news was coup de grâce.
A chill ran through her. Struggling into her sweater twice—the first time, it was inside out—Elaine hung her purse over her shoulder, stuffed her balled hands into the cardigan’s deep pockets and continued down the stark stairwell.
All she had ever wanted was to be a wife and mother. She had loved her home, her yard and her neighborhood, her part-time job at Dr. Gussman’s and her volunteer work for the garden club. Kevin had always wanted more and better, but not she. All she had needed to make their life together complete was a child. But Kevin had said, “Let’s wait.” So they’d waited.
And waited. And waited.
The timing had never been right. There had always been something else Kevin thought they should do first, someplace he had wanted to visit, a new career move to focus on. Something. And she’d let it go, trusting in the day her husband would want a baby as much as she did. She’d wanted everything to be perfect.
Now she was thirty-seven with a biological clock that screamed “Cuckoo” every hour, and Kevin was off building a nest with Mrs. More and Better.
Elaine’s mind and feet began moving like the chorus in Riverdance as she ran down three flights of stairs. She was moving downhill, but with each step her chest seemed to grow tighter and heavier, her breath becoming more labored. Her skin felt hot; her head swam. Finally at the stairwell to the second floor, she started to stumble, catching herself just before she fell by bracing her palms on the wall. Her rubbery legs would not carry her another step.
Turning around, her back against the cold, flat concrete, Elaine allowed her quivering body to slip slowly down until she was seated with her knees to her chest. Bunching her sweater in her hands, she pressed her face into its folds…
And screamed.
And screamed…and screamed…and screamed.
Elaine howled with the pain of long-broken dreams. She howled because, in the final analysis, it was she who had allowed them to break. The sound of her rage was muffled by an off-the-rack acrylic-wool blend but nothing could suppress her grief.
When she was finished, she wiped her eyes with her sleeve, smearing mascara on the cuff. For several minutes, she sat there not thinking of anything, really, until slowly it dawned on her: she felt better. Less stuffed, like a hall closet after spring cleaning, purged of last season’s broken umbrellas and single mittens.
Rising, she tested her legs. Shaky, but not bad.
Walking more sedately down the remaining two flights, Elaine allowed images to waft through her mind, images she’d kept at bay for months. During the years she had wanted desperately to be a mom, she’d had a recurring dream about a female child with toffee-colored hair and light eyes. In the dream the little girl held a bouquet of wildflowers out to Elaine, but each time Elaine reached for the gift, the girl would slip farther away, as if she were being pulled back, and a high but lovely voice would whisper, “Whatever you decide is all right.”
Elaine had never been able to decipher the meaning of those words, but she’d always known that in the dream the sweet girl was her daughter.
Today for the first time, the message made sense.
Whatever you decide is all right. “I can still choose.” The simple but crucial realization nearly made her stumble again. Having a child was no longer anyone’s decision but hers. Sitting on a concrete stairwell, crying into her sweater, she had cleared space in her heart, and she knew without having to think twice how she was going to fill it. Could there be any question?
Family was still her dream. She would not give it up. The head count at her breakfast table might be different than she’d originally planned, but one way or another, she was going to have her baby.
A converted Craftsman in the southeast section of Portland had been Elaine’s home for the past nine months. With its pillared front porch and etched glass built-ins, the two-bedroom duplex suited her well—better, she sometimes thought, than the rambling five-bedroom contemporary she had shared with Kevin. And the rent was amazingly low.
Walking up the broad porch steps, Elaine stuck her key in the lock and let herself in.
Crying had left her with a dull ache behind her eyes and nervous hunger, so she went to the kitchen for aspirin and carbohydrates. Quickly she downed two Extra-Strength Bayers then opened the freezer and summoned a smile for her old pals Ben & Jerry, the only men she’d had in her apartment in the time she’d lived here. Grabbing a carton of Cherry Garcia and a soup spoon, she took the ice cream with her into the bedroom while she changed out of her work clothes. Outside the window, she could hear the rumble of a gas-powered motor.
At first the sound seemed out of context, and she couldn’t quite place it. Then her brain made the connection: power motor…backyard…
Gardener!
Elaine hadn’t seen a gardener in all the while she’d lived here. Her absentee landlord offered outstanding rent and a twelve-month lease, but little in the way of home improvements. The only landscaping was a row of pansies Elaine herself had planted and a lone ornamental cabbage that listed drunkenly to one side, courtesy of one of the neighbors.
Now the presence of a gardener seemed like kismet. If she was going to raise a child here, she wanted the duplex to look and feel like home.
Quickly Elaine stripped off a teal green T-shirt with a huge smiling mouth silk-screened across the front and a pair of stark white, how-wide-can-my-hips-look? nurse’s pants. Reaching down to a dresser drawer, she pulled out a simple cotton jumper and slipped it over her bra and panties. Hopefully, her landlord wouldn’t mind if she had a little tête-à-tête with the gardener regarding fall planting. This would be Step One of “The Baby Preparation Plan.” Granted, it wasn’t as proactive as taking extra folic acid or visiting a sperm bank, but home enhancement felt like a good solid place to start. Very Earth Mother.
Grabbing her Ben & Jerry’s, she hurried to the laundry room and the door that led to the backyard. A lacey half curtain only partially blocked her view.
With a spoon of ice cream stuck in her mouth, she peeked out. The large rear yard still had enough life in it to look fairly decent when it wasn’t totally overgrown.
Hmm. The gardener had done a nice job so far. Most of the weeds were gone, half the lawn was trimmed in neat even rows, and he—
Whoa.
Craning her neck for a better look, Elaine blinked in surprise.
Oh…whoa.
Gardener Guy was half-naked. He had removed his shirt and tied it around his hips. Pushing a power mower toward the far fence, he afforded Elaine a clear view of broad, well-defined shoulders, a trim waist and a jeans-clad tush.
Oh, my. Elaine hadn’t spent much time ogling males, so she was no expert, but as tushies went, this one seemed…darn-near perfect.
He reached the end of the yard, backed up and precisely aligned the machine with the row of lawn he’d just cut. There was something in his manner—in the way he marched across the lawn, the dedication in his bearing, that seemed comforting.
Swirling more ice cream onto her spoon, Elaine allowed her gaze to wander enjoyably up his body again, taking note of lightly tanned skin and a very pleasing amount of dark chest hair over
