile between the master bedroom and the attached huge room that had two full vanities with sinks and mirrors on opposite sides, with a garden tub and separate double shower. Another door led off to a small room that set the toilet off from the rest of the suite.

  It had all been a bit much for him when they moved in. Who needed so much wasted floor space in the middle of a bathroom? It did nothing but hold a rug and collect hair. It wasn’t like you were ever going to plop down there and play a game or watch TV.

  But you could dance there with your wife... The memory came and he let it wash over him. The day he and Emily had first looked at the house, he’d told her straight out he didn’t like it, had complained about the waste of square footage in the master bath. She’d pulled him against her right there in the middle of the room, pressing her hips against his and starting to sway. Humming the song they’d danced their first dance to the night of their wedding.

  He hadn’t been all that fond of the song, either. But she’d loved it.

  And he’d loved her...

  “Hey, do you want...” Christine’s voice was muffled and then not as she came out of the closet. “What’s wrong?”

  He shook his head. Glanced at her and felt the melancholy fade. “Nothing. Just thinking about how much there is to do...”

  “If you aren’t ready to get rid of her things, just say so, Jamie. We can pack them up and you can store them...”

  Because to hang them in the new house would just be weird.

  Thing was, he didn’t even want to.

  He was ready to get rid of them.

  And felt like crap for feeling that way.

  Moving on from grief was not for lightweights.

  “I’m ready,” he told her. And added, “I wasn’t, but I am now.”

  Standing in the doorway of the closet, he watched as Christine moved hangers along one wall of clothes. “These are some really nice things,” she said. “You sure there’s no one you know who wants them?”

  He shook his head. “Emily and I...kind of lost touch with our friends after the accident. People cared, they stopped by, but it wasn’t like we could do much. And after she died...a couple of her closest friends offered to help me clear out her stuff, but... I didn’t want them around. I know that sounds awful, but their pity...and their grief... I didn’t want the first and didn’t know how to handle the second.”

  It seemed so long ago now. A different lifetime.

  “Is there anything here that you want to keep? Anything that means something special to you?”

  It all meant something special. Even the shirts he couldn’t really even remember her wearing. He’d saved a few items, all of the good jewelry, her wedding dress, in case he had a girl who would want it. Or a son whose wife might. Maybe even a granddaughter someday...

  “Please, take it all. It would make me feel good to know that other women are taking pleasure from it,” he told her. “I know it would make Emily happy. The shoes, belts, costume jewelry, anything you think they’d appreciate and use.” He grabbed a box. Started taping one end.

  He wanted it gone.

  He had their baby on the way. Would always love and honor her as the mother in their little family. And as his best friend and soul mate.

  But the daily living, with Emily first in his thoughts—that was done.

  He was letting go.

  * * *

  On Friday of that week, four weeks after implantation, Christine had another appointment with the fertility specialist. She’d be followed by both Dr. Adams and her ob-gyn until twelve weeks or so, when the former passed off all care to the latter. Until then, the two were consulting with each other.

  Christine liked Dr. Adams quite well. She just wasn’t as familiar with her and wasn’t quite as relaxed as she’d liked to have been when her name was called. Jamie was going to get his first glimpse of his baby with an early ultrasound—something Dr. Adams always did at four weeks after implantation—and Christine had purposely chosen the primary colored flowered skirt and short-sleeved yellow cotton top on purpose because of the elastic waistband and ease of raising the shirt. And maybe, just maybe she’d chosen the outfit because Jamie was going to be there and she felt like she looked good in it. She hoped not, but couldn’t deny that she’d wanted to feel good about herself.

  And he’d be the most likely reason. The ultrasound technician sure wasn’t going to care.

  Jamie, who looked too—everything—in his tan pants and black short-sleeved shirt, stood as soon as she did.

  He walked just behind her as she followed the technician down the hall and into a fairly large shadowed room. This was it.

  Visual proof that there was actually a little body forming inside her. Hopefully confirmation that, so far at least, it was growing as expected. Was healthy.

  And then came that moment when she had to get up on a table and have her belly bared down to her pubic hair while Jamie was watching.

  Not the way she’d like to be getting partially naked with the man. Or have him see her naked.

  But the only way that it was ever going to happen.

  She wanted to be relieved about that.

  * * *

  Jamie’s first glance of Christine’s belly exposed on the examining table might have been a bit of a struggle for him to get through, except that he couldn’t really see her. Not her belly. If he leaned slightly, he could see her face. The technician, Danielle she’d said her name was, had positioned him in the best place to see the monitor, and it happened to be right behind her, the technician, who mostly blocked his view of Christine.

  She talked to them about the coolness of the gel, about the process, and then said, “Let’s see what we’ve got,” in an almost singsong voice.

  Heart pounding, he stared at the screen. Hard. Saw shadows, some much lighter than others. He’d seen sonograms on television, had seen one that friends of his and Emily’s had shown around a few years before when they’d been expecting their first child.

  He’d looked at some pictures during his reading over the past few months.

  But this wasn’t like any of that. The screen in front of him—that wasn’t just a picture. It was his life. More valuable than his life, though.

  “Here we are,” Danielle said, seeming to direct her words over her shoulder to Jamie, not to Christine who, other than saying she was fine, hadn’t spoken a word. He glanced at her face. She was lying there with her eyes closed.

  Not looking at the screen.

  Not sharing the mom
ent.

  “This is your baby,” Danielle said, pointing to the screen. He could barely make out the form that outlined the baby, but he got there. Stared. Could hardly believe it.

  When he looked closely, he could actually make out a head. A torso. The beginnings of a human being. And it hit him so hard he lost the air from his lungs.

  He was going to be a father.

  A real, flesh and blood father.

  He glanced from the screen to Christine, needing her to know how much her gift meant to him. He’d never be able to thank her enough. To repay her.

  Her eyes were still closed, but he thought he saw a tear slide down the side of her cheek. He could have been wrong. The room was illuminated only by under cabinet lighting above the counter along one wall. He hoped he was wrong.

  The last thing he wanted was for his future joy to be causing her pain.

  * * *

  Clearly Danielle had been told that the baby wasn’t Christine’s. That she was only the surrogate. The woman had been completely respectful and attentive to Christine’s physical comfort, but she’d placed the monitor so that Jamie could see it clearly. Christine would have had to turn her head over and up to see.

  She discreetly thanked the technician as they left the room less than ten minutes from the time they’d entered. Jamie already had a strip of printed photos in hand. She could see them if she looked.

  She didn’t.

  She’d prepared herself to feel the baby kick inside her. To care about it and then, as soon as it left her body, to move on down the road.

  For some ungodly reason, she’d failed to think about how watching the miracle of its growth would affect her. She’d only had one ultrasound with Ryder.

  She’d stared at that photo for hours, slept with it under her pillow, carried it in her purse, all those weeks she’d thought she would be keeping her baby.