“I asked if you really told Jules that you find me irresistible,” he repeated. “She claims that you’ve spent the past two weeks just going on and on about how crazy you are about me, and how you find it incredibly difficult to keep your hands to yourself whenever I’m around.”
Zoey smiled, too. “Jules said that, did she?”
Jonas nodded. “She did.”
“Well, then, Jules has been telling you tales. I don’t recall a single incident where I even mentioned your name. Except for maybe that one day when I did curse you for not having any Tastykake snack cakes in the house.”
“That’s not what Jules said.”
“What does Jules know? She’s never tasted Tastykakes.”
“And if I have any say in it, she never will.”
Zoey made a rude sound of disbelief. “Good luck. You obviously still have a lot to learn about parenting.”
Jonas turned fully around to face her. “Then you can’t abandon us now, just because the two weeks you promised us are over.”
A funny little something turned a somersault somewhere in her midsection at his tone of voice. He sounded uncertain and solicitous and very, very tempting. He sounded as if he needed her.
“You and Juliana have come a long way in the past couple of weeks,” she said softly. “You’ll be just fine without me. Both of you will be.”
He shook his head. “Don’t count on it, Zoey. Don’t count on it.”
Then he turned to the stove again, and all she could see was his back. She wished things could be different between them. If only she could erase everything that had happened to her when she was a teenager...
No, she didn’t want to do that, she decided. Changing her past would mean she could never have known Eddie. And in spite of the turmoil the loss of her son had caused her, at least she’d had him for a short time. She’d known the joy and wonder that comes with the birth of a child, had seen how different the world could be by the simple addition of a tiny human being into one’s life. She’d experienced a love unlike anything else she had ever felt before. A love that had been eclipsed by nothing, not even the pain that had come after it. For a little while, Zoey had been a mother. And she wouldn’t trade that for anything.
Nor would she ever undertake such an occupation again. She was just too empty inside to ever manage it.
She looked at Juliana, at the clear, beautiful blue eyes and the gummy smile that twisted in her heart like a dull knife. A part of her had already lost itself to the little baby, and Zoey could feel that part of herself beginning to shrivel up and die. If things kept up at this rate, there wouldn’t be anything of her left. She’d go back to being that fragile shell of a human being that was left after Eddie died. Zoey simply couldn’t let this go on any longer than it had already.
After today, her obligation to Jonas and Juliana was over, she told herself again. And she couldn’t let anything change that. Just because she had fallen in love didn’t mean everything was going to be all right. On the contrary, loving Jonas and Juliana might just do her in completely. She had to be strong, had to stand her ground. She was a tough broad, Zoey reminded herself. Everybody thought so. And tough broads could handle anything. Even living alone.
She only wished tough broads could also believe it when they told themselves such lies.
J
onas stared at the soup in the pan blindly, thinking about how Zoey had appeared when she’d assured him that he and Juliana would be fine without her. She’d looked sad and distant, and very, very lonely. He wished he knew what to say to make her feel differently, because she couldn’t be more wrong about the situation. Zoey had brought things to his life he’d managed to lose somewhere along the way. Pleasure. Comfort. Peace. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d genuinely felt any of those things before she had come more fully into his life. And he didn’t want to risk losing them because she abandoned him.
And as for Juliana, Zoey had somehow turned the baby into a new person. Gone was the inconsolable, unresponsive, shrieking bundle of flesh that had arrived on his doorstep so many weeks ago. Now Jules was a laughing, cooing, affectionate baby who seemingly couldn’t be happier. And Jonas knew full well that Zoey alone was responsible for that. Left to his own devices, who knew how badly he would have raised the little girl? She may have ended up on the streets of Philadelphia when she was fourteen, too.
His obligation to his brother’s daughter was enormous, and Jonas knew that the years ahead would hold a number of challenges he just wasn’t sure he could face alone. But it wasn’t just because of Juliana that Jonas wanted to keep Zoey in his life. No, his desire in that respect was purely selfish and driven by, well, desire.
No, more than desire, he amended immediately. He’d
wanted
plenty of women during his lifetime. But he’d never loved any. Not until now. Not until Zoey Holland had come along with her tough machismo, beautiful hands and flannel pajamas and turned his life upside down. He liked the way she’d jolted things around. He didn’t want to go back to the orderly, sterile, solitary existence he’d thought suited him before.
“Soup’s ready,” he said quietly, wanting to say so much more. “And you should be in bed.”
“I don’t want to go to bed,” she told him.
“Too bad. Doctor’s orders.”
Zoey opened her mouth to object, but Jonas cupped his hands over her shoulders, spun her around and gave her a gentle push, silently commanding her to march right back to her bedroom and into bed. He shook his head hopelessly as he watched her retreat. She had refused his efforts to get her into her pajamas and wore an exhausted gray sweatsuit instead, but even that shapeless bag and a bad cold had done nothing to quell his desire for her. He supposed there would never be a time in his life when he didn’t want Zoey Holland. The problem was, she just didn’t seem to want him.
No, that wasn’t true, either, Jonas thought as he turned back to the counter to fix up a tray for her. More than once, he’d caught her looking at him with an undeniable expression of longing. She did want him. She just didn’t
want
to want him.
“Pretty stupid, huh, Jules?” he asked the baby beside him. “Your old man is crazy in love with a woman who would rather drink hemlock than admit she’s even a trifle attracted to him. Now what are we going to do about it, hmm?”
Juliana gurgled and cooed and said she didn’t know.
“Well, that’s okay,” Jonas assured her. “I have one or two tricks left up my sleeve.”
He freed her from her seat and hefted her onto his shoulder, then balanced the tray of food in his other hand. Slowly, carefully, he made his way down the hall toward Zoey’s bedroom. He liked her apartment, liked the casual furnishings and scattered clutter, and the appalling lack of housekeeping skill for which she had made no apology. He liked how she had stuck postcards and yellowing comic strips to her refrigerator door, liked the unframed, curling photos of loved ones taped to the bathroom mirror.
This was clearly a place designed to make Zoey feel comfortable. She had surrounded herself with a variety of things that brought her pleasure, without concern for whether or not they all matched, without worrying about whether or not someone else might approve of her decorating choices. It was her home, and she had done a wonderful job of making it feel like one.
As much as Jonas loved his house, and as clean as his housekeeper kept it, and as well as his furnishings complemented one another, he couldn’t quite claim it was a home. Not the way Zoey’s apartment was. Although lovely, the house he inhabited lacked the warmth and charm of a place where a lot of living and loving went on. Probably because he did so little of that himself. At least, he had until recently.
“Soup’s on,” he said as he entered Zoey’s bedroom. “Along with saltines, tuna-fish salad and ginger ale. Together, these things provide the only known cure for the common cold. But the tuna-fish salad has to be fixed just right. Too much cumin, and you’ve shot any chance you have for recovery. Lucky for you, I just happen to know exactly—”
He halted his monologue abruptly when he noticed that Zoey wasn’t offering much response, and only lay in her bed, curled into a ball, with her back toward him. He was about to praise her for
finally
doing what he’d asked when he noticed that something was wrong. She hadn’t acknowledged in any way his arrival, but she wasn’t lying quite still enough for her to be asleep. Her shoulders shook almost imperceptibly, and at once, Jonas knew she was crying.
Quickly, he maneuvered the tray onto her dresser, spilling a little of the soup and toppling a tower of saltines. Ignoring the mess, however, he lay Juliana at the foot of the bed and rounded it to look at Zoey. She swiped at her eyes when she saw him coming, but they were still red and damp. As he drew nearer, she pushed herself up off the mattress and settled herself against the bed’s headrest, squeezing a pillow in front of her as if she had to hold on to something, but didn’t want to reach out to him.
“Thanks,” she muttered. “You can just leave it there on the dresser. I’m not very hungry, so I’ll just eat later. I’m sure you and Jules have to get going. It’s getting kind of late.”
“It’s not even two o’clock,” Jonas countered. “Jules and I don’t have to be anywhere but here. What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. Nothing’s the matter.”
“Something’s the matter,” he insisted. “You’ve been crying.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Your eyes are all red and watery.”
She sniffled, then lifted one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “That’s just from the cold.”
He shook his head at her, not even bothering to try to hide his disbelief. “I see. Then I stand corrected.”
“No problem.”
Jonas looked at Zoey, then down at the baby at the foot of the bed. Juliana stared with much fascination at the huge wreath of dried flowers hanging on the wall above Zoey’s bed, then doubled up both fists and tried to cram them into her mouth. He decided then that if he lived to be a hundred, he’d never understand the female mind.
“Scoot over and I’ll set your tray here on the bed beside you,” he told Zoey as he went back to her dresser to retrieve the lunch he had prepared for her.
“But I told you I’m not hungry,” she insisted.
“You need to eat,” he said. “Now scoot over before I get in bed with you and move you myself.”
Immediately, Zoey pushed herself over to the other side of the mattress before Jonas could make good on his threat. The last thing she needed was to have him climbing into bed with her. Look what had happened the last time. A wild little surge of anguish twisted through her at the recollection, and at the announcement she had to make for Jonas.
“Oh, by the way,” she said as he slid the tray of food toward her. She reached for a saltine before she continued, hoping she looked and sounded a lot breezier and more nonchalant than she felt. “I’m not pregnant.”
Jonas had been straightening as she began to speak, but she noticed he flinched a little when she offered him the information.
“You’re not?” he asked when he stood fully erect again.
She wasn’t sure, but she thought he sounded almost disappointed at the news. “No, I’m not. I just found out a few minutes ago when I went to the bathroom. Everything’s okay.”
“Okay,” he repeated. But somehow, he didn’t seem okay. Then abruptly, his expression changed, as if a light had gone on somewhere in the dark recesses of his brain. He studied Zoey hard, holding her gaze steady with his. “That’s why you were crying, wasn’t it?” he asked quietly.
A fireball exploded in her stomach, and she felt as if she was going to be sick. “No, of course not,” she told him, her voice sounding tinny and weak, even to her own ears. “I mean, I wasn’t crying to begin with. It’s just the bad cold.”
“You
were
crying,” he said. “And you were doing it because you found out you’re not pregnant. You were hoping you were, weren’t you?”
“No, of course not, I—”
But Jonas cut off her objection by jerking the tray of food away and sitting on the bed beside her. Juliana let out a cry at the sudden motion, and he picked her up and lay her between the two of them. As she stared down at the baby, Zoey couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he hadn’t performed the maneuver so much to quiet Juliana as he had to taunt
her.
“You want to have another baby, don’t you?” he asked her.
“No,” she snapped, struggling to regain some of her composure.
What he was suggesting was ridiculous. Getting pregnant again would destroy her. She’d only been crying because she’d started her period. She always cried when she got her period. What woman wouldn’t? It had nothing to do with wanting another baby. She continued to gaze at Juliana, who kicked her feet into the air and tugged at her playsuit. When the baby caught Zoey looking at her, she broke into a wide smile. Zoey felt tears sting her eyes again.
“I don’t want to have another baby,” she insisted softly. “My God, that’s the last thing I want.” She forced herself to look away from Juliana, but gazing at Jonas was no easier. He looked almost betrayed for some reason. “And since you weren’t any crazier about the idea of my possibly getting pregnant than I was,” she continued, “I thought you’d be happy to know that I—”
“Oh, but you’re wrong about that,” he interrupted her.
His contradiction was surprising, to say the least. “What?” she asked.
“Maybe the idea of having my child repulses you, but ever since you reminded me about our little indiscretion in not using any contraceptives last week, I’ve been able to think of little other than the two of us having a baby. And frankly, Zoey, I can’t think of anything I’d like more.”
“What?”
she repeated, certain she must have misunderstood. Surely the cold pills were playing havoc with her mental facilities.
“You heard me.”
“I never said having your child would repulse me,” she began, knowing her focus on the first part of his statement was simply an effort to avoid acknowledging the second part.
“I hear a ‘but’ coming,” he said.
She licked her lips and swallowed hard, but her mouth remained as dry as a desert. “But nothing. Just...”
“Just what?”
She rose from the bed and stood staring at him, wondering when things between them had become so complicated, wishing she could make him understand.
“Just...just...” She ran shaking fingers through her hair and began to pace restlessly across the hooked rug that covered a patch of bare floor between her bed and the bedroom door. “Just that I can’t have another child, Jonas,” she said without looking at him. “I won’t.”
“Why not?”
Her jerky motions calmed somewhat, but she continued her back-and-forth motions along the side of the bed. “What happened to...to...Eddie...it nearly killed me. For months after his death, I was just a shell of a human being. I stayed in bed almost all the time. A lot of days, I never got up. Not even to take a shower or fix breakfast. There just didn’t seem to be any point.”
She finally stopped pacing and turned to meet his gaze fully. “All I could do was lie there, wishing I had died with him,” she said. “Instead of him. I didn’t want to live. Who knows? If I’d had the energy to do it, I might have actually taken my own life. It wasn’t until years and a number of counseling sessions later that I finally began to cope with what had happened. Even now, there are occasional days when I still just have a tenuous grasp on my peace of mind. I couldn’t deal with it if I lost another child. I just couldn’t.”
“Zoey, just because you have another child doesn’t mean you’re going to lose it.”
“How do
you
know?”
Jonas stared at her, amazed. She honestly believed there was a good possibility that if she had another baby that child would die as her son had. Even though the disease that had taken her son wasn’t a common one for children to experience, even though most children who contracted it didn’t die. There was absolutely no good reason for Zoey to expect that she would suffer another terrible loss like the one that had nearly destroyed her so many years ago. No
good
reason. But he supposed the pain she had experienced was rooted deeply in her soul. And fear was a powerful persuader.
“Zoey, the chances of something like that happening again—”
“Jonas, the chances of something like that happening in the first place were pretty low,” she interrupted. “But it happened, didn’t it? My son died in spite of the odds.”
“But—”
“It’s no use,” she told him, her voice softening. “It’s just not going to happen for us. I’m never going to be able to...”
“To what?” he asked quietly.
She shook her head slowly. “Just let it go, Jonas.”
“No, I won’t let it go,” he told her evenly. “Don’t you see, Zoey? It’s already happened for us. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t let it go.” He paused for only a moment before telling her, “I love you. And you love me. I know you do. I can feel it.”
When she didn’t contradict him, but only stared down at the floor, he, too, scooted off the bed and stood to face her. And when still she did nothing to acknowledge his declaration of love, he pulled her into his arms. She didn’t struggle, didn’t try to push him away. But she didn’t return his embrace, either. It was as if she were feeling nothing at all, as if she had withdrawn into herself, had retreated to some secret part of her soul that she would expose to no one.