His Baby (11 page)

Cops didn't fall in love with their partners, did they?

Women didn't fall in love with their sister's ex-lovers, did
they?

Lust was one thing, she told herself sternly. Lust was
understandable, arguably logical, the product of chemistry, closeness, sex
appeal. Love was something different, wasn't it?

Had Robin ever loved Zack? Diana wondered.

Did she love Zack?

I couldn't bear it if I did
, she decided, leaning
forward blindly to pour coffee, take a plate of cake. She did these things by
the light of the television; she didn't spill anything, so she must have paid
attention. She tried to eat the cake with some awareness, to savor the sweet
light chocolate frosting, the thin layer of almonds under the sweetness, the
almond paste between the two layers of dark, moist chocolate cake. The cake was
wonderful, distracting, death by chocolate pleasure.

Easier to think about, she told herself later while climbing
the stairs to go to bed, than death by lust.

Diana walked down Whitney's main street at lunch time on
Thursday, dawdling on her way to the small lunch shop, Johnson's. Out of habit,
she'd had her sandwich at her desk although she planned to meet Mary this lunch
time. Diana had even had time to go to the bank, both for herself and the boss.
She was running a little early, but the day was clear and bright, a crisp fall
day with the thread of chill running through it that foretold winter. She
hesitated in front of the dress shop, trying to decide if she had time to go
inside. She didn't see Mary at first, just heard the familiar greeting.

"Hey, Diana."

"Mary, hi. Did you get done early?"

Mary just nodded. "The doctor even did some blood
tests, but that didn't take long."

"Are you okay?" Diana asked. Mary was downtown for
her regular pregnancy checkup. They had decided to meet at Johnson's, a rare
occasion for the two sisters-in-law, since Mary worked at the mail processing
center several miles out of town.

"She says my blood pressure is a little high so she
wants some blood tests to be sure everything’s all right."

"I'm not happy about this," Diana said, trying to
repress the urge to fuss. Carl had shared his worries about Mary's health and
said she was free to nag all she liked, but Diana didn't want to nag. She liked
the relationship she was developing with Mary, something more of a friendship.

"Did you have lunch?" Mary said. "Are we
still going to Johnson's?" she asked, looking a little discouraged.

"I was planning on a piece of pie," Diana said,
falling in with Mary as the other woman moved forward, moving down the street
to the lunch shop.

"I'd like a piece of pie too, but I feel like I should
be good."

"Is a piece of pie bad?" Diana said. Mary didn't
look fat, she just looked big.
"Not for you," Mary said with a sigh. "You're as thin as a rail.
I'm as big as a house."

"You're pregnant, Mary."

"Well, I know that." She looked up at Diana as if
checking her truthfulness.

"You're not fat," Diana went on.

"I've got all this swelling. Look at my ankles." Mary
gestured down, lifting the long skirt she wore a few inches to reveal
remarkably puffy ankles.

"That isn't good, is it Mary?"

Mary shook her head. "I was going to have some soup,
but now I'm worried about salt."

"With all the old folks that eat in here, they must
have a soup they don't salt. Ask."

"I don't think I should. It'll be all over town
tomorrow."

"What will? That you don't want salty soup? I'll
ask." Diana did talk to the waitress, who suggested the vegetable soup,
which didn't have celery (high sodium, you know) or tomatoes and wasn't salted.
She also suggested that Mary have the apple tart. Fresh apples. It didn't sound
so bad, Mary admitted. The waitress sympathized with Mary, said she had the
same trouble her first pregnancy. Drink water, the woman suggested.

Diana stirred some lemon into her iced tea. "We had the
best soup the other night, in Chicago. The Whites have a cook, Harriet, who
apparently makes everything from scratch. The soup was great. Beef barley. Vegetables.
Very rich. And fresh baked bread."

"Go ahead, make me jealous."

"Sorry." Diana grinned though. Mary didn't sound
jealous and she wasn't sorry.

"How did the weekend go?" Mary asked, settling
back in their booth. They had snagged the back booth, the one on the way to the
restrooms. Johnson's was filling up with people here for lunch, a relatively
loud crowd in the quiet downtown area. They were surrounded with the sounds of
clattering dishes, laughing people and a juke box that was slightly too loud
for the room. The place was a little warm, steamy almost, but Diana knew they
wouldn't notice after a few minutes.

"Didn't Carl tell you?" Diana had talked to Carl
Monday night, when he got home from work.

"Carl never tells me anything. You know him. He just
says -- everything went fine. They weren't such jerks. She's back now. Lark is
healthy. And I told Diana you took a walk every day this week."

It sounded so much like Carl, Diana had to laugh.

"So?" Mary protested. "Tell me
everything."

"Where do I start?"

"What's the house like?" For a moment, Diana
recalled that first moment she’d seen the house and her sense of fear. Diana
told her about the look of the house but not about her anxieties, lingering
over the details of decoration and layout she hadn't bothered to mention to
Carl. Monday morning she and Beth had taken a quick tour through the house,
Beth apologizing first for forgetting to show her around. Diana thought it was
just that Beth was so taken with Lark she forgot everything.

"She did like Lark?" Mary asked.

"She adored Lark. It's almost scary how much, how well
they accept her. On the other hand, Zack's girlfriend asked me if I was sure
that the baby was Zack's."

"Zack had a girlfriend there?"

"Not exactly. To be fair, Melissa was Zack's
ex-girlfriend. Approved by Mr. White, so he invited her over Friday night after
dinner. Zack pretty much ignored her. She was very jealous."

"Of course, he likes you better," Mary said
defensively.

"What do you mean?" Diana sat forward, putting her
arms on the Formica tabletop.

"Well, it's clear as anything that he really likes you,
Diana. The ex-girlfriend doesn't have a chance."

"Of course Zack likes me, but as a person, not as a
girlfriend. I'm Lark's aunt, that's all."

"I think Zack likes you, period. He'd love to have you
whatever way you want it!" Mary smiled a little. “And he’ll wait until
you’re ready.  You know that, right?” 

"But he was Robin's, I mean, he's Lark's father."

Mary looked blankly at Diana. "Yes, dear, we know they
slept together at least once."

"But Zack's off-limits, isn't he? I mean isn't there
some rule about this?"

"Why? Robin's dead. They weren't married. When I look
back, I'm not sure they were even serious. Not like Robin and Jay Peters."

"You think Robin was serious about Jay Peters?"

"Yes, I do. I don't think they would have been together
the night they died if they weren't. No matter what the two of them did with
other people, they always ended up back together."

"It's so hard for me to understand how Robin kept
seeing him but never told me. I know you explained it, but… "

"She should have told you, Diana, but I don't think she
could.
If she coulda, she woulda
," she said quietly. "So
what's the story with this ex-girlfriend?"

Diana continued telling the story of the weekend, skipping
over Zack's revelations early Saturday morning and the tension she felt during
the movie Sunday night. Those revelations, well, she wasn't ready to share
those. Fortunately, the waitress showed up with food and Mary was completely
distracted. Watching her eat, Diana wondered if she was not eating because she
was afraid of getting fat. Or too tired to cook.

While Diana was lingering over some more iced tea, she asked
Mary something that had been bothering her.

"Do you think it’s possible Robin was sleeping with
this Jay Peters guy before she broke up with Zack?"

Mary looked up from her tart and sighed. She pushed the food
away for a moment, just a symbolic gesture, and leaned back in her chair.

"Look, Diana, I promised myself I wouldn't say anything.
My opinion is just my opinion." She sighed again. "When you go home
tonight, look at the yearbook. Find Jay Peters and take a good look at
him."

"Mary, just tell me."

"No, you have to decide for yourself. I thought about
it at the funeral. Maybe I was just grieving. Maybe I've forgotten what I saw,
remembered what I wanted to remember."

"Does Carl know this?"

"Of course he does. I can't keep anything from
Carl."

"But he looked up Zack. He brought him here."

"Zack is named on the birth certificate." She
shrugged. "Besides, we didn't know if he would come, if he would take any
responsibility."

"Mary, if you think Jay Peters is the Lark’s father...
" Diana didn't know what to say, so stopped. Mary looked distracted anyway.

"Look, there is one thing I haven't discussed with
Carl."

"What is that?"

"If something happens to me, during the birth, will you
take care of Carl and my boy?"

"Of course I will, but nothing's going to happen to
you."

"No, really, you have to promise me."

"Of course. I promise."

"When the time comes, tell him I don't mind if he
remarries. I want him to be happy. If it can't be with me, well," she
shrugged. "Besides, you have to have a life of your own, someday. Zack
won't wait forever."

"Mary, you'll be all right. You just have to take care
of yourself. Lots of women... "

"Lots of women die in childbirth. One more thing,
Diana."

"What's that?"

"I want to name him Carl George. For Carl, of course,
and for my father."

"What if the baby is a girl?"

"He's not," she said, teeth gleaming suddenly.

Diana stared at her grinning sister-in-law for a few long
minutes, reluctant to push the questioning any further. She would ask her more
questions about what the doctor said, and then ask Carl too.

The waitress came back and was sent away to get the check.

Diana was ready for bed and tiredly making her way across
the upstairs hall before she remembered to do what Mary had said.

She went slowly down the steps into the front parlor. It was
a tiny room, once a formal reception room for receiving guests and visitors,
with all the best furniture. Times had changed so much in the hundred and fifty
years the house had been here. Now the room was a little living Stonehouse
museum of sorts, with the few good pieces they had arranged here, and all the
family keepsakes in a pair of cherry cabinets set on either side of the front
window.

The room was cold but seemed in perfect condition. The housecleaner
-- she couldn't quite call her a maid -- got in here at least once a month, so
the dustiness Diana had grown used to was gone now.

Grandmother had loved to sit in this room, picking a spot right
in the middle of the delicate love seat centered facing two chairs. From there
Grandmother could watch outside through the lace under-curtains and yet still
turn and enjoy a fire in the tiny fireplace. The lamps in here were small. When
she used to come in here, Grandmother would light the oil lamps on the wall if
she had a choice, but it had been years since Grandmother sat in this room.

Diana pulled the small stack of Whitney High School
yearbooks out and settled herself on the couch. Robin was three years behind
her. She chose the right one and opened the book, flipping until she found
Stonehouse. A younger Robin, pale triangular face framed by dark hair, looked
up at her. She wore tiny pearl earrings, talked out of Grandmother, just for
the occasion. Diana stared at the picture for a few long minutes, not sure what
the picture could tell her anymore.

When she thought she was ready, she flipped back the few
pages until she found Jay Peters picture. The first glimpse of him made her
catch her breath. He was blond, blue eyed, handsome beneath the sullen
expression and pouting bow-shaped mouth. Where, Diana thought with a twist in
her midriff, had she seen that pout before?

She stared at the dead boy's face for a long time, trying to
convince herself that blond hair and blue eyes didn't mean anything.

When she could bear to tear her eyes away, she turned to the
section of the yearbook where the senior class activities pictures were. She
flipped slowly through the selection of pictures, searching in vain for Jay
until she found a group picture from the class trip. There, in the back row, as
if they had stepped in at the last minute, reluctantly, was a picture of Jay --
and right next to him, peeking up behind the taller boys in front of her, was
Robin.

Diana didn't remember seeing that picture before.

She stared at the picture, trying to learn its secrets,
trying to guess why the two of them were there, next to each other, how they
had ended up looking like they slipped in at the last minute. Diana imagined a
half-dozen scenarios, then closed the book firmly and put it away.

For a moment, carrying the small stack of yearbooks to their
place in the cabinet, she was tempted to look at her own senior yearbook, but
pushed the urge away. She was tired, cold, and consumed with a fear that she
had known nothing during that time. She’d been in charge, working, taking care
of Grandmother, nagging Carl and Robin constantly, cleaning house, cooking
meals, and sometimes sleeping. She had felt overworked, stressed, yes, but she’d
been proud of herself.