Finding Perfect (11 page)

So it was perfectly safe to roll on her side and have him slide in next to her. She snuggled against his warm body, feeling his strong arms circle her waist and pull her close. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to believe it was all real. At least for tonight. No matter what, she could count on reality to return in the morning.

 

F
OOL'S
G
OLD
H
IGH
S
CHOOL
sat above town on the road that led up to the ski resort. The campus was only about five years old, with a state-of-the-art science building, a large stadium and an auditorium that held five hundred.

Raoul stood onstage, facing the students filling every seat. He'd pushed aside the podium, preferring to walk back and forth.

“I didn't start out rich and famous,” he told the kids. “When I was your age, I was in foster care, fighting the system responsible for feeding and clothing me. I knew no one cared about me. Not as a person. I was a case number to the social worker and steady income for my foster family.”

He paused and met the gaze of several of the younger guys in the audience.

“Some families really do care about the kids they take in, and I applaud them. I've heard the stories, but I didn't see it much in action. The social workers I knew were overworked. They tried their best, but they weren't given the tools or the resources. So I got involved in some things that I should have avoided.”

He walked to the edge of the stage and stared out at the students. “Gangs can look pretty good from afar. They give you a place to belong. You get status from being with the right crowd. You're around people who accept you. If they're crazy enough, you never know what's going to happen next and that can be fun, too.”

He shrugged. “It can also leave you worse off than you ever thought. Pregnant. In jail. Or dead.” He let the words hang there for a long time.

“When you're sixteen, the future seems a long way away, but I'm here to tell you the value of thinking long term. Of knowing what you want and going after it, regardless of how many people tell you it's not possible. I spent the first few months of my senior year homeless, living in an abandoned building. I had friends who helped out, but what made the biggest difference was I found someone who could believe in me. And he taught me to believe in myself. That's what you have to do. Believe you can make it.”

He crossed to the other side of the stage and looked out at those kids. “The dictionary tells us a mentor is a trusted coach or a guide. Be what you want to see in someone else. Find a younger kid and get involved. It's like throwing a rock in a lake. The ripples stretch out forever.”

He talked a little more about the importance of doing the right thing, then said he would answer questions.

There were the usual ones about playing for the Cowboys and what it had been like to take his college team through two undefeated seasons.

“I didn't do it,” he told them honestly. “I was one member of an excellent team. Everyone did his part and that's why we won. Football isn't golf. It's not just you and the ball. It's everyone around you. Any team is only as strong as its weakest player.”

A small girl in the third row raised her hand.

He pointed to her. “Yes?”

“Have you ever been a Big Brother? My uncle has a boy he's been helping for a couple of years now.”

“Good for him,” Raoul said. “As for being a Big Brother, it's hard for a guy like me to help someone one-on-one. The media finds out and it gets messy. So I give back this way—talking to schools, sharing ideas, working with teachers.”

He rattled on for a couple more minutes and was relieved that the students seemed to buy it and the teachers in the room were nodding.

He wanted them to stand up and yell at him. On what planet would a former football player be so damned famous that he couldn't take a kid bowling? Guys way better known than him had private lives.

The truth was less pretty. He didn't want to get personally involved. He didn't want to care. The price was too high. Better to keep things superficial. That way no one got burned, including him.

A philosophy Pia wouldn't agree with, he thought as he finished the speech. She was the kind who would leap in first and ask questions later. That's what she
was doing with the embryos. Talk about a woman with conviction and courage.

And a way about her, he thought as he finished up and smiled as they applauded. Three nights ago, he'd stayed with her. Ever since his bed had been a little colder, a little more empty.

But he knew the value of going it alone and the danger of making something more than it was. He knew how a heart could be ripped apart and left for dead. No way he was going through that again.

 

P
IA WAITED NERVOUSLY
on the padded table.

“It's okay,” the tech told her. “Ultrasounds don't hurt.”

Pia eyed the wand. “There has to be a downside.”

“Sorry, no. We even heat the goopy gel we use on your tummy. This is one of the easiest medical tests.”

“It beats a barium enema.”

The other woman, Jenny her name tag said, laughed. “Have you ever had a barium enema?”

“I've heard rumors. They can't be fun.”

“No, they can't, but this is easy.”

Jenny pulled up Pia's paper gown and squirted warm gel onto her lower stomach. Then she lowered the wand and rubbed it along Pia's skin.

There was no pain at all. Just a sensation of something warm and flat moving across her. Okay, she thought. Note to self—ultrasounds aren't bad.

A few minutes later Jenny covered her then excused herself. Pia lay there in the dimly lit room, doing her best to breathe. Soon she would find out if she was ready for implantation. If she was, then it was crunch time. Was she really going to go through with this? Have
Crystal's babies? Once they were thawed, there was no backing out.

Before she could scramble from the table and run screaming through the building, Dr. Galloway appeared.

“I heard you're ready,” the doctor said with a smile. “Let's see.”

She squeezed on fresh gel and studied the monitor.

“Very nice,” she murmured. “Yes, Pia. I would say we could implant tomorrow, if you want.” The doctor touched her arm. “We can also wait a month, if you need more time.”

Ready, as in ready? As in now?

Pia opened her mouth, then closed it. Her chest got tight, as if something heavy pressed down. She felt nauseous and light-headed. Ready.

“The e-eggs can be ready by tomorrow?” she asked, her voice faint.

“Yes. We'd schedule you back for right after lunch.” Her doctor put down the wand and wiped Pia's belly. “You don't have to decide today. You'll be just as ready next month.”

True, but a month was a long time to wait. Pia was afraid she would freak out even more, or at the very least, try to talk herself out of moving forward.

She sucked in a breath and braced herself. “What time tomorrow?”

 

A
PPARENTLY
D
R
. G
ALLOWAY'S
definition of painless and Pia's weren't exactly the same. Having a catheter inserted was a borderline creepy experience, but Pia did her best to relax and keep breathing.

“All done,” her doctor told her seconds later. She
stood and drew the gown down over Pia's legs, then put a blanket on her. “Lie here for about twenty minutes to let things settle. Then you're free to go.”

“And I don't have to act any different?” Pia asked. “Avoid strenuous activities, that sort of thing?”

“I'd stay quiet for the next few hours. You have the vitamins I gave you?”

Dr. Galloway had given her samples the previous day, along with a prescription she'd already filled. She'd taken the first prenatal vitamin that morning, downing the pill with a disgustingly healthy breakfast.

“Yes.”

“Then that's all you need for now.”

The doctor dimmed the lights and left the room. Pia tried to get comfortable on the padded table. She closed her eyes and placed her hands on her lower stomach.

“Hi,” she whispered. “I'm Pia. I knew your mom. She was amazing and wonderful and you would have really loved her.”

Thinking about her friend made her eyes burn. She blinked away tears and drew another deep breath.

“She, ah, died a few months ago. Over the summer. It was sad and we all miss her. Your dad is gone, too, which might make you think you're getting off to a rough start. But you're not. You see, both your parents wanted to have children. Your mom especially. She wanted to have all three of you. But she couldn't, what with being dead and all.”

She groaned. Talk about screwing up the conversation. “Sorry,” she murmured. “I should have planned this better. What I'm saying is she really wanted this. She wanted you to be born. I know I'm not her, but I'm going to do my best, I swear. I'm going to read books
and talk to women who are good moms. I'll be there for you.”

She thought about her own mother abandoning her to move to Florida. “I'll never leave you,” she vowed. “No matter what, I'll be there for you. I won't run off and forget about you.” She pressed lightly on her stomach. “Can you feel that? It's me. I'm right here.”

Fear lurked in the background. The possibility of cosmic punishment for wishing away her pregnancy in college. But the truth was, she couldn't change the past. She could only pray that the souls of the innocents were protected. That if anyone was to be punished, it would only be her.

“I'm sorry about that, too,” she whispered. “I was wrong.” Despite Dr. Galloway's promise that it hadn't been her fault, she couldn't help wondering if it was.

She heard a light knock on the door.

“Come in.”

Raoul entered, looking impossibly tall and male. “Hey. The doc said it's done.”

Pia tried to smile. “That's what they tell me. I don't feel any different.”

“Not hearing voices?” he asked with a grin.

“I don't think hearing voices is ever a good sign.”

He pulled up the stool and sat, taking her hand in his. “Scared?”

“Beyond terrified. I was telling them to hold on tight and that I'd be here for them.”

He gazed into her eyes. “I'm going to tell you the same thing, Pia. Keep holding on.”

Once again she was fighting tears. “For Keith?”

“And for you. I need to do this.”

She managed a quivering smile. “So it's all about you? Typical male.”

“That's me.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “What happens next?” he asked.

She tried not to focus on the warmth of his skin and the way he made her feel safe. Even if Raoul lasted through the pregnancy, there was no way he was sticking around for anything else. Getting used to having him around wasn't an option.

“I stay here until the nurse kicks me out. In theory I can go back to work, but I'm heading home. I'm going to spend the afternoon on my sofa. It's the whole gravity thing. I want to give these little guys a real shot.”

“Okay. What are you in the mood for?”

For a second she thought he meant sex. The part of her that had been dazzled and satiated wanted to beg for a repeat performance. But there was no way they could do it. Not right after the implantation.

“Italian?” he asked. “Mexican? I'll get takeout.”

Oh, sure. Food. “Either. I'm not that hungry.”

“You will be in a few hours, and you have to eat.”

“For the babies,” she said, keeping her free hand on her belly. “Do you think I should sing to them?”

He chuckled. “Do you want to?”

“I'm not very good.”

“You could give them a cheer. Do you remember any from high school?”

She laughed. “I appreciate the thought, but it's even too weird for me.”

He stroked her cheek. “Look at you. Having babies. What would your friends say?”

“My current friends will be completely supportive. The ones who know aren't even surprised. But my
friends from before…” She sighed. “As I told you before, I wasn't exactly the nicest girl in high school. Too much attitude and money. Not enough compassion.”

He looked interested rather than judgmental. “When did that change?”

“Early in my senior year of high school.”

The door opened and the nurse looked in. “You're free to go, Pia. When you're dressed, stop by the desk. We've made an appointment for two weeks from now.”

“Thanks.”

She sat up. Raoul brushed her mouth with his.

“I'll wait outside for you,” he said.

“Okay.”

She watched him leave, then carefully slid to her feet and started to dress. As she pulled on her jeans, she realized she trusted Raoul to be there for her. At least for now. After all this time, it was nice to have someone to depend on.

P
IA SAT AT A TABLE IN
front of the high school stage. “You're kidding, right?” she asked the mayor.

Marsha rested her elbows on the table and dropped her head to her hands. “I wish I was. I went to the bathroom. I swear I was gone all of two minutes. By the time I got back, they'd voted to have a talent show featuring the single women in town. I guess they want the busloads of men to get a good look at what's available.”

When Pia had been asked to attend an audition, she'd had no idea what she was getting into. At least fifty women were here, which she found stunning, and not in a happy way. They were dressed in everything from tutus to shepherdess costumes. A few wanted to start by listing everything they could cook and/or bake. One woman even smiled broadly, saying she had all her own teeth and not a single cavity.

“Like that makes her good breeding material?” Pia asked, eyeing the crowd. “Tell me this isn't happening.”

“I wish I could.”

“When did we get desperate? I've always known there was something of a man shortage, but so what? We're happy—things get done. There are more women doing traditionally male jobs in town than probably anywhere else in the country. Isn't that a good thing?”

Marsha raised her head and sighed. “I've been told that there are women who want to settle down—get married and have a family. That's more difficult here. The choice is to pick from the limited stock on hand or move.”

“Stock on hand?” And women complained that men objectify them. “I don't understand this.”

“Me, either, but it's too late for us to stop the flood. Men are arriving daily.”

A young woman in her twenties got up onstage. She wore a pale pink leotard and a short, wrapped skirt. She nodded and music poured out of the hidden speakers. Within seconds, the contestant was singing and dancing to a popular Broadway musical.

“She's good,” Pia murmured. “What am I supposed to do? Make notes on who I like best? Are we really going to have a talent show?”

“I don't see any way around it. I'm just so humiliated.”

“Um, no. That honor goes to the woman who juggled pies she'd baked.” Pia had always loved Fool's Gold. The town had traditions and polite residents. People cared about each other. Had a single chapter in a thesis and a busload or two of men really changed everything?

Maybe there was something in the air, she thought. Something promoting change. Look at her. Just two days ago, she'd had embryos implanted. She'd been there for the procedure and had spent the rest of the afternoon lying on her sofa, and she still couldn't seem to wrap her mind around the concept. Being pregnant was just a word. More concept than reality. How could she possibly be pregnant?

Yet Dr. Galloway had put the embryos in her. Were
they hanging on as she'd asked them to? Were they growing, getting bigger and stronger?

She touched her hand to her belly, as if she could feel them inside of her.

Scattered applause brought her back to the auditions. She clapped as well, then turned to find Marsha staring at her.

“Where did you go?” the mayor asked. “She was pretty good, so it can't have been the singing and dancing.”

“Sorry. I'll pay attention.” Pia picked up her pen and pulled the notepad closer. “Who's next?”

Marsha continued to study her. “Is everything all right?”

“I'm fine.”

The mayor didn't look convinced.

Pia drew in a breath. “Crystal left me her embryos.”

Marsha's face relaxed into a smile. “Did she? I knew someone would get them. You must be very touched, and equally terrified. That's a lot of responsibility.”

“Tell me about it. It's not about owning the embryos. Crystal expects me to have her babies.”

Marsha nodded. “That's a lot to ask of a friend. Are you going to agree?”

“I…” Pia drew in a breath. “I had them implanted two days ago. There were three embryos. They all survived the thawing, which I guess doesn't always happen. We'll know in two weeks if they were able to embed or implant or whatever it's called.”

Marsha looked stunned for a moment, then hugged her. “Good for you. What an amazing thing to do. I'm so proud.”

The words made Pia feel good. “I'm mostly in shock,” she admitted. “Nothing about this is real to me.”

“That will take time.”

“I have nine months.” A number that she couldn't relate to. Knowing the facts about a pregnancy was very different than it actually happening to her. “I guess even now my body could be changing, but I don't feel any different.”

“You will. Especially if you have triplets.”

Pia winced. “Don't say that. I can't comprehend one baby, let alone three. I'm going to have these babies by myself.”

Marsha squeezed her hand. “We'll all be there for you, Pia. You know that, don't you?”

She nodded. “Everything is surreal. I keep going back to the same question. Why would Crystal pick me?”

“Because she loved you and trusted you.”

“I guess.”

The mayor smiled. “I have a personal request.”

“Sure.”

“Can you please have boys?”

Pia laughed. “That part is already determined. Sorry. You should have had the talk with Crystal.”

“I hate being late to anything.” She turned back to the stage where a couple of guys were dragging on two-dimensional cardboard trees. “Dear God, what now?”

 

R
AOUL WALKED THROUGH
the main building of the camp. Less than a month ago, the last of the summer campers had headed home, and the cleaning crew had begun the process of winterizing the structures. Now, several hundred kids filled the various rooms, pinning
flyers to walls and driving away the silence with their laughter.

He still had ideas for a year-round camp, but until he could make that happen, using the facility for the temporary elementary school was the right thing to do.

The preliminary meeting on repairing and rebuilding the burned school had been grim at best. The damage was extensive, the funds limited. Realistically, the new elementary school wouldn't be ready for occupancy for nearly two years. Which put his plans on hold for at least that long. His biggest concern was keeping Dakota Hendrix working for him. She was smart and capable. He had a feeling headhunters called her regularly. All he had to offer her was a good salary, work close to her family, running the summer camp and the promise that when they got the camp back she would be in charge of the new program.

The school had contracted her services for a few hours a week. She provided counseling and acted as the liaison between the school and the camp. So far there hadn't been any problems, and while Raoul didn't anticipate trouble, he'd learned it was always best to be prepared.

He glanced at the big clock on the wall. It was a few minutes before noon. Now the hallway was relatively quiet, but in about two minutes the bell would ring and children would explode out of their classrooms and head for the cafeteria.

He knew because he was here most school days. Somehow he'd gotten roped into playing ball with a group of kids during the lunch hour. He didn't mind too much and he was careful not to spend more time with
any one kid. In a group they were great, but he didn't want any of them getting too attached.

He was willing to get involved—to a point. But some distance was a good thing.

When the bell rang, releasing the kids for lunch, doors opened and slammed into the wall. High-pitched voices broke the silence. In a matter of seconds, he found himself surrounded by a dozen or so boys, all clamoring for him to have lunch with them.

He was about to refuse them all—with the promise that he would meet them on the playground after—when he spotted that skinny redheaded kid. Peter, Pia had said his name was.

“You know my friend Pia,” he told the boy.

Peter grinned. “Yeah. We met in the park. She's really cool, you know, for a girl.”

“I'll pass along the compliment.”

“You gonna have lunch with us?” Drew, Peter's friend, asked. “We'll save you a seat and everything.”

Raoul hesitated, then nodded. “Sure. I can do that.” Maybe he would get a chance to talk to Peter and find out if there was any kind of a problem at home.

They headed for the cafeteria and got in line. Raoul grabbed a tray with the rest of the kids, then smiled at the older woman scooping out mac and cheese.

“I won't take any if there's not enough,” he said.

“Oh, we always make extra. Most of the teachers eat here, too,” she said and dumped a portion of the pasta onto a plate.

Green beans followed, along with fruit. He passed on very green pudding, grabbed two cartons of milk in one hand, then had to hold in a grin as the boys with him tried to do the same.

Their hands were too small to pick up both cartons at once, so they settled for one and followed him to a low table by the window.

He stared for a second, not sure he would fit on the bench, then realized all the tables were scaled down. Kid-size, he thought humorously, wondering if he was heavy enough to tip one. He lowered himself carefully, centering his weight on the bench. Things seemed steady enough.

The kids gathered around him, pushing to sit closer, until he was crammed in on the bench seat. He picked up the first carton of milk, opened it, then drained it in three long swallows. When he set the carton back down, every boy at the table was staring.

He wiped his mouth self-consciously. “So, ah, how are you guys liking the new school?”

“It's great,” one boy said. “When it snows, my mom says we're going to have trouble getting up the mountain. Maybe we'll have snow days.”

“Sweet!” another boy crowed.

“Tell us what it was like when you played football,” a third boy pleaded. “My dad says you were the best ever.”

“Tell your dad thanks,” Raoul said with a grin. “I was good, but I'm not sure about being the best. I always tried to do better. That's what defines success.”

“I'd like to play football,” Peter said. “But I'm small.”

“You're not short,” his friend told him. “Just skinny.”

“Don't worry about being small,” Raoul told him. “You'll grow. Now's the time to work on basics. Run
ning, coordination. You can get that from any sport. You can also start learning about the game.”

“I want to play football, too.”

“Me, too!”

Raoul made a note to talk to the principal about starting a spring football program. Nothing too physical—just some practice with kids split into teams. To give them a taste of the possibilities.

“My sister says she wants to play football,” the dark-haired boy sitting next to Raoul said. “I keep tellin' her, girls don't play football. But she's bigger than me and when she gets mad, she hits me.”

A couple of the guys laughed. “Then maybe you should stop saying it,” Raoul suggested.

“I guess. But you could tell her. She'd have to listen to you.”

He held up both hands. “No, thanks. Your sister can do anything she sets her mind to.”

The boy sighed heavily. “That's what Mom says, too, and Dad just keeps quiet.”

A smart man, Raoul thought.

“My parents are divorced,” the boy on Peter's right announced. “I live with them on different weeks. They have houses right across the street from each other.”

“How's that working?” Raoul asked.

“I dunno. It's kind of stupid. If they can live that close, why can't they live together?”

“Marriage can be tough,” Raoul told him. “The important thing is that your parents love you. Do you have anyone to talk to, like an older brother or an aunt or uncle?”

“My uncle Carl is really nice. He listens.”

“Then keep talking to him. Don't let stuff build up inside. That's never good.”

“My parents are divorced, too,” another boy said.

“I have five sisters,” the kid on the end said. Most of the boys at the table groaned.

“That's a lot of girls,” Raoul told him. “Are you the youngest?”

“No. I'm in the middle. They're everywhere. My dad built me a tree house so I'd have my own man cave.”

“Good for you.”

During the conversation, Raoul had been watching Peter. The boy finished his lunch without saying much. Just when Raoul was about to suggest they head to the playground, Peter spoke.

“My parents are dead,” he said, staring at his plate. “They died in a car crash two years ago.”

“I'm sorry,” Raoul told him.

Peter shrugged. “It was bad, but stuff like that happens.”

Peter's friend Drew leaned toward Raoul. “He was in the car when it happened. He was there when they died.”

Raoul swore silently. What a nightmare for the kid. He had no idea what to say.

Peter looked at him. “You really think I'll get big enough to play football in high school?”

“I really do. In fact, let's go practice some drills right now.”

Peter's sad face slowly transformed into a smile. “Yeah?”

“Come on. It'll be fun.”

The boys all stood and grabbed their trays. After dumping them on the counter by the kitchen, they ran
for the door leading outside. Peter walked more slowly than the rest.

Raoul caught up with him. “I'm sorry about your folks,” he said. “I never knew my dad. I lost my mom when I was a little older than you. It's hard.”

Peter nodded without speaking.

Raoul wanted to give him a hug, but he knew there was a firm “no touching” policy at the school. Not knowing what else to do, he vowed to pay attention to the kid whenever he was around, then asked, “Want to learn how to throw farther than everyone else?”

“You can teach me that?” Peter asked eagerly.