His Baby (15 page)

"I might need some time to think about it," she
said grudgingly. Why was he doing this? Would he really move to Whitney if she
wanted him to? What would he do for a living?

"All right. Lark and I are going to go be sure we're
ready for company," he said, glancing down at his watch. "You think
about it and let me know."

"I'm not going to make a decision in five
minutes."

"You don't have to. Just let me know when you have. Next
week, whenever." He started to get up but stopped when she spoke.

"Zack, it's not that easy. If there's no work here for
Carl, where is there work for you here in Whitney?"

"I'm a manager. I'm not even sure I enjoy being a
manager but that translates to a lot of different jobs. I can figure out
something if you tell me I have to."

"That decision’s based on what you want."

"It's based on what you want too, Diana."

Really?
she thought, but she didn't say anything. She
watched him leave the room and wondered, just for a minute, if she could just
relax and believe him.
That was it,
she thought, I
just don't believe
him
.

That insight bothered her. Why shouldn't she believe him? As
far as she could tell he hadn't lied to her yet. He hadn't hidden anything from
her and he certainly had answered any question she asked. Why didn't she
believe him?

The answer struck with an almost physical force. Because no
one ever offered me a choice before.

Not really.

When Grandmother had asked her if she would help out so she
and Carl and Robin could stay here, live in this house, stay together the
alternative was unthinkable. Where would they go? How would they live?

When Mom had been ill or later, when Dad was so sick, what
else could she have done? Could she have sent Grandmother Stonehouse to a
nursing home? Could she have turned Robin out? Her hands were shaking. Pulling
out the nearest dining room chair, she sat down and took a few breaths, trying
to steady herself.

Was she going to tell Zack he had to move to Whitney? Was
she going to move? Was she going to give up Lark-- at least give up seeing her
every day? Was she going to tell Zack he had to give up seeing Lark every
weekend?

She didn't think she had the right to tell him what to do
although, she realized, she resented the sense that he could tell her what to
do, that he’d changed her life and she felt she had no choice. Now he was
telling her to tell him what she wanted.

She stared blankly out the narrow dining room window. There
was nothing there, really, just a stretch of browning grass, a little too long,
between her and the neighbor's house and its stand of bushes. The wind must be
active, because the bushes were being tossed around.

Looked like it’s pretty cold out there.

Absently, Diana pulled down the long sleeves on her sweater
and considered whether she had dressed Lark warmly enough. In the background,
in the back of her mind, she heard noises, Zack and other people talking. Before
she could decide what to do, she heard a voice behind her.

"Good morning, Diana," Beth White said. Diana
turned and tried to find a smile for the other woman.

"Oh, dear. Did you have a bad night with Lark?"

"Just a bad night."

Beth came into the room, closing the dining room door, and
sat in the chair Zack had vacated. She started to reach for one of Diana's
hands but then stopped, interlacing her fingers and resting her hands in her
lap. "I'm sorry, dear. If breakfast is too much, we can do something else.
Or just go out without you. Don't feel obligated."

"No, it's not that. Thanks Mrs. White."

"Beth."

"Beth."

"Is something bothering you?"

"Yes." She was going to leave it at that, but Beth
was studying her, head tilted, with an interested expression. "But Zack is
your son, I-- "

"If there's a problem with Zack and I can help, then
I'd be glad to. But I don't want to interfere. You are family, though, so if I
can help-- " Beth shrugged.

Diana took a breath before she went on. "Zack and I
just had a discussion and he told me to make a decision. I don't know what to
do. But mostly, I don't know whether or not to believe him. He says he'll do
whatever I want."

"Diana, my policy in a situation like that is to take
people at their word. What's the downside? You'll find out quickly enough if
they don't want to do what they say."

Diana just nodded.

"I don't know if that helps," Beth said quietly.

"It does. I guess I just have to decide."

"Diana. I'm going to go out on a limb here."

She looked up at Beth.

"I understand things may be a little tangled up between
Zack and you. I hope you can sort things out. I like you, I really do. I think
you're a wonderful person."

"I'm not wonderful. I just do what I have to and people
think I'm wonderful."

"No, you're a great person, Diana. Try not to make
things too complicated. Zack, well, his father thinks he's too lackadaisical,
but I think he just lets his father push him around. Until now. When it comes
to Lark -- and you -- he doesn't let anyone push him around. I think he cares
about you."

"He cares about Lark."

"But he cares about you, too."

"I don't know." Diana looked down, took a deep
breath, then asked the question that always sat in the back of her mind. "Do
you think it’s wrong for Zack and me to be involved -- because of my
sister?" She was staring at her hands, so saw the older woman reach out
and take one of her hands in her own.

"Diana, look at me."

Diana looked up at her.

"No. That's my answer. If you want an explanation, I
can give you one.”

"Can you?"

"I'll try."

"Okay. My son and your sister had a very brief and
somewhat intense relationship. A child came out of that relationship. Your
sister is dead. If you and Zack can find love -- or anything positive -- don't
throw it away because he had a relationship with your sister."

"You don't think it’s wrong?" Diana asked slowly.
Because,
she thought,
it feels wrong.

"No, I don't," Beth said firmly. After a moment
she patted Diana's hand and let go. "Zack was making some coffee,"
she said. "Shall I bring you a cup?"

"No. Thank you. I'll be out in a minute."

"All right." Beth leaned forward and gave Diana a
soft kiss on her temple. Diana didn't look up, didn't follow her out of the
room.

For a moment she sat there in the chilly dining room and
remembered her mother. It was hard to remember Mom, it had been so long ago and
she had been so ill for so long before she died.

Most of the memories were of a woman confined to bed and too
tired to do much.

Mostly she remembered the gentle touch of her mother's hand
on her cheek. She closed her eyes, remembering. For a few long minutes in the
dim room, Diana dearly wished she could ask her mother what to do.

Later that Sunday, Mary called as the Whites were getting
ready to leave for the next leg of their trip.

"Did anyone tell you that Carl talked to Mr.
White?" Mary asked.

"Zack told me this morning," Diana said. "What
do you think about this idea?”

"We've been talking about it all day, actually. I don't
know, Diana, I'm a little worried about moving to Chicago, but Carl says we can
do it after the baby’s born. It's not like we won't know anyone there, we'd
know Zack and his folks, and Chicago isn't that far away."

"It seems far away," Diana said faintly.

"I know. But Carl is going to go
crazy
if he
keeps working at the plant. If he got the right job, I might not have to work
for a while. That would be great, you know. Because I don't do anything I enjoy
and I think I'd enjoy staying home with babies."

"Babies?"

"Well, I want more than one baby, you know. At least I
do now, before I've gone through labor." Diana could hear the smile in
Mary's voice. "Anyway, Carl might go up to Chicago when the Whites get
back. If he does, can I come stay with you for a couple of days?"

"Sure."

"Thanks, Diana."

After they had talked a little more, Diana hung up the
receiver and went to find the Whites, who were all on the front porch. They’d
left Lark in her playpen, but she seemed happy there and it was certainly
warmer there than on the front porch.

Beth turned when she heard the screen door opening.

"Diana," she said, "we're about to get going.
Thanks for putting up with us this weekend." She opened her arms a little
and Diana, after a moment's hesitation, went into them for a hug.

Beth held her tightly, pressing her chilled face against
Diana's warmed one. When she pulled back, Beth kept one arm around Diana for a
moment, a comforting gesture. The two women turned to look at Sam, now moved to
the sidewalk and Zack, standing on a step. For the moment, Zack was a little
taller than his father. The two talked quietly, then nodded at each other; Sam
looked past his son at Diana and nodded to her.

They said their goodbyes quickly. Inside the house, the
warmth welcomed them. Zack walked a few steps to check on Lark, then came back
to Diana and smiled faintly at her.

"Dad thinks you're pretty great, now that he's gotten
to know you.  And he thinks he's figured out a place for Carl."

"In his business?"

"No, actually, with a supplier. He'll see the guy down
in St. Louis and they'll talk."

"Mary sounds pretty excited about the possibilities. She
may come stay here if -- when -- Carl goes to Chicago for an interview."

"You don't sound very excited about this."

"I'm not." To her surprise, Diana felt tears on
her face. She blinked furiously and turned away from Zack. She didn't want to
cry. There was no point to it. She took a breath. "I guess I should be
glad for him, though," she said, not turning around.

"I'm sorry, Diana. I feel like I shouldn't have said
anything," Zack said. "I feel like I hurt you."

She shook her head. "It's not your fault. I'd love to
blame you, but it isn't your fault." She was crying again, the tears
flowing down her cheeks. She couldn't get her breath.

"Ah, Diana," Zack said miserably. He touched her
shoulder, a tentative, gentle gesture. When he pulled his hand away, she felt a
loss. She’d been feeling lost all day. It was more than she wanted to bear
anymore.

Diana turned and saw the surprise on Zack's face. She wanted
to say something but found she couldn't. The sobs were almost overwhelming and
she couldn't get her breath. After a few breaths' vacillation, he reached out
to hold her, to enfold her in his arms. She surrendered, burying her face in
his shirt, mumbling about getting it wet.

He petted her, patted her, murmured to her, kissed the top
of her head. She cried more softly, the tears a furious relief now that she had
yielded to them. He was warm and strong and comforting. He felt wonderful,
holding her with a tender strength. She felt the moment when her crying eased,
when the desperate sadness in her faded a little and she could get her breath,
could feel there was an end to the tears. She brushed her cheeks with the back
of one hand, took a deep breath and looked up at him.

Zack was looking down at her with the oddest expression on
his face, a mixture of distress and longing. She felt the longing like a breath
on her face. She stared at him, aware of his closeness, his warmth, the hard
strength of his body. He swallowed hard, opened his mouth to say something, but
she reached up and touched his lips with one finger before he could speak. He
went still, his gaze on her intent, dark. She saw his eyes darken and change
and she remembered, she knew, that this reflected a change in his feelings. In
his awareness of her.

Her awareness changed as well. In the space of a breath, she
felt her focus shift from tears to yearning. He turned his face away from her a
little, closing his eyes as though to shield them from a painful sight. She
stroked his cheek, then moved her hand to the back of his neck, tangling her
fingers in the silken hair there. When he made no move to look back at her, she
pressed herself closer to him, stood up a little more, on tiptoe and pulled his
head down gently.

"Zack, please," she murmured, wanting to ask for a
kiss, but not knowing how, now knowing that what she wanted was so simple until
he moved, groaning as though he had been hurt, physically hurt, and covering
her mouth with his, pressing gently until something in them caught fire.

They both felt it. They shifted in each other’s arms,
pressed closer, deepened the kiss, tangled themselves a little tighter, a
little closer. She felt guilt for a moment, the familiar rise of guilt that had
always made her stop before this, but she didn't want any guilt. She didn't
want to acknowledge it. She didn't want to stop.

She met his every change, his exploring tongue, his gentle
hands, savoring them. When he pulled away, she felt bereft for a moment,
abandoned.

"Diana," Zack said softly, "I-- ". He
stopped speaking and she looked at him closely, seeing the fear, the
reservation.

"I wanted you to kiss me, Zack," she said, because
it was crucial to explain. She’d yielded but knew she now how to explain; it
was only fair. She had pulled away so many times before. "I keep saying
'no' because I feel guilty. I don't want to take you from Robin, but I can't,
can I? She pushed you away a long time ago and I don't know why. I don't know
how she could bear to push you away."

There was surprise on his face then, surprise and a kind of
wildness.
I said too much,
she thought, hopelessly.

He answered her with another kiss, a softer one this time,
gentler but with no less passion.