Chapter Five
Sara let out a long, deep breath as she waited twenty-five minutes in absolute stillness following the embryo transfer.
Hunter brought her hand to his lips. “Babe, the extraction went great on Wednesday, and we’ve just transferred three perfect embryos. Try to relax and have faith.”
She wished she could be brave. Unfortunately, his kind of confidence about the future eluded her—a particular insecurity that had been reinforced every twenty-eight days (and many failed pregnancy tests) throughout the past two years. She’d stopped sharing her grief every time her period came because, instead of comforting her, he’d always made “Don’t worry” remarks. Maybe he meant them to be reassuring, but to her they felt dismissive.
At the moment, it also didn’t help that she’d had to endure a full bladder and catheter this morning to implant the eggs. A quick glance at the clock told her it’d be another ten minutes before she could move, get dressed, and go home.
No one but another woman in her shoes could ever comprehend what it felt like to be a human science experiment. To pop pills, take shots, insert suppositories, and closely monitor one’s behavior week after week. But all of it would be worth it if, two weeks from now, she’d get the news she’d been praying for.
“Sara, look at me.” Hunter waited for her to focus on his face instead of her spinning thoughts. “Whatever happens, I love you. We’re in this together, and if this doesn’t work out the way we want, you are enough for me. More than enough.”
Lovely, loving words, yet when unmatched by his daily actions, they didn’t ring quite true. Nor did they diminish her suspicion that her failure to give him biological kids would disappoint him more than he let on. After all, part of his obsession with CTC was the idea of it being a family legacy to pass down generation to generation.
His confidence might not yet allow for the possibility that he wouldn’t have heirs. But if that became their reality, would she really be enough for him? How could that be true when she barely held his attention most days? And, aside from all that, it wouldn’t lessen her own disappointment that, unlike her sisters and friends, she wouldn’t be adding to the family tree.
“Let’s not jinx this by talking about what happens if it fails.” She rubbed her chest as if that might ease the heartburn her mental gymnastics had caused.
He grinned. “Again with the superstitions.”
“Yes! Please. Only positive energy and positive thoughts for the next few weeks. When we get home, I’m going straight to bed, legs elevated, and not moving unless absolutely necessary.”
Hunter’s eyes darkened with desire even though she didn’t feel the least bit attractive and hadn’t in quite some time. “How long until we’re allowed to finally have sex again?”
Not easy for a man with Hunter’s sex drive. Hers used to match his, but recently it had gone into hiding. The emotional distance between them hadn’t helped. She missed sex in a vague sort of way but couldn’t rouse herself to do much about it.
“Can’t come soon enough.” He leaned in, touching his nose to hers, and closed his eyes, whispering, “I miss my wife.”
He could be so adorably handsome and tender when he left the office behind. Too bad that happened so rarely. “I miss you, too.”
He’d been talking about sex, though, so she doubted he got her meaning.
The doctor came in, gave them instructions, and wished them well. During the ride home, Sara panicked with each and every bump in the road. Never before had the town roads seemed like rutted backwoods byways. When Hunter took a corner too fast, she shot him a look. “Slow down! If we crash, it could ruin everything.”
“Sorry.” He dutifully eased off the gas pedal. “I’ll get takeout for dinner. What do you want?”
“Something from A CertainTea.” Colby’s restaurant had been open only a few months now, but its funky take on haute cuisine had caught on. Sara’s preference for Alec’s food revolved around the fact that it was locally grown and mostly organic, too.
“Those portions leave me starving within thirty minutes,” Hunter grumbled.
“Then order double, or get yourself a pizza. I want healthy, organic food, but nothing on my no-go list.”
“What’s that?”
“The list of things I shouldn’t eat if I’m pregnant.” She knew he’d been paying only half attention when she’d talked about it the other week. “I’ve printed it out at home.”
“I have a bad feeling that, from now on, my only good meals will be when Colby meets me for a burger at Gab-n-Eat.” Hunter’s phone rang, so he hit the hands-free button on his steering wheel. “Hello?”
“Hunter, it’s Bethany. I’ve pulled those market reports you asked for.”
He fell silent. Although she couldn’t see his eyes because he was staring at the road, she knew he was dying to delve into a major discussion about CTC. Without glancing at Sara, he said, “E-mail them to me. I won’t be returning today, so I’ll take a look from home.”
“Oh?” Bethany paused, probably shocked into silence. Sara was, too, but she didn’t react for fear of him changing his mind. “Is there anything else I can do for you today?”
“I’ll call you if I need something.”
“Okay, have a good afternoon.”
Sara heard disappointment in Bethany’s voice. She remembered being an employee, eager to please the boss. Recalled the thrill of working on special projects, of contributing to something exciting.
But Sara had heard something else in Bethany’s voice, too. A personal kind of disappointment from a woman who wanted to spend time with the man, not the boss. As far as Sara knew, Bethany had never done anything overt. Still, intuition—and Jed and Jenna’s history—warned her to pay attention to that woman’s “dedication” to Hunter.
As they pulled into the garage, Sara asked, “Does Bethany have a personal life?”
Hunter killed the engine, shrugging. “No idea.”
After they exited the car, Sara walked into the house as if attempting to cross glass in her bare feet. She wouldn’t risk moving too quickly, tripping, or doing anything else that might “jar” her uterus. “How can you have worked with her for five years and have no idea about her personal life?”
Hunter hung the keys on the key rack in the mudroom, brows drawn. “Why would I? We’re not friends. She works for me. We talk about work.”
Sara patted his cheek, secretly relieved by his obliviousness to Bethany, who was, in fact, quite an attractive, if slightly older, woman. “Oh, honey, you really have a one-track mind.”
In this one instance, it was a good thing for their marriage.
“It gets the job done.” They started toward the stairs together until he playfully scooped her into his arms and carried her up to their room. “I have a surprise for you.”
“Oh?”
He gently settled her on the bed and quickly fluffed a bunch of pillows for her behind her back and under her legs. He then went to his nightstand and withdrew a jewelry box.
He sat beside her and handed her the gift. “I had this made because, no matter what happens, you’ll always be my everything.”
Heart melt. These sentimental moments, however fleeting, kept her fighting for their marriage instead of giving up.
“I didn’t get you anything.” She grimaced, turning the box over in her hands, feeling comparatively thoughtless for a change.
“Why would you? I didn’t suffer everything you did to get to this point. My body is needle- and bruise-free.”
Really, though, she suspected he was most concerned with the wounds to her heart. Her eyes got misty while she opened the package to find a silver heart-shaped pendant necklace engraved with the date March 3, 2004. It took her a second to register the date—the day they first met. Over the lump in her throat, she said, “It’s beautiful.” She leaned up to kiss him. “People would be shocked to know about your sentimental streak.”
An uncharacteristically shy grin surfaced. “Turn it over.”
She flipped it over in her palm to find latitude and longitude coordinates: 45.423965° N, 122.680543° W. “What are these?”
“Home.” He kissed her.
“Really? Our exact coordinates?” Her eyes widened.
“So you’ll never lose your way back to me.”
She threw her arms around his neck and kissed his face a few times. “Sometimes you take my breath away.”
“I try.” He brushed some of her hair from her face and kissed her mouth before taking the necklace from her and fastening it around her neck.
She sat amid the pillows, fingering her new bauble. “Thank you for this. It’s perfect.”
He had no idea how badly she’d needed some sign from him that she and their life together mattered that much.
“You’re welcome.” When her stomach growled a reply, he laughed. “So what can I bring you for lunch?”
“Can we see what kind of soup Alec made today?”
“Sure. Where’s the list of no-goes?” He smirked as he covered her with the throw from the chaise.
“On my kitchen desk. Maybe we could eat up here—a picnic in bed.”
His eyes flashed with a naughty light—and, surprisingly, it sparked that long-dormant soft and fluttery feeling back to life. “I’d rather snack on you, but I guess Alec’s food will have to do for a while longer. I’ll order something and go pick it up. Be back soon.”
He kissed the tip of her nose, handed her the remote, and then left her, whistling. He hadn’t whistled in a long while, and the sound made her entire body smile. She nestled deeper into the pillows and rubbed her belly. I’m praying all three of you make it. Your daddy and I can’t wait to welcome you and start our family.
The picnic idea reminded her of the night Hunter had proposed. He’d filled her apartment with candles, planned a picnic on the floor, and played the third movement of Rachmaninov’s Symphony no. 2 during the big moment. Those early years had been filled with intimate evenings when they’d talked and kissed and laughed. When they’d found each other to be endlessly fascinating, each conversation another thrilling exploration. The good ol’ days before he’d forget to close the bathroom door when he peed, she thought wryly.
A few minutes of mindless TV channel surfing later, the doorbell rang. A delivery? Girl Scout? Didn’t matter. Unless the house caught fire, she had no plans to leave her bed, let alone climb the stairs again. Then it rang a second time. A stray worry threaded through her thoughts—was someone testing to see if anyone was home before attempting a break-in?
She started when the house phone rang. “Hello?”
“Sara, honey, it’s me,” Hunter’s mom, Leslie, said. “Why aren’t you answering the door?”
“I’m supposed to rest for a few days, so I’m not doing anything that isn’t necessary.”
“Can I let myself in? I brought you a little something. I promise I won’t overstay my welcome.”
“That’s sweet.” Sara smiled, trying to imagine what Leslie might’ve brought. Something unusual, no doubt. “Come on in. I’m upstairs.”
Sara hung up the phone and lowered the television volume. Leslie entered the room with quick strides, carrying a lilac-colored gift bag tied with raffia. Like Hunter, his mom’s bright eyes reflected intensity, although hers had a more playful energy. Sara had never seen anyone’s aura, but given Leslie’s radiance, she imagined it to be orange or sunny yellow. She was a naturally pretty woman whose spry step made her appear a decade younger than her sixty years.
Leslie set the bag on the nightstand and then captured Sara in a warm hug. “How do you feel?”
“Pretty good. A little sore.” Sara shrugged. “Nervous.”
Leslie stroked Sara’s head in a mothering fashion, which Sara appreciated considering how infrequently she got to visit with her own mother. She missed her family—her sisters—and envied the fact that a few of them still lived within ten miles of one another.
“Set aside those nerves. Worrying never helps anyone with anything.” Leslie stopped suddenly and glanced around, forehead creased in frustration. “Where’s my son? He should be here with you.”
“He went to pick up some dinner.”
“Oh, good. I might’ve had to kill him if he went back to the office.” Leslie raised a playful fist in the air, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Now, don’t you want to know what’s in the bag?”
“Yes, but I also want to hear about your trip with Rusty.” Sara began untying the raffia. She retrieved a small green plant from inside the bag. “Bamboo?”
“Bamboo plants bring good luck to the recipient. And, according to feng shui, if you put it in the east side of the room, it improves your chi.” Leslie swiped the small plant from Sara’s grasp and wandered around the room. “Which way is east?”
Sara pointed toward the bathroom door. “That way, I think.”
Leslie wrinkled her nose, searching for a flat surface on which she might place the vase. Unfortunately, there weren’t any because the chaise consumed most of that side of the room. “Hmmm . . . maybe I’ll just put it on the floor for now.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you. Thanks.” Sara couldn’t help but smile at their shared superstitious nature. “Let’s hope it helps.”
Leslie sat on the edge of the mattress and patted Sara’s hand. Her mother-in-law’s eyes glittered with hope and yearning, even as her gaze dropped to Sara’s abdomen. Of everyone in Hunter’s family, only his mother shared Sara’s desperate yearning for life to take root. For more family. “You’re welcome, sweetie.”
Determined not to focus all her thoughts or conversation on pregnancy, Sara teased, “Now, give me the scoop about your first-ever getaway with Rusty. Good, bad, or indifferent? No fibs involved, I hope?”
Some may have considered that a ridiculous question, but Leslie had fabricated a dead dog named Snickers to woo the last man she dated, so one never knew.
“No fibs. At least none that should matter.” She tucked a bit of the blanket around Sara the way one might do to a small child.
“Uh-oh. What’s that mean?”
“Well, you know how it is with men. Their egos are so fragile. You can’t ever be totally honest.” Leslie’s eyes twinkled above a conspiratorial grin. “I might’ve exaggerated a bit about how much I loved the Universal Studios tour. You know. Things like that.”
“So you didn’t enjoy it?”
“I liked it fine, but there are other things I’d rather do in Los Angeles. Hiking in Malibu would’ve been more my speed.” Then her eyes widened with interest as she leaned closer. “And I read about the California Institute of Abnormalarts. Sounded wild and weird, which is right up my alley.”
Hunter had told childhood stories about the “field trips” he and Colby had taken with his mother. He’d acted put out, but Sara knew him well enough to know that, in some ways, he’d been as intrigued as his mother by the oddities.
“Why didn’t you tell Rusty? Maybe he’d have liked that, too.”
“He’d planned the whole weekend, and I didn’t want to seem ungrateful or steal his thunder. Besides, we made it fun enough. Maybe next time I’ll plan something . . . like a two-day yoga retreat.”
Sara frowned. “He doesn’t look like a guy who does yoga.”
“Exactly! He needs a little exercise.” She patted Sara’s thigh. “He’ll feel so much better once he gets into it.”
Sara giggled. “How nice of you to be looking out for his health.”
“I try, dear. I really try,” Leslie said sincerely, totally missing that it was a joke.
“Hello, Mom.” Hunter entered the room, carrying a tray loaded with their dinners.
“You don’t look surprised to see me.” Leslie rose from the bed.
“Your car is in my driveway.” Hunter set the tray on the bench at the end of the bed and kissed his mother hello.
His mom peered at the meals and sighed. “No chocolate?”
“Not allowed, nor were half the things on the menu.” Hunter chuckled.
“Really?” Sara leaned forward to see what he’d brought. Green soup?
“No raw, smoked, or high-mercury seafood; no custard, hollandaise, or other sauces with raw egg; no soft cheeses, pâté, or caffeine,” he read from his phone. “Like I said, at least half the items on the menu were out.”
“So what’s that soup?” Sara eyed the vivid liquid, which was sprinkled with purple flowers and almonds.
“White gazpacho, and then there’s some kind of Dijon chicken dish I can’t pronounce and vegetables.”
“Thank you.” Sara motioned with her hands. “I’m ready.”
“I’ll leave you two alone.” Leslie slung her purse over her shoulder. “Can I come tomorrow to help out? I can do laundry, fix your meals, whatever.”
“Thanks, Mom. That’d be great,” Hunter answered. “I’ll feel better if Sara has some company while I’m at work.”
“I’d love it, Leslie.” Sara would like company for part of the day but hid her disappointment that Hunter wasn’t planning to take another day off to be with her until she was cleared for more activity. “How about if I call you midmorning?”
“Okay. I’ll see if I can find something tasty for lunch that doesn’t break all those rules. Pregnancy was much easier back in my day, and you kids all turned out fine.”
“Some might argue that point,” Hunter muttered.
“Then some would be wrong.” Leslie kissed them both goodbye and let herself out of the house.
Hunter hoped Sara couldn’t tell that he was a little preoccupied with his conversations with Bethany on his way to and from the restaurant. He’d need to do a little work tonight if at all possible, although Sara might kill him if he brought his laptop up here. He was banking on her being drowsy and falling asleep early. He’d work in bed so he’d be there if she woke and needed anything.
Better to wait awhile before bringing that up. “How’s the soup?”
The necklace he’d given her lay against her breastbone, reflecting light. For a brief moment, his thoughts settled.
“Amazing, of course.” She smiled and sipped more from her spoon. “Thanks for getting all of this. The Dijon smells fantastic.”
“Will it bum you out if I order a meat lover’s pizza for myself?” He grimaced.
“Just a little,” she teased. “The thing that makes me most jealous is that your bad eating habits haven’t caught up to you yet.”
As if she didn’t look more beautiful to him with each passing year. Wiser. Kinder. More a part of him than anyone else in his life. Still, given the gravity of the day’s events, a little levity would help. “So you’re saying I still look good?”
“You know you do. You keep getting better with age.” She shook her head. “It’s disgusting.”
He preened, prolonging the joke. “If it’s any consolation, I’m all yours.”
She snorted, almost losing half the soup through her nose. “Lucky me.”
“No.” He handed her a napkin. “Lucky me.”
Laughter felt damn good. Life had been so heavy lately he’d started to envy his sister and Alec’s new relationship. Despite its rocky start, they were experiencing all those early relationship firsts and flutters. Each day allowed for the fascinating exploration of each other’s likes and dislikes, passions and fears, ambitions and desires. No one had yet nagged about picking up socks or working late or missing a trip to the in-laws in California because of a production-plant crisis.
Hunter had never been particularly wise about love. In fact, the only thing he knew with certainty was that loving someone didn’t always make living with them a cakewalk.
While Sara was as much a part of him as his own body, and he meant every word he’d said when he’d given her that pendant, he couldn’t pretend he didn’t miss the sizzle of excitement he used to feel anytime he heard her voice.
They’d forgotten how to be spontaneous. How to woo each other. He’d done some good wooing in this room, he thought wryly as his gaze wandered the peaceful space. Then he noticed a weird little plant on the floor. “Sara . . . I have a question.”
“You sound odd. What is it?”
“That’s the question, actually. What is that?” Hunter pointed at the branchy plant abandoned on the bedroom floor.
“Bamboo. Your mom says it brings good luck.”
He nestled into the pillows beside his wife. “I’m sure I’ll regret this next question, but why is it on the floor instead of on a dresser?”
“It needs to be in the eastern part of the room.”
“It’s only good luck if it’s in that spot?” His mother’s kooky ideas never ceased to amaze him.
“No, that part’s not about luck. The east is the best spot for improving the room’s chi.” Sara chewed her chicken, shrugging. “Feng shui.”
“Let me guess. Given your superstitions about the pregnancy, that plant stays there for the next nine months.”
“You got it.”
“Okay, then. I’ll make sure not to accidentally kick it over in the middle of the night.”
“Please be careful.” Her expression turned more somber. “I meant what I said before. This is my last IVF. I can’t go through the protocol and disappointment again. To come so close and lose a third time would break me. So I don’t want anything ruining this chance at making us a happy family.”
He watched her chew an enormous mouthful of food. She’d put her heart and body through so much in her quest to re-create the kind of family life she’d left in California. Not even Jenna frustrated him more than his inability to give Sara what she needed. “I’ll be careful.”
His mouth turned dry when he made room for the possibility of another negative pregnancy test. He’d researched surrogacy and adoption, but every single option had its own set of risks and pitfalls. To date, Sara hadn’t been ready to pursue any, leaving him no surefire way to give her what she most wanted. God willing, she’d have a child to focus on soon so she’d stop nitpicking at his faults.
She pushed aside the mostly eaten plate of chicken. “Want the rest? It’s tasty.”
In an effort to be playful, he took a bite of chicken, moved the tray to the floor, and crawled back onto the mattress until he hovered over her. Pushing away the implications of the fact that Sara didn’t seem to miss sex, he raised her shirt and kissed her belly, then started kissing his way up her torso. Before he could get excited, her fingers dug into his hair. “Hunter, we can’t.”
He hung his head. “Not even a little?”
“I need to be still today. No quick movements or contractions.” She ruffled his hair like he was a child. “No point in getting all excited for nothing.”
Hunter flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He knew the “rules,” but they also gave her a convenient excuse, which bothered him. He reached out to intertwine their fingers. “Promise me that, once you’re pregnant, you won’t find other excuses not to have sex. I’ve heard some women get weird about that during pregnancy. Like suddenly their bodies are all about the baby.”
Or worse. He’d overheard complaints of coworkers whose lives had become overrun by kids. Whose marriages turned into coparenting jobs. Hunter liked the idea of a family . . . of a son. But the realities might be more all-consuming than he was prepared for, and he wasn’t convinced he’d be good at it. That wasn’t easy to admit, and not just because he liked being good at things.
What if instead of his son being like him and wanting to work side by side, he turned out to be more like Hunter’s mom or Gentry, with their far-out ideas and crazy adventures? Hunter knew his flaws well, and rigidity was one of them. He had a hard time communicating with people he didn’t understand. He didn’t dislike them; he just didn’t know how to relate to them.
What if he couldn’t relate to his own kid? He cringed inwardly at that possibility and kept quiet.
“I know our sex life has taken a hit.” Sara rolled over and kissed him, apparently misreading his silence as frustration. “We’ve gone through so much to get pregnant, and now we’re so close. I don’t want to risk anything.”
He got that. He wasn’t an idiot. Just frustrated, horny, and, for all the confidence he was projecting for her sake, worried about what Sara might do if she didn’t get pregnant.
Before he considered his words, that thought slipped out. “You know, I meant what I said earlier . . . if that bamboo fails to live up to its reputation, you’re everything I need.”
Her gaze drifted to their clasped hands. She squeezed his, her voice low and somber. “I love you and know you mean well, but please . . . no negative thoughts.”
He waited for a return of his sentiment. Like a black light, her silence called attention to his hidden, tender spots of self-doubt. He blinked, allowing himself a second to pivot from yet another bleak admission. “What do you want to do? TV? Cards? Scrabble?”
“Actually, I want to talk to you about something I’ve been considering since my meeting at the Angel House.”
He didn’t love the idea of her going there on a regular basis. “You said some of those women might be escaping violence. I’d rather you not spend much time there.”
“I like being helpful.”
“Can’t you help from a distance? I don’t want anything to happen to you.” He stroked her hair. “And I don’t want people taking advantage of your good nature, either.”
“No one’s taking advantage. And I don’t want to live life from a distance. I want to be close. To make a connection. If you’re so worried, come with me sometime.” She set her hand on his thigh. “In fact, why don’t we volunteer together? It’d be nice to share something positive like this.”
“I’ve hardly any free time as it is. Besides, if you’re pregnant, don’t you want to take it easy?”
“You might feel good making a difference in the community.” She withdrew her hand and pulled a pillow onto her lap. “And being pregnant won’t make me an invalid. But, actually, I meant to discuss something else.”
He was glad he hadn’t ordered his pizza yet, because the wary look on her face made his stomach turn over. “What?”
“I told you about the little boy, Ty.”
“The drug addict’s kid?”
She slapped his chest. “He made me realize how many kids out there don’t have enough, or any, security and support.” She hesitated, looking down as if steeling herself. “I’ve been thinking we should be foster parents.”
Whoa. Taking on kids with problems he had no idea how to handle? Brilliant idea, especially with everything going on at work and the fact that they might be having kids of their own by summer. “Sara, you might be pregnant with triplets. Now isn’t the time to open up the house to strangers.”
“So I get no vote?”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
Her clear blue eyes reflected determination. “The approval process takes time. Let’s fill out the preliminary application and get the background checks, home inspection, and classes done. If I’m pregnant with multiple kids, I’m sure we can decline taking on a foster child.” When he didn’t reply, she added, “If you’d see this little boy and think about how he’ll never get the kind of opportunities we could provide, you wouldn’t hesitate. We’re so lucky, Hunter. We have so much—education, space, money. Think of how we could change lives.”
When she put it that way, how could he refuse? Not that he’d refuse her much. Besides, he just knew this pregnancy would take, and then this would be a nonissue. Despite her open heart and energy, even Sara couldn’t handle triplets and foster kids.
His ultimate goal today was to keep her calm and stress-free. “If it’s that important to you, I’ll support you.”
When her gorgeous smile appeared, the room glowed from its warmth. “Grab your laptop. We can fill out an online application right now.”
A legitimate excuse to bring his laptop into the bedroom. Maybe she was right about karma. “Be right back.”
He trotted downstairs to the office, thinking about her request. Sara needed something he couldn’t provide, and something she wasn’t getting elsewhere.
If being a foster parent could restore their marriage to the stable patterns he’d always counted on, it’d be worth exploring. Maybe it would even alleviate the sense he was failing her in some amorphous way he couldn’t grasp or change.