Surrogate (12 page)

     "You are...." her voice died away.  She seemed unsure how to phrase what she was thinking, and she kept staring at him.

     "Worried.  I'm worried."  He shook his head.  "Not that it matters to you, but long before this child comes into the world, I'm going to go gray.  You do know that, right?"

     At that, Carrie frowned.  "I don't understand."  She still spoke in that strange tone that sounded nothing like his wife, but the edges were starting to smooth, molding themselves more into what Carrie had sounded like before the accident.  Granted the timing of her syllables and stresses were still off, but he suspected that in a few weeks she'd sound like herself again--something he'd be glad of.  He was tired of everyone in town staring at him like his wife had been struck with a plague when she was just really fortunate.

     "Carrie, my hair is going to be white at this rate."

     He kept swimming with her in his arms until he could touch ground and then he carried her ashore.  She was heavier from the weight of the water and the extra pounds she'd picked up during the pregnancy, but that didn't matter so much.  She hadn't been heavy before she'd gotten pregnant, and the extra weight hadn't made her that much bigger, just more awkward, so he didn't have much trouble carrying her to the place where his shirt and boots waited.

     The whole time she was cradled in his arms, she kept staring at him with an intensity he felt almost uncomfortable, as though she could read every thought in his head, and that would be a mistake on her part, especially with her naked like that.

     "What are you staring at?" he whispered.

     "You."

     Most people would have had the good sense to stop looking aonce they'd been called on it, but Carrie had always been stubborn, and she was still staring when he eased her to the ground and picked up his shirt.

     "Where are your clothes?" he asked, about to jerk the shirt over his head.

     "In the water.  I couldn't really swim with them."  She glanced toward the ledge.

     It was his turn to gawk.  "You just happened to strip them off in the water and left them there?"

     She nodded unabashedly and pushed the red hair from her eyes.  "Yes."

     "Well, I can't exactly have you running around naked."  He handed her his shirt.  "So put this on before somebody drives by and gets more of a thrill than he intended."

     "What do you mean?"  She looked up at him innocently, and he wanted to throttle her.  No other woman ever had him wrapped around her little finger, but Carrie hadn't been any other woman.  She was as unique as they came.

     He purposely let his eyes rove over her curvaceous body and smiled.  "You can't tell me you don't know you're beautiful.  I don't care if you're eight months pregnant.  It only makes you more stunning, and I'm not about to share you."  He tossed the shirt at her.  "So before I have to fend off any travelers, how about putting this on?"

     She didn't seem any less confused as she accepted the shirt and slipped it over her head.  Although it was more than large enough to accommodate her belly, since her back was wet, the fabric stuck to her skin, and she couldn't jerk it down.

     "Here," Robbie said, walking around her.  "Let me help."

     With a soft tug, he pulled the fabric loose, and it fell to the middle of her thighs, covering all the important parts.  As she smoothed the soft cotton over her body, Robbie kept expecting some kind of smartassed comment.  On any other day, she would've spouted one off, but today she was quiet, the same quiet she'd been for days now.

     Bending, he picked up his boots and started for the house, keeping half an eye to the side to make sure Carrie followed.  Although he was much cooler and could probably have gone back to work, he'd lost his momentum.  Glancing at the bright sky, he felt the same restlessness as that which had claimed him ever since the wreck.  He knew his life was unsettled, but he had no clue how to turn the tide.

     It was evening when Robbie stood in the pasture, watching the sun burn its farewell across the sky.  He'd always loved sunsets, but this one felt strange--a harbinger of some sort--the nervous shift in his stomach told him as much.

    
It's nothing,
he told himself, yet it didn't matter what he said.  Fear washed over him in waves of furious sunlight burning through him, stealing his breath.  Robbie lifted the ball cap from his head, wiped away the sweat, and set it back as he turned toward the house. Instinctively, he knew that the only way to release all the tension was to go inside and find Carrie.  She'd always been his place of solace, the only comfort which could help him unwind when things were unsettled.  He'd lay with her in his arms until the world ceased to exist, and that would be enough for him to recharge and restore himself for the next day.

     She was his refuge--or had been.  Now he just drifted aimlessly while the world fell around him.  Still, being near her would help. It always had.

     His mind settled, he locked the barn and trudged toward the house.  As he glanced down at his clothes, he realized the first thing he needed was a shower; with any luck, perhaps the warm water would wash away more than just the sweat and dirt.  Then he'd look in on Carrie.

     At the back door, he tugged off his boots and headed into the house, straight to the bathroom, where he turned on the water and stripped, piling his clothes in the hamper.  Just before he slipped into the shower, he took a last glance in the mirror, and while most people probably couldn't have told much from his face--he was pretty skilled at keeping his feelings hidden--he saw the haggardness of his expression, the toll the sleepless nights were taking--nights that only ended with nightmares worse than anything he could have imagined.

     Gritting his teeth, he stepped into the shower, hoping it would give him what he needed to face another day, and once he felt the hot water sluicing down his body, he knew that while it might not hold any answers, it would help nonetheless, and he needed all the help he could get.

     Robbie grabbed the soap and lathered his body, and even as he tried to keep his thoughts from settling on anything in particular, he found himself thinking of earlier today, when he carried his wife back to the house, his mind drifting back to the way the water glistened off her skin.  One moment, he'd been diving beneath the water, frantically looking for Carrie because he thought she was drowning, and the next he'd been holding her so close he could feel the warmth of her body against his.

     He shook his head and wondered if he should just turn on the cold water to help him drive his thoughts elsewhere, but there was nothing else for him besides Carrie, and no matter if the water were icy or not, it wouldn't keep him from thinking about Carrie.  If years of knowing her and the many complications of their marriage hadn't done it yet, nothing would.  Nothing.

     Of course, those thoughts of Carrie quickly gave way to worries that probably had no basis, but Robbie knew he'd feel better after he'd made sure she was okay.  That in mind, he quickly washed his hair and rinsed off.  Once he'd dried himself, he wrapped the towel around his waist and padded through the house to get some clothes.

     As he slipped into the bedroom, he spotted Carrie lying on the bed.  Although she usually slept on her side, now, she was resting on her back with one hand over her head.  Her eyes were closed, and the easy rise and fall of her chest suggested she had drifted to sleep already, which wasn't surprising.  She'd been sleeping a lot lately.

     Robbie watched her for a moment, liking the way the last of the sunlight burned through the window, setting her hair on fire with its light.  She wore a light cotton gown that flowed around her body, emphasizing the rise of her stomach where the baby lay.

     At the sight of her resting so calmly, Robbie felt his heart slowing down, helping to assuage all the fears he'd been fighting.  He allowed himself to stare for a few moments, then slowly turned to don a pair of draw-string sleep pants.

     While most of the time he found he couldn't sleep before the sun had set, today wasn't most of the time.  All that time in the sun had left him much more tired than he would've thought possible.  He crossed over to the bed, raked his fingers through his hair, and gently lowered himself upon the mattress, trying to move as slowly as possible so as not to wake Carrie.

     Once down, he turned on his side so he could face his wife.  Her profile was turned toward him, and even though the light was fading, it was enough so that he could see the dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Her lips were parted slightly. 

     Robbie braced one arm under his head and closed his eyes, feeling fatigue drag him toward unconsciousness.  Normally, he would have fought sleep, but tonight, he surrendered peacefully as his hand slowly reached for Carrie's.

* * *

     "Robbie?"

     He felt someone shaking him, yet he couldn't pull himself away from the blackness.  It was too deep--too thick.  It refused to go, and with it, the hellish images remained--images of Carrie lying in her totaled car, blood oozing into the seat, draining her body of life.

     No matter how hard Robbie tried to pull open the door and get her out, the metal refused to budge.  She would be forever trapped in the car, her eyes open and staring sightlessly beyond him, the seatbelt still wrapped around her abdomen, cradling the baby inside.  No one could save his child, not when Carrie had already passed away.

     All Robbie could do was fall to his knees and weep.

     "Robbie!" 

     The voice was louder, and it took him a bit to reorient himself so he knew where he was and who was speaking to him.  Carrie--it was Carrie.  So what he'd just experienced had been  a nightmare.  His wife was alive, thank God--his wife was alive.

     "What?  What is it?"  He slowly sat up, his vision cloudy, and he rubbed his face only to discover the tears he hadn't even known were there.

     "You were screaming." Her voice was softer, almost normal, and without thinking about the pressure that had been so thick between them, he reached out and took her into his arms, closing his eyes as he felt her body warm and solid next to his own.

     "Is something wrong?" she asked, her voice trembling.  At first, she didn't quite hold him back but rather just let him embrace her, but as his arms tightened around her, she slowly wrapped hers around him as well.

     For a few seconds, he didn't answer.  He reveled in the feel of her flesh against his, burying his head against her chest as he waited for the panic to subside.  When would the nightmares end?  They seemed to be getting worse, and he could still feel tears flowing down his face--but it wasn't just that.  He was shaking like mad, probably because he'd just dreamed up his worst fear again.  Lately, that's all he seemed to be doing.

     Carrie must have sensed the turmoil stirring inside of him because she slowly drew back and studied his face.  Although her expression had been one of concern before, seeing the tears only deepened the frown.

     One of her trembling hands slowly rose, and she stretched out her index finger to touch the tears.  "What's this?"

     Unsettled by the sudden, overwhelming sense of vulnerability, he quickly took her hand and pulled it away.  It was one thing to feel this way in the dead of night, when no one could see him, but it was another to feel that fear pressing down so hard upon him that he couldn't breathe and know his wife was watching his every move.

     "It's nothing," he lied.

     "It doesn't look like nothing."  She studied her fingertip which was still wet.

     He drew in a shaky breath.  "It was a dream. I dreamed that you died in the wreck."

     Even as he spoke, more tears pooled in his eyes and ran down his face before he could stop them.  For a moment, he considered wiping them away, but he knew there was no point;  she'd already seen them, and if there were one thing Robbie knew, it was that he was about as far from being all right as he could get.  He'd barely been holding back the fear that was eating him alive, and he didn't have a clue how to keep going like this.

     For a second or two, she said nothing.  Seemingly, there was no real expression on her face--at least nothing he could read--but then, as he watched her, he saw the pain slowly cloud her features, matching his own dark expression, and even though her eyes had been clear and bright to start with, now, in the moonlight, they began to glitter with her own tears until they spilled down her face.

     The sight of her crying overwhelmed him.  "Don't. Please. Just don't."  His hand reached up and stroked her cheek and she caught her hand in his.

     "I can't help it.  I feel your sadness."  She pressed his hand against the side of her face and closed her eyes as though enjoying his caress.

     Part of Robbie knew he should move slowly, that the last thing he needed was to push because he didn't want to alienate her, not now.  Things had been so strained lately, but no matter what his head told him, his heart argued the opposite, telling him to move in as close as possible.

     That was the voice he let speak to him as he leaned closer and brushed his lips across hers.  She stiffened, and he felt himself pause as a fresh wave of fear gripped him.  His lips froze on hers, waiting for the slightest urging that might help shore up all the weaknesses he felt surging through his marriage.

    
Please,
he thought,
please let her return to me.
  He waited, stilling lingering where he was, giving her a chance to make the next move, and his whole body tensed with the apprehension of what that choice would bring.