Righteous Lies (Book 1: Dancing Moon Ranch Series) (10 page)

Maureen nodded.
"Kids with Schwartz-Traub rarely make it to their teens without a bone
marrow or stem cell transplant, which is the only cure. But the clock's ticking
for Ricky. After age five he'll be too big for a cord-blood transplant because
there isn't enough blood in the umbilical cord of a newborn to produce enough stem
cells to fight the illness."

It wasn't until
then that Grace realized the clock was ticking for Ricky. The thought was
troubling. "Jack said our baby might be a match," she said, although
she hadn't intended to bring it up. But after seeing how sick Ricky was, and
knowing time was running out, she wasn't so sure it was
not
an option any longer.

"There's a
good chance your child could be a match," Maureen said. She covered
Grace's hand with hers. "It's a tough call because you could fly to New
Jersey for nothing while jeopardizing Jack's son. And yours," she added,
almost as an afterthought. Which made Grace curious. Even with his mother, it
was all about Jack's son.

"I feel
bad," Grace said. "I'm terrified of flying, and after the
complications these past couple of weeks... I guess Jack told you about my
early labor pains?"

Maureen nodded.
"He said you're planning on natural childbirth. He's worried about
that."

Grace rolled
her eyes. "Women have been doing it since Adam and Eve, and civilization
has survived. But, I know how worried Jack is, so I might consent to having him
at the birthing center, and Jack can still deliver the baby. Did he tell you
about that?"

Again, Maureen
nodded. "I guess it's somewhat therapeutic, being actively involved like
he is, even going to your classes. This baby is very important to him."

"You said
therapeutic?" Grace said, backing up some. "In what way?"

"Jack
didn't tell you about what happened three years ago?"

"No. At
least I don't think he did," Grace said. "Why? What happened?"

"I'd
better let him tell you when he's ready," Maureen said. "He probably
has his reason for not saying anything. But he'll have to tell you eventually,
since he plans on moving you to the ranch right away. Are you alright with
that?"

"No,"
Grace said. "I have no intention of moving here. I love my house and I
have friends nearby. If Jack built me a house, he still wouldn't be around at
night, and I want someone to talk to after the baby's in bed. I'm not used to
sleeping alone. I liked being married."

"Nana?"
Ricky wandered into the room while grinding a knuckle into his eye.

"Hi
sweetheart," Maureen said, opening her arms for the toddler to crawl onto
her lap. He slumped against her, and she covered his forehead with her hand.
"He's warm," she said. "Time for his Prednisone. I'll take him
back and see how Susan is. We'll talk later."

"Do you
mind if I go too?" Grace asked. "The last time I saw Susan she was
angry and upset, and I want to try to smooth things over."

"Sure,
come along."
 

When they got
to Sam and Susan's house, Sam and Jack were in the living room talking in
hushed tones, and the door to the hallway was closed. "I'm glad you're
here, Mom," Sam said, giving his mother a hug. "Susan's pretty
unstable right now, saying things that are... troubling."

"Troubling!
Hell," Jack said. "She's talking about getting rid of the baby. She
needs to be hospitalized where she can be watched."

"Mom and I
can watch her," Sam said. "The doctor gave her an antipsychotic drug.
He said it wouldn't hurt the baby."

"Maybe the
drug won't hurt him," Jack said, "but your wife might."

"Stop it,
Jack!" Maureen cut in. "This situation with Susan is entirely
different. Susan's facing losing Ricky. It's not an issue with the baby."

Grace looked
from Maureen, whose face clearly told Jack to drop the subject, to Jack, whose
jaws were clenched, as if struggling not to say his peace.

What situation was
entirely different? And what was the issue with the baby?

In an effort to
defuse the situation, Grace said, "Would it be alright if I looked in on
Susan? Maybe sat with her for a few minutes?"

"Not a
good idea," Sam said. "She's pretty upset that the baby you're
carrying—"

"Hold it
right there," Jack cut in. "The baby Grace is carrying is my son, so
I have some say in this. If Grace is afraid of flying I don't want her to go.
It's as simple as that."

"That's
easy for you to say," Sam snapped. "You're not about to lose a
son!"

Jack said
nothing, just stood staring at Sam, eyes intense, muscles in his jaw flexing.

Then Sam
reached out and squeezed Jack's arm, and said, "I'm sorry, that just came
out. You have to do what's best for your son."

Jack released
his breath, and said, "That's exactly what I intend to do. Come on,"
he said to Grace. "I'll walk you back to the lodge." He took Grace's
arm and turned her toward the door.

As Grace walked
with Jack, she didn't dare probe for answers about the puzzling exchange
between him and Sam because she knew intuitively that Jack had shut the door to
further questions. But at some point, she intended to get some answers.

When Grace and
Jack stepped out of Sam's house, Jack took Grace's elbow to support her as he
walked with her down steps covered in slush, and said, "I picked up a book
at the airport today. We'll stop by my house and get it."

"I hope
it's a book on how to knit heels," Grace replied, as they crossed the
driveway to Jack's house. "Incidentally, I knitted a match for the other
sock. No heel, but I'll keep trying until I get it right since I plan to have
lots of kids and I expect them all to be born with heels." To relieve Jack's
mind that he was not the object of her husband search, she added, "Just
for the record, the man who father's my kids will not object to cats in the
house." Although she'd just assured Jack she was not looking for him to
father her offspring, the idea of snuggling up to him in bed seemed to be
invading her mind of late, whether it was so he could father her brood, or give
her the pleasure in bed she missed.

...women get broody about that time...

A speaker made
the comment at one of the birthing classes, which brought howls of laughter
from men who were going through periods of broodiness with their pregnant
wives. Which also explained Grace's own desire to get intimate with the father
of her child. Especially with the father of her child, since she'd been
deprived of the natural means of creating their baby with Jack. But her
untimely hedonistic desires would pass when the baby arrived and she'd be into a
daily routine of washing baby clothes and changing umpteen diapers and getting
up in the middle of the night to feed a large, hungry, squalling baby with dark
hair and dark eyes. She looked at Jack's firm profile and wondered if their son
really would look like him. She'd like that...

"And
talking about cats," Jack said, as they climbed the steps to his porch,
"I read that pregnant women shouldn't clean litter boxes so I'll do it for
now. Another reason to move you into my house."

Grace looked at
Jack with a start. Was his comment a subtle hint that he might be a candidate
for father of her brood? "Then you don't mind cats in the house?" she
asked, testing.

"Maybe not,"
Jack said. "We'll take it one step at a time." His expression was
thoughtful. As in... One cat, one baby... Another cat, another baby... She and
Jack
doing it
the right way, first
thing in the morning, last time at night, until their family was complete...

Jack tipped his
head toward hers as they walked across the porch to the front door. "You
smell good," he said. "Real good." His arm tightened on her
elbow.

"It's baby
lotion. I've been rubbing it on my... umm... skin," Grace replied. "And
thanks for holding onto me. I can barely see my feet to walk up stairs
anymore."

"Sorry
about that," Jack said. When he reached around her to open the door, his
chest pressed against her back, and his breath wafted against the side of her
face.

"About
what?" Grace asked, losing her train of thought. The feel of Jack's large
frame, wrapped around her like a mantle of warmth, was very distracting.

"The size
of my son," Jack said. "You're a small woman to be having a baby his
size. I want you to have him in the hospital."

"Please
don't start that again," Grace said, eyeing the dismal surroundings,
rearranging the furniture in her mind. It could be cozy and comfortable if
things were picked up and the table cleared and the dishes washed, a place
where she could stay, at least until the baby came, and maybe for a couple of
months afterward. She didn't feel as connected to her home as before...

"Your hips
aren't very wide," Jack said. "It could be a difficult birth."

"He'll get
through," Grace mused, while contemplating the random dishes and
mismatched coffee mugs on a shelf beside the sink. She eyed Jack, who looked
truly concerned. "If you're that worried, I might consider having him at
the birthing center. But it's expensive," she added, while feeling an urge
to round up a bucket and mop and disinfectant and start cleaning Jack's house
and make it a home...

Nesting! It was
simply nesting. She'd get over it when the baby was born...

"Is that
why you're having him at home, to save a few bucks?" Jack asked, taking
her attention away from a copper tub with a confusion of magazines and dirty
socks and one old, slipper lined in fleece. The tub would look nice with an
arrangement of silk flowers in it...

"It's
considerably more than a few bucks," she mused, turning her attention to
the mantle over the fireplace. An old clock sat off at one end, covered in dust
and nearly obscured by a stack of mail, dirty mugs, and more old magazines...

"Cost is
no problem," Jack said. "If it's about money it's settled. You'll
have him at the birthing center at Portland General. I'll call and set things
up."

That caught
Grace's attention. "No!" she said. "I've been going to the
birthing center since I learned I was pregnant and I'm willing to have the baby
there, but not at the hospital." She looked at Jack, who was going through
his usual chain of reactions when she confronted him, and waited for him to
come around.

Which he
evaded, by saying, "We still have a couple more weeks to decide."

Grace released
a snort of exasperation and sat on the couch, the only piece of furniture free
of dust, but only because it looked like it had recently been slept on, with a
blanket thrown back and a bed pillow at the opposite end. "What is the
book?" she asked, "a daily guide so all I have to do is get up in the
morning, flip to the right page, and see what I'm supposed to do?"

"I got a
book of names," Jack said, ignoring her discourse.

"Have you
selected one yet?" Grace clipped.

"It's our
child, Grace. Not mostly mine and a little bit yours. Ours," Jack said,
turning things around. "We'll both be on board with his name. So if you're
through haranguing me about running your life, honey, maybe we can come up with
something."

Grace felt worn
down with the man. Now he was being reasonable, even calling her honey. And
instead of wanting to shake him senseless, she wanted to cuddle up against him
and page through the book and come up with a name for their son. It about drove
her nuts how Jack flipped back and forth, jerking her with him. "I'm
through," she said.

Jack grabbed
the book of names from the kitchen table and sat beside her, and she leaned
against him so she could peer over his shoulder as he flipped to the section on
names for boys, and started down the column of names beginning in A...

After an hour,
they were down to three names, none of which they both agreed. "My first
choice is still David," Grace said, envisioning a marble statue of
Michelangelo's
David
. "When I
was sixteen, Mom and Dad, and my sister, Justine, and I went to Italy, and when
we were in Florence I saw Michelangelo's David. I'd never seen a naked man, and
seeing one seventeen feet tall was very... umm... educational. He was also
supposed to be the perfect form of a man, so that's what I feel like I'm
carrying inside me. A perfect baby David."

"Yeah, well,
I also saw the statue when I was in the army over there," Jack said,
"and David has a problem, a running joke with Italians because of the size
of his
pisello
."

"Big?"
Grace asked.

"Boy
size," Jack replied. "The explanation is, when a man faces danger it
contracts, and since David was confronting Goliath with only a stone, it
shriveled."

"Does that
really happen?" Grace asked.

"Could
be," Jack replied, giving her one of his rare smiles.
 

"Well, I
also remember the tour guide saying that even though David was a Jew he wasn't
circumcised," Grace said, finding the perfect opening, "which brings
up that subject."

"A
non-issue," Jack said. "Our son
will
be circumcised."

"It's not
a non-issue to me," Grace replied. "I have a booklet with a DVD
describing why it shouldn't be done."

Jack folded his
arms. "And when he's in the locker room at school guys will tease him, and
a guy can stand up to being teased about almost anything but his cock."

"You need
to watch the DVD," Grace said. "A lot of sexual pleasure is lost with
circumcision and for that reason our son should be allowed to make his own
decision when he's a man."

"It needs
to be done," Jack insisted. "I know about boys and circumcision. You
don't."

"But I do
know about women and circumcision," Grace said. "A survey showed that
women preferred uncircumcised men because the foreskin contains a high
concentration of nerve endings and when it's removed the man has to thrust
harder and deeper to have an orgasm, causing discomfort for the woman. The survey
also showed that women were more likely to have multiple orgasms with
uncircumcised men."