A Distant Summer (16 page)

No one had ever attacked her decision as Tucker had. Her parents had had a more subtle way of condemning it; they’d finally realized she wouldn’t submit to their authority, so they’d sent her to Great-aunt Maudie in Maple Ridge. Kristina could still remember the stern indifference in her father’s voice when he’d told her that if she came to her senses, she could come home — alone.

The residents of Maple Ridge had opened their homes and their hearts to Kris, but no one — not even Ruth — had offered advice or opinions on what was the right thing to do. When Kris had returned from the hospital in Russellville without the baby, there had been no judgmental attitudes from her neighbors and friends, only the acceptance and support so characteristic of the people in the community.

Kristina had known she didn’t want to return to her parents or to the careless lifestyle of her past. After her great-aunt had died, leaving the house to Kris, there was no reason to think of anywhere else as home. Almost everyone in town knew the circumstances that had brought her there, but past mistakes were off limits, and it was never discussed. And in all the time that Tucker had lived here, no one had mentioned those circumstances to him.

Until today, when she had told him.

Pushing the limp weight of her hair off her neck, Kris braked at a stop sign and then eased through the intersection. Maybe she should have kept the subject off limits. Certainly she wished she hadn’t told him about the baby. Maybe it would have been best to keep the secret, to marry Tucker and love him and pretend that honesty in a relationship was unimportant. But of course, it was, and she knew she’d done the right thing in telling him.

No, she corrected her thoughts.  The right thing would have been to have done whatever was necessary to get in touch with him years ago. She should have gone to him, made him listen. No matter how devastated she had been by his rejection, she should have found a way to tell him, to let him participate in the decision.

But would it have made any difference?

Somehow Kris didn’t believe so. It had been easy today for him to state he would have done anything to help her keep the baby, but would he have said it all those years ago? Would he have sacrificed his career ambitions? Certainly not without experiencing a lot of resentment toward her and the child.

Should. Might. If.
What good did it do to think in those terms now? How long would she continue to punish herself for things that could not be changed? She had done what she felt had to be done. She had given up her baby, and she had, finally, told Tucker the truth.

It was over.

Chapter Ten

Her phone rang several times before Kristina answered.

“Kris? What are you doing home?” Jena Saradon asked in a soft, lilting soprano. “I thought you were away for the weekend and not turning your phone back on until Monday.”

“If you thought that, why did you call?” Kris answered with a smile, feeling cheered simply by the happiness in Jena’s voice.

“I was going to leave a message. I wanted you to know as soon as you got back Sunday that you’d missed my entire labor and delivery and the arrival of Baby Saradon.”

“Jena! A boy? Or a girl? When? And where are you? I haven’t been gone that long.  You must have had the fastest labor in Maple Ridge history.”

Excitement rippled through the phone wires. “Oh, I haven’t had the baby yet. But I know the signs. By this time tomorrow, we’ll have a new son. I’m sure this one is going to be a boy.”

“What about Matt? Is he pacing the floor?”

“He doesn’t even know. You know how he is, Kris. He’ll make me crazy if I tell him too soon. When it’s time to drive to the hospital, I’ll tell him to put his shoes on. That should do the trick.”

“One of these times, Jena, you’re going to wait too long, and then what are you going to do?”

“This is my last time. Four children are my limit. And don’t you dare say ‘Famous last words.’ ” Jena’s tone softened with subdued excitement. “Don’t worry. I won’t wait too long, especially considering that we have to drive all the way to Russellville. I certainly wish the new hospital were built already. It would ease Matt’s worries, I know. Well, I’d better rest while I can. I’ll call you later.” There was a pause, and then: “Kris? What happened to the wonderful weekend Tucker had planned for you at Gary’s cabin?”

“It rained.”

“It did? How odd, we didn’t get so much as a drop this afternoon. There wasn’t even a cloud in the sky.”

Kris sighed her admission. “It all depends on your point of view, Jena. Listen, tell Matt to call me from the hospital as soon as the baby is born.”

“You’ll be one of the first to know,” Jena promised. “I’d say ‘the first,’ except that you know the people in this town. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone found out before I did.” She laughed. “Bye, Kris. Matt will call you later.”

“Good luck, Jena.” Kristina replaced the receiver and settled back against the sofa cushions. Tracing a fingertip pattern onto the fabric of a throw pillow, she thought about the Saradons and their new baby. How nice it must have been for Jena to be able to share nine months of planning, to know that the father of her child would be near her during the labor and birth.

Kristina remembered only too well how it felt to face that alone. She had been afraid, unsure of the changes happening within her body and to her emotions. There hadn’t been anyone to share with. Her great-aunt Maudie had sat in the living room, crocheting inch after inch of yarn into bright rows but saying hardly a word during all those long months of waiting. Even afterward her only comment had been to tell Kris she could stay in Maple Ridge if she wanted. It had been the loneliest time, the very worst time, in Kristina’s life.

The back door opened, and she tensed, knowing she had been listening for that sound ever since she’d arrived home earlier in the day. Tucker was back. She heard his footsteps crossing the kitchen floor, coming toward the living room ... and her. Her fingers curled into the pillow as she waited for him to find her.

She felt his gaze on her and slowly turned to meet it. He looked tired, and she had a fleeting remembrance of the way he’d looked that day in the courtroom — disenchanted and discouraged. Kristina hurt for him, and she wished there were something she could do. But she realized there was no resolution to their situation. It was impossible. She had known that once he knew the truth, his love for her would be locked behind a dozen other emotions; she’d accepted that, yet she found herself waiting for his smile, waiting for him to say everything was all right.

He said nothing. He only stood watching her. When he walked into the room and sank onto a chair opposite the sofa where she was sitting, her fingers dug a little deeper into the throw pillow.

“I’m sorry I left you stranded at the cabin.” Kris tried to clear the nervous flutter from her throat. “I should have waited for you.”

“I needed the walk,” he said crisply. “And once I reached the main highway, it wasn’t hard to get a ride into town.”

“Well, I am sorry.”

“Don’t be. Not about that.” It was a cool statement that made her instantly more alert, but Tucker seemed calm and unemotional as he faced her. “Tell me why you gave our child to strangers, Kristina.”

“I told you that it wasn’t a matter of
giving
her away.”

“All right, then. Tell me why you chose not to keep her and bring her up yourself.”

The bitter edge in his voice made a clean slice through her composure, and her stomach knotted with regrets. “Tucker, I made the best — the only — decision I could make under the circumstances.”

“What circumstances?” he asked. With his elbows resting on the arms of the chair and his hands clasped at a forbidding angle across his chest, Kris could feel the intangible strength of his anger. “I think I deserve at least that much explanation, don’t you?”

“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, Tucker, but
I
deserve the courtesy of patience. There’s no need to interrupt me at every turn.”

He dismissed her objection with a shrug. “You have my undivided and silent attention.”

Kris sighed and eased her grip on the pillow. “I told you how my parents felt. They were very angry with me. At the time I thought it was because an illegitimate grandchild would be a major embarrassment to them. Now that I’m older, I believe it was an anger born of fear. They were afraid I was going to ruin my life by saddling myself with a child. Their concern was for me, not for the baby. And when I refused to have the abortion, my father thought he knew exactly how to handle my rebellious nature. He sent me here to Maple Ridge, the end of the world. My great-aunt lived in this house, and I was supposed to go quickly out of my mind with boredom and guilt and realize the wisdom of my parents’ advice.

“I’ll admit it almost worked, Tucker. Great-aunt Maudie didn’t have a lot to say, and even when she did, it didn’t make much sense. Maybe if I hadn’t been quite so headstrong, things might have turned out differently. But the harder my family pressed me to end the pregnancy, the more determined I was to keep the baby. By the time I passed the fifth month all communication between us was cut off. My father was a stubborn man.” She paused, remembering. “I suppose he still is.”

She lifted her gaze to Tucker’s, but he was staring at his hands and wouldn’t meet her look. “After a couple of weeks of watching Aunt Maudie crochet, I stopped feeling sorry for myself and took the first step toward maturity. I decided I had to have some means of support, so I enrolled in the local high school and got a part-time job at Ruth’s gift shop.

“For months I worked harder than I’d ever imagined anyone could work, but I earned my diploma and managed to accumulate a modest savings account. I also caught a cold that wouldn’t get better.” Tucker was watching her now, but the past spread a dark shadow between them, and Kristina couldn’t think of any way to banish it.

“On the doctor’s orders I spent the week before the baby was born in the hospital in Russellville. Resting was supposed to build my strength, but I couldn’t sleep or eat. All I could do was think. About you. About the baby. About how I was going to take care of her. It was the lowest point in my life. But when I held her in my arms for the first time, I knew there wasn’t a sacrifice that was too great to make for her.”

Reminiscent tears changed her voice to a whisper. “It wasn’t until the day before I was supposed to bring her home to Maple Ridge that I began to question my decision. I’d known, of course, that I’d have to find someone to stay with her while I worked. Aunt Maudie was too old, and her hearing wasn’t very good. All of a sudden I realized what it would mean to leave my daughter in another person’s care. I began to consider what her immediate future was going to be like: a constant shuffle between day care and a baby-sitter at night while I attended classes at a junior college in Russellville. I knew I had to have more education in order to provide even a small measure of security.

“In many ways, Tucker, I was still a child myself. I didn’t know who I was. How could I guide such a precious and important life as hers?” Kris smoothed the pillow with her palm and then laid it aside. “Rationalizations, of course, but I was afraid. I’d never had any responsibility at all, and suddenly I felt the weight of more than I’d ever imagined. There was no one to talk with except Ruth, and I’d hardly known her long enough to ask for advice. She never once mentioned adoption, but I could see for myself how much she loved Melinda and Michael, how good their adoption had turned out for them.”

Tucker shifted his position and leaned forward, listening and yet seemingly very far away. Kristina released long-suppressed emotions on a sigh. “I was unprepared to be a mother. I wasn’t even legally an adult, but I was responsible for creating another life. A life conceived by accident. Unplanned. Unwanted. I finally took a long look at what I had to offer and realized that it was beyond my ability at that time —physically, mentally, and emotionally — to provide anything more than unlimited love.”

She met his intense regard squarely. “That wasn’t enough for her, Tucker. If I’d kept her, as I badly wanted to do, the sacrifices wouldn’t have been strictly mine. She would have sacrificed the right to be welcomed into a family that had planned and hoped and dreamed for her. She would have paid part of the price for my mistake. The hardest thing I’ve ever done was to sign those papers, and there hasn’t been a day since that I haven’t wondered if I did the right thing.”

With a ragged breath Tucker dropped his head into his hands and began to rub his temples in slow massage. “Would you do it again?”

The words were rough and uneven, and it took a full minute before Kristina felt the cutting edge of their pain. Did he have any idea what he was asking?

“Don’t, Tucker. I did what I felt I had to do ... for her. Please don’t ask me to make a judgment now. It can’t be changed. No matter what.”

His gaze snapped to her impatiently. “No more excuses, Kris. I want to know if you’d make the same decision again.”

She stood, angry because he was angry, hurting because she knew too well how much he hurt. “Yes, Tucker. Given the same circumstances, yes. Yes, I would.” Turning to leave him, she stopped as he took hold of her wrist.

“How could you give her to a stranger, Kristina? How could you do it?” he asked quietly, his anger defeated by the pain that she recognized — the pain that for her had become a soft, ever-present hurt.

“I loved her, Tucker.” Her eyes grew misty with emotions. “I ... loved her.” She slipped her hand free and left him then, knowing there was nothing more to be said, nothing more to be done.

Alone in her room she longed for the release of tears, but none would come. Even when she heard the sound of Tucker’s car in the night. Even when she realized he had left her home and her life. She comforted herself with logic. She’d been prepared for his leaving, hadn’t she? Why should she cry about something she’d known would happen, something she’d accepted long before?

But as the hours crept toward midnight, her acceptance gave way to despair, and she cried for all the things that might have been and now could never be.