Fletcher's Baby Page 14

  She swallowed and nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  For her, he supposed, it would be a relief. She’d get her body back. For him—hell, he was going to be a father! Not at some indeterminate future time. But soon. Imminently.

  In a matter of hours!

  “Right.” He got up to pull on his jeans. He fumbled, stumbled, almost fell on top of her. His hands shook “I’m not prepared,” he muttered. “Weren’t we supposed to take breathing classes or something?”

  “I did,” Josie told him. “Before you got here.”

  Sam got his jeans zipped. “Good. Then one of us knows what she’s doing. You can coach me.”

  Josie smiled.

  He didn’t realize how badly he needed to see her smile until that moment. He didn’t realize how much he loved her until that moment.

  Loved her?

  Did he?

  God help him, yes, he did.

  It wasn’t the bolt from the blue sort of love he’d once imagined he would feel. It wasn’t the spontaneous yes he’d felt when he’d fallen for Izzy. But it was deeper than either, stronger than both.

  It was a love born not of the moment, but of a hundred—a thousand—tiny moments. He remembered them all—Josie as a teenager, fresh-faced and eager, quiet and watchful. Josie as a young woman, sweet and helpful. Josie swimming. Josie cleaning. Josie reading. Josie laughing. Josie touching.

  Josie loving.

  Loving him.

  He wished to God he could remember more of that. He wanted desperately to remember it, wanted to know it, to feel it again. And again and again.

  He saw her wince now and press a hand against her back. He dragged his mind out of the clouds and back to his wife, sitting on the bed before him. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to say, I love you.

  He was afraid.

  He was afraid she wouldn’t want to hear it. It wasn’t what he’d promised her when he’d married her. It was never a part of their bargain.

  So he kept his mouth shut and held out his hand. “Come on. Let’s go get this baby born.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  You could always depend on Sam.

  Josie knew that. She wasn’t disappointed now.

  All those stories about men falling apart when their wives went into labor were just so much nonsense when it came to Sam. He was so calm, so organized. So responsible. Just as she knew he would be.

  He tried to pretend he was nervous. He even made her smile about her coaching him. But then, of course, he took charge.

  He packed her bag. He called Benjamin and Cletus and made sure they would cover for breakfast in the morning. He woke Izzy and Finn, not even bothering to be circumspect about going up and banging on their door.

  Moments later, Izzy, looking rumpled and well-loved, came down to see if there was anything she could do.

  Josie glanced at Sam to see if he noticed the flush on Izzy’s cheeks, but he barely looked at her. He just said, “Take care of things,” and bustled Josie out the door.

  Mr. Tact.

  Well, maybe not. He didn’t win any points for tactfulness at the hospital.

  While they took Josie up to the obstetrics floor Sam did the paperwork in Admitting. By the time he got to the OB floor, she was in the birthing suite, and a nurse standing by the door barred his way in.

  “You haven’t attended prenatal classes,” she told him. “They’re a prerequisite.”

  “What my wife wants is the only prerequisite that matters,” Sam replied bluntly. He looked past the nurse at Josie. “Do you want me?”

  She knew he didn’t mean it the way it sounded, the way she wanted him to. She knew he was only talking about the moment. She nodded. “I do.”

  It felt like taking a vow all over again.

  He looked almost startled at her words. Then he nodded, too.

  “Out of my way,” he said to the nurse, and, if she hadn’t moved, Josie was sure he’d have knocked her down.

  Having a baby was a normal, natural event. Intellectually Sam knew that.

  He knew that Josie was going through what millions of other women had gone through before her. He knew she was strong and healthy and that the sweat that broke out on her face and the strain he could see in every muscle of her body weren’t anything to worry about.

  He worried anyway. He couldn’t help it.

  And he couldn’t help thinking it was all his fault.

  If he hadn’t—If he’d thought—

  He bathed her face with a cool cloth. He rubbed her back and kneaded her shoulders. He tried to breath slow and deep to pace her, the way she told him the doctor had said she ought to do. It was the least he could do.

  He wanted to say, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

  Whoever said women were the weaker sex had never seen one go through childbirth. He marveled at her patience. He marveled at her strength. Once more he wondered how tolerant he would be of giving control to a force outside his own will the way Josie was. Of course she had no choice.

  But the grace with which she gave herself to the process inspired a respect in him that only heightened the love he felt.

  She was stronger than he was. Braver than he was. He told himself he would have spared her if he could.

  Yet at the same time he wondered if that was entirely true.

  If he could have spared her this, he wouldn’t be sharing it with her. He wouldn’t be marveling at her, learning the depth of his love for her.

  He wouldn’t know the satisfaction of having her look at him for support when the doctor said, “All right. Let’s get this baby born.”

  He wouldn’t feel her death grip on his hands when the doctor told her to push.

  He wouldn’t hear her exclaim, “Look! Oh, look. Isn’t he beautiful?” when their son came, red and squalling, into the world.

  “Isn’t he?” she demanded again in a tear-choked voice when he didn’t answer at once.

  Sam looked from the child to the woman who had borne him, tears mingling with perspiration on her face. He felt a tear or two of his own brim up. He didn’t bother to blink them away. “Beautiful,” he said huskily.

  Not just the child. You.

  Josie told herself it was worth it. It was nothing but the truth.

  She wouldn’t have missed it for anything—having this baby—this wonderful child named James Samuel Nolan Fletcher, but whom they called Jake. He was a good baby.

  “The best,” his father had said firmly.

  But then, Sam would think that. He was already a doting dad.

  He’d been a wonderful husband, too, all during the delivery. He’d been right there for her the whole time.

  It was only afterward that he disappeared.

  Josie had dozed off not long after the baby had slept, and when she awakened Sam was gone. She looked around the room for him, but he wasn’t there.

  The joy she’d felt, the euphoria that came with giving birth, evaporated. She felt lonely, abandoned, bereft.

  Sam was gone. Just like that. It seemed like an omen, somehow, a portent for the rest of her life.

  He’d come, he’d helped, he’d left.

  She looked around the room again. There wasn’t a sign of Sam’s presence. Not a hint that he’d ever been in her life.

  Except for Jake.

  That was the way it would be soon enough, Josie knew. The adrenaline of childbirth was gone, too, now. Reality set in.

  And the reality was this: Sam had married her to give his child a name; he had stayed around during her pregnancy to offer her his strength, his responsibility, his moral support; he had promised her the inn; he had guaranteed her financial security.

  But then he would leave.

  She’d always known he would leave.

  They’d agreed on it. And then there would be just she and Jake.

  So get used to it, she told herself, blinking back sudden tears. Get used to it. She sniffled and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. Be grateful for what you have.

  She would. S
he swore she would.

  But, God, did reality have to start so soon?

  Had she been terribly foolish these past few weeks, letting Sam so far into her life—into her bed? Would it be worse now? she wondered. Was having had a taste of paradise worse than never knowing it at all?

  They brought Jake home when he was two days old, arriving in the middle of a photo shoot on the front lawn. When they drove up, Josie saw baffles and lights and electrical cords, cameras and clothes, models and technicians and red-headed twins everywhere.

  “I’ll get rid of them,” Sam offered.

  “No. They’re no problem.” They’d be a distraction, and maybe a responsibility. And if Sam dealt with them summarily, it would be that much sooner that he’d be gone.

  “But—”

  “No!” she said sharply. “We can’t throw them out,” she added in a more conciliatory tone. “It wouldn’t be good for the inn.”

  And that was something else she had to think about. Even if he agreed to keep her financially secure, it wouldn’t be enough. She needed the inn to care about, to think about, to plan for.

  She would need it more than ever after he was gone.

  At her words, though, Sam gave her a hard look. Before he could say anything, however, Izzy and the girls came running up to see Jake.

  They oohed and aahed and fussed over the baby and Josie, and all the while they did Sam kept moving Josie until he got her as far as the porch where she sat on the swing with the baby in her arms.

  Izzy perched on the railing with a twin on either side of her. Three of the women models and the make-up artist came over and fussed over the baby, too. Even Finn and a couple of the men seemed to feel obliged to saunter over and give a thumbs-up. Josie was glad to have them all.

  Sam gritted his teeth, looking as if he wanted to throw them out. But he didn’t suggest getting rid of them again. Still, he did propose that she go into the library to rest.

  “No,” Josie said.

  She didn’t want to rest. She didn’t want to be alone.

  She knew what she would do if she were: think about the future she would spend alone. There would be time enough for that. She would have years to contemplate the barrenness of her life without Sam.

  She turned away from him, grateful that Finn asked her something just then that she could answer. He stepped back and snapped her picture.

  “Oh, heavens,” Josie said, putting a hand over her face. “Not me! Not now.”

  “Don’t worry,” Finn said easily, still shooting. “I won’t be putting them in any national magazines. It’s just that I’m beginning to notice how motherhood makes beauties of you all.” He turned then and shot a quick frame of Izzy, who blushed.

  “Is that an announcement?”

  Still red, Izzy nodded, and Finn looked at his wife with a love so tender it made Josie want to cry.

  Please God, why couldn’t Sam feel that way about her?

  He was standing right next to the swing. If she turned her gaze slightly she could see his khaki pants-leg, see the impatient tap of his foot.

  She could feel him staring down at her.

  She couldn’t return his gaze.

  Somewhere along the line, he’d lost her.

  Or maybe the truth was, Sam reflected as he stood on the bluff overlooking the city and didn’t see it at all, he’d never really had her in the first place.

  She had only married him because he’d made her pregnant. Not because she loved him. She’d married him because it was the right thing to do. Not because she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.

  She’d married him because he’d demanded it. That was all.

  So why should he be surprised when she shut him out? Why should he feel hurt when she withdrew and her expression became shuttered?

  He’d sensed that withdrawal almost at once—when he’d come back into her room at the hospital after having gone down to the gift shop to buy her some flowers.

  When he’d come back, he’d expected to find her still sleeping.

  She’d been awake. She’d even smiled at him. But then she’d looked away. Even as she took the bouquet of daisies and baby’s breath with a watery smile she’d barely looked at him.

  She acted as if she didn’t care if he lived or died.

  The truth was, she really didn’t care. To Josie he didn’t matter. Not now.

  Not any longer. He’d served his purpose. He’d given her his support through the rest of her pregnancy and delivery. He would continue to give her his financial backing and their child his name.

  But she didn’t need him anymore.

  Maybe she never had.

  Maybe he’d only wished—

  He shoved the thought away. But he couldn’t shove another thought away: that soon he would have to leave and let her get on with her life. He knew that. He’d promised her.

  And he’d do it. He would.

  But not right away.

  He couldn’t leave right away. She was still recovering. She could still use him for a while yet. A few days.

  Weeks? He could hope.

  The thought made him breathe a little easier.

  She could feel him drawing away from her. Minute by minute. Hour by hour. Day by day. She expected she would look up and see him checking his watch sometime, so desperate did he seem to be on his way.

  He didn’t want to sleep with her anymore. It seemed to go unspoken that now she’d brought Jake home from the hospital and moved out of the library up to her own quarters, her interlude in bed with Sam was over.

  That first night he came and stood in the doorway and watched her settle Jake for the night. But when she went to get back into bed, he didn’t follow her into the room. Instead he stayed where he was. He looked at the baby, then at the floor, and finally—at last—at her.

  “You all right?” he asked.

  What was she supposed to say? No?

  Did he expect she would beg him to stay with her? Hardly. And he wouldn’t want her to.

  She nodded. “I’m fine.”

  “Then I’ll let you get some sleep.” And he tucked his hands in his pockets, turned and went away.

  She didn’t sleep all night. She dozed. She tossed and turned. At the merest of Jake’s whimpers, she was out of bed and picking him up, needing to cuddle him close, to nurse him and rock him. Because he needed to be fed, she told herself. Because he needed her.

  But she knew she needed Jake’s warmth as much as he needed hers.

  She looked down at him, sucking eagerly, his dark eyes unfocused, and she knew—-just knew—they’d look at her someday the way his father did. “Oh, Jake,” she whispered. “What am I going to do?”

  He gummed her and then yawned and slept. And finally Josie, too, dozed, still in the rocking chair, still holding him in her arms.

  A knock on the door woke her. She blinked and straightened. It was light, but still early. The baby muttered in his sleep.

  “Shh,” she whispered to him. Then, “Who is it?”

  The door opened. Sam stood in the doorway, looking as if he hadn’t slept anymore than she had. “I thought maybe I’d give you a break. Did you sleep all right?”

  “Fine,” Josie lied.

  She watched warily as he came across the room toward them. She wanted to reach out to him and take his hand. She wanted to say, I missed you last night. I wish you’d been here holding me. She dropped her gaze and kept on rocking.

  Sam stopped next to her chair. “I didn’t hear him cry.”

  “I picked him right up.”

  “Then you couldn’t have been sleeping.”

  She looked up to see his gaze challenging hers. She shrugged. “I’m attuned to him, I guess.”

  “I guess.” He hesitated. “Give him here. I’ll put him back to bed for you.”

  Sam scooped the baby into his arms and cradled him awkwardly against his chest. Jake stirred and frowned. Sam looked at him warily. But when Jake’s frown turned to a whimper, and Josie half
expected he’d hand the baby back, instead Sam rearranged him, murmuring, “Shh,” and pressing Jake against his shoulder while he rubbed a big hand rhythmically against the baby’s back.

  Josie remembered that hand on her back.

  She shoved herself abruptly out of the chair. “Since you’re going to take care of him, I’ll just go take a shower.”

  The shower, though, did nothing to erase the memory. Nor did it assuage the need. She stayed under the water a long time, and when she came out, she felt just as distressed as when she went in.

  More so, in fact, because when she looked in the cradle beside her bed, Jake wasn’t there. She rushed into the hallway, practically knocking over Izzy.

  “Whoa, there,” Izzy said with a grin. “Where’s the fire?”

  “I can’t find Jake. Sam was just going to put him down and—”

  “Sam’s got him.”

  “But he was sleeping.”

  “He still is.” She took Josie’s hand. “Come with me.” Izzy led Josie downstairs to the parlor.

  There, on the settee, was Sam, stretched out on his back, sound asleep. Jake was sleeping on his chest, his thumb in his mouth, his tiny bottom in the air.

  Josie swallowed against the lump in her throat. She couldn’t say a word.

  “I always knew Sam would make a great dad,” Izzy said. “That’s one of the reasons I wanted to marry him.”

  “Why didn’t you?” Josie barely whispered the words.

  Izzy smiled. “Because what we had doesn’t hold a candle to what I’ve got with Finn. Nor to what Sam has with you.”

  Josie opened her mouth to protest, but couldn’t.

  How could she explain why she and Sam were married to the woman whose wedding had caused it?

  She smiled because Izzy seemed to be expecting it. But as she looked at her husband and her son all she could do was wish to God it were true.

  How long could he kid himself? Sam wondered. How long could he pretend she needed him to hang around?