Family Be Mine (18 page)

“Cool,” Ben said, then looked at Katarina. “Cool?” he asked her.

Katarina was buried in thought for a moment, and it took a beat before she responded. “Yeah, fine. Cool. Whatever. Just let me make one more call.”

S
ARAH'S PLEASURE AT DISCOVERING
Hunt holding open the door for her at Dunkin' Donuts disappeared as soon as she entered the fast-food establishment. “Oh, no. This wasn't part of the deal.”

“I asked him to come,” Hunt said.

“Well, you can un-ask him.” She crossed her arms in front of her.

Zach pushed his chair back from a corner table and walked over to join them. He seemed at a loss as to where to put his hands and ended up clasping them behind his back. Prince Charles he wasn't.

Hunt touched Sarah's sleeve. “I really think you should talk to him.”

“It would just take a minute. I promise,” Zach said.

“C'mon, Sarah. What can be the harm? A few minutes? Besides, I spoke with him this morning, and I think he just wants to do the right thing.”

She shook her head at Hunt. “It's just not that easy. Or that simple. And he is no longer part of my life.” Then she paused. She refused to lose it in a public place.

She forced herself to look at Zach. “I don't know what Hunt said or implied to you, but my bottom line is, forget it. You signed away any legal rights to the baby. And I don't need you or want you involved. End of story.”

She started to leave, but Hunt gripped her arm.

“Sarah, just give the guy five minutes. If you won't talk to him for yourself, talk to him for the sake of the baby. I never really knew my father, never was given the opportunity to get to know him. And look how that screwed me up. I know how important this can be. If you don't do this, you'll regret it. Trust me.” He held her arm and stared at her squarely. “If you talk to him this once, I promise never to bug you about this ever again, okay?”

Sarah scratched her temple. Finally she looked up. “Okay. You make a convincing argument, especially the part about how screwed up you are. But I swear. Five minutes, and that's it.”

Hunt did his best not to look too pleased with himself and ushered her to the table in the corner by the window. It faced the interior courtyard of the old-fashioned shopping center, anchored at one end by an upscale supermarket and the other by a Rite Aid drugstore. In between were local shops and restaurants catering to everyday needs from screwdrivers to birthday cards.

He pulled out a chair for her next to Zach. Then he sat on her other side. “Can I get you both something? Coffee? A donut?”

Zach shook his head. “I never have fried foods or take caffeine.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Such a purist.” She leveled a gaze at Hunt. “You can get me a bagel with cream cheese. And why don't you get yourself a glazed donut? They have extra calories.”

“Always looking out for my welfare.” Hunt slipped off his jacket and joined the lunchtime line at the front of the store.

Sarah watched him go then turned to look out the
window. She saw two young mothers with strollers. A toddler ran on ahead, pushing a doll in a ministroller of its own. It all appeared so happy, so innocent.
Will my life ever be so uncomplicated?
Sarah wondered.

“He seems like a nice guy,” Zach interrupted her thoughts. “He told me how you're staying with him until the baby comes, maybe even a while beyond that, which I thought was pretty generous.”

Sarah reluctantly dragged her gaze back to the man sitting so near. She studied him. Zach looked unchanged. No, that wasn't true. He was still handsome and fit, but he no longer conveyed that serenity, the comfortable sense of purpose that she had once found so attractive. Or had that serenity merely been an illusion?

She pursed her lips. “I said I would sit here for five minutes. If you want to use that time to discuss my rooming situation, fine by me.”

Zach straightened the napkin container in the middle of the table. “I know this is hard for you, and I appreciate you're willing to listen to me.” He looked up from fussing and drew a large breath. “I want to apologize.”

Sarah pressed the tip of her tongue on the edge of her top teeth. “And now, having said that, you expect me to accept your apology?”

Zach shook his head. “No, not really. I mean, sure, it would make me feel a lot better, but I'm not expecting you to forgive me—not after what I did.”

“You lied to me.” Sarah's expression was bleak.

“I lied to you. I lied to myself—for most of my life, in fact.” Zach swallowed. “And when I finally accepted who I was, I was too frightened to just come out and let you know. Sneaking around behind your back was cowardly.”

“It wasn't exactly behind my back on our wedding day.”

“I know. I know. That was really stupid. I wasn't thinking. The whole wedding thing just spiraled out of control. I didn't know what to do.”

“You wanted to be caught, didn't you?” Sarah asked quietly. She peered at him intently.

Zach sighed. “I guess. I guess I wanted you to be the one to call the whole thing off instead of me taking responsibility.”

“Well, we all have moments where we've reneged on our responsibilities,” Sarah admitted. She could feel herself softening. But it was one thing to understand, another to forgive. Even now, months afterward, the humiliation hurt. Oh, the shock may have worn off, but she still felt the anger. “You devastated me that day, you know.”

“I know what I did was cruel and unforgivable—” Zach started to speak but held up his hand as if to give himself more time to choose his words carefully. “Okay, please, don't take this in the wrong way, because I mean it as a compliment. What I want to say is I don't really think you were devastated.”

Sarah laughed sardonically.

Zach held up his hand again. “Hear me out. You know, I always admired you because you seemed so independent and sure of yourself. I kind of felt like our relationship—and by extension, our marriage—was some kind of an add-on to your life, not a central part.”

“But you knew how much I wanted a family,” Sarah protested.

Zach leaned forward. “But did you want me as a
husband and life partner, or was I just one piece of your plan for a family?”

Sarah covered her mouth and chin with her hands. She breathed in slowly. “I don't know. Right now I'm so mixed up. I can't even remember.” She noticed the faint lines around his mouth and the enlarged pores along the creases of his nose, all the imperfections that she had never really seen before. “It's funny that you thought of me as so self-assured, because I've never felt that way. I always thought that you were the one who was so together. Did I ever really know you? Did you ever really know me?”

“Did we really know ourselves?” Zach asked.

“Here's the food and drink,” Hunt announced. He had a large coffee in one hand and two bags in the other.

Sarah reached across the back of her chair for her backpack and stood up. “I don't think I have time for it now. I need to get going to the hospital. You can drive me, and I'll pick up something later.”

“But your bagel?” Hunt waggled the bag.

“Keep it.” She heard Zach push his chair back, the legs scraping against the floor.

“Sarah? About the baby. I know I signed away any rights, so there's no need to worry,” he said, as if sensing the tightness in her shoulders. “I'm not here to contest that. I just wanted to say, that if you need anything, any help, I'm here. I may have been a coward when it came to admitting what I am, but I'm not one to run away from responsibility now. Okay?”

Sarah swallowed. “I'll keep that in mind. But…but…it's complicated.”

Zach nodded. “I understand.”

She nodded goodbye and left, forcing Hunt to play catch-up.

He juggled the coffee and the bags, and when some coffee spilled through the hole in the travel lid, he licked it off his fingers. “Slow down a minute,” he pleaded. He rested his paper cup on the car roof and fished the keys out of his pocket. “So, what did he say?”

As the locks clicked, Sarah opened the door and got in, shutting the door in Hunt's face. When he circled the car and got in, she refused to look across the console. “Just drive,” she said. “Just drive.”

 

S
ARAH PUSHED THROUGH
the revolving door to the hospital entrance, smiling at the two volunteers manning the reception desk. They were the same two chatty women who had been manning the desk on Mondays the whole time Sarah had lived in Grantham. Their ruthless permanents hadn't altered in the seven years.

She tucked her chin into the collar of her barn coat and took a left turn, trudging past the cafeteria without bothering to stop. She headed quickly toward the staff locker rooms. But before she changed into the regulation top and donned her I.D. badge she made a beeline for the bathroom.

She desperately had to pee. Not that that was anything new. More than that, she desperately needed privacy. She found an empty bathroom stall, walked in and flipped the lever to lock the door. She bit down on her bottom lip and closed her eyes.

And let the tears come.

She cried silently and deeply, recounting all the screwups of her life, all her emotional bumps and bruises, and all the ways she had hurt others and had
been hurt herself. When at last the tears stopped coming, she wiped her nose with the back of her hand and then reached into the zipped section of her knapsack for her cell phone.

She went to Favorites and hit the number that usually was a chore to call. She waited, listening to the dial tone. Finally, the familiar voice picked up and answered.

“Mom? It's Sarah,” she said, the tears starting anew. “Mommy?” Her voice went up. “I need to talk to you.”

S
ARAH TAPPED OUT
the security code and entered Hunt's house. She had left word that Julie was going to drive her home from the hospital, so there had been no need for him to come pick her up. For once, she was grateful for the indulgence of taking an elevator upstairs. She got out at the living room, and Fred bounded toward her, doing his tail-wagging dance in honor of her return. She smiled—who wouldn't?—and bent to rub his ears. Fred snuggled against her leg before performing a pirouette toward the bag of treats on the counter. Dutifully, Sarah walked over and reached in the bag.

“Fred, watch me,” she commanded, well trained after only two days. Fred responded, and Sarah gave him his treat. Then he rushed away to reclaim a tennis ball from under the coffee table.

She heard footsteps coming down the stairway. Sarah knew it was Hunt. He wore socks but no shoes. There was a red crease line running down his cheek, and he hadn't bothered to put on his glasses. He looked as though he'd just woken up from a nap. She also saw that he was carrying a medicine bottle in his hand.

“Everything all right?” she asked, not wanting to show her concern but doing so anyway.

“Just a headache.” He headed toward the overhead kitchen cabinets and removed a glass. He filled it in the
sink and popped a few tablets. “I tested my culinary skills and made us chili for dinner,” he said. “I can't guarantee the results, but at least we won't go hungry before your Lamaze class tonight.”

She registered for the first time the smell of slightly burned food simmering on the stove. She hadn't counted on him ministering to her needs, even if inexpertly. His kindness almost had her burst into tears yet again. She had been a faucet all afternoon.

No, what she had expected was for him to chide her about not needing his driving services, followed by an intense questioning about her conversation with Zach. Was he being polite, giving her distance, or merely putting her on the spot, forcing her to make the first move? She was too tired, physically and emotionally to know.

She shook her head. “Listen, that's…ah…nice of you—”

“‘Nice.' Ouch,” Hunt said without his lilt.

She shook her head. “It's nothing personal.” It was totally personal. “I'm just kind of pooped right now. Do you mind if I take a nap before we have to go out?” She glanced at her watch. “We've got about an hour.”

“Sure, no problem. Should I wake you?”

“No, I'll set the alarm on my phone.” She started for the stairs, and Fred got up and trotted along with her, rushing to go up first. He bounded up and waited for her at the top of the stairs, his tail wagging as usual.

That was the great thing about dogs, she realized. The world could be falling apart, but they were always eager to join in. She rested her hand on the railing and was about to begin what seemed like a very long climb when she stopped. “Hunt?” she called out.

He had wandered over to the couch and picked up a section of the newspaper. He looked up in response to her voice.

“I thought you should know. I decided to let Zach into the baby's life even though he has no legal rights. I called him and told him this afternoon. I'm still not sure it's the right thing, but I'm willing to do it—for the baby. So, you won.”

He dropped the paper on the coffee table. “It was never a question of winning.”

“Okay, whatever. I just—just—wanted to say that you were right, but that still doesn't mean I don't resent the way you handled the situation.”

“You would have talked to Zach any other way?”

She worked her lower lip. “Probably not, but I still don't appreciate being manipulated.” She put a foot on the first riser, but halted. “I called my mother. She agrees with you, if it makes you feel any better.”

“The real question is, do you?”

 

“I'
M SO GLAD TO SEE YOU
all here again tonight,” the Lamaze instructor said in a cheery, energetic voice.

“Sarah, I see you brought a new partner.”

Sarah hugged her pillow. “This is Hunt. He's helping me out while Katarina is away this week.” She pulled him down next to her on the carpeted floor.

“Hunt. Nice to see you. I'm Eliza, and we're delighted you've come.”

Hunt looked around stealthily. Some of the couples he recognized from the water aerobics class. He wasn't sure since they had their clothes on. He leaned toward Sarah. “Was I supposed to bring a pillow, too?” She
had been less than communicative the whole way over, mumbling only a few clipped responses.

“Only the moms-to-be bring pillows like the ones they plan to bring to the hospital,” she said, and shushed him as Eliza launched into her spiel.

“Tonight, we'll practice our breathing techniques and relaxation exercises some more, but first I thought I'd play this short DVD. It shows actual pictures of women and their partners during labor and giving birth. It includes both vaginal and Caesarean births and discusses possible complications—not that we want that or anticipate any problems, but so that we can be prepared in case they may occur. Before I start it, though, I thought I'd do show-and-tell.”

She reached into a totebag on the chair behind the desk. “Not many doctors perform deliveries with forceps anymore, but let me show you what they look like.” She held up what looked like giant salad tongs.

Hunt rested his head in his hand.

“Squeamish?” Sarah asked under her breath.

He shook his head. The headache was getting worse despite the Tylenol. It was a constant piercing pain in the back of his head.

“I assume all of you have been doing your Kegel exercises to develop your pelvic floor muscles to help prevent tears and possible episiotomies.” Eliza mimicked the contractions with her fingers. “But in case you and your physician decide an episiotomy is necessary, I thought I'd show you what the knife looks like.”

Hunt rubbed his ear and moaned softly.

Sarah laughed under her breath. “My hero. Wait till you see the Caesarean!”

“Katarina owes me.”

 

T
HE NEXT MORNING
Hunt dragged himself out of bed only after Fred sat on him and began licking his hands. He'd had a fitful night's sleep at best, getting up repeatedly to take more Tylenol but to no effect. The ache in his head, if anything, was worse than ever.

“Okay, buddy,” he said, swinging his legs to the side. A surge of pain almost caused him to black out. He blinked and breathed in slowly. Maybe with some coffee, he'd feel more human.

He glanced at the clock and swore. Nine o'clock. Sarah must be having fits because she was sure to be late to the office, even
if
he drove her. He stood up, wobbly on his feet. It was going to be interesting driving if this headache didn't let up. Fred danced around his feet, and he tried to concentrate on not tripping over the silly mutt.

Barefoot, wearing sweatpants and an old Grantham University T-shirt, he padded down the stairs, ready to fend off her wrath. Only to find silence.

And a tin of chocolate chip cookies. Another of lemon squares. And an apple pie covered in plastic wrap.

A note was propped up against the pie.

Hunt surveyed the baked goods. She must have been up half the night. The lemon bars would normally be the most tempting, but the thought of moving his jaw…

Fred barked.

Hunt felt his cheek. It was warm. No, more than warm. Hot. He moved his hand around. His jaw was tender to the touch. So was his ear. It was swollen and felt like it was on fire. He moved his fingers downward. The lymph node below his ear was enlarged.

Fred barked more loudly.

Hunt ignored it and headed for the powder room down the hall. The dog followed, nipping at the baggy material of Hunt's sweatpants.

“Quit it, Fred,” Hunt yelled. He never yelled. But then he'd never felt like this before. He pushed open the bathroom door and went to the mirrored medicine cabinet over the sink. He leaned in close. The whole left side of his face was swollen to the size of a melon. His ear was grotesquely stretched out of shape and an angry red.

His first thought was cancer. That it had come back.

He gripped the edge of the sink. The pain was becoming blinding.

“Breathe out, slowly,” he told himself out loud. “See, Lamaze class can come in handy after all,” he said, but the joke fell flat. He continued to think out loud. “More than likely, it's…ah…some kind of reaction to a bug bite or something like that.” He exhaled. “There's no reason to think it's cancer when I was perfectly clean at my last checkup only a few weeks ago.”

He turned, still holding the sink, and found Fred lying down, his face between his paws, looking at him with a worried expression. “It's okay, Fred buddy. I'm going to take care of the situation. Don't worry.” He pressed his hand at the back of his head where the pain was centered.

My phone. Where the hell is my phone?
He closed his eyes and concentrated. That's right, he had left it on the coffee table last night after coming in from class.

He staggered into the living room, grabbed the phone and flopped on the couch. Fred jumped up next to him, and for once, Hunt didn't shoo him off. Instead, he let the dog curl up next to him and rubbed his warm fur as he worked his phone to find his contact list. He dialed the obvious choice.

After only one ring, Ben answered. “What's up, bro?”

“I was wondering if you could do me a favor?” Hunt closed his eyes and rocked methodically back and forth.

“What kind of favor? We're at this B and B in Lenox, Massachusetts, and unless you want some of these fancy curtains they sell in the gift shop, I'm not much good to you.”

“That's right. I forgot. You're making the grand college tour.” Hunt tried to concentrate. “Listen, you wouldn't happen to have Katarina's grandmother's phone number, would you?”

“Interested in getting some free homemade cakes, are you?”

Ben thought of the mounds of carbohydrates and butter sitting on the counter. “No, dessert is not something I lack at the moment. Just a small favor from someone nearby.”

“Okay, wait a minute. I'll just ask Katarina. She's on her phone.”

Hunt waited.

“Hunt, you still there?” Ben asked. “Here's Lena's
home number, but Katarina says she might already be out playing tennis. Did you want her cell, too?”

“Just give me the home number. I wouldn't want to interrupt her game. Meanwhile, enjoy the potpourri for me.” Hunt hung up quickly and dialed Lena's number.

The answering machine picked up after six rings, and Hunt heard Lena's lyrical Eastern European accent on the recorded message.

Hunt waited for the beep. “Mrs. Zemanova, Lena—” Hunt wet his lips, trying to decide how best to put this without raising any alarms. He certainly didn't want the world descending on him, worrying about something that was probably no big deal.

“Lena, it's Hunt Phox,” he continued. “I have to be somewhere unexpectedly this morning, and I was wondering if you could do me a favor—come walk my dog, Fred, at noon? His leash is in the foyer, on the side table by the door, and there's a bag of treats in the drawer. He'll come if you just hold one out to him. The code for the front door is as follows.” He rattled off the numbers.

“If for some reason you can't make it, don't worry. I'll try Rufus next. He already knows Fred. If I'm held up any later than this morning, though, I may give you another call about feeding him. Thanks.”

Hunt hung up and scrolled through his contact list for Rufus.

Rufus picked up right away, and Hunt explained his predicament.

“No problem, Hunt. I was about to leave for my physio appointment with Sarah, as a matter of fact. I'm running late as it is, but this way I can just use you as an excuse.”

“Sorry, I didn't mean to hold you up any further.
Forget about coming over. I'll just give someone else a call. And no need to mention anything to her. She's got enough on her plate as it is. Thanks.” Hunt rang off and let his hand fall to his lap. So much for asking Rufus to drive him to the emergency room. He was running out of ideas.

That left his mother, but if past experience were any guide, she didn't deal well with hospitals when it came to actual sickness. He unconsciously patted and stroked the dog.

And then it came to him. Hunt lifted his arm and scanned the contact list again, searching for the latest entry. When he reached it, he pressed the name and heard a response.

Hunt swallowed. “Zach. I need a favor.”