Ethan (17 page)

Chapter Seventeen

The clinic was sandwiched between a book store and a pizzeria on Van Ness Avenue. From the time Shae walked through the double glass doors until she exited, took twenty-five minutes. She gave the nurse her ovulation charts, then sat with the doctor while she discussed her donor choice.

“You’re hoping the child will have similar coloring to you?” he probed.

“That would be good,” she agreed. Maybe less questions about the father.

“There’s no guarantee,” the doctor pointed out. “Your selected donor could have received a double recessive gene establishing him as a fa
ir individual, but have dominant genes that could give your child dark hair, brown eyes, for example.”

“I understand that,” Sha
e assured him. She knew it was a crap shoot, but that was pretty much true when conceiving the natural way.

“Okay, then,” he moved on
, “Have you thought about gender?”

She
’d read about selective sex in the pamphlet, but found it impossible to make a decision. When she thought about holding her baby in her arms, her heart melted and she became soft and pliable inside. But that had nothing to do with whether or not the baby was swaddled in pink or blue. In fact, whatever the gender of her child, she would not be following in the traditional culture when assigning colors or encouraging interests. She’d already bought a few things for the baby, all in purple and sage and powder blue. When she pictured the nursery, it was in earth colors, with a mural of rolling hills and autumn leaves. When she thought about him or her school-aged, she caught glimpses of blond hair and chess matches or surf boards.

Gender didn’t matter to her.

“I can’t decide,” she admitted.

“Should we let nature do it
, then?”

Shae nodded.
They talked about maximizing her chances of conceiving and Shae decided that three donor injections this cycle should do it.

The talk was all very cl
inical and it made Shae feel. . .sad. She’d long since stopped dreaming about the intimate conversations she would have with her lover about the conception and birth of their child. Shae knew this was all personal to her, but a matter of course for the doctor and his staff, who helped many women like Shae every day.

But her affair with Ethan had softened her. Made her think of other possibilities.

So every time Ethan charged into her mind, flashing his boyish grin, or with that wickedly sexy gleam in his eyes, she pushed him away. And though she was assailed by images of a baby with pale blond hair and green eyes, and felt her heart beat flutter in her throat as she handed over her donor selection card, she was resolute in her choice.

Ethan was present tense. They had no future because he had no future—that was
what he believed, anyway. She’d left him pondering what he was going to do about it. But there were no guarantees.

He’d given her no promises and she had asked for none.

But she hoped he followed the lead she’d given him—the whole military concept of standing ready for battle and the havoc it played on a Marine’s re-entry into what should be his

normal life.

Only nothing was normal. Everything was always in flux, changing. Marines returned home to children who had grown noticeably older, parents who had aged and, sometimes, wives who had strayed.

And it wasn’t necessarily that Ethan had stopped loving Tina; maybe, as time went on—time he’d spent in horrific conditions with unreasonable expectations—he’d had trouble transitioning from a combat mentality to that of a loving husband. It was totally possible, especially given Ethan’s natural
inclination to care for others, that he had pressed that disconnect button when in the field and then had trouble finding it when he returned home.

Of course, the affair, the baby, put a
whole other spin on things—something like that often put an end to even the most stable relationships.

Shae signed and shrugged into her clothes. She picked up her purse and made her way to the front of the clinic. She couldn’t quite put Ethan out of her mind. That was something that would take time.

For sure, once Shae took that step, once she pulled a positive pregnancy test, anything she hoped to have with Ethan would be lost.

But then, it was lost already, right?

She slid behind the wheel of her rental and checked the time on her cell phone. She had thirty minutes before she met the realtor at the first home she would be looking at. It was located two blocks from her sister Kara and less than a mile from her parents. She started the car and pulled into traffic. She hadn’t seen her sister in four months. Other than a move home, Kara had no idea that Shae was planning other changes. Ethan was the only one she’d confided in.

And that fact
was startling. She had told him, in a moment of intense vulnerability, when he was poised to bare it all emotionally. But why hadn’t she told her sisters? Or her mother, who had spent twenty-plus years assisting in alternative deliveries? She hadn’t told Stevie, whose whole life personified alternative lifestyle.

She hadn’t told, because she didn’t have the words. She didn’t want to have to defend her decision. She didn’t want to hear opposing arguments.

Ethan’s suggestion that a traditional approach was the best way still rankled her.

She wanted her baby to have a father, but her life didn’t turn out that way. And anyone could read the papers an
d figure out that many kids were without a steady male role model in their lives—not optimum, but reality. In Shae’s case, she was moving home, close to her father, her brother and her brother-in-law, and there would be plenty of males around to guide her child when needed. She had that kind of family—one that pitched in and supported each other.

Still, she wasn’t looking forward to telling them.

Shae crossed the Golden Gate Bridge at four-twenty in the afternoon, traffic already beginning to stack. She set aside her doubts and focused on the familiar scenery. She passed through rolling green hills and followed the freeway’s winding path to home.

Shae entered a subdivision of two-story homes made of natural stone and
wood. All had fireplaces and two-car garages. It wasn’t hard to spot the address she was looking for—Kara had already arrived and was chatting animatedly with the realtor. When Shae pulled up, they turned and smiled at her. Kara bounced on her toes and was on Shae the minute she left the car.

And Shae felt her eyes burn with tears. She’d missed her sister’s hugs. The rosy smell of her skin. The smile that was all about the secrets they shared and the acts of mischief they had committed together.
Shae was closer to Kara than any of her other siblings, probably because they were closest in age and shared a love of the arts. In Kara’s case, it was music, but it was the passion that gave them a deeper bond.

“It’s good to see you,” Shae murmured into her sister’s hair as she held her close. “Where are the kids?”

They stepped back from each other and Kara’s smiled deepened.

“At home with Tim. He’s even making them dinner. All by microwave, but I’ve learned
to appreciate that and any other conveniences that provides me with a little free time.”

“Hey, I’m r
eally good at pressing numbers,” Shae agreed. “On the microwave and the cell phone. Nothing wrong with a little take-out.”

Kara raised her hand and declared
herself guilty of the same go-to. But then her sister’s eyes filled with seriousness. “Why are you coming home, Shae?” Kara asked. “You know I’m dying for you to come back. We all are. It just seems sudden.”

Shae shrugged. “I’v
e made it. It was a lot of work and I loved almost every minute of it, but it’s a lonely town, Kara.”

Her sister was a taller, slimmer version of Shae. She frowned and her
blue eyes squinted when she asked, “Are you quitting?”

“Never,” Shae a
ssured her. “But I can write from here and head back to L.A. when needed.”

Her sister considered that then asked,
“Are you running from something? Or someone?” She laughed a little nervously and explained, “Just covering all the bases.”

“Running
towards
something,” Shae admitted.

“What?”

“Let’s talk about it later, okay?”She looked up at the house. It was two story, stucco but lacking the Spanish detailing of Ethan’s home. It had the four bedrooms, three baths she asked for and a big back yard, too. “I want to see the house.” And ground herself in something attainable.

Her sister fell into step beside her and Shae
turned to the real estate agent. “Thank you for arranging this on short notice.”

“No problem,” the woman assured her. “The house is vacant and the owners are dying to sell.”

Kara squeezed her arm. “That means you can go in low. Not a bad start.”

They entered into a foyer with tiled flooring
and a cathedral ceiling. To the right, a staircase ascended upward and curved to a landing that provided a sitting nook before branching off in a hall with three bedrooms and a Jack and Jill bath. The agent swung open each door and Shae stepped inside. The rooms were spacious and the natural lighting sufficient, she just didn’t get the feeling of home. Not yet. The walls needed fresh paint and she would have to purchase new, trendier ceiling fans. Switch plates and other tweaks would also add her touch to the place.

They went back downstairs and through the great room.
The focal point was a stone fireplace. The kitchen was huge, with marble surfaces and a stainless steel double oven, built-in espresso maker and hidden pantry. The island sat four, had a gas grill and an outlet for smaller appliances.

Her sister flutter
ed around the room, opening the ovens which were sparkling clean, running the faucet in the sink, sticking her head in the fridge.

“It’s so clean and has
every
thing you could want.” Kara’s voice was bubbling with enthusiasm.

Yes, a
ll the things Shae had asked for were present, plus some.

She even felt excitement begin a slow-burn in her belly. Maybe this was the house. She walked to the glass doors.

“These are accordion,” the realtor said. “They open flush, so you’ll have an undisturbed view of the back yard and easy flow when you’re entertaining.”

Shae stepped through the doors
onto a redwood deck that was well-preserved and provided enough space for outdoor dining.

“Is this a barbecue?” Kara gasped, nearly running over to a stone and steel grill that was easily eight feet long. She bent at the waist and opened a door. “A refrigerator? Oh, Tim is going to be so green if you end up buying this place. He’s wanted outdoor entertaining for as long as I’ve known him.”

“You have a fire pit over here, too,” the agent pointed out. “You could put seating here and with the arbor—” she pointed to the shelter overhead and the greenery woven into its lattice work, “you’ll be plenty cool in the summer.”

The rest of the yard was rectangular, manicured and Shae could easily picture an elaborate play structure with swings and slides and a club house, where her child could while away time dreaming of pirates or tea parties or whatever.

‘We still have the master suite to look at. Comes with an office,” the agent promised.

Shae followed
and Kara made a lot of appreciative noises, but in the end, Shae was unable to commit.

“I need to see a few more befor
e I decide,” she told the realtor.

“Of course,” she agreed. “But does this make the list, or is it a ‘no.’”

“Oh, it makes the list. For sure,” Shae said. “I head back to L.A. on Monday—any chance of seeing another home before then?”

“I’ve already got one lined up.
Tomorrow at ten. Then we have several open houses set for Sunday. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.”

Shae confirmed with her and then she and Kara climbed into the rental car Shae picked up at the airport and headed to dinner.

“So, why are you moving home?” Kara returned to their earlier conversation.

Shae blew a heavy breath. “Family,” she said. “I want one, you know? I want a child, Kara. To hold in my arms. To share with and raise and love.”

Kara sat back, her eyes round.

“Are you pregnant?”

“Not yet.”

“But you have plans?”

“Already in motion.”

“You want to share those?”

“Not yet.”

“Do you have someone special in your life?” she pressed.

“That’s a tough one to answer,” Shae admitted. “I have someone who could become special.” So easily. “But he’s not emotionally available.”

“Why not?”

“He has. . .baggage.”

Kara waved that away. “We all do.”

“His has a little more than most.”

“Then he needs to deal with it and move on.”

“He is.”

“And you don’t think he’s worth the wait?’