Having Nathan's Baby (15 page)

Was it true? Had Jennifer Gandy simply overstepped the line?

So much for distance and perspective … I was more confused now than I’d been a month ago when I’d left his house. Back then, in the space of under two hours, I’d gone from absolute certainty that I wanted to have a relationship with him, to complete and utter assuredness that we were completely wrong for each other. It might have been a swing worthy of a bouncing ball but I’d at least been able to isolate how I felt. Now…

Now all
I knew was that I missed him.

I stared at the phone. The flashing continued.

I hated him.

I
longed for him.

I
picked up the phone. After a pause, I hit the callback button. I didn’t recognize the number – it wasn’t his cell, or his houses in L.A. or here in New York. I didn’t recognize the area code, either. My heart sank; clearly he was not the last caller and the message was not from him. I was about to kill the connection when the ringtone stopped and I heard a recorded message.

“Hi, I can’t come to the phone right now, leave a message and I’ll come back to you.”

It was him … Nathan’s low drawl.

I
cut the connection. My heartbeat was a dramatic soundtrack in the silence. What was I doing? He was going to see that I’d called. I exhaled in frustration. I should have left a message. That was stupid. Should I call again? I stared at the phone. The message icon was still flashing, so I switched on the television to access my voicemail. I may as well listen to the message first. Where was he, anyway?

“Hey,
Chloe.” Nathan’s voice sounded warm, perhaps a little fed-up. “Just trying to get in touch … again. I’m Vermont for the holidays. I’ve got my cell, but you should take a note of this number. The phones just got installed.” There was a pause; I heard something clatter in the background. “I guess you’ll be at your folks’ on Monday. Tell them I said Happy Christmas.” Another pause. “Okay. Take care.” A final pause. “Call me.”

I
realized I was smiling. Before I could even analyze what I was doing, I hit the play button again. The awkward message started from the beginning. I listened to each beat of it as though it were some classical movement. I listened to it four times before I registered any hesitation. I imagined him in his Vermont house, that beautiful lake and the woods. Would he be alone or would he have his mother and his sister and her family there for the holidays? I missed them all suddenly; I hadn’t seen his mother since I’d gotten pregnant. I realized I had no idea how his family were taking the news. 

Wasn’t it about time
I found out?

Before
I could talk myself out of it, I stood up and headed towards the bedroom to pack.

I called Lauren from the road. My sister was apoplectic when she found out what I was doing. “But it takes over – what – five hours to drive there!” she trilled down the line. “It’s already after eight.”

“I’ve been
on the road for a while already,” I said, amazed at how confident I felt suddenly. No – not confident.
Sure
. “I’ll be there by around two, Lauren. Don’t worry. I just feel bad that I’m not going to be at the lunch on Monday.” I crossed my fingers at the wheel to offset the lie.

“Don’t worry about that.” Lauren was grumbling now. “
There are nearly twenty of us now. No one will notice in the chaos.” She sighed. “So did I finally get through to you this afternoon? Are you going to speak to him – honestly – about how you feel?”

I
swallowed back the lump in my throat. “I will. I promise.” When requested, I handed over Nathan’s Vermont number and address, in case of emergencies or poor cell exposure. “Tell Amy I’ll call her Monday to see how she likes the present.”

Lauren was only just assuaged before
I cut the connection. Suddenly a little tearful, I wiped my eyes and focused on the dark road ahead. The traffic was heavy due to the holiday weekend, but at least it was moving. I imagined the house at the other end of the journey; the image was so vivid I could have sworn I could smell pine and cinnamon. I thought of Nathan, of his expression when he saw me. I knew with absolute certitude I wouldn’t rebuff the offer to sleep in his bed ever again, if the offer was ever made again. I sighed tremulously. The way things had been going I should have been more concerned about getting invited into the house in the first place.

I
dismissed the negative sentiment and gripped the wheel more tightly. I just had to focus on getting there. I could worry about everything else after I’d arrived.

Chapter Eleven

The tree-lined road up to the farmhouse was eerily dark when I arrived. The moon highlighted each tiny detail with ghostly precision. My tired eyes scanned the limited view of the immediate scenery. I rubbed them, and then carefully gripped the wheel again, clinging on to vigilance.  The heavy traffic coming out of New York had kept me awake but it had petered out the closer I’d gotten to Burlington. In this remote part of the region I’d barely seen a streetlamp let alone another car.

I
pulled into the driveway. The house was dark and silent. The gravel seemed to draw out every inch of the car’s noisy progress. Cutting the engine, I sat for a moment and stared up at the façade. It was familiar and yet unfamiliar all at the same time. My eyes were drawn to the lake, but I couldn’t see anything in this dead of night. I took a deep breath. It was time to face the music. I’d come here on a whim – Nathan had no idea to expect me. He wouldn’t be angry, I knew that. But he might be irritated to be woken up in the middle of the night, taken off guard. He might feel manipulated by my impulsive behavior … I wasn’t sure what to expect at all. There was the question of his family, who were sure to be here.

I
got out of the car. No sense in over-analyzing the issue when I was just about to find out.

The front door to the house opened right in front of
my tired eyes.

The breath in
my lungs evaporated. “Nathan?” I said his name quietly.

He stepped out on to the porch.
I couldn’t see his face, but it was unmistakably him. The masculine elegance of his gait was unique. He looked tall and lean on the raised platform. “You made it,” he said quietly, as though he’d been expecting me. He stepped into the moonlight. His bone structure seemed chiseled from granite. “Lauren called me, told me you were on your way.”

“Oh,
” I said. I stood by the open car door feeling useless. “I should have called-”

“I’ll get your bags. Come on in.”

I bit my lip. I should have called. It had been cowardly to turn up with no notice. I’d just been so afraid that he might not want my here, after the last month… I turned as he walked past me to access the trunk. I was reminded of the idea of magic dust; as children Lauren and I had used our riding crops as magic wands to sprinkle pixie dust. I felt the same shiver of excitement when Nathan walked past, disturbing the minute balance of atoms in the air around me. I watched him because I was helpless to do otherwise. My whole being was craving the sight of him.

“Is this it?” He held up the small overnight case.

I nodded. “I packed in a rush,” I said.

“You’re staying for Christmas, right?
There’s no way you can drive back this weekend.” His voice was low in reverence to the dark. He shifted and eased the trunk shut. He seemed to reconsider his words. “Let’s get inside. It’s late.”

I
was bone tired. In fact, I finally understood what the term meant; it was like my bone marrow had literally turned to lead. I followed him into the house, and felt an odd sense of relief when the cherry red front door was closed behind us. He didn’t stop to make pleasantries. He went straight over to the stairs without even sparing me a glance. We ascended the stairs, with Nathan in the lead. He took the corridor and wandered down the plush carpet until he reached a pair of familiar double doors. I hesitated outside what I knew was the master bedroom.

He only paused once he’d deposited the bag near the walk-in closet. He watched
me expectantly. “What are you waiting for?”

“Am I staying in
here?” I asked.

“Do you want to stay any
where else?” he asked in return.

I
didn’t. I wasn’t even sure why I’d hesitated. He was slipping his shoes off now and padding towards the bed.

I
stepped inside and closed the door behind me. “Are your family here?” I asked.

He pulled back the covers. “The whole crew
,” he said, his voice a drawl. He watched me again for a second. Then he pulled his t-shirt over his head. “There are supplies in the bathroom,” he said. He slipped off his jeans. He was naked underneath, and I reeled for a moment. “In case you need anything.”

“Okay.”
My voice sounded like it was recovering from the effects of helium.

He smiled now. It was the first smile
I’d seen from him since my arrival. He slid on to the bed and sat up, legs stretched out. He was totally oblivious to his nakedness – or rather, to my reaction to his nakedness. Hands behind his head, he just watched me. “Can I see your stomach?”

Self-conscious,
I ran my hands across my belly. My padded jacket was open and the jersey dress underneath was stretched tight over my swelling abdomen. I was struck again by that odd splintering of self; the woman and the mother. Normally it was a sexual thing, to take my clothes off in front of Nathan. This request was not sexual. He wanted to see his son, or at least, the closest thing to his son that he could see for the next three months.

I
slipped off my jacket. “Okay. I’ll shower quickly first.”

I
made quick work of the nightly maintenance, smoothing cream on my face and then my belly. I found a toweling robe on the back of the door. I switched off the light and then opened the door to the bedroom. Nathan was still sitting up in bed but the lights were off. The moonlight shone in through the window. His body looked like an athlete’s in repose. I took in some air, using it as a catalyst to propel myself towards him.

The night was utterly silent.
I could hear him breathing; see the glint of the moon reflect in his narrowed eyes. When I approached the side of the bed, his hand reached out and smoothed some way around my waist. His gaze met mine with part-hopeful, part-defensive regard. I shifted my weight. As uncomfortable as I was, I was also excited to show him my body. I wanted to share the changes with him. It was such an intimate thing that only I’d been witness to it so far.

I
slid the robe open. It covered my swollen breasts, but my now awkwardly protruding belly stuck through. The expression on his face was utterly priceless. I wished I’d had a camera to capture the sheer rapture in it. He swung his legs over the side of the bed again and sat straight. His other hand slid inside the robe to my waist, whether to steady me or himself, I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that he was touching me with the gentlest reverence I could ever imagine from any man.

“You look the same but your tumm
y’s a lot bigger than last time,” he said, the banal comment innocuous against his obvious awe.

I
nodded. “The nurse said I took a long time to show but she says it’ll start to speed up from now on.”

“Are you sore?”

I shook my head. His hands smoothed across the now significant expanse of my skin. He leaned forward and kissed my stomach. His hair tickled; his stubble grated. I breathed out a smile despite myself, unable to control the childish reaction.

He regarded
me steadily from his seated position. “I’ve done a lot of thinking in the last couple of months,” he said. He exhaled heavily. “I’m not quite sure what it is you want from me, Chloe.” He stroked my side again in a distracted motion as he considered his words. “But I’m not interested in seeing other women. I’m not interested in anything else except you and this baby. I haven’t been since you told me you were pregnant. When I asked you to keep it – to have it – I promised I’d support you, but I don’t think I really understood what that meant when I said it.” His tone was hushed but full of intent. “I do now.”

The moment quaked inside me.
I leaned down and kissed him gently. These words; his touch; had he known how much I needed this? I wanted his body and his soul. I realized in that moment that I’d already given mine up to him.

My
hands smoothed the stubble on his jaw as he leaned back on to the bed. I slid to one side of him. He turned on his side and took my face in his hands. “I want to make love to you,” he said hoarsely, “but I think we should wait. Until we have a few more things sorted out. We still need to talk. I’m glad you’re here, but I still don’t know why you’re here, and I’d like to know.”

I
nodded. All I wanted to do was curl up into his arms and close my eyes. I was reminded of that first night here in Vermont, in this bed, when Nathan had slid under the covers with me. I’d felt safe and cherished, and then I’d berated myself for the weak feelings. I’d wasted so much time berating myself for these feelings, I realized.

I
buried my face in his neck and breathed deeply. I smelled masculine soap, the clean sheets and a heated scent that was Nathan’s own. His hair tickled my forehead. I kissed his skin in a tired gesture of affection. Before I could suppress the urge, I said, “I’m here because I love you, Nathan.” Then, hesitant, I leaned back to see his reaction.

He regarded
me with a serious frown. His hand smoothed across the skin on my belly again.

I swallowed.
“We do need to talk, but I want you to know that I meant it; when I told you I loved you,” I said, undeterred by his silence.

His frown deepened.
His tense expression was a mask. He could be happy or sad or thoughtful or even pained, I guessed silently. In the spirit of my declaration, I leaned forward and kissed him again. I told myself I didn’t need a mirror response. I kept telling myself that, and then he got up.

He walked over to the window. I realized after a moment that I was holding my breath. The anticipation was thick enough to fog my lungs. He
was staring out at the view; the lake spread out before him like a blanket of tiny, shifting crystals. Totally still, I watched him for a second, wondering what was going on in his head. I felt a sliver of fear for the first time.

Was this too much after all?

Finally, in a hoarse whisper, he said, “I’m so afraid of messing this up.”

My
eyes widened. In all these years I’d never heard anything even close to that level of vulnerability in him. “Why?” I asked.

He thought about this until
I thought my chest might explode. “Because you’re so important to me.” His expression seemed sad. “You’re probably the most important person in my life. Now that we’re having this baby … it’s immense … this feeling.”

I
wanted to reassure him; I wanted tell him that I would always love him. I felt a stone drop in my stomach in frustration: I had to be patient, wait for him to open up. So I stopped myself from getting up and following him to where he stood, looking out at the night.

“I guess I just don’t know what you need from me
,” he said. “I don’t know what kind of father to be to this kid. I don’t know if I’m going to be any good at it.” He sighed harshly. “I’ve made a dog’s breakfast of it all so far.”

My
whole body was quaking in anticipation, maybe even dread. I’d never heard him speak so openly before. When he turned to look at me I felt like I could see his soul glinting in the depths of his eyes. The last time I’d felt this depth of emotion emanating from him, he’d told me loved me and I’d truly believed it with all of my heart and soul.

“You haven’t,” I said
. This time I couldn’t stop myself. I slid off the bed carefully and padded over to him. “Or at least, you’ve had help,” I added, taking his hand. “I’ve been up and down like a rollercoaster the last few months. I’ve made my own fair share of bad decisions. I’ve been so scared of being happy that I’ve been making myself miserable…”

He smiled. His
sudden amusement escaped in a short, humorless breath. He shifted his weight and breathed deeply, considering my comment with narrowed eyes.

I
realized we may never be the type of couple who could fluently express our feelings, but I wanted to start trying. I touched his jaw with my finger distractedly. “I want to go to bed with you every night,” I said in a quiet voice. I met his gaze unflinching. Honesty made me blossom like a flower from the inside out. “I miss you when you’re not in my bed. I miss you all day; there are a million tiny, stupid things I want to tell you about everything.” I smiled at my own foolishness. “I know that when we have this baby, that’s just going to multiply by infinity. It already has. There’s no one else I’d want to be the father of my children.”

“
There’s no one else I’d want to be the mother of my children.” Though he was repeating my words, I felt the sentiment behind them as all his own. Genuine emotion rasped in his voice.

I
sighed, my body still quaking. “I’m terrified of childbirth.”

He smiled
again, a twisted humor erupting between us. “I’m not surprised.” He gripped my face again. “You know I’ll be there, right? I won’t let anything happen-”

The words were cut short by a sudden break in his emotion. He dropped his head to
my neck. I heard him breathing deeply. I waited, holding him fiercely until he was ready to speak. Finally he lifted his head again. His expression was even, determined. His voice was heavy with purpose.

“You know I’d never let anything happen to you. I wouldn’t care if you and I were on separate continents for the rest of ou
r lives, as long as you’re okay,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to exist in a world without you in it.”