Taming Natasha (20 page)

Torn between relief and disappointment, Natasha followed Freddie into the kitchen.

“Vera, Tash is back.”

“I see.” Vera pursed her lips. Just when she'd thought Natasha
might
be good enough for the
señor
and her baby, the woman had gone off without a word. Still, she knew her duty. “Would you like some coffee or tea, miss?”

“No, thank you. I don't want to be in your way.”

“You have to stay.” Freddie tugged at Natasha's hand again. “Look, I've made snowmen and reindeers and Santas.” She plucked what she considered one of her best creations from the counter. “You can have one.”

“It's beautiful.” Natasha looked down at the snowman with red sugar clumped on his face and the brim of his hat broken off.

“Are you going to cry?” Freddie asked.

“No.” She managed to blink back the mist of tears. “I'm just glad to be home.”

As she spoke, the kitchen door opened. Natasha held her breath when Spence stepped into the room. He didn't speak. His hand still on the door, he stopped to stare. It was as if he'd conjured her up out of his own chaotic thoughts. There was snow melting in her hair and on the shoulders of her coat. Her eyes were bright, teary.

“Daddy, Tash is home,” Freddie announced, running to him. “She's going to bake cookies with us.”

Vera briskly untied her apron. Whatever doubts she'd had about Natasha were eclipsed by the look on her face. Vera knew a woman in love when she saw her. “We need more flour. Come, Freddie, we will go buy some.”

“But I want to—”

“You want to bake, we need flour to bake. Come, we'll get your coat.” Businesslike, Vera bustled Freddie out of the room.

Alone, Spence and Natasha stood where they were; the moment stretched out. The heat in the kitchen was making her dizzy. Natasha stripped off her coat and laid it over the back of a chair. She wanted to talk to him, reasonably. That couldn't be done if she fainted at his feet.

“Spence.” The word seemed to echo off the walls, and she took a deep breath. “I was hoping we could talk.”

“I see. Now you've decided talking's a good idea.”

She started to speak, then changed her mind. When the oven timer went off behind her, she turned automatically to take up the hot mitt
and remove the latest batch of cookies from the oven. She took her time setting them on the cooling rack.

“You're right to be angry with me. I behaved very badly toward you. Now I have to ask you to listen to me, and hope you can forgive me.”

He studied her for one long, silent moment. “You certainly know how to defuse an argument.”

“I didn't come to argue with you. I've had time to think, and I realize that I chose a very poor way to tell you about the baby, then to leave as I did.” She looked down at her hands, her tightly laced fingers. “To just run away was inexcusable. I can only tell you that I was afraid and confused and too emotional to think clearly.”

“One question,” he interjected, then waited until she lifted her head. He needed to see her face. “Is there still a baby?”

“Yes.” The blank puzzlement in her eyes became awareness. Awareness became regret. “Oh, Spence, I'm sorry, so sorry to have caused you to think that I might have…” She blinked away tears, knowing her emotions were still too close to the surface. “I'm sorry. I went to Mikhail's to stay with him a few days.” She let out a shaky breath. “May I sit?”

He only nodded, then moved to the window as she slid behind the table. Laying his palms upon the counter, he looked out at the snow. “I've been going out of my mind, wondering where you were, how you were. The state you were in when you left, I was terrified you'd do something rash before we could talk it through.”

“I could never do what you thought, Spence. This is our baby.”

“You said you didn't want it.” He turned again. “You said you wouldn't go through it again.”

“I was afraid,” Natasha admitted. “And it's true I hadn't wanted to get pregnant, not now. Not ever. I'd like to tell you everything.”

He wanted badly, much too badly, just to reach out to her, to hold
her and tell her that nothing mattered. Because he knew it did matter, he busied himself at the stove. “Do you want some coffee?”

“No. It makes me sick now.” She smiled a little when he fumbled with the pot. “Please, would you sit down?”

“All right.” He sat down across from her, then spread his hands. “Go ahead.”

“I told you that I had been in love with Anthony while I was with the corps de ballet. I was just seventeen when we became lovers. He was the first for me. There's been no one for me until you.”

“Why?”

The answer was much easier than she'd believed. “I'd never loved again until you. The love I feel for you is much different from the fantasies I had for Anthony. With you it isn't dreams and knights and princes. With you it's real and solid. Day-to-day. Ordinary—ordinary in the most beautiful way. Can you understand?”

He looked at her. The room was quiet, insulated by the snow. It smelled of warm cookies and cinnamon. “Yes.”

“I was afraid to feel this strongly for you, for anyone, because what happened between Anthony and me…” She waited a moment, surprised that there was no pain now, only sadness. “I had believed him, everything he said, everything he promised me. When I discovered he made many of the same promises to other women, I was crushed. We argued, and he sent me away like a child who had displeased him. A few weeks later I discovered I was pregnant. I was thrilled. I could only think that I was carrying Anthony's child and that when I told him, he would see that we belonged together. Then I told him.”

Spence reached for her hand without a word.

“It was not as I had imagined. He was angry. The things he said…. It doesn't matter,” she went on. “He didn't want me, he didn't want
the child. In those few moments I grew up years. He wasn't the man I had wanted him to be, but I had the child. I wanted that baby.” Her fingers tightened on his. “I so desperately wanted that baby.”

“What did you do?”

“The only thing I could. There could be no dancing now. I left the company and went home. I know it was a burden for my parents, but they stood by me. I got a job in a department store. Selling toys.” She smiled at that.

“It must have been difficult for you.” He tried to imagine her, a teenager, pregnant, deserted by the father of her child, struggling to hold it all together.

“Yes, it was. It was also a wonderful time. My body changed. After the first month or two when I felt so fragile, I began to feel strong. So strong. I would sit in bed at night and read books on babies and birthing. I would ask Mama dozens of questions. I knit—badly,” she said with a quiet laugh. “Papa built a bassinet, and Mama sewed a white skirt with pink and blue ribbons. It was beautiful.” She felt the tears well up and shook her head. “Could I have some water?”

He rose, and filling a glass from the tap, set it beside her. “Take your time, Natasha.” Because he knew they both needed it, he stroked her hair. “You don't have to tell me everything at once.”

“I need to.” She sipped slowly, waiting for him to sit down again. “I called her Lily,” she murmured. “She was so lovely, so tiny and soft. I had no idea it was possible to love anything, anyone, the way you love a child. I would watch her sleep for hours, so thrilled, so awed that she had come from me.”

The tears were falling now, soundlessly. One fell onto the back of her hand. “It was hot that summer, and I would take her out in this little carriage to get air and sunshine. People would stop to look at
her. She hardly cried, and when I nursed her, she would put a hand on my breast and watch me with those big eyes. You know what it is. You have Freddie.”

“I know. There's nothing like having a child.”

“Or losing one,” Natasha said softly. “It was so quick. She was only five weeks old. I woke up in the morning, surprised that she had slept through the night. My breasts were full of milk. The bassinet was by my bed. I reached down for her, picked her up. At first I didn't understand, didn't believe….” She broke off to press her hands to her eyes. “I remember screaming and screaming—Rachel rushing up out of the next bed, the rest of the family running in—Mama taking her from me.” The silent tears turned to weeping. Her face now covered by her hands, she let go in a way she usually only allowed herself in private.

There was nothing he could say, nothing to be said. Instead of searching for meaningless words, he rose to crouch beside her and gather her into his arms. The passion of her grief held sway. Then on a half sob, she turned and clung to him, accepting comfort.

Her hands were fisted against his back. Gradually they relaxed as he kept her close. The hot tears slowed, and the pain, now shared, eased.

“I'm all right,” she managed at length. Pulling away, she began to fumble in her bag for a tissue. Spence took it from her to dry her cheeks himself. “The doctor called it crib death. No reason,” she said as she closed her eyes once more. “That was somehow worse. Not knowing why, not being sure if I could have stopped it.”

“No.” He took both her hands and she opened her eyes. “Don't do that. Listen to me. I can only imagine what it would be like to go through what you went through, but I know that when truly horrible things happen, it's usually out of our control.”

“It took me a long time to accept what I can never understand.”
She turned over her hands in his. “A long time to start living again, going back to work, finally moving here, starting my business. I think I would have died without my family.” She gave herself a moment, sipping the water to cool her dry throat. “I didn't want to love anyone again. Then there was you. And Freddie.”

“We need you, Natasha. And you need us.”

“Yes.” She took his hand to press it to her lips. “I want you to understand. Spence, when I learned I was pregnant, it all came flying back at me. I tell you, I don't think I could survive going through that again. I'm so afraid to love this child. And I already do.”

“Come here.” He lifted her to her feet, keeping her hands locked tight in his. “I know that you loved Lily, and that you'll always love her and grieve for her. So will I now. What happened before can't be changed, but this is a different place, a different time. A different child. I want you to understand that we're going to go through this pregnancy, the birth and the rearing together. Whether you want me or not.”

“I'm afraid.”

“Then we'll be afraid together. And when this baby is eight and rides a two-wheeler for the first time, we'll be afraid together.”

Her lips trembled into a smile. “When you say it, I can almost believe it.”

“Believe it.” He bent to kiss her. “Because it's a promise.”

“Yes, it's time for promises.” Her smile grew. “I love you.” It was so easy to say it now. So easy to feel it. “Will you hold me?”

“On one condition.” He rubbed away a drying tear with his thumb. “I want to tell Freddie she's expecting a baby brother or sister. I think it would make a great Christmas present for her.”

“Yes.” She felt stronger, surer. “I want us to tell her.”

“All right, you've got five days.”

“Five days for what?”

“To make whatever plans you want to make, to arrange to have your family come down, buy a dress, whatever you need to do to get ready for the wedding.”

“But—”

“No buts.” He framed her face with his hands and silenced her. “I love you, I want you. You're the best thing to come into my life since Freddie, and I don't intend to lose you. We've made a child, Natasha.” Watching her, he laid a hand on her stomach, gently possessive. “A child I want. A child I already love.”

In a gesture of trust, she placed her hand on his. “I won't be afraid if you're with me.”

“We have a date here Christmas Eve. I'm going to wake up Christmas morning with my wife.”

She steadied herself by putting her hands on his forearms. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

With a laugh, she threw her arms around his neck and said one word. “Yes.”

C
hristmas Eve was the most beautiful day in the year as far as Natasha was concerned. It was a time to celebrate life and love and family.

The house was quiet when she came in. She was drawn to the tree and the light. She sent an angel spinning on one branch, then turned to study the room.

On the table there was a papier-mâché reindeer with only one ear. Compliments of Freddie's second-grade art class. Beside it stood a pudgy snowman holding a lantern. An exquisite porcelain crèche was displayed on the mantel. Beneath it hung four stockings. A fire crackled in the grate.

A year before she had stood before the fire and promised to love, honor and cherish. They had been the easiest promises she had ever had to keep. Now this was her home.

Home. She took a deep breath to draw in the scents of pine and candles. It was so good to be home. Last-minute shoppers had crowded The Fun House until late in the afternoon. Now there was only family.

“Mama.” Freddie raced in, trailing a bright red ribbon. “You're home.”

“I'm home.” Laughing, Natasha scooped her up to spin her around.

“We took Vera to the airport so she can spend Christmas with her
sister, then we watched the planes. Daddy said when you got home we'd have dinner, then sing Christmas carols.”

“Daddy's absolutely right.” Natasha draped the ribbon over Freddie's shoulder. “What's this?”

“I'm wrapping a present, all by myself. It's for you.”

“For me? What is it?”

“I can't tell you.”

“Yes, you can. Watch.” She dropped onto the couch to run her fingers along Freddie's ribs. “It'll be easy,” she said as Freddie squealed and squirmed.

“Torturing the child again,” Spence commented from the doorway.

“Daddy!” Springing up, Freddie raced to him. “I didn't tell.”

“I knew I could count on you, funny face. Look who woke up.” He bounced a baby on his hip.

“Here, Brandon.” Madly in love, Freddie passed up the ribbon so that he could play with it. “It's pretty, just like you.”

At six months, young Brandon Kimball was chubby, rosy-cheeked and delighted with the world in general. He clutched the ribbon in one hand and reached for Freddie's hair with the other.

Walking over, Natasha held out her arms. “Such a big boy,” she murmured as her son reached for her. Gathering him close, she pressed a kiss to his throat. “So beautiful.”

“He looks just like his mother.” Spence stroked a hand over Brandon's thick, black curls. As if he approved of the statement, Brandon let out a gurgling laugh. When he wriggled, Natasha set him down to crawl on the rug.

“It's his first Christmas.” Natasha watched him scoot over to torment one of the cats and saw Lucy dart under the sofa. She's no fool, Natasha thought happily.

“And our second.” He turned Natasha into his arms. “Happy anniversary.”

Natasha kissed him once, then twice. “Have I told you today that I love you?”

“Not since I called you this afternoon.”

“Much too long ago.” She slipped her arms around his waist. “I love you. Thank you for the most wonderful year of my life.”

“You're very welcome.” He glanced over her head only long enough to see that Freddie had prevented Brandon from pulling an ornament from a low branch. “But it's only going to get better.”

“Do you promise?”

He smiled and lowered his mouth to hers again. “Absolutely.”

Freddie stopped crawling with Brandon to watch them. A baby brother had turned out to be nice, after all, but she was still holding out for that baby sister. She smiled as she saw her parents embrace.

Maybe next Christmas.