PRECIOUS CARGO

 

By: Kenda

 

We Can’t Love Like This Anymore

 

 (Prologue)

 

 

 

     I can look back now and tell you the exact day my marriage began to slowly wash out to sea like a child's sand castle when the morning tide rolls in.  Of course, at the time, I didn't realize anything that great of significance was occurring.  True, it was the worst fight Janet and I had ever had.  And by ever had, I'm going all the way back to January of 1975 when we started dating.

 

     Up until that point the majority of disagreements in our marriage were small and almost comical in nature.  I didn't like the way she always parked her car so close to my tool bench in the garage.  It made it hard for me to get at anything I needed.  She didn't like the fact that I always let a hot shower run in the bathroom a good five minutes before I climbed in the tub.  She said all the steam I created would take the wallpaper off the walls.   So, the kind of minor, reoccurring disagreements every married couple has from time to time that are forgotten about within a few minutes.

 

     This one was different, however.  It wasn't forgotten about in a few minutes.  Or a few hours.  Or even a few days.   Not even in a month or two.  For the first time in three years of marriage, I found myself thinking back to our engagement when we'd lived in Florida all those years earlier, and why we'd broken it.  We didn't want the same things out of life, we'd sadly told each other.   The dreams we each had for the future, were too different to make a marriage work. 

 

     After three good years of marriage, three years in which my love for the woman surpassed all else in my life, I was stunned to find that once again our dreams weren't the same.  That once again we didn't want the same things out of life.    That once again, the dreams we each had for the future, were too different to make a marriage work.

 

     Now the above revelations didn't come to me on the day of that very large altercation.  Nor did they come to me all at once a few days afterwards.  Nor did they come to Janet in that fashion.  Almost a year passed before either one of us really knew the ramifications of that morning in November of 1993.   A year filled with misunderstandings, angry words, tears, sorrows, and regrets.  The hardest year of my life, bar none.  And, the hardest year of Janet's life, as well.

 

 

 

Chapter 1

 

 

     Cold rain was beating against the side of our house when I woke up at six-thirty that Saturday morning.   It was the weekend before Thanksgiving, 1993.  I lifted my head long enough to see the water running in sheets down the bedroom windows. 

 

     My mind sighed with resignation. 

 

Another Seattle rainstorm. 

 

     I burrowed under the covers once more, snuggling against Janet's warm back.  She had adapted to Seattle's weather much better than I.  True, I loved the brilliant oranges, reds, and yellows of autumn that didn't grace San Diego.  And the first snowfall of winter was still a novelty that caused me to stand at the kitchen window like a child, watching each flake fall with wide-eyed wonder.

 

     Nonetheless, on a day like that day was, damp and chilly and wet, my Southern California blood seemed to be calling me home. 

 

     Both Janet and I laid in bed dozing until eight o'clock.  It was a good morning to be lazy.  And also a good morning to progress no farther than the jacuzzi hot tub for a long, playful session of lovemaking.  Which is exactly what we did.

 

     An hour later I climbed out of the jacuzzi and into the shower.  I had just soaped up my body when I heard the shower door slide open.  My wife, with a devilish grin on her face, joined me underneath the hot spray.  What had ended in the jacuzzi ten minutes earlier started all over again.

 

     She kissed me lightly at first, then more ardently as her hands began to caress me from chest to waist...and then below.

 

     I returned her attention with a fiery passion of my own.  I gave a throaty chuckle,  "I like it when it rains in Seattle on a Saturday morning,"  before pinning her gently to the ceramic tile wall with my body.

 

     She laughed at me.  "Need I remind you that when we got of bed this morning your exact words were, ‘It's so damn cold in this city when it rains.  I'd be perfectly happy if I never see another drop of rain in my entire life.’"

 

     As I entered her I told her softly, "I've changed my mind."

 

     Fifteen minutes later I left Janet under the hot water to finish her shower alone.  I lightly pinched her firm bottom as I climbed out. 

 

     "Not bad for an old guy of forty-four, huh, Mrs. Simon?"

     Water sloshed down her hair and back as she leaned forward to kiss me.  "Not bad at all, Mr. Simon.  As a matter of fact, terrifically fantastic.  You get better with age."  She gave me a smile and a wink.  "And I should know."

 

     I laughed at her while thinking back to some of our intimate times together in Florida.  She was right, it was better now.   Rather than diminishing our desire for each other, age and experience had only enhanced it.  It had been that way since the first time she'd made love to me three weeks after Erika Garcia's death.  We'd been on an extended honeymoon ever since.

 

       I dried off, then hung the wet towel on the rack.  I combed my hair before walking into the bedroom.  I stepped over the slumbering Toby as I padded across the thick mauve carpeting to the cherry highboy.  I pulled on a pair of underwear and blue jeans.   I tossed a pair of socks and a heavy burgundy sweater onto the king-size, four poster bed.  I walked over and sat down on its quilted comforter.   The multi-print pattern in mauves, grays, and blues, blended in well with the room Janet and I had given a distinctive colonial flavor when we decorated.  Gleaming cherry wood planking rode halfway up the walls.  A chair rail, also in dark cherry, capped that off and circled the room.  Above that was the ivory wallpaper with its repeated pattern of mauve and blue ribbons.  A bright mauve border lined the paper where it met the high ceiling. 

 

     I loved that room, just like I loved the rest of the house.  Every nook, cranny, and corner had been painstakingly redone.  Even yet, we were still decorating.  Buying pictures and handmade crafts when we ran across items that fit into our country colonial decor. 

 

     I sat bare chested, listening to the rain ping against the windows as I thought back over the past year.  Admittedly, there had been one very painful part of it.  Janet's miscarriage at the end of February.  I had wanted that baby like I had wanted nothing else my entire life. 

 

     Janet had been at work that Wednesday, but unbeknownst to me hadn't been feeling well.  I was surprised when I arrived home at six o'clock to find her there.  Usually it was closer to seven before the chief assistant to Seattle's District Attorney pulled in our driveway of an evening.  I was even more surprised to find her lying on the couch in the family room. 

 

     Janet wasn't worried, so neither was I.  She said she had a headache and stomachache, but that it was nothing serious.  She thought she had a touch of the flu that was going around.  She'd called her obstetrician, who agreed with Janet’s assessment, and and who simply told her to get plenty of rest. 

 

      I made her eat some soup and drink some 7-UP, then helped her to bed.   Within minutes she was sound asleep.  When I joined her three hours later she was still sleeping peacefully.

 

     She woke me up at midnight in hysterics, saying she had bad cramps and was bleeding heavily.  I threw on a pair of jeans and a shirt before thrusting my bare feet into a pair of deck shoes.  I wrapped her in a blanket and carried her down to the car.  An hour later an emergency room physician told me that Janet had lost the baby.  They let me see her within a few minutes after that.  We clung to each other and cried.  She told me over and over again how sorry she was.  I rocked back and forth with her in my arms, stroking her hair and kissing her face, telling her she didn't need to be sorry.  That it wasn't her fault.  I don't think we'd ever been closer.

 

       I worried about Janet for several months afterwards.  As soon as she was allowed to return to work she immediately began putting in ten and twelve hour days again.  She was too thin and too pale for the rest of that winter.  I thought a trip to San Diego over Easter would do her good.  And it did, until she and I got into a fight over the fact that I was working for Rick on Saturday morning.  Now I could tolerate my wife being angry with me, but I couldn't tolerate her being rude and standoffish to my brother when he didn't do anything wrong in the first place.  Which is just what she was that Saturday evening when Rick came to Mom's for dinner, as well as the next day when he came over at noon for the traditional Easter ham.

    

Janet and I saved any further discussion regarding her behavior until we arrived back home.  I know Mom must have heard our argument that Saturday morning as it was, because when she kissed me goodbye at the airport on Sunday afternoon she said softly, "Be patient with Janet, honey.  She's been through a lot this winter.  No matter what the circumstance, losing a child is a devastating experience for a woman. Just give her some time.  She'll be back to her old self again soon enough."

 

     That first week home from San Diego was a tense one for both of us.  Janet was mad at me, and quite frankly I was pretty upset with her, as well.  But by the next week things had smoothed out between us considerably.  Not because we'd resolved anything regarding the Rick issue, but simply because we'd laid it to rest.   Or chosen to ignore it might be a better way to phrase it. 

 

     As summer came to Seattle that June, so did Janet's health return.  She gained back the weight she had lost.  I could no longer count every one of her ribs when I wrapped my arms around her in bed each night.   Her cheeks had a healthy glow to them once again.  And like Mom had promised on Easter Sunday, she was back to her old self once more.  We had a good summer.  A summer filled with backyard cookouts, and Mariners baseball games at the Kingdome.  A summer filled with long Saturday evenings with friends on our deck and a neighborhood block party. A summer that included Sunday picnics in the park with Toby, symphony concerts under the stars as performed by Seattle's orchestra in an outdoor band shell, and gliding over the gentle waves on Puget Sound in the sail boat we'd purchased and kept docked at a nearby marina.

 

     For the third year in a row I surprised Janet with plane tickets on the eve of our wedding anniversary.  This time our destination was that little South Carolina town we'd been so fond of fifteen years earlier.  I'd even managed to get a reservation at the same bed and breakfast inn we'd grown to love. 

 

     We spent the week strolling the beaches hand in hand and swimming in the Atlantic, among other things.  We'd rented bicycles and pedaled for miles over peaceful country lanes.   We popped in and out of the antique and craft shops we so well remembered.   As we picked up items for our house in these old- fashioned stores, we'd look at each other and laugh with disbelief.  We could hardly imagine that all these years later we finally had a Victorian home of our own to decorate.  We no longer stood on the sidewalks outside the quaint mansions on that South Carolina main street dreaming that one day we'd marry and own one just like them.

 

     We put the stresses of every day life behind us that week, just as we'd done on our prior anniversary trips.  In the relaxing atmosphere the small quiet town provided, we made love every night when we returned to our room at the inn.  And more often than not most mornings, too.  We laughed over the way the ancient bed springs squeaked each time we moved.  Janet was both amused and mortified at the thought that every guest in the place knew what we were doing...and doing so frequently.   We even made love one morning in the claw-footed tub our private bathroom contained.  A first for both of us.  A very enjoyable first I might add.

 

     As our vacation drew to a close I remember thinking how fitting it would be if our child was conceived on that anniversary trip, in the pretty little town that held so many wonderful memories for both of us. 

 

     I came back to the present when Toby yawned loudly, shifted position on the carpeting, and curled up in a tighter ball before going back to sleep.

 

     Smart dog, I thought as I looked out at the driving rain once more.  Thunder rumbled, causing the windows to rattle in their panes.  Lightening streaked the dark sky as the storm intensified.  

 

     I heard the shower shut off in the bathroom. Within a few

seconds the high-pitched whine of the blow dryer drifted out to me.

 

     As I often found myself doing in recent days after Janet and I had made love, I wondered if this was the time that everything worked as it should.  Was this morning in the jacuzzi, or later in the shower, when a child was conceived?  Although I hadn't said anything about it to Janet, I'd begun to worry a bit.  We'd been trying to have a baby again since August.  Now I know from August until November isn't that long a period of time, especially where the making of babies is concerned.  But I couldn't help remembering that the previous year Janet was pregnant within two weeks of our stopping the use of birth control.  I knew there would come a point very soon when Janet’s age could play a factor in our easy ability to conceive.  She had turned forty-one in February.  I wondered if we were suddenly going to face long months of trying for a baby, and long months of being continuously disappointed. 

 

     As I sat on our big bed I couldn't resist daydreaming about three or four little kids piling in it with us on a rainy Saturday morning just like that one was. 

 

     Of course, I suppose when that time comes I'll have to return to my old habit of wearing pajama bottoms and forego sleeping next to my wife in the buff, I thought with a smile.  Just like Janet will have to stop buying her nightwear out of the Victoria's Secret catalog.  Or at least buy something a little more suitable for the children to see her in each morning, and save the fun stuff for Daddy's eyes only.

 

     I looked over at the jacuzzi that was in a far corner of the massive room.  It sat up on a raised platform that was carpeted in mauve as well, with a skylight in the ceiling above it.  I'd even gladly give up making love to my wife in that hot tub if it meant adding a few kids in swimsuits to the scenario.

 

     I knew when the day came that Janet gave birth to our first child our lives would drastically change.  We hadn't quite settled yet on the issue of three children or four – me, of course, opting for the higher number.  Regardless of what the number, even just two, I knew because of Janet's age we'd be having them back-to-back.  Our household was likely to be a pretty hectic place for some years to come. 

 

     I smiled that morning because I couldn't think of anything I'd look forward to more. 

 

     And every time I thought of our yet-to-be-born children, I thought of Mom and Rick.  I thought of what a wonderful, loving grandmother my mom would be. The kind of grandmother every kid would eagerly anticipate a visit from.  She'd patch skinned knees and heal broken hearts all with a single kiss just like she'd done for me time and time again throughout my growing up years.

 

     And then there's Uncle Rick, I mused with a fond smile.   There's no doubt he'll be the favorite of all the children.  The perfect playmate who will spoil my kids unmercifully, put them up to no good, then protect them from Daddy's wrath. But that's okay.  Every kid needs a best buddy like Rick.  I know I did.  And if there ever comes a day when I’m not around I want my kids to look upon him as their father.  Just as I know Rick will look upon them, and love them, as if they are his own children.  I couldn't ask for anyone better to guide them through the trials and tribulations of life.

 

     I pushed all those thoughts to the back of my mind when the blow dryer was silenced.  I quickly put my socks on before walking back into the bathroom, still bare chested, to shave.

 

     The vanity ran the length of the room and contained twin sinks with brass faucets.  Janet was standing at the sink closest to the door in her long, dark-green velour robe.  Her hair was done, and I could tell she’d recently finished putting on her makeup. 

 

     My quiet entry into the room caught her by surprise.  She was just bringing a glass of water to her lips.  She stopped the motion in mid-air, turning to give me a wide-eyed, startled look.  For just a moment she made me think of a frightened, delicate doe who'd been stumbled upon in a thick forest.  I caught sight of the tiny white pill she held between the thumb and forefinger of her left hand right before she concealed it in her closed fist.

 

     My immediate thought was that there was something medically wrong with her that she hadn't told me about. 

 

     Concern furrowed my brows together as I walked over to gently grasp the closed palm, forcing it open once more. 

 

"What's this?"

 

     She looked up at me, but didn't answer.  The expression on her face was the same one Rick used to wear when Mom caught him with his hand in the cookie jar.  It would have been funny had I not been so worried.

 

     "Janet?"  I demanded firmly.

 

     Before she could answer me, my eyes fell to the round, white plastic case that lay on the vanity top.  It was similar in size to that of a woman's makeup compact.  Only that's not what it was.  I knew if I opened it I'd see little numbers etched in the plastic that went from 1 to 31.  I also knew I'd see the remainder of the birth control pills for the month nestled under those numbers. 

 

     With an angry jerk I released her wrist.  The pill flew out of her hand, pinged off the bathroom mirror, and ended up lost forever in the thick carpeting.   

 

"What the hell is that?"

 

     "A.J...A.J., please," she begged while laying a hand on my chest.  "Don't get mad.  I need to talk to--"

 

     I backed away from her, causing her hand to fall helplessly to her side. 

 

"Don't get mad!  What do you mean, don't get mad?  Janet...I thought we were trying to have a baby.  For God's sake, I've thought that since August!  How the hell long have you been back on those things?"

 

     She wouldn't look at me.  "Since March."

 

     Since March.  Well now, that came as quite a surprise to me.  Here she'd led me to believe she was using an over-the-counter method of birth control since the miscarriage.  And that she'd been using no birth control since the first of August.

 

     "Damn you," I spat at her right before I stormed out of the room.

 

     She ran after me into the bedroom, grabbing my arm to halt my progress for the stairway.  "A.J., please.  Just listen.  Just listen to me for a minute."

 

     As angry as I was, my common sense prevailed when it told me this was too serious of a situation for me to take off in the Camaro for an hour or two.  I had to hear her out.  I had to know just why she'd been deceiving me all these months.  Just why she'd smile and murmur yes every time I made reference to conceiving a child when we'd made love in recent weeks.

 

     I shagged my arm free and moved to the farthest corner of the room.  I folded my arms across my chest, my stance rigid and unyielding. 

 

     "Okay.  Talk.  And it better be a damn good explanation, Janet."

 

     For as skilled an orator as she was in the courtroom, she was suddenly verbally impotent.  She swallowed hard before sitting on the edge of the bed.  She gathered her long robe around her legs as if the icy atmosphere in the room permeated her skin.   She looked up at me briefly, catching my gaze of steel, before her eyes were downcast to the floor.

 

     "I have something I need to tell you," she confessed softly.   "Something that I had hoped you'd never have to...know about it."

 

     Even Janet's broken tone didn't evoke any sympathy from her  upset husband.

 

     "So tell me."

 

     She took a deep breath.  "I've had...I've had two prior miscarriages, A.J."

 

     To say I was confused doesn't even begin to cover the depth of my bewilderment. 

 

"Two miscarriages prior to the one in February?"

 

     "Yes," she nodded her bowed head.  "When I was married to Allan."

 

     My mouth had to have been hanging open at that point in time. "But...why?"  I stammered.  "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

 

     She finally looked up at me. 

 

"I don't know.  For a lot of reasons, I suppose.  First of all, because the memories surrounding those miscarriages...especially the second one, are very painful.  And then...well, I've worked hard these past three years at burying the ghost of Allan Cassidy.  Of what he did to me.  I think of you as the only husband I've ever had.  I guess...I guess I fooled myself into thinking the pregnancy last winter was my first as well."  Her eyes were wrought with sincerity.  "And that's the way I wanted it to be, A.J.  I wanted you to be the only man I've ever had a child with.  I didn't want you to be...upset, over my prior pregnancies with Allan."

 

     If she thought that was going to appease me she was wrong.  She knew perfectly well that nothing about her past life with Allan bothered me, or threatened me, in the slightest.  I wasn't at all curious, and never had been, as to what their married life had been like, what kinds of things they'd done together as a couple, or even if the guy was good in bed.  I didn't know...and quite frankly I didn't care.  All I knew...the only thing that had mattered since the day Janet and I had rekindled our romance, was that I was the most important man in her life.  Just like she was the most important woman in mine.  The past relationships either one of us had engaged in over the years meant nothing anymore as far as I was concerned.

 

     I leaned against the highboy, my arms still folded across my shirtless chest.  "Why don't you tell me about it," I firmly insisted.

 

     She searched my face for signs of empathy.  When she didn't find any, she had no choice but to continue.

 

     "The first time we...Allan and I, had only been married five months.  I was trying a very complex murder case, not that dissimilar to the...Garcia situation.  It was both physically and emotionally draining. When I missed my period I didn't think anything of it.  I was a newlywed, under a lot of stress at work, and putting in fourteen hour days six days a week.  And I wasn't trying to get pregnant.  It was the farthest thing from my mind.  We were using birth control.  So when I missed my next period I still didn't think too much of it.  Just decided that if I missed one more I'd go see the doctor.  Then about two weeks later I started bleeding.  At first I thought my body was back on track.  That I had finally gotten my period.  But then the bleeding became heavy and I started having cramps like I never experienced before.  One of my coworkers took me to the emergency room and got a hold of Allan, who was in court that day.  By the time he arrived I had discovered that I had, in fact, been pregnant, and was in the midst of a miscarriage."

 

     She paused there, waiting for my reply.  When I didn't make one she continued with her story. 

 

"Even though we hadn't planned for that baby, and I hadn't known I was pregnant, it hurt - to lose a child like that.  But considering the hours I was putting in, I thought it was for the best.  I really hadn't been taking care of myself like I should have.  Later, when I saw my own doctor, he agreed.  He also left me with the impression that as far as future pregnancies went, I probably didn't have anything to worry about provided I took care of myself."

 

     Again she paused, waiting for my reaction.  She didn't get anymore out of me than my order of, "Go on.  I want to hear all of it."

 

     She slowly nodded her understanding.  Whether she wanted to tell me the rest or not, she was well aware she owed it to me. 

 

"During the winter of 1989, three and a half years after that first miscarriage, Allan and I decided it was time to start a family.  Try as I might, I'll never forget the day I found out I was pregnant.  It was June 12th."

 

     Okay, I'll admit it.  I got a bit of perverse satisfaction out of the fact that it took Allan the better part of six months to get Janet pregnant.  Something I had accomplished in only two weeks time.  Had the situation been different I would have teased my wife and strutted around the room like a proud old barn yard rooster.  At the time, however, levity wasn't at the forefront of my mind.  Though we both could have probably used some of it just then. 

 

     "I had told Allan I'd be tied up in court all day," Janet said. "But in actuality, when I left the doctor's office after getting the results of the pregnancy test, I rushed home.  I was planning to surprise him with a candlelight dinner and romantic evening, then tell him we were going to have a baby...in much the same way I told you," she confessed quietly.

 

     And that's just how she had told me.   My first shock of the evening back in early December of the prior year came when I pulled my Camaro in the garage at five forty-five and found my wife's BMW already parked there.  The next shock came when I was yanked in the door by the lapels of my suit coat to be greeted by Janet, clad only in a revealing red negligee I had never seen before.  A very revealing red negligee.  She slowly undressed me right there in the family room, making love to me on the carpeting in front of a roaring fire.  From there we moved up to the bedroom where I took the lead and made love to her...twice.  After we had showered together and dressed, she did indeed serve me dinner by candlelight.  It was over dinner that she told me I was going to be a father the following summer.  I was so happy that tears flowed down my cheeks as I rose to kiss her and hold her close.

 

     My thoughts of that very special night receded as Janet continued with what happened on the day she planned to tell Allan Cassidy much the same thing. 

 

"In the end, however, it was Allan who surprised me."

 

     From across the room I asked, "What do you mean?"

 

     I could clearly read the pain in her eyes as if whatever had occurred to hurt her so had happened only yesterday.

 

     A bittersweet smile touched her lips.  "Allan had already started his romantic evening.  With my best friend.  In our bed."

 

     Even when she had told me the details surrounding her divorce almost four years earlier, she had not told me this.  I was willing to bet she had never told anyone.  Not even her father.  As mad as I was at Janet right then, my heart constricted with pain over what Allan Cassidy had done to her.

 

     She held her head up in that proud way she has when she's triumphed over great adversity. 

 

"I kicked him out of the house that day, A.J.  I've lost count of how many times that summer he begged me to take him back.  Promised me he'd change.  Only by then, it was too late for me to care whether he'd change or not.  By then I'd uncovered the other affairs he'd had.  As you can imagine, I wasn't sleeping and barely eating.  I lost fifteen pounds in a matter of only three weeks.  Yet somehow I still managed to get up each morning and put in fourteen hour days at work.  It was as if my career was all I had left.  And, in a way, I suppose it was.  In August I miscarried the baby.  I never even told Allan I was pregnant.  In September I moved back to San Diego.  In November I filed for divorce.  From there...well, from there you know the rest of the story."

 

     I stood in silence, absorbing all she had told me.  She waited for me to speak.  I had absolutely no idea what to say.  I was mad at her, hurt that she had kept all this from me, and yet I felt sorry for her, too.  Sorry for the pain that she had tried so hard to put in the past and forget about.  I was almost sorry that I had walked in on her in the bathroom fifteen minutes earlier and caught her taking the pill.  Almost sorry that act precipitated this anguishing discussion.  Almost.  But not quite.

 

     Silent tears trickled down Janet's face.  This was the first time during the life of our marriage that I hadn't held her when she cried.  The first time I purposefully kept a distance between us. 

 

     When the flow of her tears ceased somewhat I informed her coldly, "What happened between you and Allan doesn't excuse the fact that you've led me to believe since August that when we make love there's a possibility of a baby being formed."

 

     "I know that," came the regret-filled reply.

 

     "Why, Janet?  Just tell me why."

 

     "I...I was scared."

 

     I couldn't imagine what she could possibly be scared of.  What she thought she couldn't tell me. 

 

"Scared of what?"

 

     She looked down and nervously fingered the belt of her robe.  She worried her lower lip a moment before finally meeting my gaze once again.  "A.J., I...I'm afraid I'll never carry a child to full term."

 

     "What makes you say that?"  I was quick to ask, and also quick to come up with viable excuses.  My heart wasn't ready to hear what my head was already beginning to suspect.  "Obviously both times with Allan you were under a lot of stress.   And this last time the doctor said it was just nature's way of eliminating--"

 

     "An imperfect fetus," she finished for me.  "But at the time...well, at the time, A.J., my doctor didn't know my medical history.  I had never told her I'd had two prior miscarriages."

 

     I could have gotten good and angry once again over that fact.  God knows I wanted to.  But what good would it have done me?  I knew that right then was the time to continue productive discussion, rather than let my temper bring the conversation to a quick halt.    

 

     She knew me well enough, however, to clearly read my mind. 

 

"I thought...really thought that this time with you it would be different.  That there would be no miscarriage.  I was naively convinced the love we share would be enough to make the baby grow.  And you...you wanted that baby so much.  I saw it in your eyes every morning when you asked me how I was feeling, and every night in your tender smile when you insisted upon waiting on me hand and foot.  I just didn't want you to...to worry that something might happen."

 

     "You shouldn't have done that, Janet," I gently admonished.  "You should have told me.  At least we could have both been prepared."

 

     “I know.”  She dropped her head in shame.  "I know.  And I'm sorry.  I'm so very sorry."

 

     "And Doctor Thoms is now aware of your past history?"  I took an educated guess.  

 

     She met my gaze once again.  "Yes...yes she is.  She's also aware of my...my mother's medical history, too."

 

     The expression on my face must have asked my unvoiced question,  "And just what does that mean?" because Janet answered me before I was able to speak.

 

     "My mother miscarried four children before I was born, A.J.  She was bedridden for eight months with me because the slightest activity would cause her to start bleeding.  That's why I'm an only child."

 

     It took me a long moment to absorb this very important piece of family history neither my wife, nor my father-in-law, had ever felt the need to share with me.  Looking back now I can better understand it wasn't spoken of simply because it was painful to discuss.  At the time, though, I didn't feel quite that way.  The only way I felt was cheated.  Cheated and deceived.

 

     "What has the doctor had to say about all of this?"  I needed to know.

 

     "She doesn't know one way or another for certain, of course, but she suspects I may never carry a baby to full term," I was told softly.  "Or at least not without some very stringent precautionary measures."

 

     "Like being bedridden?" 

 

     "Yes, like being bedridden."   Unshed tears made her blue eyes bright and large.  "A.J., I'm sorry."  She dropped her head in her hands and began to sob.  "I'm just so sorry."

 

     This time I went to her.  The bed dipped with my weight as I sat down next to her.  I pulled Janet to me until her head rested on my bare shoulder.  I felt the warmth of her tears against my skin while I rubbed my hands over the soft velour that covered her back. 

 

     "I know I should have told you sooner," she sobbed.  "I've been wanting to tell you ever since the night of the miscarriage.  I just...I just didn't want to hurt you.  I knew how much you wanted the baby.  I knew how disappointed you'd be."

 

     "Shhh.  Shhh," I soothed as I planted soft kisses in her hair where the sweet scent of shampoo lingered.  I was still good and angry with her, but that anger didn't override the love I felt for her.  At least not quite yet.  I was even mentally kicking myself for having been so cold to her only minutes before - telling myself I needed to put myself in her place.

 

       She's gone through three miscarriages that were all physically, as well as emotionally, painful.  Who's to say any one of us wouldn't have chosen to do just what she did?  Especially when she was forced to face in February the fact that her mother's inability to carry children has evidently been passed on to her.

 

     "It's okay, babe," I whispered into her hair.  "We'll both talk to the doctor.  We'll find out what she thinks we need to do in order for you to carry a baby to full term.  Even if it means being bedridden, we can always hire someone to come here for part of the day while I'm at work to do the household chores and get your lunch, or anything else you might need.  And maybe I can cut back on my hours in order to help--"

 

     She disentangled herself from my grasp and looked up at me with red-rimmed eyes.   "A.J...no.  I just don't think...I'm not sure I can put myself through all that."

 

     As much as I wanted us to have a child of our own, I wasn't against exploring other avenues. 

 

"Okay.  Then we'll adopt.  When I go to the office on Monday I can have one of the other lawyers start working on a private adoption for us.  Mike and his wife went that route last year, remember?  It was only eight months before they brought little Nicholas home from the hospital.  I'll ask Mike on Monday.   I'm sure there's a teenage girl out there somewhere right now looking for a couple like us to adopt her unborn child."

 

     Janet grasped one of my hands and lightly squeezed.  "A.J., please...slow down a minute.  Just...slow down."

 

     She dropped my hand and rose from the bed.  I watched in confusion as she began to pace the floor.  Finally, she came to a stop and turned to face me. 

 

"A.J...A.J., I've been doing a lot of thinking since February, and to be quite honest with you..."

 

     She let the sentence die there.  "What, Janet?"  I prompted, my heart beginning to beat out a warning of impending doom.  "To be quite honest with me what?"

 

     "To be quite honest with you...I don't want children."

 

     I felt my entire body sag with disbelief.  "What?"  I whispered.

 

     "I don't want children anymore."

 

     At that moment I was too stunned to even feel anger.  "But, Janet...we both agreed we'd have a family.  We discussed this before we married."  Now that I was getting warmed up the anger was quickly returning.  "It was only one year ago that we conceived a child!  How can you stand here and tell me now that you don't want any?" 

 

     "I'm sorry.  I know this comes as a shock to you.  But a year ago I wasn't up for a promotion to chief prosecutor.  You know how close I am to being named to that position.  Everyone from the mayor on down tells me I'm sure to get the job.  You know how much that title means to me.  You, of all people, know how long I've worked to get to this point in my career."

 

     "I know that," I readily acknowledged.  "But what does that have to do with us having a child?"

 

     "A.J., there's no way I can be bedridden for nine months now.  And there's no way I can meet the demands of an infant, regardless of whether it's through a natural birth or adoption."

 

     "You could take a leave of absence," I pointed out.

 

     "Not if I want this job I can't."

 

     I stood now, as well, and began to do a little pacing of my own.  "What about part-time?  You could go part-time for a while and then see how things--"

 

     This time it was Janet who folded her arms across her chest.  "No," she stubbornly stood her ground.   "I can't do that and be named chief prosecutor as well.  If I do, they'll find someone else.  Some...some man who doesn't have the responsibility of a small child."

 

     Before I could say anything to that she hesitantly offered, "There might be another way though.  If we held the pregnancy off until after I was named chief prosecutor, I might be able to be...semi-bedridden while working here at home.  And after that—“

 

     I stopped my pacing and turned to look at her.  "After that what?"

 

     "We could hire a nanny like I talked about last Januar--"

 

     Now it was my turn to be stubborn. 

 

"No.  Absolutely not."  

 

     "A.J.--"

 

     "No, Janet.  I won't have some...some stranger living in this house with us and taking care of my child." 

 

     "A.J., please," her arms splayed out at her sides as she pleaded.  "Just listen.  It won't be that bad.  We could convert the basement workout room into a small apartment for her.  That way we'd still have our privacy.   There's already a bathroom down there.  I bet with some careful planning by a skilled carpenter we could even fit a kitchen in down there."

 

     My next question was hardly a major issue to be resolved, but I brought it up anyway.  "And just where would we workout together in the mornings?  Even if we have baby, I don't plan on us giving up that time spent with one another."

 

     She had a ready-made solution to every problem.  "We could build a room onto the back of the garage."

 

     "No," I shook my head.  "No nanny."

 

     "Then what about day-care?  There's a great center right in my office building--"

 

     "No.  Forget it.  No child of mine is going to spend his or her day being taken care of by inept strangers."

 

     "A.J., that's not fair and you know it!  Licensed day-care providers are, by far, not inept strangers."

 

     She was probably right.  I probably wasn't being fair.  We'd had several discussions such as this in January and February, but before they'd come to a head and actually broke out into an argument, she'd suffered the miscarriage.

 

     I suppose I knew better than to bring up my solution, but I did anyway.  Though I broached it gently, when I suggested,   "You could quit your job for a few years.  You could stay home with the children until they start school."

 

     "A.J., I'm not your mother," she informed me.

     "And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

 

     "I'm not June Cleaver.  I wasn't cut out to stay home and bake cookies all day.  You know that."

 

     She'd treaded on sacred ground when she'd brought my mother, and her maternal skills, into this disagreement. 

 

"So you think that's all my mother is?  A one dimensional June Cleaver who did nothing more than stay home and bake cookies day in and day out?"

 

     "No, of course not," she swiftly amended.  "Your mother's a very intelligent, vibrant, active lady.   She always has been.  And I love her dearly.  You know that.  But much like my own mother, she was the quintessential 50's suburban housewife."

 

     "And just what's wrong with that?"  I wanted to know.  "Don't you think my mother did a good job of raising her children?"

 

     "There's nothing wrong with that.  It's just that it's a different time now.  Women have opened so many other doors for themselves.  And yes, I think your mother did a wonderful job of raising you."  The way she emphasized the word you, only added lighter fluid to the hot coals that were beginning to smolder inside me.

 

     "Why do you always have to slam Rick like that?"

 

     "I don't slam Rick!" 

 

     "Yes, you do!  Every time his name has come up in conversation since Easter you always have to make some smart comment about him."

 

     She held up her hands in surrender and turned away from me. 

"Look, Rick isn't the issue here right now, so let's just drop it."

 

     "Okay, fine," I agreed.  "Good idea.  Let's get back to the issue at hand.  A child.  Our child.  The child we both agreed to have," I finished as a sharp reminder.

 

     She whirled around, her hands settling on her hips.   

 

"You're right, A.J.  We did agree to have a child.  But at that time I honestly didn't know that I might never be able to carry a child.  And at that time, I didn't know I would one day be up for the biggest promotion of my life.  And at that time, I didn't give you any guarantees that life wouldn't change!  It does, you know.  Things do change.  People change.  What we want out of life can change from year-to-year based on what opportunities come our way.  So if you're going to ask me to stay home and be a full-time mother, don't.  It's never going to happen."

 

     Well now, that sounded rather final, didn't it?   

 

     I thought a long minute before I offered the only solution left of me.  I barely said it above a whisper, knowing full well what her reaction would be. 

 

"I could go back to being a private investigator."

 

     "No!"  Her eyes flashed along with the lightening outside the window.   "Don't even suggest such a thing to me!"

 

     I crossed the room and grabbed her hands.  I was so desperate for us to turn the clock back a year to when we'd both so badly wanted a child, that I practically begged her to hear me out. 

 

"Janet...please.  You've asked me to listen to you this morning, now you owe it to listen to me."

 

     She wormed her hands out of my grasp and adapted my unyielding stance from earlier.  She folded her arms across her chest once more. 

 

     "If I went back to private investigation work I could make my own hours.  For the most part, I could be here with the baby.  We could do as you suggested, build onto the back of the garage.  Though instead of a workout room, it could be my office.  I could meet with clients during the day and do most of my legwork at night after you got home.  For the times that was impossible, we could find a good babysitter.  I wouldn't be against that if it was just for a few hours a week.  When the child...or children, get older and start school, then I could put in regular day hours."

 

     Throughout my entire dissertation she was shaking her head.