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Caitlyn laughed. "Do you want me to get her?"
"Would you?"
"But I'm naked."
"So am I."
"I'd rather see you walk across the room naked. It turns me on."
"Caitlyn, there is a baby in the next room. Where is your sense of
propriety?"
"I left it in the hallway." She kissed him on the cheek and sat back so
he could get out of bed.
He heard her whistle in appreciation at his obvious arousal. That was
the problem with being a man, nowhere to hide. He ruthlessly pulled on
his jeans, Emily's pierc ing cry helping to deflate his libido.
And by
the time he reached her crib, which he'd placed in the living room, he
was back under control.
Caitlyn joined him a second later, wearing one of his T-shirts. In
companionable silence, she made a bottle while he changed Emily, and it
struck him how good it all felt, how normal, how familylike. He
sat
down on the couch and propped his legs up on the table as he placed a
bottle in Emily's mouth. Caitlyn sat down next to him and rested her
head on his shoulder.
"This is nice," she said.
"Aren't you tired?"
"Not really. What about you?"
"I'm okay." It was a massive understatement. He was better than okay,
better than he'd been in his
whole life. He had Caitlyn. He had Emily.
He had it all. Until this moment he hadn't really known just how much
he wanted it all.
"Do you want me to go home?" Caitlyn asked a few moments later, her
voice sounding a bit unsure.
"Do you want to go home?"
She hesitated. "I want to stay."
"Then stay." Stay forever if you want.
A while later, they went back to bed and the next time Matt awoke
sunlight was pouring through his window, the smell of bacon was coming
from his kitchen, and he could hear Caitlyn talking to someone. He
stumbled out of bed, grabbed his bathrobe off the hook in the bathroom,
and walked into the living room.
Caitlyn sat on the couch, a sketch pad propped up on her knees. Emily
was playing with the mobile over her car seat which was carefully
placed on the coffee table next to Caitlyn. It was a scene out of a
storybook, he thought, wondering how this particular scene had ever
come to happen in his supposedly bachelor apartment.
Caitlyn looked up and saw him standing there. A smile of delight, of
intimacy, of awareness spread across her face. One look from her and
his whole body tightened. He remembered every kiss, every touch, every
incredible moment that had passed between them, and he wanted to do it
all over again.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," she said with a smile.
"Oh, God, you're one of those."
"Cheerful as a morning blue jay," she agreed. "Emily and I have
already had breakfast, but I kept some eggs and bacon warm for you. Are
you hungry?"
He had the sudden desperate feeling that he should say no, that he
should somehow put a stop to it all before he started
believing he could actually have all this. Apparently. Caitlyn sensed
something was wrong, because the smile faded out of her eyes.
"'I overstepped, didn't I? I'm sorry. When I'm happy, I feel like
cooking and eating . . ." Her voice
drifted off in apology. "I guess
you're not quite as happy. When you said stay, you probably just meant
until morning, right? And you were hoping when you woke up that I'd be
gone."
"No." He ran a hand through his hair. "No. I meant stay as long as you
like. Fin not awake yet, that's all."
"Are you sure?" Her eyes pleaded with him to be honest. "Because this
feels kind of strange to me, too.
I haven't woken up next to a man in a
long time. I'm not sure how to act."
"I don't want you to act with me. Just be yourself."
She stood up, setting the pad down on the table. "Can I get you
breakfast? And you don't have to worry. I didn't sneak out and pick up
a wedding ring while you were asleep, hoping to plant it in your
scrambled eggs as a surprise "
"Do I look worried'"
She nodded. ""Oh, yeah."
"Sorry."
"It's just eggs. There is no hidden agenda."
Matt offered her an apologetic grin. "Then I'll have some eggs."
As Caitlyn disappeared into the kitchen, Matt picked up the sketch pad
and studied the dress she'd drawn. He didn't know anything about
dresses, especially wedding dresses, but tie liked the bold lines, the
sway of the skirt . . . and more than anything, he liked that Caitlyn
had drawn something,
Caitlyn came out of the kitchen with a plate of food and a glass of
orange juice. She set it down on the coffee table. "Here you go.'
"Thanks." He held up the sketch pad. "This is the dress you're
designing for that bride?"
"Yes. What do you think?"
"It looks like a dress."
"That's good, since I was trying to draw a dress."
"I don't know anything about this stuff. But tell me this, did it feel
good?" He saw the answering light in her eyes.
"It felt wonderful, like the cold layers of winter melting into summer.
It's as if I had so many clothes on, I'd lost myself. But I'm slowly
coming back." She paused, her eyes meeting his. "You had something to
do with it, you know."
"I've always been pretty good at peeling off clothes," he replied
lightly.
"I noticed. By the way, you snore."
"I do not."
"Yes, you do, cute little snores, you could almost make a tune to them.
I was going to sing along, but didn't want to wake you."
He frowned at her, not feeling entirely comfortable with the intimacy
between them. It was one thing to make love to a woman, it was another
to share jokes at the breakfast table. "Well, you talk."
"I do not."
"Cute little words that make no sense."
She laushed, "As long as I'm not spilling my guts in my sleep, I'm okay
with it. Not that there's anything you haven't heard yet." And then she
surprised him by throwing her arms around his neck and pressing
a kiss
against his lips. "I had a great time last night, in case you hadn't
noticed."
"Me, too."
"I'm going back to my apartment to get dressed and go to work. You can
have your space, get your bearings, pretend that nothing changed last
night. But don't get too comfortable, because I will be back."
"I'm counting on it," he said, surprising both of them with his answer.
She paused in the doorway. "You aren't scared I'll ask too much of you?"
"Are you scared I'll ask too much of you?"
"I'm scared that you won't ask me for anything. You're a very
self-sufficient man."
"I used to be," he muttered as she left the room. "I used to be."
slightly over the words. Jonathan sat next to her on the couch, the
papers they'd printed off the Internet spread out before
them on the
coffee table. They'd spent most of the night going over the subject.
"It's a possibility,'" Jonathan said. "What do you think?"
She'd never heard of having a baby making someone sad, but she
certainly felt like a lot of the women
in the articles. "I'm not sure."
"If your depression is related to the fluctuation of your hormones, it
could explain why you've felt so overwhelmed since Emily was born,
especially if she was a difficult baby."
Sarah felt a kernel of hope take root and grow. Maybe she wasn't like
her mother, Maybe she wasn't crazy or bad. Maybe she could take care of
her baby.
Jonathan put his hand on her thigh, and she relished the growing
closeness between them. They'd parted for a few hours
during the night to get some sleep, but other than that they'd been
together every second. She'd never known a man to take such an interest
in her problems, to want so badly to help her when he had nothing to
gain.
"I think you should talk to a friend of mine," Jonathan continued. "Her
name is Karen Harte, and she's
a psychiatrist. Now, don't get that look
in your eye. She's a friend, not an enemy. I grew up with her
and I
trust her completely. Besides that, she had a baby about six months
ago. If anyone will understand how you're feeling, it's her."
"But I don't have any money," she said.
"I'll take care of the first consult. We'll figure something out after
that"
Sarah hesitated. How could she tell her problems to a complete
stranger? A voice inside reminded her she'd already told her problems
to one complete stranger, why not two? And if she really did have
something that could be cured, maybe . . . "All right," she said,
making her first real decision in weeks. That step alone made her feel
bet ter, like she was taking control over something. "I'll go see her."
"Good. I'll call her right now."
"Right now?"
"No time like the present." He flung her a smile as he walked out of
the room and down the hail to his office.
Sarah stacked the papers into a neat pile, again pleased with her
ability to perform the simple task. It had been so long since she'd
felt like her feet were under her, like she could stand up without
swaying. She tested it out just to be sure, and it was true. She could
stand up. She could stretch her arms above her head. She could . . .
smile.
Sarah felt the smile spread across her face, and she couldn't stop it.
Nor did she want to. This feeling
was better than the
one she'd been carrying around the last two months, actually longer
than that, the
last thirteen years, since she and Mattie had said
good-bye. She let out a sigh as she flopped back down on the couch.
"It's set. I got you an appointment for Thursday morning at eight
a.m.," Jonathan said, returning to the room.
"That fast?" she asked in alarm.
"Yes, that fast."
"Oh." She looked down at her hands, feeling his gaze lingering on her.
She didn't really know what Jonathan saw when he looked at her, and she
was afraid to ask. There was something growing between them, and it was
probably wrong. He was a minister, and she was just someone who needed
his help. They weren't. . . they couldn't be anything more. But it was
odd to have a friendship with a man. In
her experience the only thing a
man had ever wanted from her was sex.
"Sarah?" Jonathan inquired.
She looked up into his blue eyes and felt her heart jump into her
throat. The fog in her head seemed
to be lifting, letting in all kinds
of other feelings.
'"I have a favor to ask of you," he said. "I know you think I'm
selfless, but I am human."
So he did want something from her. It only made sense. He'd helped her
out. Now he wanted payback. She got to her feet and began to unbutton
her blouse.
His jaw dropped. "What are you doing?"
"Giving you a favor."
He put his hand over hers. "No. That's not what I meant."
"It's not?'' So he didn't want her, then? She felt horribly embarrassed.
"I mean I do, but I won't," he said cryptically. "I can't."
He tilted up her chin with his finger. "'You're a very attractive
woman. Don't think I haven't noticed."
"You don't have to say that."
"It's the truth. But I'm a minister and you're in trouble. I won't take
advantage of that. I want you to
trust me, and you won't be able to do
that if.. ." His voice trailed away as he seemed to get lost in his
thoughts. "You have incredible eyes." He gave a shake of his head.
"Sorry. Where were we?"
"You weren't taking advantage of me," she said, feeling a shy pleasure
at the look in his eyes.
"Right. I won't do that."
"I believe you."
"Good. Okay, then. Now, back to my favor. .. . You know that the board
members are planning to
make their decision about closing the church in
the next week or so. Well, I have a plan." He paused, offering her a
wry smile. "It occurred to me that I've been praying for a miracle
instead of trying to
make one happen. I may not be good with the
masses, but I'm pretty good one on one. And I've
helped a lot of people
over the past year, good people. I think they'll want to know that the
church
may close, that I may leave."
She smiled at the very unreverendlike look in his eyes. "You want to
make them feel guilty."
"I want to get them in rny church this Sunday, whatever the motivation.
That's the first step. Then I'll
try to keep their, coming back.
Because I don't just need them. They need each other, and they need
this church."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Help me make calls, and tell me not to quit when I get discouraged."
Jonathan was so endearingly uncertain. It wasn't a trait she'd ever
seen in a man. Most thought they
knew exactly what to
do and when to do it.
"I can do that," she said.
"And one last favor."
She eyed him warily this time, noting the change of tone in his voice.
"I want you to make a phone call."
"Me? Who do I have to call?" She knew the answer even before he said it.
"Your brother. You have to talk to him, tell him you're getting help
and that you miss your daughter."
"I do miss her," she whispered. "But what will he say?"
"We won't know until you call." He took her hand in his. "I'll be right
here beside you. You're not alone anymore."
Sarah took a deep breath and walked back to the office with him. He
waited while she dialed the number she'd already put to memory. The
phone rang, once, twice, three times, then the machine picked up.
"He's not there," she whispered.
"Leave a message."
Sarah heard the beep but what could she say in thirty seconds that
would make any sense? She hung
up without saying a word. "I'll call
back," she told Jonathan defensively.
"I know you will, because you're a good mother."
"If you keep saying that, I might start believing it."
"And so you should. There's another place I want to show you today,
too. It's a transitional home for mothers and children who are trying
to start over for whatever reason."
"They wouldn't want someone like me."
"Sarah, you're exactly the kind of person they want. But I won't force
you into anything. I just want to show you that there
are options and there is help out there."
"Do you really think Emily and I can be together again?"
"I do," he said with a passion in his voice that couldn't be denied.
Jonathan thought he didn't have the power to persuade. But he'd just
about convinced her to believe in the future, something she hadn't been
able to do for a very long time.
"Would you?"
"But I'm naked."
"So am I."
"I'd rather see you walk across the room naked. It turns me on."
"Caitlyn, there is a baby in the next room. Where is your sense of
propriety?"
"I left it in the hallway." She kissed him on the cheek and sat back so
he could get out of bed.
He heard her whistle in appreciation at his obvious arousal. That was
the problem with being a man, nowhere to hide. He ruthlessly pulled on
his jeans, Emily's pierc ing cry helping to deflate his libido.
And by
the time he reached her crib, which he'd placed in the living room, he
was back under control.
Caitlyn joined him a second later, wearing one of his T-shirts. In
companionable silence, she made a bottle while he changed Emily, and it
struck him how good it all felt, how normal, how familylike. He
sat
down on the couch and propped his legs up on the table as he placed a
bottle in Emily's mouth. Caitlyn sat down next to him and rested her
head on his shoulder.
"This is nice," she said.
"Aren't you tired?"
"Not really. What about you?"
"I'm okay." It was a massive understatement. He was better than okay,
better than he'd been in his
whole life. He had Caitlyn. He had Emily.
He had it all. Until this moment he hadn't really known just how much
he wanted it all.
"Do you want me to go home?" Caitlyn asked a few moments later, her
voice sounding a bit unsure.
"Do you want to go home?"
She hesitated. "I want to stay."
"Then stay." Stay forever if you want.
A while later, they went back to bed and the next time Matt awoke
sunlight was pouring through his window, the smell of bacon was coming
from his kitchen, and he could hear Caitlyn talking to someone. He
stumbled out of bed, grabbed his bathrobe off the hook in the bathroom,
and walked into the living room.
Caitlyn sat on the couch, a sketch pad propped up on her knees. Emily
was playing with the mobile over her car seat which was carefully
placed on the coffee table next to Caitlyn. It was a scene out of a
storybook, he thought, wondering how this particular scene had ever
come to happen in his supposedly bachelor apartment.
Caitlyn looked up and saw him standing there. A smile of delight, of
intimacy, of awareness spread across her face. One look from her and
his whole body tightened. He remembered every kiss, every touch, every
incredible moment that had passed between them, and he wanted to do it
all over again.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," she said with a smile.
"Oh, God, you're one of those."
"Cheerful as a morning blue jay," she agreed. "Emily and I have
already had breakfast, but I kept some eggs and bacon warm for you. Are
you hungry?"
He had the sudden desperate feeling that he should say no, that he
should somehow put a stop to it all before he started
believing he could actually have all this. Apparently. Caitlyn sensed
something was wrong, because the smile faded out of her eyes.
"'I overstepped, didn't I? I'm sorry. When I'm happy, I feel like
cooking and eating . . ." Her voice
drifted off in apology. "I guess
you're not quite as happy. When you said stay, you probably just meant
until morning, right? And you were hoping when you woke up that I'd be
gone."
"No." He ran a hand through his hair. "No. I meant stay as long as you
like. Fin not awake yet, that's all."
"Are you sure?" Her eyes pleaded with him to be honest. "Because this
feels kind of strange to me, too.
I haven't woken up next to a man in a
long time. I'm not sure how to act."
"I don't want you to act with me. Just be yourself."
She stood up, setting the pad down on the table. "Can I get you
breakfast? And you don't have to worry. I didn't sneak out and pick up
a wedding ring while you were asleep, hoping to plant it in your
scrambled eggs as a surprise "
"Do I look worried'"
She nodded. ""Oh, yeah."
"Sorry."
"It's just eggs. There is no hidden agenda."
Matt offered her an apologetic grin. "Then I'll have some eggs."
As Caitlyn disappeared into the kitchen, Matt picked up the sketch pad
and studied the dress she'd drawn. He didn't know anything about
dresses, especially wedding dresses, but tie liked the bold lines, the
sway of the skirt . . . and more than anything, he liked that Caitlyn
had drawn something,
Caitlyn came out of the kitchen with a plate of food and a glass of
orange juice. She set it down on the coffee table. "Here you go.'
"Thanks." He held up the sketch pad. "This is the dress you're
designing for that bride?"
"Yes. What do you think?"
"It looks like a dress."
"That's good, since I was trying to draw a dress."
"I don't know anything about this stuff. But tell me this, did it feel
good?" He saw the answering light in her eyes.
"It felt wonderful, like the cold layers of winter melting into summer.
It's as if I had so many clothes on, I'd lost myself. But I'm slowly
coming back." She paused, her eyes meeting his. "You had something to
do with it, you know."
"I've always been pretty good at peeling off clothes," he replied
lightly.
"I noticed. By the way, you snore."
"I do not."
"Yes, you do, cute little snores, you could almost make a tune to them.
I was going to sing along, but didn't want to wake you."
He frowned at her, not feeling entirely comfortable with the intimacy
between them. It was one thing to make love to a woman, it was another
to share jokes at the breakfast table. "Well, you talk."
"I do not."
"Cute little words that make no sense."
She laushed, "As long as I'm not spilling my guts in my sleep, I'm okay
with it. Not that there's anything you haven't heard yet." And then she
surprised him by throwing her arms around his neck and pressing
a kiss
against his lips. "I had a great time last night, in case you hadn't
noticed."
"Me, too."
"I'm going back to my apartment to get dressed and go to work. You can
have your space, get your bearings, pretend that nothing changed last
night. But don't get too comfortable, because I will be back."
"I'm counting on it," he said, surprising both of them with his answer.
She paused in the doorway. "You aren't scared I'll ask too much of you?"
"Are you scared I'll ask too much of you?"
"I'm scared that you won't ask me for anything. You're a very
self-sufficient man."
"I used to be," he muttered as she left the room. "I used to be."
seventeen
"You really think I have postpartum depression?" Sarah asked, stumblingslightly over the words. Jonathan sat next to her on the couch, the
papers they'd printed off the Internet spread out before
them on the
coffee table. They'd spent most of the night going over the subject.
"It's a possibility,'" Jonathan said. "What do you think?"
She'd never heard of having a baby making someone sad, but she
certainly felt like a lot of the women
in the articles. "I'm not sure."
"If your depression is related to the fluctuation of your hormones, it
could explain why you've felt so overwhelmed since Emily was born,
especially if she was a difficult baby."
Sarah felt a kernel of hope take root and grow. Maybe she wasn't like
her mother, Maybe she wasn't crazy or bad. Maybe she could take care of
her baby.
Jonathan put his hand on her thigh, and she relished the growing
closeness between them. They'd parted for a few hours
during the night to get some sleep, but other than that they'd been
together every second. She'd never known a man to take such an interest
in her problems, to want so badly to help her when he had nothing to
gain.
"I think you should talk to a friend of mine," Jonathan continued. "Her
name is Karen Harte, and she's
a psychiatrist. Now, don't get that look
in your eye. She's a friend, not an enemy. I grew up with her
and I
trust her completely. Besides that, she had a baby about six months
ago. If anyone will understand how you're feeling, it's her."
"But I don't have any money," she said.
"I'll take care of the first consult. We'll figure something out after
that"
Sarah hesitated. How could she tell her problems to a complete
stranger? A voice inside reminded her she'd already told her problems
to one complete stranger, why not two? And if she really did have
something that could be cured, maybe . . . "All right," she said,
making her first real decision in weeks. That step alone made her feel
bet ter, like she was taking control over something. "I'll go see her."
"Good. I'll call her right now."
"Right now?"
"No time like the present." He flung her a smile as he walked out of
the room and down the hail to his office.
Sarah stacked the papers into a neat pile, again pleased with her
ability to perform the simple task. It had been so long since she'd
felt like her feet were under her, like she could stand up without
swaying. She tested it out just to be sure, and it was true. She could
stand up. She could stretch her arms above her head. She could . . .
smile.
Sarah felt the smile spread across her face, and she couldn't stop it.
Nor did she want to. This feeling
was better than the
one she'd been carrying around the last two months, actually longer
than that, the
last thirteen years, since she and Mattie had said
good-bye. She let out a sigh as she flopped back down on the couch.
"It's set. I got you an appointment for Thursday morning at eight
a.m.," Jonathan said, returning to the room.
"That fast?" she asked in alarm.
"Yes, that fast."
"Oh." She looked down at her hands, feeling his gaze lingering on her.
She didn't really know what Jonathan saw when he looked at her, and she
was afraid to ask. There was something growing between them, and it was
probably wrong. He was a minister, and she was just someone who needed
his help. They weren't. . . they couldn't be anything more. But it was
odd to have a friendship with a man. In
her experience the only thing a
man had ever wanted from her was sex.
"Sarah?" Jonathan inquired.
She looked up into his blue eyes and felt her heart jump into her
throat. The fog in her head seemed
to be lifting, letting in all kinds
of other feelings.
'"I have a favor to ask of you," he said. "I know you think I'm
selfless, but I am human."
So he did want something from her. It only made sense. He'd helped her
out. Now he wanted payback. She got to her feet and began to unbutton
her blouse.
His jaw dropped. "What are you doing?"
"Giving you a favor."
He put his hand over hers. "No. That's not what I meant."
"It's not?'' So he didn't want her, then? She felt horribly embarrassed.
"I mean I do, but I won't," he said cryptically. "I can't."
He tilted up her chin with his finger. "'You're a very attractive
woman. Don't think I haven't noticed."
"You don't have to say that."
"It's the truth. But I'm a minister and you're in trouble. I won't take
advantage of that. I want you to
trust me, and you won't be able to do
that if.. ." His voice trailed away as he seemed to get lost in his
thoughts. "You have incredible eyes." He gave a shake of his head.
"Sorry. Where were we?"
"You weren't taking advantage of me," she said, feeling a shy pleasure
at the look in his eyes.
"Right. I won't do that."
"I believe you."
"Good. Okay, then. Now, back to my favor. .. . You know that the board
members are planning to
make their decision about closing the church in
the next week or so. Well, I have a plan." He paused, offering her a
wry smile. "It occurred to me that I've been praying for a miracle
instead of trying to
make one happen. I may not be good with the
masses, but I'm pretty good one on one. And I've
helped a lot of people
over the past year, good people. I think they'll want to know that the
church
may close, that I may leave."
She smiled at the very unreverendlike look in his eyes. "You want to
make them feel guilty."
"I want to get them in rny church this Sunday, whatever the motivation.
That's the first step. Then I'll
try to keep their, coming back.
Because I don't just need them. They need each other, and they need
this church."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Help me make calls, and tell me not to quit when I get discouraged."
Jonathan was so endearingly uncertain. It wasn't a trait she'd ever
seen in a man. Most thought they
knew exactly what to
do and when to do it.
"I can do that," she said.
"And one last favor."
She eyed him warily this time, noting the change of tone in his voice.
"I want you to make a phone call."
"Me? Who do I have to call?" She knew the answer even before he said it.
"Your brother. You have to talk to him, tell him you're getting help
and that you miss your daughter."
"I do miss her," she whispered. "But what will he say?"
"We won't know until you call." He took her hand in his. "I'll be right
here beside you. You're not alone anymore."
Sarah took a deep breath and walked back to the office with him. He
waited while she dialed the number she'd already put to memory. The
phone rang, once, twice, three times, then the machine picked up.
"He's not there," she whispered.
"Leave a message."
Sarah heard the beep but what could she say in thirty seconds that
would make any sense? She hung
up without saying a word. "I'll call
back," she told Jonathan defensively.
"I know you will, because you're a good mother."
"If you keep saying that, I might start believing it."
"And so you should. There's another place I want to show you today,
too. It's a transitional home for mothers and children who are trying
to start over for whatever reason."
"They wouldn't want someone like me."
"Sarah, you're exactly the kind of person they want. But I won't force
you into anything. I just want to show you that there
are options and there is help out there."
"Do you really think Emily and I can be together again?"
"I do," he said with a passion in his voice that couldn't be denied.
Jonathan thought he didn't have the power to persuade. But he'd just
about convinced her to believe in the future, something she hadn't been
able to do for a very long time.
* * *
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