Jordan found it almost painful to watch Doug and Mary with their sons. This was what it would’ve been like for him and Molly had Jeffrey lived, he mused. He could picture his son as a teenager, interrupting Molly’s scolding with a peck on the cheek and a promise to be home before ten. He could see himself handing his son the car keys so he could study for a test with a girl named Angela.
After dinner, Doug and Jordan had coffee in front of the fireplace. “I’m worried about Molly,” Jordan admitted. “We haven’t been on the best of terms lately.” He hesitated, then added, “Mostly that’s my fault. I’ve had a hard time with this pregnancy.”
“It’s difficult, I know.”
Jordan was sure Doug had plenty of experience with couples who’d lost infants to SIDS, but only someone who’d lived through this agony could fully appreciate it.
From what Molly had told him, Doug was closely monitoring her pregnancy. He was pleased that his friend had taken special care with her, although he knew Doug would have done so with any patient who’d lost a child.
“I remember how I felt when we learned Mary was pregnant after we lost Joy.”
Jordan’s head snapped up. “Joy?”
“We lost a daughter to SIDS nearly twenty-three years ago. I thought you knew.”
Jordan shook his head. Perhaps he did remember Doug and Mary saying something to him at Jeffrey’s funeral, but he’d been in so much confusion and pain it hadn’t registered.
“She was only three months old,” Doug said. “It nearly destroyed Mary. Trust me, Jordan, I’ve walked in your shoes. In some ways I’ve been in Molly’s, too. Because we’re both in the medical profession, I know the torment of doubts she suffered. I felt there must’ve been something I should have done, should have known. All those years in medical school, and I couldn’t save my own child.”
“How long did it take to get over it?”
Doug sipped his coffee. “I can’t really answer that—not in terms of months or years, at any rate. We both got on with our lives, but we waited nearly five years before we decided to have Judd. In many ways it took me longer to come to terms with Joy’s death than it did Mary.”
“Molly seems to have dealt with it better than me.” This was the first time Jordan had openly discussed Jeffrey with anyone other than his wife.
“I think it takes a man longer to process grief,” Doug said. “We aren’t as likely to express our emotions. I envied Mary her ability to cry.”
“How did you feel when you learned Mary was pregnant with Judd?” Jordan leaned forward in his chair, anxious to hear the answer.
“Terrified. I’m not going to tell you it was easy for either one of us, but it was time to move forward and we both knew it. Molly’s going to do just fine with this child, and so are you.”
Jordan wished he was as confident as his friend.
“By the way,” Doug said casually, “we’ve done two ultrasounds of the baby. Molly’s been adamant about not wanting me to let her know the baby’s sex, but if you’re curious I’ll tell you.”
Jordan felt the weight of indecision; he couldn’t help wanting to know, but at the same time he wasn’t sure. “All right,” he found himself agreeing, “tell me.”
“You’re going to have a little girl.”
A daughter.
For some reason, certainly not one he could explain or understand, Jordan had assumed their baby was a boy. Molly had always referred to their baby as “him,” and he’d believed she’d said so knowingly.
“Congratulations,” Doug said, sending him a wide grin.
“Thanks,” Jordan mumbled. His hand was shaking as he set down the coffee mug.
A daughter.
One who resembled Molly, with bright blue eyes and pretty blond hair… He felt a powerful surge of emotion at the thought.
“Have you decided on names yet?” Mary asked, joining them.
Jordan looked at his friend’s wife. “No,” he whispered.
He stood and set the coffee aside.
“A daughter,” he repeated. He kissed Mary on the cheek, shook hands with Doug and let himself out the front door.
Jordan walked out to his truck, still in a daze. He’d just made one of the most profound discoveries of his life.
He wanted this child.
He felt like the biggest fool who’d ever walked the face of the earth. He’d behaved like a jerk for months. It was a miracle Molly had put up with his stupidity this long. He didn’t deserve her, but he vowed he’d find a way to make it up to her.
Jordan resisted the urge to drive directly over to Molly’s apartment. He’d give her time to recover from the flu, and then they could sit down and talk about this.
When he walked into the house, he saw that he had a voice mail message. Praying that Molly had finally returned his calls, he listened to it immediately.
“Jordan, this is Michael Rife. Your office gave me your home number. I hope you don’t mind me calling you there, but this is important.
“It’s after six now, and I’ll be leaving soon. I got a call from Molly. She asked me to petition the court for a date so the final divorce papers could be filed.
“I thought you’d decided to wait until after the baby was born. I’m confused, but Molly was adamant that she wanted to go through with the divorce. Give me a call first thing in the morning. Thanks.”
Twelve
Molly had endured a full week of the worst flu she’d ever had. The only time she’d been out of the house in five days was to see Dr. Anderson, who’d offered her sympathy and advice.
The flu wasn’t the only thing affecting Molly’s spirits. She’d cried frequently since her last confrontation with Jordan. Her frustration with him was stronger and more debilitating than any virus. Every time she thought about him, she suffered an emotional relapse.
Their marriage was over.
The time had come for Molly to stop kidding herself. For days she’d lain on the sofa and stared into space, reliving the past six months with its tumultuous ups and downs.
She’d almost believed it was possible for them. She now recognized that it wasn’t, and the bitter disappointment was difficult to swallow. She knew they’d both wanted to salvage their relationship.
She’d forced herself to call Michael Rife, although she’d barely been able to speak. Her voice trembled when she told him the reason for her call. Several times she’d had to stop and compose herself before continuing.
Michael had tried to persuade her to wait, but she’d insisted. She wanted the divorce over with before she had the baby. That was important to her. Jordan had repeatedly told her he intended to distance himself emotionally from their baby. It would be better, she decided, to completely isolate their child from Jordan. She’d seen no evidence that his attitude would change. The baby deserved better. For that matter, so did she.
Having made the phone call, she was left to face the doubts and regrets. She refused to cry, though; she’d shed all the tears she cared to in the past few months.
Now was the time to heal. The time to rejoice in the birth of her son or daughter. The time to pick up the pieces of her life and move forward.
The phone rang and she tensed. Over the past week Jordan had called repeatedly, but she wasn’t emotionally or physically ready for another confrontation with him. Voice mail had collected his messages. As they accumulated, she heard his anger and frustration, followed by his insistence that she return his calls. Then he’d stopped phoning.
Molly got up to check call display and saw that it was Michael Rife, the attorney.
She listened to what he’d said. “Molly, I wasn’t able to get hold of Jordan, but I left him a message. I’ll get back to you as soon as I’ve talked to him. I don’t expect that to take long. If you have any questions, give me a call here at the office. And, Molly—” he paused “—if you want to change your mind, all you need to do is say so. I’ll wait for your instructions.”
So, according to Michael, Jordan kn
ew that she intended to go through with the divorce. Or he would shortly. She wondered how he’d react.…
Molly spent the night on her sofa. The effort of making her way down the hall to her bedroom was more than she could muster.
She woke around six and felt wretched, but she wasn’t sure if her condition was physical or emotional. Probably both.
She showered, washed her hair and changed clothes. By the time she finished, she was so weak she needed to sit down. Her knees shook and she pushed the wet hair away from her face, hoping she could resume her everyday life soon.
Around eight, she managed to eat a piece of dry toast and drink a glass of water. She propped herself against the end of the sofa with a couple of pillows and picked up the remote control. She settled in to watch a morning talk show, something she virtually never did.
Just when she was comfortable, the doorbell chimed. A glance at the wall clock told her it was barely nine o’clock. Seconds later, the doorbell rang again. And again.
It had to be Jordan. No one else rang a doorbell quite like he did. He was always in a hurry, always impatient.
“I know you’re in there,” Jordan shouted. “Open up!”
“Go away,” she called back. “I’ve got the flu.”
“I’m not leaving until I’ve talked to you, so either let me in or call the police right now, because I’ll bash in your door if that’s what it takes.”
Groaning, Molly threw aside the comforter and stumbled toward the door. Her back ached and she wasn’t up to a showdown with Jordan, but she had few options. It was face him now or do it later. She preferred to have this scene over with as quickly as possible.
She unlocked the door. “It’d serve you right if I did call the police,” she muttered.
He marched in and was halfway into the living room, when he whirled around. His teeth were clenched, his eyes as angry as she’d ever seen them.
“I assume you’ve talked to Michael,” she said.
“Not yet. I decided to have this out with you first.”
“I suggest you talk to him.”
The anger left his eyes as if he were seeing her, really seeing her, for the first time. His fists relaxed and fell slack at his sides.
Molly knew she looked dreadful. It wasn’t as if she’d spent the past week at a spa, receiving beauty treatments.
“How are you?” he asked quietly.
She closed the front door and leaned against it. “I’ve never felt better,” she lied.
“Sit down,” he urged. He moved to help her back to the sofa, but she pulled away from him, avoiding his touch.
“You wanted to say something,” she pressed, willing him to get this over with.
He waited until she’d seated herself and pulled the comforter over her legs. For having threatened to break down her door, now he didn’t seem to know what to say.
“I had a long talk with Doug Anderson last night,” he finally told her.
Of all the things he might have said, this wasn’t one she’d expected. She didn’t respond, just waited for him to continue.
“They had me over for dinner,” he elaborated. “I saw their three boys.”
Molly looked up at him, wondering exactly where this conversation was going.
He thrust his hands inside his pockets. “I talked to your father, too.”
“You certainly made the social rounds.”
He smiled briefly at that.
“Doug and Mary lost a daughter to SIDS over twenty years ago,” Jordan said next, his voice low. “I wasn’t sure if you knew that or not.”
“We’ve talked about it several times.” She didn’t dare look at him. She didn’t want to be reminded how much the divorce was going to hurt. Even one glance was too risky.
“Michael’s message was waiting for me when I got home.”
Her gaze was level with his hands. She watched, mesmerized by their expressive movements. First he clenched them, then seemed to force himself to relax.
“I can’t think of a single reason why you should delay the divorce,” he surprised her by saying. “I’ve given you plenty of cause to wish you’d never met me.”
Loving him the way she did, Molly couldn’t make herself regret their years together. If for nothing more than Jeffrey and the life she carried within her now, Molly would always be grateful.
“Jordan, please, I don’t have the strength to argue with you. I’ve made up my mind. Nothing you say now is going to change it.”
“I love you.”
She closed her eyes. “Love isn’t always enough. Please don’t make this more difficult than it already is.”
“You’re sure this is what you want?”
Molly closed her eyes and nodded.
“Even though I don’t have the right, I’m going to ask one small favor of you. Wait.” She started to object, but he stopped her. “All I’m asking for is a few months.”
“No,” she said immediately, “I can’t.…”
“Until the baby’s born.”
For her own peace of mind, Molly didn’t know if she could.
“Please,” he added.
She’d expected his anger, but not this. He seemed almost humble. She couldn’t remember Jordan asking anything of her before, certainly nothing like this.
The hands that had clenched and unclenched moments earlier flexed, then turned palms up as if to silently plead his case.
“On one condition,” she said when she found her voice.
“Anything.”
“I’ll wait, as long as you don’t make any attempt to see me again. It’s over as of now, Jordan. I won’t make it legal until after the baby’s born, because that seems to be important to you, but that’s all I’m willing to concede.”
“But, Molly, I—”
“I’m serious, Jordan. Either you agree or I’ll go through with the divorce as soon as Michael can arrange a court date. If you break your word, I’ll contact him immediately.”
Hours seemed to pass before Jordan responded. “If that’s your one request, then I don’t have any choice but to agree.”
Molly was feeling nauseated. “I think it would be a good idea if you left now.”
“Can I get you anything?”
“No.” She wished he’d hurry. “Please just go.”
He turned and walked toward the door, then turned back. “Do you have any names picked out for the baby?”
“Yes.” But she didn’t understand his sudden curiosity.
“Would you mind telling me?”
“I … I wanted Richard for a boy. I’d like to name him after Dr. Morton. He’s back in Africa, by the way. He’s the kindest, most gentle man I’ve ever known and he’d be thrilled to learn I’d named my baby after him.” She made sure he heard the inflection.
As far as Molly was concerned, he’d relinquished all rights to their child. The baby was hers and hers alone.
“What about a girl’s name?” Jordan asked.
“Bethany Marie.” If Jeffrey had been a girl, they’d planned on the name Lori Jo. They’d studied baby name books for weeks before arriving at their final decisions.
Jordan smiled. “That has a nice sound to it. Are you naming her after anyone in particular?”
“Marie was my mother’s middle name, and I’ve always liked the name Bethany.”
“I do, too,” he said and opened the door.
It seemed to take him a long time to leave. The minute she could, Molly threw aside the covering and rushed into the bathroom. She didn’t know if she’d taken a turn for the worse or if this bout of vomiting was the result of yet another nerve-wracking encounter with Jordan.
* * *
A month passed and Jordan didn’t hear a word from Molly. Not that he’d thought he would. But he’d hoped.
Thanks to Ian and Doug, he received regular updates on Molly’s condition and savored each report about Bethany Marie’s progress. He drilled Doug with so many questions that his friend had eventually handed him a
book on what to expect during the last trimester of pregnancy. Jordan read it twice.
Thanksgiving was lonely. He flew to Arizona and spent the holiday with his mother, who’d retired there several years earlier. She was pleased to have him there. He hadn’t been to visit her since Jeffrey’s birth. His father had died years earlier while he was in high school, and his sister lived in Oregon.
When he arrived at his mother’s home, one of the first things Jordan saw was a framed photograph of Jeffrey on the foyer wall. It disconcerted him so badly that he had to ask her to put it away.
He felt bad about that later, when he returned to Chicago, to an empty house and an emptier life. Molly and Bethany had been constantly on his mind. He wondered how she’d spent the holiday and was tempted to call Ian and ask.
He rummaged around the house and resisted the urge to phone, knowing he’d made a regular pest of himself recently. He was tired from the weekend travel and the craziness that was involved in flying during a major holiday.
He listened to his messages and checked his email. Nothing important. No one he needed to get back to. No word from Molly.
Walking up the stairs, Jordan passed the room that had once been Jeffrey’s nursery. He hadn’t gone in there in more than four years. Not since the day he’d taken away everything that had been their son’s. Not since he’d attempted to wipe out every piece of evidence that Jeffrey had ever lived.
The fight he’d had with Molly that terrible afternoon would forever stay with him. And with her, too, he guessed. He’d carried down the baby furniture and she’d come crying after him, begging him not to give Jeffrey’s things away. She was rooting through the boxes, sobbing hysterically, when the truck driver arrived for the charity pickup.
The man had sat down on the steps with Molly and talked to her gently. Jordan had stood in the doorway demanding that the agency remove everything. It appalled him now that a stranger had been more sensitive to Molly’s pain than he’d been.