"Two weeks." Her voice was faint and barely audible.
"Don’t you think you should give him a call sooner?"
"No." She refused to look at him.
Steve apparently found what he wanted. He sat on the edge of the mattress and slowly, methodically put on his shoes. "How often does this sort of thing happen?" he asked next.
"It doesn’t matter." Some of her energy returned, and she tested her strength by sitting up. "Listen, Steve, I appreciate your concern, but it just isn’t necessary. My baby and I are going to be just fine."
He didn’t look convinced. His brooding gaze revealed his thoughts, and when he looked at her, his expression softened perceptibly. It took a moment for his eyes to drop to her hand, which rested on her abdomen.
The change that came over him was a shock. His face tightened and his mouth thinned. A surge of anger shot through her. "You don’t want to claim our daughter, then it’s your loss."
"The baby isn’t mine."
The anguish in his voice was nearly Carol’s undoing. She bit her lower lip and shook her head with mounting despair. "I can’t believe you’re actually saying that. But you’ll never know, will you, Steve? All your life you’re going to be left wondering. If she has dark eyes like yours and dark hair, that will only complicate your doubts. No doubt the Kyle nose will make you all the more suspicious. Someday you’re going to have to face the fact that you’ve rejected your own child. If you can live with that, then so be it."
He twisted around and his fists were knotted into tight fists. "You were pregnant at Christmas and you’re trying to pawn this pregnancy off on me."
"That is the most insulting thing you’ve ever said to me."
He didn’t answer her for a long time. "You’ve insulted my intelligence. I may have loved you, but I’m not a blind fool."
"They don’t come any blinder."
"Explain the milk?"
"What?" Carol hadn’t a clue to what he was talking about.
"At Christmas, after we’d made love, we had a snack. Remember?"
Carol did.
"You poured yourself a glass of milk and I commented because you used to dislike it. We were married five years and the only time I can remember you having milk was with cold cereal. You could live your whole life without the stuff. All of a sudden you’re drinking it by the glassful."
With deliberate calm Carol rolled her gaze toward the ceiling. "Talk about flimsy excuses. You honestly mean to say you’re rejecting your own child because I drank a glass of milk an entire month before I was pregnant?"
"That isn’t everything. I saw your knitting Christmas Eve, although you tried to hide it from me. Later, I asked you about it and you claimed it was a baby blanket. It was the same piece you were working on at Christmas, wasn’t it?"
"Yes, but…"
"That blanket’s for your baby isn’t it, Carol? There never was any friend."
Frustration mounting in volcanic proportions, she yelled, "All right, it wasn’t for any friend – that’s what you want to hear."
"And then there were the sweet potatoes. Good God, you had six containers full of yams that night… pregnant women are said to experience silly cravings. And that’s what it was, wasn’t it – a craving?"
Standing, Carol felt the weight of defeat settle on her shoulders. No amount of arguing would change anything now. Steve had reasoned everything out in his own mind and found her answers lacking. There was no argument she could give him that would change what he’d already decided.
"Well?" he demanded. "Explain those things away, if you can."
She felt as if she were going to burst into helpless tears at any second. For six years she’d loved this man and given him the power to shatter her heart. "You’re the only man I know who can put two and two together and come up with five, Steve," she said wearily.
"For God’s sake, quit lying. Quit trying to make me doubt what’s right before my eyes. You wanted to trick me into believing that baby is mine, and by God, it almost worked."
If he didn’t leave soon, Carol was going to throw him out. "I think you should leave."
"Admit it!" he shouted.
Nothing less would satisfy him. She slapped her hands against her thighs and feigned a sorrowful sigh. "I guess you’re just too smart for me. I should have known better than to try to fool you."
Steve turned and marched to the front door, but stopped, his hand gripping the knob. "What’s he going to do about it?"
"Who?"
"Todd."
It took every dictate of Carol’s control not to scream that her former employer had nothing to do with her being pregnant. "I don’t have anything more to say to you."
"Is he going to divorce Joyce and marry you?"
With one hand cradled around her middle, Carol pointed to the door with the other.
"I have a right to know," Steve argued. "If he isn’t going to help you, something should be done."
"I don’t need anything – especially from you."
"As much as I’d like to walk away from you, I can’t. If you find yourself in trouble, call me. I’ll always be there for you."
"If you want to help me, then get out of my life. This baby is mine and mine alone." There was no anger in her words; her voice was low and controlled… and sad, unbelievably sad.
Steve hesitated and his lingering seemed to imply that something would change. Carol knew otherwise.
"Goodbye, Steve."
He paused, then whispered, "Goodbye."
The pain in his voice would haunt her all her days, she thought, as Steve turned and walked out of her life.
The loud pounding noise disrupted Steve’s restless slumber and he sat up and glared at the front door of his apartment.
"Who is it?" he shouted, and the sound of his own voice sent shooting pains through his temple. He moaned, tried to sit up and in the process nearly fell off the sofa.
"Steve, I know you’re in there. Open up."
Lindy. Damn, he should have known it would be his meddling sister. He wished to hell she would just leave him alone. He’d managed to put her off for the past week, avoiding talking to her, inventing excuses not to see her. Obviously that hadn’t been good enough because here she was!
"Go away," he said, his voice less loud this time. "I’m sick." That at least was the truth. His head felt like someone had used it for batting practice.
"I have my own key and I’ll use it unless you open this door right now."
Muttering under his breath, Steve weaved across the floor until he reached the door. The carpet seemed to pitch and roll like a ship tossed about in a storm. He unbolted the lock and stepped aside so Lindy could let herself in. He knew she was about to parade into his apartment like an angel of mercy prepared to save him from hell and damnation.
He was right.
Lindy came into the room with the flourish of a suffragette marching for equality of the sexes. She stopped in the middle of the room, hands placed righteously on her hips, and studied him as though viewing the lowest form of human life. Then slowly she began to shake her head with obvious disdain.
"You look like hell," she announced.
Steve almost expected bugles to follow her decree. "Thank you, Mother Theresa."
"Sit down before you fall down."
Steve did as she ordered simply because he didn’t have the energy to argue. "Would you mind not talking so loud?"
With one hand remaining on her hip, Lindy marched over to the window and pulled open the drapes.
Steve squinted under the force of the sunlight and shaded his eyes. "Was that really necessary?"
"Yes." She walked over to the coffee table and picked up an empty whiskey bottle, as though by touching it she was exposing herself to an incurable virus. With her nose pointed toward the ceiling, she walked into the kitchen and tossed it in the garbage. The bottle made a clanking sound as it hit against other bottles.
"How long do you intend to keep yourself holed up like this?" she demanded.
He shrugged. "As long as it takes."
"Steve, for heaven’s sake be reasonable."
"Why?"
She couldn’t seem to find an answer and that pleased him because he wasn’t up to arguing with her. He knew there was a reason to get up, get dressed and eat, but he hadn’t figured out what it was yet. He’d taken a week of leave in order to spend time with Carol. Now he would give anything to have to report to duty – anything to take his mind off his ex-wife.
His mouth felt like a sand dune had shifted there while he slept. He needed something cold and wet. With Lindy following him, he walked into the kitchen and got himself a beer.
To his utter amazement, his sister jerked it out of his hand and returned it to the refrigerator. "From the look of things, I’d say you’ve had enough to drink."
He was so stunned, he didn’t know what to say.
She pointed her index finger toward a kitchen chair, silently ordering him to sit. From the determined look she wore, Steve decided not to test her.
Before he could object, she had a pot of coffee brewing and was rummaging through the refrigerator looking for God knew what. Eggs, he realized when she brought out a carton.
She insisted he eat, which he did, but he didn’t like it. While he sat at the table like an obedient child, Lindy methodically started emptying his sink, which was piled faucet-high with dirty dishes.
"You don’t need to do that," he objected.
"Yes, I know."
"Then don’t… I can get by without any favors from you." Now that he had something in his stomach, he wasn’t about to be led around like a bull with a ring through his nose.
"You need something," she countered. "I’m just not sure what. I suspect it’s a swift kick in the seat of the pants."
"You and what army, little sister."
Lindy declined to answer. She poured herself a cup of coffee, replenished his and claimed the chair across the table from him. "Okay," she said, her shoulders rising with an elongated sigh. "What happened with Carol?"
At the mention of his former wife’s name, Steve’s stomach clenched in a painful knot. Just thinking about her carrying another man’s child produced such an inner agony that the oxygen constricted his lungs and he couldn’t breathe.
"Steve?"
"Nothing happened between us. Absolutely nothing."
"Don’t give me that. The last time we talked, you were as excited as a puppy about her being pregnant. You could hardly wait to see her. What’s happened since then?"
"I already told you – nothing!"
Lindy slumped forward and braced her hand against her forehead. "You’ve buried yourself in this apartment for an entire week and you honestly expect me to believe that?"
"I don’t care what you believe."
