was fifteen and didn’t know a thing about babies, but her mother gave her a list of instructions and told her it would be easy. Tammy was eleven months old and adorable and Mrs. Abbott had brought a playpen full of toys to occupy her. Elise fed her, changed her diaper and let her play while Elise lay on the floor reading. Engrossed in her novel she forgot about Tammy, then she heard her gagging. Elise jumped up to see what was wrong.
Tammy’s face was red and tears rolled from her eyes as she continued to gag. Elise picked her up and patted her back, but it didn’t work. Tammy turned blue and stopped breathing. Elise was horrified and didn’t know what to do. She shook the baby, turned her upside down, but nothing worked. Tammy was limp and unresponsive. Clearly there was something obstructing her breathing so Elise had no choice but to stick her finger down Tammy’s throat, trying to dislodge whatever it was. At first, she couldn’t feel a thing, so she rammed her finger farther into the baby’s windpipe and pulled out an object. Tammy coughed and started breathing, then wailing. Elise sat with her in a chair, both of them crying hard. That was the way her mother and the Abbotts had found them.
Mrs. Abbott was very angry and accused Elise of being irresponsible and negligent. Her mother had asked what Tammy had choked on and Elise opened her hand to reveal an eye from one of the large teddy bears in the playpen. The Abbotts whisked Tammy away to the emergency room and Elise’s mother told her to go to her room and to forget what had happened. Tammy had almost died because Elise hadn’t been watching her—there was no way she’d ever forget that.
Later, Mrs. Abbott had apologized and said she shouldn’t have sent the bear because she knew the eye was loose, but the damage had been done. Elise couldn’t stop thinking that she’d almost killed a baby. An innocent baby.
After that she avoided babies, her fear of them continuing through her teens, college and adult life. A lot of people gravitated toward babies, but Elise was just the opposite. Derek was the only person she’d ever told about her experience and her fear. For the first time someone made her understand it wasn’t her fault, and Derek had her actually planning the birth of their own baby. Then he died.
When she turned thirty-five, she began to have inner stir-rings—yearnings—and she found herself looking at babies, wondering what it would be like to be a mother. Derek had told her she would be a good mother and she believed him. She wouldn’t be scared of her own child; she would love it, care for it and protect it.
Her biological clock was ticking, the sound a silent alarm that kept reminding her time was running out. If she was going to have a baby, she’d have to do it, and soon. Somehow she reasoned that if she gave birth, she could forget that horrible day, finally put it behind her as Derek had told her. She would experience those nurturing, motherly feelings and prove she wasn’t a horrible person.
She got up and walked to the bedroom. How could she tell Jake that awful story? How she’d almost killed a child. He’d see her differently and she didn’t want to see the loathing in his eyes.
The little boy needed a mother. And he might be Jake’s son. Could she care for him? Be his mother? She honestly didn’t have an answer. All she could feel was the fear inside her, and before she could find an answer she’d have to tell Jake the truth. Derek had understood, but then Derek had loved her. Jake didn’t love her and it made this problem so difficult.
He’s just a little boy, though…. She swiftly closed that door. She wouldn’t open it. She couldn’t. Selfishly, painfully, she pushed those thoughts aside. Tomorrow would be brighter. It had to be.
THE NEXT COUPLE OF WEEKS were difficult. Jake worked himself to exhaustion. He talked to Elise several times to see how she was doing and she was always happy to hear his voice. Still, their conversations were stilted and the waiting was getting to both of them.
Elise went through her regular routine of teaching and attending meetings, but Jake was never far from her mind. She was surprised she missed him so much. She missed his presence at night and she missed his company in the mornings. He always brought her a cup of coffee to wake her up; she enjoyed that and enjoyed what followed even more. She became angry every time she thought of how that had been taken away from her without warning. But she had to learn to cope, to deal with the situation.
She had a dinner engagement with her family at the club and came up with several excuses, but they all seemed lame. Besides, she had to get on with her life.
The club was busy and Elise spotted Althea Wellman and her family eating at a table. She purposely avoided them because she didn’t want to be asked questions about Jake. She hurriedly slid into a seat at her mother’s table and forced a smile.
“You’re late,” Constance Graham said before Elise could speak. Constance’s hair was blond, as was Judith’s, but now her color came out of a bottle. In her sixties, Constance was regal and proper and expected the very best of her daughters. Being late wasn’t tolerated.
“The husband not with you?” Judith asked in her catty way. “I’m not surprised. He’s never with you.”
Stan, Judith’s husband, spoke up. “Leave Elise alone. For God’s sake, she just sat down.”
“Thanks, Stan,” Elise said pointedly. “And it’s nice to see everyone, too.”
Constance patted her hand. “How are you, darling?”
“Fine,” she replied, gritting her teeth. Her family had that effect on her.
“Stan’s ordered wine,” Constance informed her. “Oh, here it comes now.”
The waiter poured wine into a glass and Stan tasted it. “Great, just great,” he murmured, and the waiter filled the glasses around the table.
Elise took a sip of wine. She was going to need it to muddle through the evening. Why had she come? She just wanted to be by herself. She didn’t like the way she was thinking or feeling these days and she couldn’t seem to do anything about it.
“I’ve had a horrible day,” Judith was saying. “I’m not satisfied with Duncan’s school and I can’t get through to his teachers. It’s like talking to robots.”
“He’s at a very good private school,” Elise said. “Their academic record is excellent.”
“There’s nothing wrong with the school,” Stan put in.
Judith turned in her seat to confront her husband. “Our son is not excelling the way he should. He has to be pushed. You’re too lenient. Why can’t you understand that?”
Stan shoved back his chair. “I need something stronger.” He headed for the bar.
“Oh, he makes me so angry,” Judith said, tipping up her glass. “He lets Duncan get away with anything. I caught them watching sports the other night instead of doing homework. I won’t have it. I won’t.”
“Calm down, dear,” Constance said. “We’re in a public place.”
Judith drank more wine.
“Duncan is eight years old,” Elise had to say. “He’s bright and energetic. I’m sure he’ll excel in anything he chooses.”
“I don’t need your advice, Elise.”
Normally Elise wouldn’t say anything to her older sister because when Judith was in a bad mood, it was better to leave her alone. But tonight she was out of patience. “Then stop giving me advice.”
Judith’s head jerked up. “And do you ever take it? No. You just had to marry that McCain man. Lord only knows why. Look at his brothers over there. They’re educated and respected in their fields, but you chose the farmer in the family. What were you thinking?”
“It’s my business,” Elise shot back.
“Yes,” Judith settled back with a smug expression.
“The business of making a baby. But has it happened? No. I think you should cut your losses and get out while you can.”
Anger