“Good night then—uh, or rather, good morning.” He disconnected the phone, his hands falling to his knees, his head thudding back against the rocker.
She almost rushed in to comfort him, but she recalled how he’d frozen in the kitchen when she’d hugged him. Then he’d shifted quickly to sex as a distraction—not that she could blame him when she’d been a willing participant.
Somehow, even sex had seemed better than a total rejection, another reaction she’d experienced often enough right after Sophie was taken. She could already see the way it would play out. He would straighten back into big strong man mode, impervious to silly things like emotions or pain.
So she would let him have his private moment to deal with whatever was going on inside that mind of his. Marianna backed a step away as Sebastian turned his head toward her.
“Don’t go,” he said.
For once his face stayed open, no walls in sight. Just an intense and slightly weary man, and yet somehow he looked stronger than ever to her. Had something shifted between them in the kitchen after all? Could everything she’d begun feeling again be flowing both ways?
She hovered in the doorway warily. “I didn’t realize you knew I was here.”
“I always know when you walk into a room.”
Now wasn’t that a nerve sizzling notion?
She eased deeper inside until her feet padded along the soft give of the pink and yellow braid rug. “I take it from what you said on the phone that all is well with Kyle.”
“Yes, not even a scratch on him,” he confirmed. “Apparently someone lurking around on a mountain shot down the plane. Everyone survived the crash landing, but they’d abandoned the site to hide out from rebels. So the rescue mission took a while longer.”
“Those hours must have been horrifyingly long for your brother.”
“I don’t even want to think about it.”
Of course he didn’t. Sebastian was all about closing down the past and moving ahead as if it never happened. She trailed her fingers along the large armoire, door open with Sophie’s baptismal gown on display. With the ache so fresh again in this room, she actually wanted some of Sebastian’s selective amnesia.
He pointed toward the bags filling the crib. “I see you went shopping for the baby.”
She looked at those sacks full of all things pink and thought of the tears that went into that recent shopping trip. Forgetting be damned. She just couldn’t hold back any longer. If he truly wanted to try at some kind of renewed connection between them, he would have to accept who she was and how she dealt with life. He would have to learn how to change.
Her hand leaving the silky baptismal dress, she turned to Sebastian, letting all the grief flow freely through her, and asked, “Do you ever think about her?”
Ten
D o you ever think about her?
Marianna’s question burned through Sebastian’s ears to sear his insides. He didn’t need to ask who Marianna meant. Just the hint of Sophie seemed to bring her back into the nursery so tangibly he could have sworn her heard his daughter cooing from the crib. He forced his grip to loosen on the arms of the rocker before his fingers went numb.The instinct to end the conversation pounded through him. But only momentarily. If he ever wanted to make things right with Marianna, he couldn’t keep repeating the same mistakes. He needed to accept that Sophie—and his unwillingness to share the grief with his wife—dug half the chasm in their marriage.
“I think about Sophie all the time.” The words grated all the way up his throat.
Even as he’d tried to forget her, tried not to even think her name, still he found himself wondering if she was fed, held, warm enough, cool enough. Loved enough.
Marianna stopped in front of the crib, her hands gripping the lowered railing that would never be raised again for their daughter. “Her first birthday is at the end of this week.”
“I remember.”
She reached into one of the shopping sacks and pulled out a tiny pink dress, tracing the white daisies stitched along the collar and hem. “I went shopping a few days ago to buy things for her.”
Marianna snapped off the tag and dipped into the bag again. “I know she can’t have them, but I needed to…I just couldn’t let her birthday go by without celebrating it in some way.”
A fabric doll came out next, tag snapped, toy placed to the side. “So I shopped.” She cradled a little bathing suit—pink with yellow, blue and green fish. “I’m going to donate everything to charity.”
“That’s a really nice gesture.” He should have thought to set up some kind of annual donation to a charity in Sophie’s honor. It certainly wasn’t too late, and he was learning that as much as he tried not to think about her, she still sprung into his mind at unexpected times. “What else did you pick out?”
“More clothes, of course. Smocked dresses and practical outfits too, for playing at the park. Bibs and shoes.” She pulled out a traditional-looking teddy bear and hugged it to her chest. “Oh, and I bought her a stuffed animal from that store where you pick the pet and they stuff it for you.”
“We had a discussion about the place once.” He remembered Marianna going whimsical over the dream of having a birthday party for Sophie there one day.
Her eyes took on a faraway look as she stroked her thumbs along the plush fur. “Before they stuff it, you get a tiny red fabric heart to make a wish on then place inside the toy.” A tear sparked in her eyes as her arms bit deeper into the stuffing. “So I prayed that she’s happy and safe.”
His chest felt heavy, his breath growing labored from the weight of trying to shore up the dam against images from the past. “You’re killing me here, Marianna.”
“I’m sorry.” She turned slightly away and tucked the bear into a corner of the crib with heart twisting tenderness. “I shouldn’t have rambled on so much. I know you prefer not to talk about her.”
“No, it’s not that,” he finally admitted to himself and to her, even if the truth might push her away again. “It’s killing me that I wasn’t there for you how I should have been when she was taken away.”
She angled back toward him, blinking fast. “You were grieving too, even if you didn’t show it.”
Marianna had been more magnanimous than he’d expected or probably even deserved. “Thank you for that.”
“I know I should just be happy about this baby.” She paused, her hands sliding over her stomach. “And I am, truly.”
“Each child is just as important as the other.” Hadn’t his mother said much the same words at the hospital? He’d heard and comprehended in theory, but this time, the meaning sunk in with a deeper resonance.
“You understand.” She extended a shaky hand, her eyes wary.
He hated that she had reason to doubt him when all he wanted was to make life easier for her. Sebastian clasped her fingers and tugged her forward until she sank into his lap. He gathered her closer, not sure how much time passed but at some point realizing he was staring at a framed photo on top of the armoire.
A picture of Marianna, Sophie and him at the baby’s baptism.
Would he recognize his daughter if he passed her on the street? He liked to think so but couldn’t be sure—babies changed so much so fast. Regardless, the time had come to accept that even if he saw her and knew her, she wouldn’t remember them anymore.
“Sebastian?” Marianna’s hands slid around him, linking behind his back. “You did hold me then, sometimes really late at night when I couldn’t sleep.”
“God, I don’t even remember. That time is such a blur of…” He searched for the right word and could only come up with “…anger.”
“You held me. You just wouldn’t let me hold you.” She tipped her face up to his, streaks on her face broadcasting the tears she’d cried silently. “But it’s okay now. I know you miss her, and I know it’s scary thinking about loving another child.”
He grazed a kiss across her lips, keeping his hands firmly planted on the arms of the chair. Resisting the urge to pull out of her embrace because for some reason it made her happy to tear their hearts out this way.
And actually, simply kissing his wife had an appeal he hadn’t fully appreciated until the privilege was taken away. His wife. While he hadn’t doubted that he could win her back, he was damn glad things were moving along faster than he’d predicted when it came to bending her will.
The sooner he had his family together and taken care of, the better for all of them.
Sitting in Sebastian’s car as he drove her to work, Marianna could barely believe all that had happened since they’d gotten into her car last night.Kyle being shot down and recovering.
The car wreck and trip to the E.R.
Making love with Sebastian—and yes, she’d begun to hope they were beginning to make love with each other again.
The way he’d opened up to her in the nursery still took her breath away, filling her up again with hope. Sure, he hadn’t spilled a wealth of words or emotionalism, but what he had shared felt like a fortune coming from her stalwart husband.
Ex-husband?
She wasn’t quite ready to think in terms of marriage again so soon after their divorce, but for once, she wasn’t completely crossing out the possibility. If he would just be patient with her, proving he’d changed his ways.
Sebastian chose a spot in the parking lot outside her office building, a quaint cottage on the beach. “I’ll pick you up after work. I should finish with my court case on time. This judge has a reputation for keeping a tight stopwatch on proceedings.”
She thought about asking him what sort of case, but work—his and hers—had been a sore spot between them. She didn’t want to risk ruining their tenuous truce. “I appreciate your taking the evening off.”
“I’m trying, Marianna.”
“And that means a lot to me.” She stared down at her clasped hands. “I noticed you spent some time at the computer last night.”
He didn’t miss a beat. “I couldn’t sleep, not until I heard about Kyle.”
That sounded reasonable, and she wouldn’t have thought twice about the whole thing if it hadn’t been for the past. Marianna reached across to cup his freshly shaved face, leaning to kiss him. He’d done so much of the pursuing lately that it was time to show him she was willing to meet him halfway. Inhaling the scent of his aftershave, tasting his mouthwash on his tongue, she savored the feel of his mouth against hers, familiar, yet with an edge of something new and exciting.
His hand slid to her stomach, palming just over where their baby nestled. She wanted to languish in the warm weight of his touch as much as she wanted to enjoy the sentimental gesture. But she couldn’t shove aside the doubts that they were simply replaying the past. They’d gone through this dance when waiting to adopt, putting happy faces on the deeper troubles until the issues wounded, festered, left so many scars they’d eventually become numb.