Cradle and All (23 page)

Tom waited quietly for her to tell him.

“He said it had nothing to do with my mother. It was just the nature of a man to need the sexual excitement that came with variety. A natural biological imperative for the male of the species to spread his sperm. Totally beyond his control.”

Tom’s gut twisted at the disgust on Anne’s face as she said those words.

“I asked him why he’d even bothered to get married if he felt that way,” Anne murmured. “He told me that marriage didn’t have anything to do with a man’s biological nature. He even claimed he still loved my mother.”

“Your father doesn’t understand real love,” Tom said quietly. “Does your mother know about his affairs?”

“He told me she accepted them,” Anne said. “I didn’t believe it until I asked her. The sadness in her eyes tore at my soul. She won’t divorce him. She still loves him. And that foolish, stupid love traps her in all that misery.”

Tom tried to reach for Anne’s hand again, to ease the sadness in her eyes. But she held herself away.

“My father also told me that the only reason men let women think they’re going to be faithful to them is because they know women can’t handle the truth. He told me I should have figured out that truth since my partners’ sexual promiscuity had been behind the breakup of my relationships, as well as my sister’s marriage.”

“And you believed him.”

“He was right. I should have figured it out. But I hadn’t. Not until then.”

“Your father doesn’t speak for all men,” Tom said. “And he certainly doesn’t speak for me.”

“Tom, you’re one of the best men I’ve ever met. No, make that the best. The last thing you ever have to do is defend yourself to me. But you are an incredible lover. And you didn’t learn that out of any book.”

“Anne, don’t—”

“A year ago you were with Tommy’s mother. Now you’re with me. Who you’ll be with next year, I don’t know. I’ll enjoy the time we have together for what it is. But I’m not going to end up like my mother. So, please, don’t talk to me of love.”

And with that she got up from the table and walked out of the room.

Tom sat alone staring at the half-full bottle of wine for a long time. It would be so easy to drink it and let it dull the pain of disappointment inside him. And he wanted to dull that pain. But it wouldn’t do anything to change Anne’s mind.

He had thought all he had to do was give her time. But now...now he wasn’t sure there would ever be enough time.

She loved him. He knew it in his soul. But she would never be able to see it, much less admit it, not with the thick weeds of doubt that were so deeply rooted in her heart.

Tom corked the wine bottle, turned off the kitchen light and went upstairs. He stood outside Anne’s bedroom door for a long while, looking at the column of light spilling underneath it.

He wanted to go in, take her in his arms and make love to her with all his heart. He had exchanged solemn vows with her, promised to forsake all others, promised to love her through the end of their days. He had meant every word. But she obviously hadn’t believed them. Her flat refusal of his love made that very clear.

Tonight, he hadn’t just bared his heart to her, he had bared his soul. How else could he show her? What else could he say?

Nothing. There wasn’t anything left he could do or say.

He turned away from her door and let himself into the second bedroom.

Anne heard the door close across the hall and knew that Tom would not be coming to her tonight. And she knew why. She had hurt him. And the pain of that knowledge ached.

Tom was not the kind of man who lied. He believed what he’d told her tonight. Even if she couldn’t.

She had not been able to stop the happiness that had filled her when he told her he loved her. Even with everything she knew, with all she’d been through, having Tom say those words to her had nearly made her forget every one of her hard-earned lessons.

Tom made her want to believe again. So badly, she wanted to believe again. But her self-preservation wouldn’t let her. She had to hold on to it. Because when Tom’s feelings changed and he was gone, it would be all she had left.

Gone. When Tom was gone... The ache in Anne’s heart grew worse. How much time would they have together before it was over?

Not enough to let this rift remain between them. Not enough to waste a moment away from him.

She hadn’t tried Tommy on her breast tonight. Needing to do that would be the perfect excuse for going to Tom.

She gently gathered the baby into her arms, slipped out of bed and walked across the hall to Tom’s door. She stood there for a long moment before getting up the courage to knock.

When she finally did, Tom opened the door almost immediately. He wore pajama bottoms, nothing more.

“Tommy needs you to...” Anne stopped, staring at the expanse of Tom’s smooth, bare chest, not able to look in his eyes, suddenly embarrassed to say what the baby needed. What she needed.

He cupped her chin with his hand and raised it until she met his eyes, his look open and gentle. “Your room all right?”

The awful ache in Anne’s heart dissipated. Tom was making it easy on her. No game playing. No trying to hurt her back for the pain she had given him. Just simple understanding. And kindness. And love.

She blinked back the tears that stung her eyes. “Any room, Tom.”

He scooped Anne and the baby into his arms in one effortless move, holding them tightly against his chest as if they weighed no more than a feather.

His eyes searched hers. “Did you really come for the baby’s sake?”

She wrapped an arm around his neck. “No.”

Tom brushed a kiss against her hair—a kiss that was as soft as a sigh. “I love you, Anne.”

“I know, Tom. Just please don’t say it anymore.”

“But you believe me?”

“You told me you’ve never lied to me. And you never will. I believe that.”

“Keep believing it, Anne,” Tom said as he carried both her and the baby back into the bedroom. “Just keep believing it.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

A
NNE
COULDN
’
T
REMEMBER
a more beautiful Saturday morning. The sun was shining. Birds were singing. The spring breeze flowing through the open kitchen window was lush and warm.

Tom sat across the breakfast table from her, bouncing the baby in his lap. He was rumpled and unshaven and so unfairly sexy. Tommy bounced and cooed and smiled at him adorably. And Tom cooed and smiled right back. There was such love on Tom’s face for his son that it made Anne’s heart swell.

If only she had met Tom instead of Bill those many years ago! How different things might have been. If only.

No, she was not going to play that game. It was pointless. The past and its mistakes were best forgotten. All she could do was remember the lessons she’d learned from those mistakes, and make smarter choices in the present.

Rising from the breakfast table, she gathered the dishes and stacked them in the dishwasher.

“Tom, we’re going to need to go grocery shopping,” she called over her shoulder as she set the dishwasher cycle.

“Hmm.”

Anne wondered why Tom’s answer seemed so preoccupied. She turned to see him staring at something in the morning newspaper laid out on the table in front of him.

She walked over, rested her hands on his shoulders and read the headline—
Tomei Murder Case to be Reopened.

The Tomei name sounded familiar to Anne.

“Tom, wasn’t Tomei the last name of the couple whose son died in the emergency room at the hospital yesterday?”

Tom nodded.

Anne’s eyes scanned down to the article.

The district attorney’s office has learned from Mr. and Mrs. James Tomei that their son, James Tomei, Jr., confessed to killing his wife just before he died from injuries sustained in a self-inflicted gunshot wound Friday night. Tomei, Jr., allegedly told his parents that he strangled his wife, Elizabeth, two years ago after learning of her affair with their neighbor, Donald Abbott. He then framed Abbott for the crime. Abbott was tried and convicted for the murder last year and is currently serving a life sentence.

Anne sat down in the chair next to Tom and studied his calm face. “You heard Tomei’s confession. If his parents hadn’t come forward, would you have been able to let an innocent man serve a life sentence for a crime he didn’t commit?”

“Anne, I can talk to you about the general guidelines concerning confessions, but I can’t discuss any specific confession.”

“Sorry, I forgot. Okay. In general terms, let’s say you hear a person confess to a crime for which someone else has been convicted. Can’t you say anything?”

“A priest cannot under any circumstances divulge what he has heard in a confession.”

“Even if the person confesses to having done something evil, like this man Tomei, and later dies?”

“Under any circumstances, Anne, means under any circumstances. That’s why some Episcopal clergy don’t accept confessions anymore.”

“But you do. Why?”

“Do you know what the original derivation of the word
evil
was?”

She shook her head.

“It meant to have lost one’s way. We all lose our way at some time in this life. To recognize you’ve done wrong, to be truly sorry for it and to ask for and receive forgiveness is to have found your way again. Confession and absolution are powerful healers.”

Anne remembered the look of relief on the face of both Mr. and Mrs. Tomei when Tom had told them their son had died in peace. She realized that Tom had done that for their son, as well. What he could do for someone as a priest was beyond anything she’d been able to do as a judge.

No, she wouldn’t do what he did for a living for anything, but she admired him greatly for choosing that path. And for so many other things. She had told him he was the best man she had ever met. With every moment that statement grew deeper with meaning.

Tommy had grabbed Tom’s ear and was pulling it with his determined little hand. Tom captured the baby’s other hand and munched on the tiny knuckles while Tommy giggled delightedly.

It was just impossible to resist this man.

She stood up. “I’m going to go take a shower. Would you care to join me?”

Tom looked up at her and smiled. “Is this a trick question?” he asked as he reached over and expertly undid the sash on her silk dressing gown.

* * *

“W
E
KNOW
SHRUBBER
is using these underage, runaway girls as breeders to produce babies for his wealthy clients,” Anne said as she pushed the grocery cart down the supermarket aisle. “But we haven’t even discussed Dr. Faust’s role in this.”

Tom picked up a bag of potato chips and flipped them over his shoulder into the cart. Anne picked up the bag and put it back on the shelf. Tom smiled. They were like an old married couple already. And he loved it.

His heart felt so much lighter this morning. She had come to him last night because she couldn’t stay away. No matter what her experiences had been, no matter how afraid she was of love, she couldn’t stay away from him.

“Tom? Did you hear me?”

“Even if this Dr. Faust were ignorant of the girls’ real names,” Tom said, “he knows the ages of the parents on the birth record he signs. A doctor would have to be able to tell the difference between the body of an expecting mother who was only fifteen years old and one who was almost thirty.”

“So, you were listening.”

“To you, Anne, always,” Tom said as he slam-dunked two bags of cookies into the basket.

Anne immediately dug them out and shoved them back on the shelf. “How can you consume such junk food and not have an ounce of fat on you?”

“Healthy genes. I suppose your favorite section of a grocery store is the fruit and vegetable aisle?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact it is,” Anne said. “Don’t tell me you don’t like them.”

“My love, I like anything I don’t have to prepare.”

An amused smile drew back her lips.

When they had bought their groceries and were on the way to the car, Tom took the opportunity to wrap his arm across her shoulders. It felt so good to be able to touch her at will, to feel her response as she leaned into him.

“It’s a shame it’s the weekend already,” she said. “Everything is closed and I really wanted to find out about that doctor.”

“If that’s your wish, I have a friend who should be able to help,” Tom said. “I’ll call him when we get home. Right after our celebration.”

“Celebration?” Anne repeated.

Tom took a perfect peach tulip from behind his back and presented it to Anne. “Happy anniversary.”

“What anniversary?” Anne asked as she took the flower, inordinately pleased that he had both noticed and remembered her preference for tulips.

“You’ve already forgotten we met a week ago today?” Tom asked, shaking his head. “Whoever said women were the romantic sex?”

“A week,” Anne exclaimed as she leaned into the car to put the baby in the car seat. “I can’t believe it’s only been a week.”

Tom checked his watch. “And now it’s a week and ten seconds.”

“You can’t possibly have remembered the exact second,” Anne protested.

“Can’t I?” Tom asked, smiling as he held the car door open for her.

* * *

“I
T
WAS
NICE
of your friends to invite us over for dinner,” Anne said as Tom drove them to their house that evening. “Have you known them long?”

“Jeff and Theresa Ballard are parishioners in the Boston parish I told you about.”

“The parish where you ran the homeless shelter.”

“Yes. Jeff employed a couple of the kids for me. He’s the kind of guy who would give you the shirt off his back. He’s also on the medical review board of ethical practices. He pretty much knows every doctor in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.”

The Ballards’ home turned out to be in Brookline, a suburb of Boston. It was a well-kept, two-story colonial with a lovely flower-filled front yard that made Anne envious.

Jeff greeted them at the door with a ready smile. He was stocky, in his early forties, nearly bald, with an open face and lively dark eyes. His wife, Theresa, was taller and slim, with medium-brown hair and eyes, and an infectious laugh.

Anne liked the couple on sight.

When Tom introduced Anne to them as his wife, an uneasy sensation coursed through her. She considered the ceremony they had gone through as merely a temporary means to an end. But Tom’s declaration of their relationship to his friends and the returning warmth of their congratulations made her realize that Tom considered it more.

She knew she was a fool not to have thought of this before. Tom was a priest. He believed he loved her. He had married her. And it wasn’t as though she hadn’t been willing to consummate that marriage. Many times over again.

He considers this a real marriage.

That realization detonated in her mind, a time bomb of new complications.

Jeff and Theresa went out of their way to make Anne feel welcome. There was nothing formal or pretentious about them. They opened their comfortable home to her with friendly hospitality and made her feel like one of the family.

Anne helped Theresa in the kitchen while Tom took care of Tommy and Jeff tried to keep up with his and Theresa’s triplets, three brown-haired little boys who had just turned fourteen months old. The rambunctious toddlers weren’t still a moment, tearing around the living room and hollering happily.

“Your children are charming,” Anne told Theresa as she tossed a salad.

Theresa flashed her a proud mother’s smile. “Don’t be too eager for Tommy to start walking,” she warned as she elbowed the refrigerator door closed after grabbing some milk. “Once they do, life as you know it is over.”

Anne laughed. But beneath her laughter she was sobered by the assumption implicit in Theresa’s words—that she would be around to see Tommy walk.

“You must have been thrilled when you learned you were going to have triplets,” Anne said.

“Oh, yes. Of course, with embryo transplant, it’s not nearly so rare an occurrence.”

Embryo transplant? The phrase brought back memories for Anne. She had contemplated that possibility once—when she made herself face the options open to her and Bill if one of them proved to be infertile. Before he had proved to be unfaithful.

Dinner was relaxed and quite informal. Everyone helped themselves to the green salad Anne had prepared, and Theresa’s freshly baked lasagna, along with an assortment of mixed vegetables, hot rolls and fresh fruit.

The triplets ended up wearing most of the lasagna sauce, as did the carpet beneath their chairs. Both Theresa and Jeff took it in stride. They clearly adored their children and considered them more important than the messes they made.

When everyone had finished eating, Jeff turned to Tom. “So who is this doctor you wanted to know about?”

Tom swallowed some coffee before answering. “Martin Faust.”

Jeff nodded. “I know of him.”

“He’s an obstetrician, right?” Tom asked.

“He’s board certified as such,” Jeff said, clearly choosing his words carefully.

“What is it that bothers you about him, Jeff?” Tom asked, recognizing the restraint in his friend.

“I know you and Anne won’t let this go out of this room,” Jeff said. “But there have been several complaints filed against him by his patients, saying he’s taken advantage of them when they’re in the stirrups.”

Tom got the message. “And he’s still being allowed to practice?”

“He wouldn’t if it were up to me,” Jeff stated. “But he’s careful. Never any witnesses. Never any physical evidence. Always an innocent-sounding explanation. And the truth is that some of the doctors on our review boards bend over backward to protect their own.”

“What about legal measures?” Anne asked.

“It would help if there were a legal verdict against him,” Jeff asserted. “But, like I said, he’s careful, which makes it difficult to prove. And the process of going to court is expensive and embarrassing for the women.”

“Still, you’d think that word would get around,” Tom said.

“His patient numbers dwindled considerably a few years ago when the complaints started to hit,” Jeff agreed. “But he’s still out there practicing. And a guy who’s gotten away with this kind of thing isn’t likely to stop. If there’s something you can tell me that will change that, I hope you will.”

“You can count on it, Jeff,” Tom assured his friend.

While Jeff and Tom saw to kitchen cleanup, Anne held Tommy on her lap and watched Theresa trying to convince her boys it was time to sit quietly on the living room couch. It wasn’t working.

She finally gave up and let them play in a child-size medieval castle set up in the corner of the large family room.

“I don’t know what we would have done if Tom hadn’t built that castle for them,” she said. “It’s the only thing that keeps them occupied for any length of time.”

Anne looked closely at the beautifully carved wood and intricate designs on the buildings. She could see the same attention to detail as Tom’s work on the mall models at the rectory.

When Anne turned back to Theresa, she found the woman smiling at her. “It’s good to see Tom so happy. I’m glad he found you, Anne.”

Anne smiled back, oddly pleased. It had been such a pleasant evening with his friends. And it felt so nice being part of a couple, knowing that she wouldn’t be going home alone to an empty house. There was Tom and Tommy now.

It’s not real,
she forcibly reminded herself.
It’s not going to last. There is no happily ever after.

“I can’t get over how much your baby looks like Tom,” Theresa said. “You’ll think me silly, I suppose, but I’m thankful the others didn’t.”

“Others?” Anne repeated, confused.

Theresa swept a hand toward her triplets, babbling happily away. “Jason, Jeremy and Jeff, Jr. look a lot more like me, don’t you think?”

“Well, yes, I—”

“I know my Jeff wouldn’t have said anything,” Theresa continued with a slight shrug of her shoulders. “After all, he was the one who suggested Tom be our donor. But their having inherited my coloring helped, I think, to...”