A Suitable Wife: A Sweetwater Springs Novel (16 page)

Oh, God. Remembering hurt.

Twin tears created rivulets on her cheeks. She brushed them away, stuffing the memories back into the dark recesses of her mind.

Sam reached for her.

She shook her head, pulling fists tight to her chest. “Please. Let me get it over with.”
Take a deep breath. Breathe slowly. Say the words.

“Learning we were pregnant was definitely an oops moment about ten months into our relationship. Almost immediately I began having sharp twinges of pain and occasional spotting. I made an appointment with my doctor for the following Monday. He said to take it easy, but that weekend Dean invited some of his frat buddies over for barbecue and a game of football. Even though I wasn’t feeling well, he insisted I cheer from the sidelines. It was simply another attempt at control, but I didn’t want to be the one to end the cease-fire.

“During the game, he threw a pass directly at me, and I was knocked to the ground. Immediately, I knew the pain meant something was terribly wrong with the baby. He dropped me off at the hospital and left to take some of the guys home.”

Sam’s brows bunched over stormy eyes. “He just . . . left you there?” His delivery indicated he found the idea unforgivable.

“Frankly, at that point I preferred it that way.” She couldn’t hold back the bitterness she felt. “I’d seen his face before the ball came flying toward me. He deliberately put the baby at risk, and I didn’t want him anywhere near me. The irony is that I would have lost the baby anyway. I had what’s called an ectopic pregnancy and the earlier twinges of pain were a result of the baby growing inside my fallopian tube.”

Her gaze darted to Sam and quickly away from his worried expression.

“I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry.”

Now that the bulk of the story had been told, a sense of detachment settled over her, as if there was a thick layer of insulation between her and the intense feelings that simmered in the background. She murmured her thanks automatically.

“Come here.” He scooted closer and opened his arms.

Would he make the same offer when she was finished?

“Wait. There’s more you need to know.” And it would change their relationship. She dreaded that more than the telling of it.

Sam covered her hand with his. “You’ve told me enough. The judge won’t see this as anything but a sad loss for you, if it even gets that far. No further explanations necessary. Okay?”

She’d like to believe that, but doubted it was that simple. “You think Bill can keep this out of court?”

“Send copies of the medical reports to him. If Jasmine’s attorney is worth his salt, he won’t even put Dean on the stand.”

The thought of her medical history being seen by anyone else was unnerving. She had to tell Sam the rest before that happened. “My fallopian tube ruptured. It was . . . damaged.”

He blinked several times, as if digesting the information.

“I’ve had several benign cysts over the years. A couple of them burst and there’s scarring on my remaining tube. So the likelihood of me ever getting pregnant again is . . . very slim.”

Sam’s mouth opened and closed. He shook his head. “I . . . I don’t know what to say.”

She forced a smile. “Good thing you didn’t hook up with me for the long haul.”

“That was before. Things have changed between us, and you know it.”

She hadn’t expected him to admit he’d bought into the fantasy they were living. It was her fault, for not telling him all this a week ago, when he stopped mentioning the temporary nature of their situation and ignored her reminders. It was time to jog his memory again.

“No. I don’t know any such thing. We added a physical relationship to the original plan for the duration of the marriage. Other than that, nothing’s changed. You’ll win in court and we’ll separate—after an appropriate interval.”

“You can’t believe that. We talked about this. You agreed the change in our relationship was inevitable.”

And she’d missed the clues entirely. “I thought we were talking about sex.”

“I was talking about a hell of a lot more than that. What about love?”

She could
not
go there. Skirting the subject was hard enough. “Staying with me eliminates more children in your future. Can you tell me it doesn’t matter?”

The second the words left her lips, she wanted to snatch them back, beg him not to answer. Bracing herself, she raised her gaze.

* * *

S
am turned away from her, afraid to answer her question.

With a sigh, Rosie stood and moved past him. He caught the tips of her fingers. “Wait.”

But he was talking to air as she ran up the stairs. Seconds later their bedroom door closed. He just . . . needed a minute. A few seconds to pull his thoughts together, that’s all.

She couldn’t have children? His sweet, maternal, nurturing Rosie. The idea was so grossly unfair it was downright criminal and yet, explained so much of her early behavior toward Lorelei. It also made him feel horrible for some of the things he’d said, the way he’d goaded her into interacting with his little girl.

And he was avoiding the answer to a question that weeks ago would have been a no-brainer, before he’d fallen in love with Rosie and wondered what she’d look like round with his child.

Sure he wanted to experience everything marriage offered with her, and if this was as good as it got, it was still light years better than he’d had before. More than he’d ever expected to have after Jasmine tore through his life.

Before Rosie planted the idea in his head, he honestly hadn’t thought about having more kids. Marriage hadn’t been on his radar, so it naturally followed that kids hadn’t been either. Seeing her with Lorelei had changed all that. Rosie was a natural. She should have kids, by whatever means.

He had Lorelei. If it was enough for Rosie, he would be content. But would she? Or would her arms always ache for a baby of her own. Sitting here, watching the emotions play across her face as she told him how her pregnancy ended was about as heart-wrenching as it gets.

She’d said the chances of her getting pregnant were slim. Not impossible. Was that a medical assessment, or a reluctance to acknowledge a hard truth?

His questions wouldn’t be answered tonight. Suddenly dog tired, he flipped off the light and made his way into the darkened bedroom. He shucked his clothes off with as little noise as possible.

From the glowing nightlight, he could see enough of Rosie’s form to know she was holding herself too stiffly to be asleep. He folded her against him.

She shook, sobs racking her body. Hearing the anguish pouring from her unchecked clogged his throat. He squeezed his eyes tightly closed and listened to her grieve for the child she’d lost and the ones she believed she’d never have.

He turned her toward him, rubbed her back, stroked her hair and whispered sweet words of comfort while she bathed his shoulder with her tears.

Never before had he been so physically close to another human being and felt such an emotional barrier. Somehow, he had to find a way to bridge the chasm.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

S
am awoke the next morning feeling bruised, as if he’d lived through an entire week yesterday. He clicked off the alarm and turned to Rosie. She slept, one arm thrown over her head, her hair in wild disarray around her face. Last night’s emotional rollercoaster showed in pale skin and puffy eyelids. Both gave her a fragile appearance when nothing could be further from the truth. It had taken strength to bear the burden she’d lived with for years.

He slipped from the room and called Sara, asked her to open Rosie’s Posies with the insinuation that Lorelei’s continued teething had caused a sleepless night. In truth, she was the only one of their little family who had slept peacefully.

After Rosie’s tears had ceased, they’d returned to spooning. He’d had no intention of acting on the erection that had resulted, but she’d pressed against him with an urgent need.

Their joining eased physical aches, but was too desperate to erase the certainty that something had gone terribly wrong between them. It was a singularly peculiar experience and they lay awake for a long while afterward without touching.

* * *

“
Y
ou’re awfully quiet today. Is everything all right?” Sara asked while placing her latest arrangement inside the cold case.

“Fine.” Rosie didn’t bother to elaborate, fixing her sister-in-law with a warning stare.

“O-kay then. Thanks for letting me have the afternoon off. The boys have been dying to see the new Pixar release.”

Rosie waved in the general direction Sara was headed, almost certain her sister-in-law mumbled “Grumpy pants” under her breath.

Whatever.

Five minutes later, Claire breezed through the front door in a kiwi mini-sheath, pale yellow ankle tights and sequined flats. “Hey, Rosie. You wanna grab some pizza after work?”

Miss Healthy Lifestyle was suggesting pizza? “Is that suggestion Sara-inspired?”

Claire rolled her eyes. “She’s concerned. You’ve been on edge lately. Is something wrong?”

“You’re the third person to ask me that today. I’m fine. Sam’s fine. We’re fine. Everything. Is. Fine.”

“I’ll make us some tea.” Claire walked to the small refreshment table where a pot of hot water always kept the coffee company.

Rosie crossed her arms under her breasts. This was what she got for hiring a relative to work with her. See if she ever gave Sara the afternoon off again.

“Ooh. White pear. That sounds yummy.” Claire pulled two tea bags from the box and glanced back. “May as well dish. I’m not leaving until you do.”

Rosie sighed. “I haven’t been sleeping well. There. Are you happy now?”

“Sam keeping you busy?” Claire suppressed a smile as she poured steaming water into two Styrofoam cups.

“Not like you mean. He’s . . . we’re . . . ”

“If you say ‘fine,’ please know I have reinforcements I can call in. Sara said this has been going on over a week.”

Oh, why not? It had occurred to her that she hadn’t completely left Dean’s cloak of isolation behind. Though she’d moved back to Sweetwater Springs, she hadn’t exactly embraced the support of friends and family. Rosie walked to the consultation table and planted her butt firmly on a chair. “How long do you have?”

“Long enough. I had a color, cut and style cancellation,” Claire said, easing onto the opposite chair so the cups wouldn’t spill.

Rosie took the offering and held it between both hands. The shop was blessedly silent, save the faint audible hum of the new cooling unit and muffled traffic noise from outside.

Thanks to her cathartic breakdown from within the safety of Sam’s embrace, telling her story again wasn’t nearly as painful. Claire listened, squeezing her hand a couple times, but didn’t say anything until Rosie fell silent.

“Sorry. That’s a big fat bummer, isn’t it?”

“You could say that.” She managed a wry smile, grateful for Claire’s unique and heartfelt sentiment.

“And the subject hasn’t risen again since that night?”

Rosie shook her head. “I got the medical information Sam needed from my doctor and gave it to him. He thanked me politely and disappeared into his office.”

“Just so I understand, Sam said he loves you and wants to stay married
after
you told him all this.”

“Well, he never actually said it like that. But I know he wants more kids. He couldn’t say it didn’t matter.”

“Maybe he needed a little time to get used to the idea. Don’t forget, you’ve had years to adjust. He had minutes.”

“He’s had several days to think. All he does is avoid me, running around like a chicken with its head cut off. Appointments. Phone calls. And now he’s gone on a sudden overnight business trip. He spends more time in his office than he does anywhere else. At least his career isn’t suffering.”

“You miss your husband. That’s sweet.”

“What? No. That’s . . .” Rosie sighed. “Okay, maybe I do. And I wish I knew what’s going on behind those sexy, dark eyes of his. What is he thinking, planning, feeling?”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Claire patted her hand. “But before you do, make sure you know what
you
want and how you feel.”

Rosie studied her now empty cup, avoiding her friend’s gaze. “That’s easy. I want Sam to retain full custody and this to end amicably. I want us to be friends again when all this is over.”

“That’s it? I’ve never seen you this absorbed in anyone else you’ve dated. If you’re in love with him, why not fight for what you want?”

“Obviously, it’s not fair of me to saddle him with my life sentence. What kind of selfish love would that be?”

“At least he’d know you returned his feelings,” Claire responded softly. “Then the decision would be his. Or are you so afraid of rejection you won’t take a chance at happiness?”

Rosie frowned. She’d hate to think that was true. It was more like she couldn’t imagine him choosing not to have kids, so why position herself for more pain? There were times her need for a family was a physical ache.

“Look at it like this. What’s the worst that could happen if you tell him how you feel?”

“I could’ve misunderstood him. He might not love me back.”

“Which I think is highly unlikely, given what you’ve told me. Keep going. Worst case.” Claire took hold of her hands across the little table and squeezed.

“He could decide I’m not enough, that he can’t relinquish the idea having more kids.” She held on, grateful for the connection.

“And?”

“And I’d lose him.” The words came in a rushed whisper.

“How is that so different from now?” Claire released her and flipped her palms up to mimic two sides balancing. “Seems to me you’re weighing six in one, a half dozen in the other.”

“You got the saying right.”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised.” Nose in the air, Claire pretended to fluff her hair. “I do have my moments.” With her mini-performance over, she stood. “You think about it. I’ve got a perm appointment.”

Thinking about it wasn’t difficult. She couldn’t seem to think about anything else.

* * *

A
fter work, Rosie hurried to get Lorelei from the sitter and stopped by the grocery store deli for a rotisserie chicken dinner. Clouds were rolling overhead as the wind kicked up, blowing bits of trash and debris around. Looked like a gully-washer was on the way.

“Careful on the stairs, sweetie. Use the handrail.” She glanced over her shoulder. The little girl dutifully reached for the spindles. “Good girl. Let’s get inside before we get wet.”

While juggling the bags and unlocking the front door the sound of a phone ringing penetrated her concentration. By the time she got them both inside and set everything on the kitchen counter, the call had gone to voice mail.

Probably some stupid survey, or notification of the next charity pickup scheduled in the area. She’d check it later, after Lorelei’s bath.

Her stomach growled, reminding her she’d barely picked at her lunch. Not smart, considering Sam wasn’t due back until later and their evening routine was her sole responsibility tonight. She could have used the energy.

“Come on. Let’s wash our hands and eat. I’m hungry.”

“Lo’lei wanna leg.”

“Well you’re in luck because this chicken has two, in case you’re extra hungry,” Rosie teased.

She didn’t have to encourage the little girl to clean her plate. In fact, everything was going smoothly. Was she getting better at this, or had Lorelei accepted her? She didn’t seem to be concerned that her daddy wasn’t on the scene.

“It’s bath time. Do you want bubbles or toys tonight?” Thank goodness Sam had clued her in to the world of choices. If Lorelei was concentrating on what was going into her bath, whether or not to have one wasn’t on her radar. The man was a genius.

“Bubbos,” the little girl answered, running for the stairs with a happy shriek.

Bath time was over, and Lorelei in bed when Sam’s key turned in the lock.

“Hey,” she greeted him from the stairs as he rolled his overnighter through the door. From the looks of the dark spots on his cream dress shirt, the rain had arrived with him.

“Hey, yourself.” He hesitated, his gaze searching hers for a moment before he turned to shut the door. “Is Lorelei still awake? I tried to get home in time to tuck her in.”

Rosie squelched her disappointment. What had she expected? “I just put her to bed. I’m sure she’d love a kiss from her daddy.”
As would I. Did you miss me?

He gave her another long look. “I’ll go see her then.” He stepped around her.

“I’m on my way to the kitchen to clean up. Would you like me to warm you a plate?” Jeezus Pete. If they got any more polite, she’d scream.

“Thanks. That’d be nice.”

She had his meal and a tall glass of sweet tea ready when he entered the kitchen. Outside, Mother Nature was busy drenching everything.

“This looks good.”

“It’s from the deli. I didn’t have time to cook anything.” She glanced in his direction in time to see a nod, as he dug in with gusto. Silence settled over them, punctuated by the occasional spurt of water and the clink of flatware as she cleaned the few dishes they’d dirtied and wiped the countertop. “How was your trip?”

“Good. The studio liked the revisions, so it’s back to the keyboard and Devil’s Den tomorrow. Looks like we’ve got messages.” Sam scarfed his last bite of mashed potatoes, then clicked the play button on his way to rinse and stack.

As she’d thought, the first caller was a telemarketer and the next a hang-up. The third one was from Bill.

“Sam, I couldn’t get your cell. You must be on the plane, but I wanted you to hear about this before it hits the news. Call me.”
Beeeeep
!

Good news or bad? Sam’s face reflected her concern. He reached for the phone as the last message played. “Hey, man, it’s me again. Your cell goes straight to voice mail. I’d rather tell you in person, but this is big. Jasmine got arrested. Can you believe it?” Bill’s gleeful voice filled the kitchen. “A reporter crashed the party and got pictures.

“I spoke with her lawyer about the miscarriage. Apparently she got pretty upset when he refused to make an issue of it and headed straight to her former party pals. An undercover reporter saw her doing drugs and managed to get pictures. Call me tomorrow and we’ll go over the particulars, but I think it’s safe to say no judge is going to see
her
as a fit parent, especially while she’s sitting in jail. Congratulations, buddy.”

When the beep sounded again, Rosie turned the machine off.

Her fingertips turned white against the counter’s edge. She wasn’t ready for it to all be over. They were supposed to have a year.

For long seconds, the only sounds came from outside, where the wind whipped rain against the house in sheets.

A bright streak of lightening shone brightly through the window, followed by a
zzzzt
, a pop and a blanket of darkness.

“Breaker box is in the pantry behind you,” Rosie informed Sam as she felt her way along wall. “I’ll make sure Lorelei has some kind of light in her room.”

Familiarity with the house was a definite plus. Moving fairly fast, she located a small penlight and positioned it to shine on Lorelei’s bedroom ceiling, then lit two candles in their room and bath. When she turned around, Sam was standing in the doorway.

Sounds of rain and the glow from the tiny flame set the perfect stage for a night of love. For a wild moment she had the urge to run and hold onto him.

“The problem isn’t in the breaker box. The whole neighborhood is dark.”

“We’ll be fine. You might feel like we’re in a sauna after awhile, but we’ll survive.” The irony of her words didn’t escape her notice.

She ventured a look in Sam’s direction. His dark eyes revealed nothing as he came closer, adding to her frustration. “So what do we do now that the custody case is a nonissue?”

“I’ll talk to Bill tomorrow and see where the case stands. I don’t know if Jasmine’s lawyer has to withdraw her petition or if the judge can throw it out based on the arrest. It may depend on the severity of her charges.”