The Marriage Wish

“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.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jennifer 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 chil
d 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.