Holly Lane (25 page)

Jenny bent down, pulling back a snow white blanket to reveal a tiny infant girl, fast asleep. A small red bow was clipped into a tuft of dark hair, and she wore a sweater proclaiming,
I LOVE SANTA!
Something in Jenny’s heart curled inward at the sight as she breathed in that soft, warm baby scent. And then her stomach pinched. Because of the ongoing strain between her and Mick lately. Because she wanted a baby now and he didn’t.

“She’s beautiful, Betty,” Jenny told her, aware that Mick stood somewhere behind her, probably with his hands in his pockets, not even stepping up to look. And normally she wouldn’t have a problem with that—Mick had just never been a baby person. But now, suddenly, it seemed rude and disinterested, and it even embarrassed her a little.

Yet Betty didn’t seem to notice, or at least she didn’t seem to mind. “Thanks, Jenny,” she said as Jenny gently covered the baby girl back up. “You two have a nice evening.”

So maybe the problem was hers—not Mick’s or anyone else’s. And she couldn’t deny that she was the one who’d changed here—not him. But somehow that just broke her heart all the more as she and Mick continued up the street toward Dolly’s, where they were meeting Tessa and Lucky for a casual dinner.

When Mick took her hand again, she stiffened—then realized what she’d done. It made her draw in her breath. They never got mad at each other, never fought. And she wasn’t sure she’d ever reacted that way to his touch before.

So she relaxed her hand into his—but it was too late; he’d noticed, and he pulled back to look at her. His dark eyes blazed with hurt, and maybe a hint of irritation.

She considered saying something, but couldn’t conjure any words. Nothing felt right at the moment. So finally, she just let out a sigh, then looked back ahead of them, starting to drag him forward in the cold. “Come on, we’re late.” Yet she feared the tension suddenly stretching through her body could still be felt in her grip.

And she found out she was right when Mick pulled up short, stopping them again.

She looked back at him. “What?”

“Jenny,” he began slowly, “I’m sorry I don’t feel the way you want me to about this.”

For some reason, she played dumb. “About what?” Maybe she just didn’t want to talk about it right now. They were only steps away from the café, after all.

“You
know
what.”

Okay, this meant she couldn’t get out of having the discussion—and as another large sigh left her, her chest began to ache. Biting her lip, searching for words, searching her heart, she gazed up into the eyes of the man she loved more than anything in the world. “But couldn’t you just try?” she asked him. It probably wasn’t the right thing to say—yet it was what had come out.

“Why isn’t this enough, just you and me?” he asked. “You and me and Trouble? It was enough up to now. And I thought we’d agreed it would be enough forever. It’s still enough for
me
. I like our life the way it is.”

Oh Lord—how could she explain this? Because it was true—up to now they’d been like-minded enough on the subject. Mick hadn’t wanted children, and she hadn’t felt strongly about it either way, trusting the outcome to fate. And fate had definitely been doing things right not to create a baby during her first marriage because she’d been with the wrong man then. But now that she was with the right one . . .

“I’m just . . . having maternal urges.”
Strong ones
. “I never really had them much before, but now . . . here they are, and they won’t leave me alone. And the thing is, Mick,” she went on, now reaching out to take both his hands in her gloved ones, warmly this time, “part of why I want a baby is because . . . I want one with
you
. I want a baby that you and I made, together, that’s part of us both. Can you understand that?”

Mick squeezed her hands in his, but at the same time, he looked down, let out a breath. And Jenny’s hopes crumbled. She already knew she hadn’t gotten through to him—that his feelings on this outweighed his usual desire to make her happy. “Jenny, honey, I just . . . don’t want kids. And I’m sorry, but I can’t pretend to want something I don’t.”

“I know, but . . . ”
I’m suddenly not sure if I’ll ever be complete now without a child.
Everything inside me is changing.
Why can’t you feel the same way?
Why don’t you want to share that with me?

“But?” he asked pointedly, urging her on.

“Why can’t you just think about it? Consider it? Maybe if you really thought about it, you’d realize you feel differently now, too.” She sounded desperate, she realized, stopping. And he was looking at her like she wasn’t quite making sense, like she was almost scaring him.

She saw her husband swallow visibly, then he slowly took her hands again in his. When he spoke this time, his voice came low and deep. “Jenny, I love you, you know that. But . . . no. I can’t. That’s just all there is to it—just . . . no.”

Jenny stood before him saying nothing, biting her lower lip so she wouldn’t start to cry.

It was his right to feel this way. And yet—somehow she just couldn’t quite accept it. Suddenly, she couldn’t quite figure out how she was ever going to be truly, deeply happy again if she knew with certainty that she’d
never
be someone’s mother, and that Mick didn’t even want to try. And what if she grew to resent him for it? And what if he resented her, too? How on earth had her once-perfect marriage suddenly gone so wrong?

“Come on,” he said then, his voice low and a bit wooden, “Tessa and Lucky are waiting.”

S
ophie sat on the floor watching the brand new Lionel train circling the Christmas tree—Sue Ann’s mother had insisted on giving it to Sophie as an early gift just a few days ago. “Otherwise,” she’d told Sue Ann, “she won’t get to put it around the tree this year. So why not let her have it now?” Sue Ann knew, though, the gift was really her mother’s way of helping keep Sophie’s mind off the fact that everything was different this Christmas.

As dusk turned to dark outside, Sophie loaded the tiny people from her favorite dollhouse into an empty train car—Sue Ann had passed her love of dollhouses, and a few of the houses themselves, on to her daughter. Then Sophie switched the train on again as Sue Ann leaned back, trying to get comfy on the sofa, her real estate study book open in her lap.

Between getting ready for Christmas, going to holiday events, and . . . well, Adam, she’d devoted very little attention to studying the last few weeks. And she was still trying to start using all her time wisely. Now that Christmas was almost here and all the work surrounding it was done, it was a good time to refocus. And Adam was out of her life—romantically and sexually anyway—so she was doing her damnedest not to waste any more time or emotion on him.

“Can Adam come over and see the train?” Sophie asked then.

Oh boy, think of the devil.
Not that Adam was actually the devil, but . . . “Oh, I don’t think so, honey—I’m sure he’s busy. It’s only a few days ’til Christmas, after all.”

“It’s only a few days ’til Christmas for us, too, but
we’re
not busy.”

Well, crap. True. And maybe Sue Ann wished she were
more
busy—just as she had in the cabin after Thanksgiving. But again, everything was done. Gifts were bought and wrapped. Cards and packages sent. Now, other than studying, there was nothing to do but sit around and wait . . . for Santa not to bring Sophie a reindeer. She let out a sigh. “Well, I need to study, and you, young lady, have homework of your own.” Christmas break hadn’t started just yet. “And we’ll need to bake some more cookies for your class party, too—maybe tomorrow after school. How’s that sound?”

Sophie smiled. “Fun.”

“Good. Now go grab your books. You have math problems to do and a spelling test to get ready for.”

But even as she and Sophie both buckled down and got to work, Adam stayed on Sue Ann’s mind. And she couldn’t even blame it on Sophie having mentioned him—the truth was that he stayed firmly in her thoughts most of the time now anyway, despite her best efforts to banish him from her brain.

She’d let herself slowly begin to trust in him, just for a short while, and even just that—God—had left her much more vulnerable than she’d been before. Their conversation after sex the other night had simply felt like having the rug pulled out from under her all over again. And it hurt worse than she thought it should have.

Maybe that was how she knew she’d been right from the start. Putting trust in someone too soon was dangerous, and she was too emotionally fragile to venture into a relationship right now. So it was settled. Once and for all. Finally.

But if everything was so settled . . . why was she still so freaking miserable about the whole thing?

S
ue Ann stood in yet another few inches of fresh fallen snow helping Sophie and the other second graders decorate the small evergreen outside their classroom window. After draping garlands of popcorn and cranberries, the group began hanging the edible ornaments: thinly sliced fruit that had been cut into the shapes of small stars, bread cut into snowman shapes, strawberries sprinkled with sugar to make them glisten, and chunks of pound cake coated in a mixture of birdseed and cornmeal.

It required a ladder to reach the top, as well as a few parents who didn’t mind climbing in slippery conditions, but when the task was done, adults and children alike marveled at how lovely such a simple, natural Christmas tree could be. And like a reward for all their hard work, barely a moment had passed before they were treated to a visit by a male cardinal who looked breathtaking against the snowy backdrop of the schoolyard.

It was the end of the day, the final activity of the class party, and Sue Ann had enjoyed the whole afternoon—full of cookies and gifts and games—more than she’d anticipated, making her extra glad she’d rearranged her work schedule to be here. And not one other parent in attendance mentioned anything about her divorce.

Still, when Jeff pulled up at three on the dot to get Sophie, Sue Ann felt the glaring reminder. And she was glad she had plans this evening to keep her from feeling lonely or whiny. Tonight was her annual Christmas dinner with her girlfriends.

A couple of hours later, Jenny picked Sue Ann up from home—they were headed to the Farris/Romo Family Apple Orchard, where Rachel’s grandma, Edna, was hosting their event, cooking a big, old-fashioned meal for them all. They’d drawn names for a gift exchange, so as she left the house, Sue Ann clutched a wedding planning book for Rachel, wrapped in bright red paper, as well as a small gift bag containing a gingerbread-scented candle as a hostess gift for Edna.

Hmm, gingerbread.
Like my gingerbread man panties.
Which made her think of Adam, of course, every time she wore them. And hell—apparently now it only took gingerbread in general to remind her of Adam. Come to think of it, what
didn’t
remind her of Adam?

Even a glimpse back at her own house as she reached the car did it. Since, of course, he’d put up the lights glowing around the eaves and windows right now. And the remains of the snow cat he’d built with Sophie still stood in a vague, lumpy cat shape only yards away. She couldn’t help recalling with a wistful sigh what a nice evening that had turned out to be.

God, stop thinking about him already!

“Hey,” she said, trying to sound cheerful as she got in and pulled the door shut.

“Hi.” Jenny glanced over, but her eyes were uncharacteristically downcast, and she sounded downright morose.

“Um, why do you look so grim?” Sue Ann asked. “I’m supposed to be the grim one here, remember?”

Putting the car in reverse, Jenny turned to peer over her shoulder to back from the driveway. “Well, you’ve been less grim lately. Kind of. So I guess I’m taking over on grim duty.”

Then Sue Ann remembered. “Is it Mick? He still doesn’t want to have a baby?”

“Yep,” Jenny answered, shifting the car into drive. “And I know it’s not his fault, and I know it’s not fair for me to go back on my word—but I’m still mad at him. I can’t help it.”

Sue Ann pondered the situation a moment, then simply said, “I’m so sorry you’re going through this, Jen.”

Until Jenny said, “You think he’s right, don’t you? You think it’s okay for him to refuse me this.”

Sue Ann pursed her lips—and then prepared to spit out her thoughts. She might have to hold back with Jenny on a few things about Adam, but when it came to anything else, she could lay it on the line. “Look, it sucks to want a child and not be able to have one. But it’s early days here yet. You just decided you wanted this, like a week or two ago. He could change his mind at some point in time. Or you could change yours back. And Mick’s a good guy. I mean, there’s a lot to be said for a guy who is completely and utterly devoted to you, a guy who’s as true to you as the day is long.”

Sue Ann had never seen Mick so much as even glance at another woman—for him, Jenny was clearly everything. Then it struck her that Jenny must think she was comparing Mick to Jeff, but in fact she was thinking about Adam. Who had let her down at the very moment she’d felt closest to him.