The Marriage Wish (18 page)

She was crying against his coat, and Scott was helpless to stop her pain. He let her cry and gently rocked her and read the two gravestones over and over.

“You need to get out of this wind,” he whispered gently when her tears began to lessen. “Would you come with me? Peter and I will come back for your car.”

She nodded, not lifting her head.

Scott walked her back to his car, carefully tucked her into the passenger seat. He turned the heat in the car on full blast and took a few extra minutes to rub her frozen hands. Because she was flushed he lifted his hand to brush her forehead and found she was hot, running at least a hundred-and-one temperature. “Have you eaten today?” he asked gently, tipping her chin up so he could see her eyes.

She shook her head. Scott wasn’t surprised.

He called her brother from the car and told him Jennifer was going to be at his place. Jennifer, beside him, barely indicated that she heard the conversation. She rested her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.

Scott looked over at her as he drove. He was convinced she had lost at least ten pounds since that awful day when she had said a definite no to having children. She was giving up hope. Finding her at Colleen’s grave today didn’t surprise him, but it did worry him. She had no equilibrium about her when she thought about Colleen. She had adjusted to, even accepted Jerry’s death. She hadn’t done the same with Colleen. She hadn’t been able to let go of the trauma. But her comment at the cemetery was at least a clue why. She believed her actions had killed Colleen. Lord, what am I suppose to do? How do I best help her?

She was asleep when Scott pulled into the drive of his house. He didn’t wake her. He unlocked the house, propped the door open and gently carried Jennifer inside and laid her carefully down on the couch. He found an afghan his mother had made to cover her with and then he went to the kitchen to fix something she might be able to eat. She needed
to take something for the fever, but he would have to wake her to find out what she had taken, and Scott decided the sleep was more important.

He fixed potato soup and toasted bagels for their lunch, carried the food into the living room. “Jen.” He shook her shoulder gently. She came awake, groggy, confused. “I brought you some aspirin for the fever. Have you taken anything recently?” Scott asked.

Jennifer struggled to think, lifted the cover back with a hand that felt too heavy to move. “No. Not since early this morning.” Scott handed her the aspirins and she swallowed the pills. The lunch smelled so good, and her head, her eyes, hurt so badly.

Scott sat down beside her on the couch, gently brushed back her hair. “Do you want to try to eat?” he asked quietly.

Jennifer closed her eyes, relishing his touch, having missed him so much in the last several days. “In a minute,” she replied softly. She opened her eyes a short time later, looked at him with such sadness in her eyes. “Thank you for coming today. I told you not to come, but I was wrong. It was hard to be there alone.”

“I’ll always be there for you, Jen, please remember that. I’m not going away.” Scott could tell she wanted to argue the point, argue that he needed to go away, but the cold was too strong, and she didn’t have the strength left to fight. “Try some of the soup,” he said, helping her sit up. He sat beside her as she ate, finishing off his own bowl of soup in a fraction of the time it took Jennifer to eat a few bites. When she had eaten all she could, he turned her sidewise on the couch and pulled her to rest back against his chest, and he wrapped the afghan around her and simply held her. He wanted to talk, to ask questions and hear answers and work out a way to heal the pain, but it was not the right time, and there
would be a right time; he had to believe that. He held her and let the warmth of his arms help fight the chills that still occasionally rippled through her. “I’ve missed you,” he said gently.

“I’ve missed you, too.” Scott was incredibly pleased to hear those soft words. Jennifer fell asleep in his arms.

Scott was content to simply sit and hold her. When Quigley came looking for them, Scott quietly directed the puppy to come curl up in Jennifer’s lap. She woke enough to hug the puppy and drift back to sleep with him snuggled in her arms.

It was harder than last time to convince Jennifer to take a guest bedroom and get some real sleep. She had no intention of staying overnight, and Scott had no intention of letting her be home alone. He gave her the option of staying with Peter and Rachel, or staying with his sister, but he refused to consider letting her be home alone. With Peter backing him up, Scott was finally able to convince her to take a guest room for the night. He put her to bed with a drink on the nightstand beside her, aspirins she could take later that night and extra blankets to keep her from getting chilled.

Scott stood on the landing after finally saying good-night to his guest, and he had to smile. Jennifer was not a good patient.

She slept through breakfast the next morning. Scott was reading the paper around ten when Jennifer finally appeared in the kitchen. Scott wished he could say she looked better, but the fever had done a severe number on her appearance. He didn’t care. At least she was up and walking. “Good morning,” he said gently, getting up from the table to meet her.

“Is there coffee fixed?” she asked, her voice husky.

“Yes. I’ll get it. Take a seat, Jen.”

She sat down, weary beyond comprehension.

“How’s the fever?”

“Coming down,” she said, resting her chin in her hand. “I hate being sick.”

“No one enjoys it,” Scott replied, setting a cup of coffee and a slice from an apple danish in front of her. “Have you taken more aspirin?” She nodded, and he resumed his seat.

“You took another day off work for me.”

He smiled. “I’ve earned it,” he replied. “Jen, would you like to check out my library collection, find a book to read, or would you rather curl up and watch some television? I have several movies on tape,” Scott offered.

Jennifer smiled. “Your care is appreciated, but I need to get home.”

It was one of the few times he lost a debate with her. She wanted to go home, and he could not dissuade her.

It was hard for Scott to take her home and leave her there. They had to get married soon. He was tired of this.

“Jen, could I ask you a couple of questions?” Scott’s breath fluttered some strands of her hair as his voice broke the silence of the room.

They were on the couch in her living room, his arms around her. She was resting back against his chest, her head against his shoulder, a quilt covering her legs. His arms were wrapped firmly around her waist and his hands were comfortably folded atop the quilt with her hands linked under his. The pneumonia had taken her strength, and although her fever was gone, he had no intention of allowing her to move very far.

It was time.

“If I can,” she finally said. He heard the hesitation and offered a reassuring kiss across her forehead, and his arms
tightened gently. “I’ve been praying a lot about what has happened, and I just need to understand some things. You might not even know the answers, and that’s okay, because that would also help me understand.”

She nodded and he felt her take a deep breath. “What’re your questions?”

Lord, I could use some help here, Scott prayed.

“I want to know what you are afraid of, specifically. What is it that triggers the terror. Does the thought of being pregnant again make you feel afraid?” He kept his voice calm and steady, and he actually felt some of the stress in her body begin to lessen when he asked the question.

“No. The nausea is hard to handle, but being pregnant was okay.”

“Does the memory of giving birth make you afraid?”

He felt the flinch. Okay. That was one answer he needed to know. “What about the memory makes you afraid? The pain? The hospital setting? The doctors?”

Her hands fluttered under his. “It wasn’t supposed to be happening, it was too early, I knew I was losing my baby.”

Scott turned her hands over to interlace his fingers with hers. She feared another premature birth.

“What if you had a healthy baby like Mary Elizabeth. Does that make you feel afraid?”

He almost thought she had not heard the question she was silent for so long, and then he felt her nod. “She might stop breathing,” Jennifer whispered.

SIDS. That one had been obvious. That one should not have been asked.

“If she’s four, like Amy, does that make you feel afraid?” he asked, trying to pull that image of an infant from her mind.

Her hands eventually fluttered in his, signaling she didn’t know how to answer.

“What about nine like Greg, or twelve, like Tiffany?”

She smiled slightly. “They feel like sturdy kids. Like maybe the worst would be a broken arm.”

All right. He had his answers. Scott kissed her forehead and took a deep breath. “Just one last question. If the issue of children were not on the table, is a second marriage itself a problem? Does the idea of being married again make you afraid?”

“I won’t rob you of your desire to have a family.” It was a flat refusal and he was hurt, because it told him there was going to be quite a fight ahead.

“Does the idea of being married again make you feel afraid?” he asked again, determined to know that basic answer. He gave her time to think about it, and he felt the physical reaction in her body when she finally resolved the question in her mind. His eyes closed. He knew what was coming before she spoke, and it was the answer he had been afraid of the most. In all the pain about Colleen, she sometimes forgot the fact that unexpected death had also claimed Jerry. He had separated them intentionally, suspecting the truth. When she finally spoke, her words were barely a whisper, and they seemed to come as a shock to her. “Yes. The idea of being married again makes me feel terrified.”

J
ennifer tried to think through the stroke before she hit the cue ball, but her concentration was simply not there, and as the smooth wood slipped through her fingers and connected with the cue ball she shut her eyes and grimaced. She didn’t even have to look to know that her finesse of the eleven ball had instead just left Bob Volishburg an open, easy shot for the game. Her friend called the corner for the eight ball and won the third game with ease.

“You want to tell me what’s wrong?” he asked as he watched her pick up the triangle rack and place the balls inside.

I’m terrified of losing another husband so I’m going to walk away from a guy I love.
Her face tightened at the awful place she was in. “Not really.”

“Tell me, anyway,” Bob replied.

Jennifer shook her head and broke the balls apart with a
snap to start their fourth game. Bob had shown up about 10:00 p.m. and offered to play a couple of games. Before that she had simply been lining the balls up in a row and methodically nailing them into the pockets.

“Peter tells me you’ve been seeing a guy.”

“My brother talks too much.”

“Well, since I haven’t seen you here in three weeks, I’m going to guess it’s pretty serious.”

“It was,” Jennifer agreed.

“Ahh, was. Such an interesting word.”

Jennifer smiled grimly. “Not interested.”

“You expect me to tell you about Linda, you had better expect me to return the favor,” Bob replied. “Jerry wouldn’t mind you getting serious with a guy.”

“I don’t want to lose a husband again,” Jennifer said, crushing the ten ball with an explosive shot that sent both it and the cue ball into the side pocket.

Bob placed the penalty ball and considered where he wanted to place the cue ball. “I imagine it’s worse than losing a partner,” he replied.

Bob had lost two during his career, and Jennifer knew what it had cost him. “It’s bad,” she agreed. Goodness knows Bob had played her a lot of pool late at night when she was avoiding going home.

“If you’ve got courage, you’ll risk it again. You know what the worst is like.”

She was grateful he didn’t use the “it’s unlikely to happen again” argument. It was an irrelevant argument, and they both knew it. “I don’t have that kind of courage. I lost part of myself when I lost Jerry. If I let someone get inside again and I lose him, there won’t be much of me left.”

“The more rewarding parts of life are risky. You’ve never been one to play it safe. You don’t play it safe when you play
pool, you don’t play it safe in your writing. You certainly didn’t play it safe in how you loved Colleen. But you wouldn’t be who you are unless you did take those risks.”

“Sometimes you have to pause and count the costs. You did when you left drug enforcement for homicide,” Jennifer countered.

Bob shrugged. “I got tired of being shot at. Sure, it’s healthy to reconsider the risks you are taking occasionally. But cutting yourself off from risk completely would leave you with a boring life.” He smiled. “The last thing either of us can tolerate is boredom.”

Jennifer smiled and nailed a ball into the corner pocket. “Maybe I’m getting old, Bob, but it’s not as simple as it used to be. I don’t want to get hurt again.”

“And it’s not going to hurt if you walk away?” Bob asked, going to the heart of the matter.

They could adopt. An older child, because Jennifer was going to panic with a child under ten, but adoption was still an option.

Scott tried to weigh what he thought about the idea as he walked the beach with Quigley. He had no rose-colored glasses about the idea. He had met Kevin’s friends from foster care. Most of the kids were like Kevin. And while he honestly did like the boy, there was no hiding the fact the kid was troubled and a challenge. Any kid coming out of the system at that age was going to make Jennifer’s scars look like paper cuts. Jennifer dealt with her pain remarkably well. A child, without the coping skills of an adult, would be a tangle of anger and pain and nearly impossible to get close to. They would hear “I love you” and likely remember a dozen people in their lives who had said it and then abused or abandoned them. They were kids who desperately needed
love and someone to believe in them but who had been hurt so badly in the past they would reject the very thing they most needed to accept. They would likely be in trouble at school, with the law, make discipline and rules a constant battle while they processed the past pain.

She wouldn’t marry him if she thought it meant him sacrificing his dreams of a family. The bottom line was that simple. Either she accepted the idea of adoption, or he was going to lose her, Scott understood that. She was serious about not marrying him at the cost of his dream. But to succeed in convincing her to accept adoption, he was going to have to be fully at the point where
he
could accept it. He wasn’t going to be able to slide past the reality of what it would mean to adopt an older child and say lightly that it was okay. She would never buy that. He had to believe it was an acceptable solution before he could sell it to her. He couldn’t have a doubt left inside.

Could he accept Kevin as his son? Mixed-up, angry, pushing-the-limits Kevin? They would probably have a child very similar to him to deal with. Scott felt the part of him that weighed risks look at and accept the risk. Putting a kid like that back together and through college and out into the world making his own way would be a profound accomplishment. One that was worth the cost.

His biggest fear was over the strain that would put on the marriage. Could they get to the point where they had a strong enough marriage to absorb the stress a child in that shape would cause? It wouldn’t be easy dealing with anger and pain coming at them, not because they as parents deserved it but because something in the kid’s past was finally getting expressed and they happened to be handy to take the fallout.

Scott called Quigley back to his side and bent down to pick up the puppy.

Lord, what do you want me to do? Are you really setting me up to be adopting older children? Is that what you have planned? I don’t want to lose Jennifer. I don’t. And if this is the only option, get me to the point I can accept it. Please.

Jennifer’s fear of losing a husband was deep and going to be difficult to deal with, but Scott looked at that problem and knew it could be overcome. Adopting an older child; that was different. He had to get not only Jennifer to accept the idea, he had to first reach the point he could honestly accept the idea himself. At the moment, it still left his gut churning with doubt.

“Which ring are you looking at?” Heather asked as she gently rocked Mary Elizabeth back and forth in her arms. Her daughter was awake now and gurgling with delight as she wove her hands into Heather’s hair. She and Scott had been walking the mall pushing the infant in her stroller as she slept, shopping for Christmas presents. This was the third time Scott had maneuvered them past this jewelry store.

Scott pointed to the back of the display case. “That one with the center diamond and the offset emerald. The engagement ring has another diamond and an offset ruby. Think she might like it?”

“She’ll love it,” she replied, getting to the heart of the matter. Jennifer would probably protest the expense, but she would love the ring. She watched her brother sigh and rub the back of his neck. “What’s wrong?” Heather asked. Her brother rarely looked this troubled about life, and he’d had to work at showing an interest in Christmas shopping and that was not like him. He shrugged and didn’t answer. As it now seemed likely that he was not going to be buying the rings today, Heather gently tugged his arm. “Come on, let’s go eat lunch.”

They went to a sandwich and soup shop on the lower level of the mall, slid into a booth. Their sandwiches and soup arrived and Scott smiled at how active Mary Elizabeth was. “Hand her to me, Twig, while you eat your soup,” Scott offered, and his sister handed him the baby. “Hey, M, how you doing today? You like all these colors and lights, don’t you? Are you going to like to shop like your mom does?” The infant smiled and gurgled and threw her arms up at him, her legs pushing against his thighs. Scott laughed and kissed her cheek. He settled her against his shoulder and looked over at his sister. His eyes were grave.

“We’re not going to have children. She’s so afraid, Twiggy.” There were tears in his eyes that he didn’t let fall.

Her hand covered his. “I’m so sorry, Scott.”

He hesitated.
Twig, it hurts so bad.
“So am I,” he finally said. It was his pain to cope with.

“You can borrow Mary Elizabeth anytime you like. The kids love having you as their uncle,” she said, trying to help.

“Thanks, Twig. I’m going to do that.”

“After lunch, go buy the rings, Scott,” Heather told him, knowing that decision was the only one that was going to give him some peace.

“You really think she would like those rings?” he asked, fighting back the pain.

Heather couldn’t remember her brother ever being this uncertain. “Absolutely. Those rings are gorgeous,” she reassured him, smiling.

“I found a gold band that I like, too.”

“Come on in, Scott. Sorry I’m running late,” Jennifer called from the kitchen.

Scott pushed open the door and stepped inside, shaking the light dusting of snow from the coat he’d taken off and
carrying it into the kitchen with him. He dropped it over the back of a chair. The house was festive and colorful and Jennifer had Christmas music playing. “How did the cookies turn out?”

Jennifer smiled at him from the counter where she was boxing the iced cookies. “They turned out great. Tiffany, Tom and Alexander all approved.”

Scott came over and rested his hands against her back, leaned over to kiss her. Her peach sweater felt soft and warm against his hand, and he rubbed her back softly. “There’s no hurry. I told Mom we’d be by sometime this evening to drop the boxes off, but they aren’t due to the nursing home until tomorrow afternoon. I think the youth group managed to make twenty dozen total, I picked up the last of them on the way over.”

Jennifer paused in her work. “I’m glad your mom does this. I don’t bake cookies if it’s just for me. And there are only so many I can pass on to Peter and Rachel and the kids.”

“Which are the best? The Christmas trees, the reindeer or the candy canes?” Scott asked, studying the options.

“Try a candy cane. They break so easily when they’re packed.”

Scott picked up one and found the sugar cookie was delicious. “You haven’t eaten yet have you?” he asked, hoping she had been willing to wait.

“I had a late lunch. Where do you have in mind? I’ll need to change.”

“The jeans are fine. I thought we would go split a sample plate at Shaw’s,” he offered.

“Sounds wonderful.” She finished boxing the last cookies and added the box to the stack on the table. Her hands finally free, she came back to hug him. “How are you tonight?” she asked quietly.

He settled his hands around her waist and tucked her close. He liked the feel of her hands on his back. He kissed her leisurely. “I’m doing fine. I’ve missed you the past couple days,” he said, studying her brown eyes, which reminded him so much of a young doe. She had beautiful eyes.

She sighed and leaned her head against his chest, and he took the opportunity to gently rub her shoulders and the back of her neck. He could feel the tension in her body. “I’m so glad you’re around. I really don’t like Christmas, and that’s an awful feeling.”

He rubbed her back, long soothing strokes across her shoulders and spine down to her waist. “I know.” She had not been able to hide the sadness in her eyes, and he knew the memories were there and bothering her. “We’ll keep you too busy to think about it. We’re going to Rachel and Peter’s for Christmas Eve?”

“If you’re sure you want to. You ought to spend it with your own family.”

Her protest caused him to smile. “You’re going to be my family,” he replied lightly.

“Scott…”

He tipped her chin up and kissed her before she could protest any further. “We’ll go to my folks for lunch Christmas Day,” he said. He nodded toward the boxes on the table. “It’s cold outside. You’ll need your long coat,” he recommended.

She wanted the conversation to continue, he could see that, but after she looked at him she dropped her eyes and simply nodded. Scott squeezed her hands gently before he let her go. He was going to ask her tonight. He’d just made that decision.

Scott didn’t have to persuade Jennifer very hard to get her to slide over on the seat and sit beside him on the drive to his parents’. He entwined his hand with hers as it rested
on the seat. She was lost in thought, and Scott didn’t try to break it. It felt right, having her with him, and it was so different from that night a couple months before as he had driven alone to his parents’ for his birthday party. It was nice having her with him. His mom was home but not his dad, and Scott didn’t linger at their place. He and Jennifer carried the boxes she had packed and those from the youth group into the dining room, where his Mom had several other donations packed. Scott kissed his Mom at the door and could see the question in her eyes, and he just smiled. He never had been able to keep a secret from her, and she knew something was different tonight. “We’ll see you for lunch Christmas Day,” he told her, giving her a hug.

Jennifer thought the restaurant would be packed with holiday gatherings, but the parking lot at the seafood restaurant was only partially full. Scott got out and came around to open her door, offer his arm across the slick parking lot. They were seated at a back booth of the restaurant and Scott ordered a large sample plate and two diet colas for them. “Is your Christmas shopping done?” Scott asked her as they both selected a freshly baked bread stick from the basket the waitress had brought.

She grinned. “Rachel’s gift was the last one I needed, and I got that this morning. Did you find Heather’s gift?”

Scott smiled. “I bought her an orchid. One plant that is flowering and several bulbs that she can plant.”

“She’ll love it.”