“And then came Davis.”
“He was okay. But…wouldn’t you think it would have hit him that if Mom would sleep with him when she was married to someone else, she’d do it again?”
“He might have thought they really fell in love. She probably told him what a big mistake the marriage to Scott had been.”
“I’m glad she didn’t have more kids.”
Richard winced. “There are plenty of modern families like that. Half brothers and sisters from several different fathers. Or mothers.”
Trevor’s eyes widened. “You and Ms. Callahan—Molly—aren’t going to have a baby, are you?”
He groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face. “No. No, she’s not pregnant. And no, I can’t imagine. I think we’re both done with the child rearing years.”
Trevor expelled a rush of air with a whoosh. “Man, that would have been too much.”
Richard let himself smile crookedly. “Because I was such a lousy father?”
His son grinned. “You got it.”
In concert, they reached for their sandwiches.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
WHAT DID YOU BUY A pregnant teenage girl for Christmas?
Molly had started her shopping, of course. Despite the recent turmoil, she wasn’t that disorganized. She’d bought gift certificates, books, DVDs, all online. Cait had suggested a CD for Trevor, which took care of shopping for him. She’d even bought a book for Richard, an inadequate gift but the only one she could think of.
But her own daughter was different. So far, everything Molly had bought for Cait was impersonal. And, darn it, she was down to only two weeks before Christmas, so she’d decided to brave the crowds and hit the mall.
Molly drifted through Nordstrom, undecided. Not clothes, that was for sure. While Cait would need maternity clothes in the not-too-distant future, those wouldn’t exactly be fun for a teenager. Thrift stores? Maybe. Molly thought about dusting off the sewing machine she so rarely used. This whole thing was hard enough on a kid Cait’s age without her being stuck in completely untrendy clothes for four months or more. Was it possible to replicate current teen styles with a belly panel?
Nothing related to dance. Although continuing to dance would be good for her mental and physical health. At least leotards stretched, probably to infinity.
Molly gave a last pained look at the teen department and turned away.
Jewelry? Maybe some bath and body stuff. She ought to head out into the mall, look for some specialty stores.
Her feet came to a stop and she suddenly had trouble breathing. Oh, why hadn’t she been more careful? Not five feet in front of her was a table displaying one-piece cotton sleepers for babies. These were in classic baby colors: mint green, soft yellow, delicate pink, summer-sky blue. The blue ones had sailboats embroidered on the breast; the soft yellow had puppies.
Somehow her feet had moved, and she was standing right in front of the table fingering a buttery-soft sleeper. She lifted her gaze to see other display tables and racks. Small undershirts, T-shirts, corduroy overalls and miniature denim pants with cargo pockets. Socks…oh, God, so tiny.
Her chest hurt. Her throat burned. Bewildered, she realized how close she was to crumpling to her knees and sobbing. What’s happening to me?
But she knew, she knew. I’m falling apart, that’s what.
Molly had shopped children’s clothing departments hundreds of times since she’d discovered she would never have another baby. The decision not to even look at the baby stuff hadn’t been consciously made, but she had adhered to it religiously except for the few times she’d had to suck it up and buy a shower present. It had been years since she’d been required to do that, although the time would come again when Cait’s friends got married and had babies.
When I have grandchildren, she’d always thought.
She lifted a fleece “sack” with arms and a hood to her face and gently rubbed her cheek against it. It was red, perfect for the season, cozy, unisex. Tears leaked out now and she turned away when a couple of young women passed carrying bags stuffed full of purchases. One of the two was pregnant and she gave a cry of delight and pounced on some holiday-themed T-shirts.
“Oh, I missed those!”
“Your little button won’t be born until the first of February,” her friend pointed out practically.
“Yes, but…”
They eventually departed, neither paying any attention to the woman paralyzed in the midst of racks of tiny, soft, evocative baby clothes.
I could buy one outfit, she thought. To send him or her away in.
Her rib cage contracted in agony as she imagined it.
If Cait was keeping her baby, they could find out soon—maybe now—whether it was a boy or girl. They could be dreaming, planning. Looking at cribs and mobiles and comforters. A stroller, of course, they’d have to have one. Molly hadn’t kept any of those things, not once she had the surgery. Even though money had been tight then, she hadn’t been able to bear having a garage sale. On a day she’d felt strong, she had packed it all up and taken it to a thrift store. That had been almost as terrible a day as the one when the doctor told her she had to have the hysterectomy.