Tainted Love: contemporary womens fiction love story and family saga (Behind Closed Doors Book 1) (10 page)

I didn’t move from the spot where he left me. I wrapped my arms around my legs and buried my head in my knees and I cried. He loves me. I know he loves me. So why does he hurt me like this?

Sometime during the afternoon, Caleb came home and asked where I was, because he wanted to ask me if he could sleep at James's house. Cal said I had a headache and was taking a nap, but sure he could sleep out. Later I heard Cal talking to Georgia on the phone. She wanted to sleep over at a friend's, too.

So it was just the two of us for the night. It should have been bliss. But I dreaded the thought of being alone in the house with him. I guess I should have left him then. Yet still, I sat in that tiny ball and I cried. I was just too devastated to move. My marriage... how had it gone so horribly wrong? This wasn’t the man I married. The man I married liked children. Okay, he hadn’t wanted any of his own, but he’d never force me into a termination. Not the way Cal wanted to do.

The man I married was nice. He didn’t have affairs. He came home from work after a really long day and he held me while I cried, and then he tended to the baby because I’d had a bad day. He called to find out how our kid’s first at school went, and he threatened to come home to lock me up for safe keeping, so I didn’t run off with another man because I was bored. He was an amazing father and an amazing husband who hugged me and told me everything was going to be okay. I just wanted him to come back and say he was sorry.

Where was Cal? Where was the man I married?

Chapter Twenty

A soft hand glided over my cheek. My eyes fluttered open then closed. My pillow felt strangely lumpy and the bed felt as solid and as rough as the carpeted floor. But I was covered by our duvet. Cal’s scent, his cologne and the fragrance that was just simply him, filled my lungs as I breathed in. Had I dreamt it all?

Whoa. If I had, then I needed to see someone about some seriously repressed issues, because that was one hell of a vivid dream. The room started to come into focus. The closet... the bed... the floor... and I was still wearing the clothes I had on yesterday. No, I wasn’t dreaming. I had really slept on the floor.

"You’ve had me worried all night," Cal whispered. There was a touch of remorse in his voice. The one telling me he knew how much of jerk he’d been. How sorry he was. The regret in his eyes was almost too much for me to bear. I knew he didn’t realize when he was in such a state. "I was about to call a real doctor."

"What time is it?" I asked.

"Noon." His thumb stroked along the curve of my cheek. "Caleb's swimming, Georgia's at the mall."

His pupils were big, he had dark shadows under his eyes, and he was still wearing yesterday’s clothes, too. "You haven't slept, have you?" He shook his head. "How long have you been sitting here?"

"About sixteen hours," he said. "Fay, I’m sorry.” The fingertips now pushed the hair back from my eyes. "All I saw was you lying at the bottom of the stairs and I freaked out. I’m so sorry.”

We spent so long being angry and hating each other. Then, under the unspoken truce when he found another way to release his pain, we kept pushing it aside. But it had been three years, and we still hadn’t had this talk. We’d pretended it was okay, carried on as though it was okay… and on the surface, it was okay. But we’d avoided talking about anything to do with babies or having babies or risk of having babies because inevitably Dylan would be included and I guess it wasn’t okay after all. Wasn’t this my fault as much as it was his?

“The doctor in me should have kicked in, Fay. I should have been the one who checked you were breathing, checked your pulse, called for an ambulance. I could have made sure you were stable. But I…” He shook his head as he looked away. “It was Georgia.” He swallowed. “I couldn’t move from the top of the stairs because I knew I wouldn't survive it again.”

“Emma,” I whispered. “She fell down stairs?”

He nodded as he continued to stare at his hands. “And then one day, I was making arrangements to meet…” His words died away. He was talking about her, the redhead who wore cheap red lipstick and even cheaper red underwear. “Well, you knew what I was doing… and I’m so sorry for that too, Fay.”

I reached across and put my hand on his and he looked at me. “Suddenly you were there. You were smiling at me from that picture on my desk and you brightened up my world like a summer morning. You looked so goddamn adorable, and you know what you and adorable does to me. I think I fell in love with you all over again.”

I scrambled to sit beside him.

“I told her it was over. I haven’t spoken with her since, so it’s nothing like that, but..." He sighed and looked away "I can't… I can’t have another child, Fay." I nodded. "It'll be worse than Georgia and Caleb put together." I nodded again. "It’s always your fault. I don't realize what I’m doing when I’m that angry.” His eyes squeezed together like he was in physical pain. “I’m not this man, Faith. I promise I’m not this man. And I don’t want to treat you like that ever again."

"Cal, you once said nothing would make you happier than having more children." He nodded. "Then I'd rather take your bad moods than not have this baby."

"I can't." He shook his head. "I can't support you, Fay." I thought it was weird. He hadn't really been there for the rest of them. But maybe he had in his own way, because he whispered, "I can't lose another one."

Oh, how my heart shattered into shards of tears. "Please, Cal." I straddled his outstretched thighs. "You can't live your life like this." Smothered his cheeks with kisses. "What happened and how we dealt with it made our marriage stronger than ever. It made our love stronger than ever." I grabbed his hands in mine as I pulled away to meet his eyes. "Please don't let it stop you from believing in the good things that will come from our love."

"You sound like a preacher giving Sunday Mass."

"That's because you have to have faith." He got that twinkle in his eyes and his hand began to slide upwards. "That wasn't... ooh, that's new."

I won't go into any more detail, but needless to say, with no resolution reached, the conversation was abandoned. The issue of the baby Cal didn't want was pushed aside. Our loving marriage continued the way it had since our anniversary. Yes, his temper spiked, and when it did we'd disappear into the bedroom and harsh words were spoken. He'd leave. I'd shed a few tears. He'd come back and tell me he didn't mean them. We'd kiss and make up. He'd be excessively affectionate all night long and then things would slip back into their routine.

Things started to go wrong when the bump started to grow. That's when he started to get… cranky. His mood worsened over the next few months until he finally snapped.

"You said you'd get rid of it!"

"But you said you wanted the baby." I frowned. "I know how difficult it is for you, Cal, that's why I haven’t involved you this time. No support, just like you said."

"You've deliberately deceived me!"

"But I... I..." I looked at him. "I told you I wanted..." I let my words trail away. He was angry, angrier than I'd seen him in a very long time. Possibly angrier than the day he'd dragged me through the house by my hair. That sixth sense, the one which knew Cal's every move before he did, told me I was in trouble. But didn’t he say he wanted more children? Hadn’t I said I didn’t want us to regret it? We were distracted… did I misunderstand what he had meant?

"Get rid of it!"

"I-I... c-c-can't."

"Why the hell not?"

"I-i-it's..." I didn't want to say it. I knew the moment the words left my mouth his fist would replace them. "T-t-too late."

There was no apology this time. He went out while I lay on our bed with a cold compress over my smarting cheek and sobbing. How could he do this? He loved me. I knew he loved me. And I know you're saying actions speak louder than words, but he showed me how much he loved me, too. These sporadic rage eruptions were just part of who he'd become. Part of who I'd turned him into by not being the woman he needed me to be. Why couldn't I get this right? Why couldn't I make him happy? Why did I keep doing the things that made him so angry? Why did I make him lash out at me?

I know what you're thinking. I can hear the cogs working inside your brain. I can even see the memory mist clearing. It was another lie. Cal and I weren't decorating Caitlyn's nursery. He didn't fall off the ladder and stumble into me. But your visit home was so unexpected two days later, and we were decorating the nursery when you arrived. It was all I could think of at the time. I'm just grateful you laughed it off and told him to be more careful. You reminded him he's twice my size and I was in a delicate condition.

Oh, and he was not happy I told you. It seemed that once he'd hit me the first time it was easier to do it again. Words were no longer effective enough when we talked behind our bedroom door.

Chapter Twenty-One

March 1996

The first time Hazel Carey knocked on my door, I told her she had the wrong house. My brother was conceived and carried in my mother's womb. Wrong of me, I know but I made a promise to protect that little boy on the beach, to make sure nothing rocked the foundations of his life again. She was an earthquake waiting to happen.

Six months later, your birth mother’s sister was drinking coffee with Cal. She'd retraced her steps and was sure she was at the right house. So, Cal had invited her in.

"Is it true?" You screamed at me as you burst through the kitchen like the backdraft of a roaring flame. "I'm adopted?"

I looked at Cal. He didn't tell me he'd told her all about you. How you came to be in my family, then our family, and where she could find you now.

"How could you keep this from me for twenty-one years, Fay?"

You'll remember how this argument spiraled. How we said a lot of words we didn't mean. You accused me of betraying you, lying to you, told me it was worse than putting you back in the system. I'm so sorry, D — if I knew then what I know now, I'd have left with you that day.

I looked at Cal and asked him why he'd done this but I guess you have a right to know. Everything your parents owned had been sold and placed in a trust Hazel maintained for you. Now that you were twenty-one, you were entitled to it. He said he'd known all along. It was in the provisions our parents made for your care before they died. How was I to know when Cal handled everything?

You were never meant to find out you were adopted, D. I'm so sorry I kept it from you. As far as I knew you had no living relatives, or none who could be found at the time of your parents' death, so I didn't see the necessity in causing you so much pain. It wasn't like you could find out who you were or where you came from. Everyone had already tried before Mom and Dad adopted you. I guess I’ll never know why
Aunty Hazel
couldn’t step up when you needed her but I forgive her. You became my little brother when she didn’t, and I pray one day you’ll forgive me and we’ll speak again.

You know, Cal didn’t appreciate it when you walked out on the family, and he wasn’t very sympathetic when I started to fuss over contraction-like pains. Remember the Braxton-Hicks I had with Georgia? But I was seven and a half months pregnant, and probably didn’t need all the stress. I guess I deserved the backlash — after all, it was my fault. Oh no, he wasn’t physical with me this time. He was just very bitter and angry. He had more than a few harsh things to say. So he was even less happy when that same night I woke him up and told him the midwife didn’t think I had Braxton-Hicks and I should get to the hospital right away.

It was a cold October night when he rushed me to the hospital and he was ranting at me. Why had I bothered the midwife in the middle of the night when the baby wasn’t due for another six weeks? But I knew, and I was foolish to try to convince myself otherwise. I didn’t want to have to face the confrontation with him and I waited too late. Although the hospital tried, they couldn’t stop the labor. The baby was coming whether we were ready for her or not.

But Caitlyn didn’t want to come. Maybe she knew she was better off inside than in the middle of the current state of our marriage. I thought once she was here, once Cal held her, everything would change. The labor was long and slow. He prowled the labor suite like a caged animal. He took urgent calls on his cell, but I could see it every time he looked at me. He thought something was wrong. See! He couldn’t get anything past me, I knew he really cared.

He was overreacting. They monitored the baby and me closely and we were both okay. The baby just didn’t want to come out. The following afternoon, when they finally handed Cal his daughter, he took her in his arms he smiled at her, and I really thought something had changed. He was the doting father. He peppered the staff with questions and he sounded like he couldn’t quite believe she could really be so premature and still be perfectly okay. He cooed and he stroked her hair. And then he named her Kitty-Cat-Caitlyn just like he had named Georgia, Caleb and Dylan.

Then the moment the doctors left, the second we were alone, he handed her over like a toy doll and he sat down to read the newspaper. He was exactly the same when we brought her home from the hospital. He gushed for Georgia and Caleb's benefit or when company came to call but the moment no one else was interested in her, he turned off and went into the study to work.

This went on for months: publicly he was the perfect father, but privately he didn’t care. I swear I tried everything but he just wasn’t interested. He didn’t get involved with her. It really was like she wasn’t even there unless she annoyed him, and then it was my fault.

Of course her first word was “Ma-ma” and amazed by her discovery of language, Georgia was trying to teach her more. She asked Caitlyn to say Georgia and her attempt and making her name into baby speak really made me laugh. Dor-da!

“She can’t really understand what you’re asking her to do, baby girl,” I explained. “She’s just making noise. Even that’s a little complicated. Maybe you can start with simpler sounds?”