Chapter 11

Coulter

I'd suspected for some time that the child was behind Gwen's reluctance to have anything to do with me. I'd known about the baby. Bitsy had confessed to Buddy, and he had relayed the news to me. I had known with every instinct that she would be a wonderful mother. Even so, she had seemed so single and available. I supposed it was the close relationship between Bitsy and her that allowed them to coordinate so well. They were both able to live lives as young women, even though there was a child involved. I liked children. I hoped to have some of my own someday.

The baby began to cry, and Gwen put her cup down on the coffee table. "Excuse me, I have to make her bottle and put her down to sleep." I knew she expected me to recognize my cue to leave, but I didn't want to. I'd gone through too much with her to leave now. It was a tender, almost family moment and I wanted to stay, I wanted to be a part of it. So, I watched as she prepared the bottle and carried it along with Carrie into the bedroom. I could hear her humming a lullaby as she changed the baby's clothing. I got up and stood in the doorway, watching her. She kissed the baby fondly on both cheeks and cuddled her against her face before putting the bottle into her mouth and laying her down in the crib. She gently tucked covers up around her and added a little green elephant that waited at the foot of the crib. I studied the crib and then the bed where Gwen slept at night. It was a tiny room and the bed was no bigger than a twin. I wondered how she slept in it, given that she was tall, but I knew that having her daughter close by was more important than her own comfort. Once the baby was happily sucking at the bottle, Gwen turned, and putting a finger to her mouth to silence me, she came toward me and motioned me out the doorway. She pulled the door shut behind herself and looked at me as if to say, are you leaving now?

"I have an idea," I said. "I know a nice little restaurant not too far from here. If you'll allow me, I'd like to call and order some dinner for us. Will you let me do that for you?"

There was a mixed look on her face. I saw the fleeting glance of gratitude that meant she wouldn't have to cook, or maybe she was planning on eating something simple like scrambled eggs and didn't have anything to offer me. On the other hand, she wanted to tell me no, to tell me to go away and leave her in her predicament. She didn't understand me. She might never understand me, but that didn't mean I would stop trying. "What do you say?"

She nodded, and I didn't give her enough time to change her mind. I pulled out my phone and ordered us two steak dinners with all the trimmings. We settled back on the sofa and she flipped on the television using the remote. She settled on a show from National Geographic, something that was neutral and interesting. She kept the sound low and I was grateful for that. I had the idea she wanted to talk it out.

There came a knock at the door and she went to answer it. It was the restaurant. Evidently, someone had let the man in downstairs. The waiter brought in several boxes and looked to Gwen for some indication where he was to lay out the dinner. I saw a fleeting glance of alarm in her eyes and she motioned to the coffee table. There was no dining room. He nodded as if it was the most natural thing in the world and cleared away the remote and the short pile of magazines that lay there. With a sweep of his hand, he snapped a white linen tablecloth over the coffee table, tucking it inward so that it looked almost as if it were made for it. He looked at Gwen again and she realized he wanted plates. She pulled two unmatched plates from the cupboard and handed them to him, following those with flatware and paper towels to use as napkins. The waiter set out the various boxes, filling our plates and I had to give him credit: for what he had to work with, he made it look five-star. I tipped him well and he nodded and left quietly. There was a bottle of wine and I lightened the mood by grabbing our empty teacups from the side table where the waiter had set them. I poured some wine and each of the cups and handed one to her. She smiled and gave me a half nod. I knew she understood.

I was famished, so it was very little effort for me to begin eating. She began picking, but soon her nervousness must have dwindled because she picked up her steak knife and began cutting hearty chunks of the meat.

"Bitsy would absolutely kill me if she knew I was having steak," she said with a guilty tone.

"Then, next time I come I will make sure that Bitsy's home and include her. Who knows? Maybe we’ll invite Buddy along."

"Have you forgiven Bitsy for her involvement in that elevator fiasco?" she asked me.

I waved my hand from side to side. "All forgotten," I murmured and sipped the wine. I could feel it coursing through my veins, calming me down. As self-assured as I was, the close call of losing her permanently had me shaking to my knees.

We ate in silence for a while, enjoying the delicious food. The television show fascinated us as we watched a lioness prowling. The announcer was commenting that it was the male’s job to hunt but, in this case, the lioness was left alone with the cubs. "This reminds me of my boss, Metallica," she said conversationally. "She came to the US as a child. Her father worked for the United Nations and eventually, she ended up here in Chicago. She's one tough lady, smart and savvy. I'm learning a lot from her."

"Do you really enjoy your job?"

"I'm lucky to have it," she nodded. "I could be working in fast food."

I nodded in agreement and picked up my teacup of wine. I held it out toward her. "To us," I toasted. She hesitated only a moment but lifted her cup to tap against mine and we both sipped the sweet liquid, thereby sealing our intentions.

"You know, you've never answered me." She put the comment out there and I knew she wanted an answer.

"About?"

"What is it you want from me? Now you know my truth. I'm an unmarried mother with a child and I must work and live in this tiny little apartment with a girlfriend to get by. I'm not in your group, Colt. I don't move in your circles, and quite frankly, I'm not sure I want to."

"Somewhere along the line, you've got a really bad opinion of people with money. How do you see the world so black-and-white?"

She shrugged. "I didn't use to," she said softly. "Things happen that teach you lessons along the way. I learned one of those lessons."

I let it go. She deserved to have some secrets, but maybe someday she would open enough to share them with me.