Think About Love (28 page)

She
wouldn't!
She was Samantha Moonbeam Jones, and she knew moonbeams were allocated to fantasy, not reality. She'd always known. She had to know, had to keep control. She
would not
be her mother.

She stepped into the shower, soaped herself hard, as if she could scrub away need and vulnerability and spinning out of control in the daytime as well as the evening.

Kippy!

She'd woken, had got up, gone into the upstairs bathroom, brushed her teeth, and showered without even a thought for Kippy. Why hadn't the baby's early morning cry woken her?

She rinsed off and hurriedly toweled herself.

When she stepped out of the bathroom, she heard the baby's gurgle from downstairs.

"Open up," said Cal's voice. "Cereal and fruit, just what you wanted."

Kippy's gurgle turned bubbly, as if she'd accepted a mouthful of food and was blowing bubbles with it now.

She felt herself tremble deep inside.

Grow up, woman. He's your husband. He made love to you—spectacular, earth-shattering love. You 're going to be facing him for a lot of years—eighteen years, at least. So grow up and face him.

Clause eleven in the contract. Eighteen years, to bring Kippy through childhood. Eighteen years wouldn't be enough. She wanted more. She wanted forever.

Oh, no. She really couldn't....

Her fingers trembled as she dressed. Not jeans, because today was the day she and Cal would stand together in court and tell the judge they were a couple, a real couple, and exactly what Kippy needed, a real mother and father.

She'd thought it a lie, but it was the truth. Deep truth.

She put on the suit she'd worn the day Cal flew her to Nanaimo to rescue Kippy. How astounding that he should do that—leave Tremaine's in the midst of important changes and take hours, days, to make sure she got where she needed. To help her with Kippy, to care.

He'd wanted to be sure she didn't leave Tremaine's.

But it was more than that. Even then, he must have cared, loved her.

Pantyhose, bra, blouse, skirt. The jacket over it all. In the mirror, she looked like a child in grownup's clothes, the business suit's effect softened by the long, unruly hair streaming over her shoulders.

Better put her hair up. Didn't want the judge to think she was too immature to be a mother.

When she went downstairs, she would walk over to Cal and she'd kiss him. Then she'd tell him—there, in front of Kippy, with Cal's black eyes staring questions at her, she'd tell him.

I'm in love with you.

She caught her hair back and brushed its length to smoothness, then twisted it up in the familiar roll. She wondered if she could say the words. It would be easier in his arms, in the night.

No. She'd say it now, this morning. With daylight flooding in the windows and Kippy as her witness. She'd kiss him first, and that would help. Then she'd say the words.

She tucked a stray strand of hair into the bun, and she could see her nervousness in the mirror. All right, so she was nervous. She'd been nervous before, hadn't she? When she'd done her first solo consulting job for Mirimar, she'd been terrified she'd mess up. She'd survived that, hadn't she?

She'd be fine. Cal loved her, so it wasn't as if anything could really go wrong.

She dropped her arms, took a deep breath, and walked to the stairs.

Downstairs, Cal was sitting in front of the high chair, a spoon of baby cereal in one hand, a damp cloth in the other. She froze when she saw him. He was her husband.
Hers.
The thought dried her throat.

Kippy had spread cereal everywhere. Spatters on Cal's chin, his shirt, his hands.

"One more," he said, his voice rumbling with the vibration she remembered from last night, so gentle, so soft, his touch so achingly loving. "Come on, kiddo. Open up and take one more; then we'll quit."

He slid the spoon in Kippy's open mouth before he saw Samantha. She saw him freeze, and she told herself to smile, to walk to him, and take the spoon, then cover his mouth with hers, wish him good morning.

This morning was the real beginning of their life together. They'd exchanged civil vows last weekend, but today was the first time she understood that she and Cal were meant to be together, that this man was her only lover, partner, husband.

"Cal...." She shouldn't be frightened, didn't need to be frightened after last night. "You've got Kippy's breakfast all over you."

He drew the spoon out of Kippy's mouth. "Yeah, I do."

This was where she crossed the empty space between them and kissed him, but his eyes weren't inviting. They were cold.

"I can take her," she offered. "I'll clean her up."

"You're not dressed for it." His voice was cool, too.

"Cal, I need to talk to you."

He put the spoon in Kippy's bowl and placed both out of the baby's reach, wiped Kippy's hands and face with the cloth.

"About last night?" he asked.

"Sort of." She didn't know what was in his eyes.

"Gaa-gaa!" shouted Kippy and bashed both fists on the high chair tray.

Samantha needed to close the distance between them, to kiss Cal before she lost her nerve.

"Last night should never have happened," Cal said.

Kippy bashed the high chair tray again and Samantha reached for her, but Cal beat her to it, lifting the baby out of the high chair.

"Cal, what do you mean?"

Cal grabbed the cloth and gave another swipe over Kippy's face, where a new lump of cereal seemed to have emerged.

"I made a mistake, Sam."

"A mistake?" She didn't know what to do with her eyes, her arms. She folded them across her midriff. "What do you mean? What mistake?"

"I think that's obvious," he said grimly.

"What's obvious?" She sounded like a windup toy, repeating everything he said. Last night shouldn't have happened. A mistake. Obvious.

He shifted the baby to his shoulder and rubbed her back. Kippy squirmed.

"I should have left you sleeping in the living room." He jerked his head. "Can you step aside? I need to take her into the bathroom, to clean both of us up."

She stepped back, right into the log archway. When his eyes met hers, passing her, she saw nothing but ice. She didn't watch him go, but she heard water running in the bathroom.

"Why don't you go out and start your car," he called through the bathroom door. "Didn't you say those morning ferries sometimes have an overload? We don't want to waste any time."

She hugged herself tighter. "Yes, I'll do that."

He didn't answer.

She could shout
I love you
through the bathroom door, but if last night was a mistake, then she'd made a mistake too. She'd believed it was real. Two hearts, two souls.

He'd said he was in love with her. He
had.
But last night was a mistake.

"I'll pack Kippy's diaper bag!" she called.

He didn't answer.

She packed the diaper bag. Five diapers, more than enough. A rattle and the big plastic baby spoon she liked to chew on. A bottle of formula from the fridge. Fill up the little travel container of baby wipes. She heard Kippy babble through the bathroom door, but not a word from Cal.

Tonight they'd be in Seattle. They'd talk. Maybe, by then, she'd understand, or at least figure out how a woman handled this sort of situation. Right now, she'd better get the baby carrier and put it into her car.

She wouldn't cry. She
wouldn't.

At her car, she placed the diaper bag in the back seat and discovered a brand-new baby car seat fastened right where she'd be able to turn her head and check on Kippy if she was driving.

He must have bought it in Seattle. He'd taken the time to look after her and Kippy, despite what had to be a very hectic day at Tremaine's. And he'd come here, late last night. He'd wanted to see her, or he'd simply have slept over in Nanaimo.

She slid into the front and started the engine. She couldn't reach the pedals, and her mirrors were out of adjustment. Everything set for Cal's height and length.

Maybe he'd like to drive?

Maybe he would, but she needed the wheel between her hands, needed something to do. Kippy would be belted into her car seat, so Samantha couldn't shield behind the baby.

This wasn't right, feeling so awkward, so tense. She had to stop it, had to find a way to be natural with him, to get past the fear and the panic. He'd been abrupt this morning, and she'd reacted, giving it meaning it might not have. After all, he'd had to get up with Kippy, because she must have slept through the crying. Maybe he—

Last night was a mistake.

All right. If it was a mistake, she'd bury it, push it down where she'd never think of it and never remember. They'd signed a contract, and the clauses were clear enough. Business. For heaven's sake, she at least knew how to be businesslike.

She had the car running, mirrors and seat adjusted, herself behind the wheel, and the passenger door and rear door open for Cal and Kippy when they came out.

"I need your key to lock the house," he called from the porch.

"Dorothy never locks it!" she shouted back.

He put Kippy in the baby seat, slid into the passenger seat beside her.

"I think you should lock it. This is an island, but there's no guarantee every resident is honest."

She shook her head. She wasn't going to get out of the car and walk to the house, lock the door under Cal's orders. Not with him watching. Not when he said last night was a mistake. She pulled the shift lever into drive.

"Did you bring the developer's contract?" she asked.

"No. Tomorrow is soon enough."

She concentrated on her driving. When they got to the ferry, the lineup was almost to the overload point. Samantha parked, said, "Did you bring my baby pack?"

"No."

They were doing great, talking up a storm.

"The ferry won't load for a while," she said stiffly. "I'm taking Kippy for a walk."

She walked to the top of the hill, by which time her arms were aching with Kippy's weight. Kippy didn't want to be carried up against her shoulder, so she had to carry her propped in the cradle of her arms in front, and her arms ached.

"Samantha!" called someone from one of the cars.

She turned and saw an old school friend waving from one of the cars in the lineup. "Hi, Barbara."

She walked over to the car and Barbara got out to see Kippy. "Is she yours? I didn't know—"

"She's Sarah's."

"I didn't know Sarah had a baby—Oh, Samantha, I'm so sorry about the plane crash. I couldn't believe our Sarah—I sent you a card, but what can you say in a sympathy card. I didn't know what else to say, what would help."

"Thanks, Barbara. It was rough for Dorothy and me. Kippy helped."

"She's a doll. Do you have her, or does your grandmother?"

"Dorothy's had her here on Gabriola, but I'll be taking her now, to Seattle."

"Come in the car," invited Barbara. "The ferry's fifteen minutes late. What's new? We can talk, catch up on gossip."

Samantha got into Barbara's car and didn't return until she saw the cars unloading from the ferry when it came in.

"I'd better get back to my car," she said, lifting Kippy, who had been sitting propped between the two women, babbling at a plastic cup Barbara gave her to play with.

"You're married!" Barbara exclaimed. "I didn't see the ring! Why didn't you tell me? Who is he?"

"From Seattle." Samantha backed out of the car, Kippy in her arms. When she grasped the cup to give it back to Barbara, Kippy howled.

"Sorry about the fuss, Barbara. Here's your cup."

"She can keep it. We've got a dozen of those plastic mugs. When did you get married?"

"I'd better run. The ferry."

She hurried back along the lineup, Kippy hiccupping in her arms.

"Sorry, Kippers, but it's not our cup."

Kippy gave one last sob, then tried to launch herself out of Samantha's arms when she spotted the car.

Cal was inside, a computer open in his lap.

They spent the ferry journey with Cal clicking keys on his computer, Kippy dozing in the car seat, and Samantha sitting behind the wheel, staring through the front window.

What the devil had she done to get Cal so angry with her? It had taken her a while to recognize the signs, because Cal didn't usually fume. If he had something to say, he usually said it. If he thought she'd done something wrong, he didn't waste time on tact.

Last night was a mistake.

Why was it a mistake?

Dorothy and Adrienne were waiting for Samantha and Cal in the lawyer's waiting room.

"Dorothy, you look radiant!" Samantha hugged her, then stepped back to study her. "I was afraid the trip would tire you."

"Everybody's been treating me like an invalid," said Dorothy. "Stop it, now."

"Your doctor—"

"I'm getting a new doctor. Adrienne's friend gave me a name, a recommendation. And Dexter's drawing up new papers."

Kippy gurgled and Dorothy turned to lift the baby out of Cal's arms.

"I don't understand," said Samantha.

Adrienne said, "Your grandmother's fine."