At the back door, he tugged off his boots and headed into the house, straight to the bathroom, where he turned on the water and stripped, piling his clothes in the hamper. Just before he slipped into the shower, he took a last glance in the mirror, and while most people probably couldn't have told much from his face--he was pretty skilled at keeping his feelings hidden--he saw the haggardness of his expression, the toll the sleepless nights were taking--nights that only ended with nightmares worse than anything he could have imagined.
Gritting his teeth, he stepped into the shower, hoping it would give him what he needed to face another day, and once he felt the hot water sluicing down his body, he knew that while it might not hold any answers, it would help nonetheless, and he needed all the help he could get.
Robbie grabbed the soap and lathered his body, and even as he tried to keep his thoughts from settling on anything in particular, he found himself thinking of earlier today, when he carried his wife back to the house, his mind drifting back to the way the water glistened off her skin. One moment, he'd been diving beneath the water, frantically looking for Carrie because he thought she was drowning, and the next he'd been holding her so close he could feel the warmth of her body against his.
He shook his head and wondered if he should just turn on the cold water to help him drive his thoughts elsewhere, but there was nothing else for him besides Carrie, and no matter if the water were icy or not, it wouldn't keep him from thinking about Carrie. If years of knowing her and the many complications of their marriage hadn't done it yet, nothing would. Nothing.
Of course, those thoughts of Carrie quickly gave way to worries that probably had no basis, but Robbie knew he'd feel better after he'd made sure she was okay. That in mind, he quickly washed his hair and rinsed off. Once he'd dried himself, he wrapped the towel around his waist and padded through the house to get some clothes.
As he slipped into the bedroom, he spotted Carrie lying on the bed. Although she usually slept on her side, now, she was resting on her back with one hand over her head. Her eyes were closed, and the easy rise and fall of her chest suggested she had drifted to sleep already, which wasn't surprising. She'd been sleeping a lot lately.
Robbie watched her for a moment, liking the way the last of the sunlight burned through the window, setting her hair on fire with its light. She wore a light cotton gown that flowed around her body, emphasizing the rise of her stomach where the baby lay.
At the sight of her resting so calmly, Robbie felt his heart slowing down, helping to assuage all the fears he'd been fighting. He allowed himself to stare for a few moments, then slowly turned to don a pair of draw-string sleep pants.
While most of the time he found he couldn't sleep before the sun had set, today wasn't most of the time. All that time in the sun had left him much more tired than he would've thought possible. He crossed over to the bed, raked his fingers through his hair, and gently lowered himself upon the mattress, trying to move as slowly as possible so as not to wake Carrie.
Once down, he turned on his side so he could face his wife. Her profile was turned toward him, and even though the light was fading, it was enough so that he could see the dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Her lips were parted slightly.
Robbie braced one arm under his head and closed his eyes, feeling fatigue drag him toward unconsciousness. Normally, he would have fought sleep, but tonight, he surrendered peacefully as his hand slowly reached for Carrie's.
* * *
"Robbie?"
He felt someone shaking him, yet he couldn't pull himself away from the blackness. It was too deep--too thick. It refused to go, and with it, the hellish images remained--images of Carrie lying in her totaled car, blood oozing into the seat, draining her body of life.
No matter how hard Robbie tried to pull open the door and get her out, the metal refused to budge. She would be forever trapped in the car, her eyes open and staring sightlessly beyond him, the seatbelt still wrapped around her abdomen, cradling the baby inside. No one could save his child, not when Carrie had already passed away.
All Robbie could do was fall to his knees and weep.
"Robbie!"
The voice was louder, and it took him a bit to reorient himself so he knew where he was and who was speaking to him. Carrie--it was Carrie. So what he'd just experienced had been a nightmare. His wife was alive, thank God--his wife was alive.
"What? What is it?" He slowly sat up, his vision cloudy, and he rubbed his face only to discover the tears he hadn't even known were there.
"You were screaming." Her voice was softer, almost normal, and without thinking about the pressure that had been so thick between them, he reached out and took her into his arms, closing his eyes as he felt her body warm and solid next to his own.
"Is something wrong?" she asked, her voice trembling. At first, she didn't quite hold him back but rather just let him embrace her, but as his arms tightened around her, she slowly wrapped hers around him as well.
For a few seconds, he didn't answer. He reveled in the feel of her flesh against his, burying his head against her chest as he waited for the panic to subside. When would the nightmares end? They seemed to be getting worse, and he could still feel tears flowing down his face--but it wasn't just that. He was shaking like mad, probably because he'd just dreamed up his worst fear again. Lately, that's all he seemed to be doing.
Carrie must have sensed the turmoil stirring inside of him because she slowly drew back and studied his face. Although her expression had been one of concern before, seeing the tears only deepened the frown.
One of her trembling hands slowly rose, and she stretched out her index finger to touch the tears. "What's this?"
Unsettled by the sudden, overwhelming sense of vulnerability, he quickly took her hand and pulled it away. It was one thing to feel this way in the dead of night, when no one could see him, but it was another to feel that fear pressing down so hard upon him that he couldn't breathe and know his wife was watching his every move.
"It's nothing," he lied.
"It doesn't look like nothing." She studied her fingertip which was still wet.
He drew in a shaky breath. "It was a dream. I dreamed that you died in the wreck."
Even as he spoke, more tears pooled in his eyes and ran down his face before he could stop them. For a moment, he considered wiping them away, but he knew there was no point; she'd already seen them, and if there were one thing Robbie knew, it was that he was about as far from being all right as he could get. He'd barely been holding back the fear that was eating him alive, and he didn't have a clue how to keep going like this.
For a second or two, she said nothing. Seemingly, there was no real expression on her face--at least nothing he could read--but then, as he watched her, he saw the pain slowly cloud her features, matching his own dark expression, and even though her eyes had been clear and bright to start with, now, in the moonlight, they began to glitter with her own tears until they spilled down her face.
The sight of her crying overwhelmed him. "Don't. Please. Just don't." His hand reached up and stroked her cheek and she caught her hand in his.
"I can't help it. I feel your sadness." She pressed his hand against the side of her face and closed her eyes as though enjoying his caress.
Part of Robbie knew he should move slowly, that the last thing he needed was to push because he didn't want to alienate her, not now. Things had been so strained lately, but no matter what his head told him, his heart argued the opposite, telling him to move in as close as possible.
That was the voice he let speak to him as he leaned closer and brushed his lips across hers. She stiffened, and he felt himself pause as a fresh wave of fear gripped him. His lips froze on hers, waiting for the slightest urging that might help shore up all the weaknesses he felt surging through his marriage.
Please, he thought, please let her return to me. He waited, stilling lingering where he was, giving her a chance to make the next move, and his who
le body tensed with the apprehension of what that choice would bring.
It seemed forever before her mouth softened beneath his, and in that split second, he felt his world had begun to spin. Though slow and clumsy, the invitation was there nonetheless, and he didn't hesitate. Instead, he pressed closer, gently wrapping one arm around her and easing her back on the bed.
As he kissed her, he heard her breathing speed up. His own body matched it. More than once, he felt her sort of stiffen, and he thought she might pull away, but she didn't, not even when his fingers fumbled with the buttons on her nightgown, slowly unfastening them as clumsily as a schoolboy finding himself with a girl for the first time. Perhaps he could have said it was just that things had been so tense, but in truth he'd always felt like that schoolboy around Carrie, always felt clumsy and unworthy no matter what, yet she had still chosen him to love.
As his hand touched her breast, he heard her gasp, and the sound of it shot through him. He didn't know what he had expected to find when he saw her face, but the mixture of panic and pleasure wasn't it. It was almost as though she were afraid of the feelings surging through her.
Was it the baby, he wondered, his hand stilling.
"Are you all right?" he whispered.
Her eyes focused, settling on his face.
"I'm okay," she finally managed in a slow, uncontrolled whisper, the strangeness of that voice raw in the night.
"The baby?" His hand settled on her abdomen.
"The baby is fine." She sounded winded, but Robbie knew she was reacting to him. Still, he waited a moment, needing to be sure she wanted this moment between them as much as he did.
At first, he thought she might stop him. Her gaze lingered on his face, and her lips were slightly parted. She was about to say something but had suddenly lost the words. Then she slipped her hand to the base of his neck and pulled him to her so she could kiss him.
"I love you, Carrie," he whispered and waited. When she didn't immediately respond, he eased back slightly and looked at her. He didn't understand how she seemed to see every part of him at once, but she did, and then her lips slowly lifted into a smile.
"I love you, too."
Chapter Nine
Dawn was spilling into the room when the telephone rang, jolting Robbie awake. He thought he was just dreaming because the sound seemed so far away and no one ever called him this early, yet there was someone willing to shake him back into consciousness no matter how diligently he tried to ignore the responsibility.
On the third ring, he convinced himself he wasn't sleeping and cocked an eye open to glare at the offending telephone.
"Damn it to hell," Robbie muttered savagely, reaching for the phone. Before he could grab the receiver, his fingers fumbled across the nightstand, knocking the alarm clock to the floor before finally latching onto the phone.
"Hello?" he answered, trying to blink everything into focus, not that it was working.
"Good morning, Robbie," Beth's voice greeted him, yet despite the friendly tone there was something guarded to it which already suggested this call might not be a whole lot of fun.
"Beth. How are you?" He kept his voice low while glancing over at Carrie, relieved she was still sleeping. She'd turned away from him at some time during the night and propped her head up with both hands while curling her knees toward her body.
"I'm fine," she answered, her voice a little more hesitant. "I just wanted to talk to you about something."
"Now isn't really a good time," he said. He shook his head, sitting slowly upright. Although he hadn't heard Beth out, ten to one he knew exactly where this was going, and it wasn't going to be good.
"Look, Robbie, I'm worried about Carrie. I've been thinking about yesterday all night, and I just had to call you." The words tumbled out in a frantic rush. Perhaps she'd been afraid that if she didn't get them out they might never be spoken, and obviously she needed to say them, one way or another.
"I know you're worried," Robbie said, trying to keep his tone even. "I just think it's going to take some time for her to get over the accident."
"I know you're right," Beth agreed, plunging on in the way she always did when she felt right about something. "But I think this goes deeper than just the wreck. I really think something is different about her. I just can't seem to put my finger on what exactly it is."
Robbie found himself staring at his wife, taking solace in the steady rise and fall of her chest with each breath. He, too, knew deep in his heart something was different, but he didn't know how to deal with it, either, and there was no point in dwelling on something that made no sense--something he couldn't change no matter how desperately he wanted to.
"It's going to be okay, Beth, really. Look, I've got to go. I'm right in the middle of something."
"Oh," Beth said, her voice sort of falling off. "All right, then."
By the time Robbie had hung up the phone, he felt his shoulders tightening. Closing his eyes, he tried not to think about how everyone, including himself, had noticed the differences in his wife. He gritted his teeth, still wanting to believe that given time things would go back to the way they had been. He had to believe that or there was no hope of anything.
He slowly opened his eyes and looked over at Carrie, and even as she slept, a slight smile crept to her lips, transforming her expression completely. That was the Carrie he knew, the woman he loved more than life itself, and he had no doubt that if it came down to it, he would give his life to protect her. He just wished he could protect her from all the changes he didn't understand.
Her eyelashes fluttered and slowly parted. For a moment, she stared at him vacantly. She seemed not to recognize him, and the smile melted away, and in that void of emotions he found himself floundering, losing what hope he'd held only a moment before.
Still, he took a deep breath and forced himself to smile, trying hard to hold onto the memory of making love to her last night. "Good morning," he said, lying back on the bed as he angled his body closer to her.
"Morning." Her voice was soft, and he thought she might move away, but she didn't. How could things have been so warm yesterday and feel this distant today. Or had it all been in his head?
"Are you all right?" Carrie asked, trying to ease her bulky frame to a sitting position.
"I'm okay," he said. "Just stay there. You don't have to get up just yet." He edged even closer so their faces were only inches apart.
She didn't say anything, just stared at him, trying to read his mood without being able to figure out what he was thinking. Once upon a time, Carrie had known him better than he had himself, but now she seemed to struggle with his emotions, and he with hers.
Still, once their gazes locked, he found himself lost in her, and he didn't want to think--didn't want to remember all the things he couldn't explain. This was his wife, and this moment was all that mattered. He leaned closer, one hand stroking her hair, brushing it from her face. Her lips parted, waiting, drawing him to her until they kissed.
This was his Carrie; it had had to be. His heart couldn't be wrong about that. It just couldn't.
Carrie suddenly gasped, and her head pulled back slightly, widening the distance between them.
"What is it?" he asked, his eyes shooting open. "What's wrong?" He watched her expression transform from one of surrender to a sort of panic, and the sudden shift forced him to sit upright as he looked her over, starting at her face and ending at her belly where Carrie's hand rested, palm flat against her abdomen, fingers splayed.
"The baby."
"What about him?"
She gingerly reached for his hand. Even as she touched him, he stiffened, not because she had touched him but because he was afraid of finding out something that would change things again, change them in a way he couldn't handle.
She must have felt him resisting because she tugged harder, dragging his palm to her belly, where her hand had just rested.
"What is it?"
"This." She rested both her hands on
his and closed her eyes, waiting.
Robbie frowned and watched his wife, the breath catching in his throat. She was so beautiful, even though her hair hadn't been brushed, and dark shadows had collected themselves beneath her eyes, hinting that no matter how much rest she'd had been getting, it had been far from enough.
One moment, he stared at his wife, and the next, he felt the baby kicking beneath his palm, the feel of it stuttering through him. The repetitive motions felt almost like a heartbeat--a tiny, slow heartbeat, and he closed his eyes. In that instant, he knew he'd never been more thankful for anything, just this moment with Carrie and the baby. What more could there be than this?
His breath caught, and for once he stared ahead, not thinking, just feeling. His whole world was tied up in all that lay before him, and even though he tried just to breathe, he felt a fresh flood of pain and fear wash through him. He'd come so close to losing them both--so close.
"Robbie?"
He forced himself to open his eyes and slowly move his gaze to meet hers. In that instant, his whole body started trembling, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to stop shaking. It wouldn't stop, and he felt afraid and raw. All the pretending in the world wasn't going to hide what he had come so close to losing.
One of her hands lifted and caressed his face--gently, lovingly. "It's okay," she whispered.
"Then why I can't I feel it?" he finally asked, his voice thick. "I can't seem to shake how close I came to losing you."
"Shhh," she whispered, leaning closer.
As he kissed her, he heard her tummy rumble with hunger. At the sound, both of them jumped and looked down. He burst into laughter as the growling started anew, this time louder.
Carrie watched his face and then her mouth slowly twisted into a grin before she broke into a wave of her own laughter, and Robbie was mesmerized by the way her joy seemed to light up her entire expression. It was as though the ceiling had parted and sunlight had suddenly flooded the room.