Chapter Fourteen

 

As I looked through my suitcase to change into my nightgown for bed, I realized that I had stupidly taken Cheyenne’s advice and brought something a little provocative to wear. She thought maybe if I felt sexy it would end my career as a nun, or it would at least ease me into getting comfortable with my body again. I pulled out the tiny, black, silk women’s boxer shorts and the barely there silk camisole that went with them. It was definitely not child-appropriate.

I shoved the lingerie back into my suitcase and hid it under a layer of clothing. “Blake,” I called. He and Maddie were sitting in front of the television watching reruns of Full House.

He peeked around the half wall that divided where the king-size bed stood and the living room area where Maddie would be sleeping on the pullout couch. “Yeah,” he answered.

He looked happy—happier than I had seen him in months, or maybe ever.

“Do you have an extra t-shirt I can sleep in?”

Blake was a tall guy and his t-shirts practically looked like dresses on me.

“Did you forget your pajamas?”

“Uh, no.”

He was curious now. He walked toward me, grinning. “So you just want to wear my shirt?”

“Maybe.”

“I do like you in my shirts.”

“Great, will you get me one?”

“Sure.” He smirked.

He walked over to the dresser drawer and pulled out a dark blue cotton shirt.

I always thought it was funny that he always unpacked completely, even if we were only staying a night or two.

He handed me the shirt, but didn’t let go of it. Instead he used it to pull me to him. His hands slid down to my waist and he wrapped me up against him. “Thank you,” he whispered in my ear.

“For what?”

“For being amazing through all of this. I couldn’t do this without you.”

“Sure you could,” I whispered against him.

He hugged me tighter and spoke lower in my ear. “I wouldn’t want to. Are you sure you’re all right with me sharing the bed with you tonight?”

I laughed softly against him. “I think I can manage.”

He groaned lowly against my ear and kissed me. That began his lips’ slow journey down my face and then to my neck.

It sent shivers down my spine. My hands had just about gained their courage to make their way through his hair.

“Dad,” Maddie called.

We broke apart and gave each other knowing grins. And so it began. Now was probably not the best time in our life to get our sex life back on track. Having a child around added a new obstacle to it all.

“Yeah?” he called back.

“I’m tired. Can you help me pull out the bed?”

Without another word he left to rescue his daughter.

I took the time to get ready for bed, going through my nightly ritual of scrubbing my face and moisturizing practically every body part. I loved living in the west, but the dry air was killer on my skin.

I crawled into bed and listened to Blake talk to Maddie. He told her about summer school, which she was none too happy about. I think her words were, “What the flip?” I hadn’t heard the word flip used like that in forever. It was a Utah saying for sure. Blake explained to her that he didn’t want her to be held back. She still wasn’t happy. “My mom doesn’t care if I get good grades.”

“Well, I do. And so should you,” he told her kindly but firmly.

“I’m not smart,” she said, like that settled the matter. I had to admire her spunk.

“You are smart. You just need to apply yourself. And I’ll help you or get you any help you need.”

“This sucks,” she said.

Why did I think we were in for a wild ride? I was waiting for Blake to correct her choice of words, but he didn’t. All I heard him say was, “Sleep well, Madeline. Goodnight.”

A moment later, he appeared around the half wall. He looked a little out of sorts. “I’m going to take a shower.”

I settled in under the fluffy down comforter, but as soon as I heard the water from the shower, I heard some other waterworks, too. I could hear some sniffling coming from the living area. I sat back up, not sure what to do. But then I thought, what would friggin’ Maria von Trapp do? I threw off the covers and crept quietly to the pull-out bed where Maddie was lying, curled up in a ball and crying. I sat next to her and rubbed her back. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to go to summer school. I hate it,” she responded.

“It’s only for the month, and the classes are only for half the day.”

“I still hate it.”

Okay Maria, what do I say? I thought. I wasn’t ready for this. “You know, you get to go to my old school and I know the teachers. They’re really nice.” I’m not sure it was Maria-worthy, but it was the first thing that popped into my head.

“They won’t be to me, because I’m dumb.”

“Hey, you’re not dumb.”

“Yes, I am.”

I stroked her pretty, blond hair. “Why do you say that?”

“Because I don’t read as well as everyone else and I suck at math.”

“That doesn’t make you dumb, it just means you may need another way to learn, or that you may have to put some extra effort into it. What your dad is doing will help us figure out what you need so we can help you. This isn’t a punishment.”

“My mom says school is stupid. She said it didn’t help her.”

Her mom was an idiot, but I kept that to myself. “School is a door-opener.”

“What does that mean?”

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” I asked instead of answering.

She thought for a minute. “I want to be an artist or a fashion designer.”

“That’s great. So what is your plan to become an artist or fashion designer?”

“Plan?”

“What college do you want to go to? What type of artist do you want to be? Who do you want to design clothes for, or do you want to have your own line?”

“I don’t know, I just want to draw pictures and sell them, or draw pictures of clothes.”

“Okay. Well, you need to learn about different techniques and different types of fabrics and how to sell your products and where.”

“You can just do it on the internet,” she countered.

“Yes, but what about a website and advertising?”

“You hire someone to do all that stuff.”

“That can be very expensive, and the more you know about each aspect of your business the better off you will be.”

She made an “ugh” sort of sound and curled more into herself.

“Honey, all I’m saying is the more education you can get, the more options and opportunities you’ll have in life.”

“Did you go college?”

“I did.”

“What about my dad?”

“He didn’t, but he wishes he had. He didn’t have the same opportunity as you. Your dad wants to give you something he didn’t have. Can you understand that?”

She nodded her head.

“You know summer school could be fun. You might meet some new friends.”

“Yeah,” she said, not convinced.

“And after school,” I took a deep breath and let it out, “you can come help me at the café if you would like.”

She turned toward me. Her gray, watery eyes shined in the darkened room. “You’d let me help you?”

I nodded my head.

“Can I show you how to make chocolate cake?”

“Sure, I’d like that.”

She smiled wide.

I touched her soft forehead. “Goodnight, Maddie.”

She surprised me and hugged my midsection. I gave her a little hug in return.

“Goodnight, Jessie.”

I walked back to bed humming, So Long, Farewell. Maybe I would never be Maria von Trapp, but that wasn’t too bad.

Blake, who took the quickest showers ever, was already lying in bed when I returned. I joined him and lay down facing him. His eyes were warm, and though he wasn’t smiling, he looked content. He reached over and rested his hand on my cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered quietly.

“Just call me Maria,” I replied quietly.

He smiled, confused. “Why?”

I shook my head slightly. “I’ll explain later.”

“Goodnight,” he responded. And with that he turned over and within a minute I could hear him quietly snoring.

I, on the other hand, lay on my back and stewed. Sleeping in the same bed with him was bringing up all sorts of feelings. On one hand I was annoyed because he didn’t try anything with me. I get that his daughter was close by, but really, not even a kiss goodnight? On the other hand I was relieved, because I was afraid if he wanted more I would have led him on and then not been able to follow through. I was also kicking myself. I mean, why couldn’t I make myself scoot the short distance over to him and put my arms around him? Part of me so desperately craved to be near him, but then I thought of all the nights he so easily put me off because sleep was more important to him. Then there was the way I felt about my own body and how I worried about how he felt about my body.

That was why I was in therapy.

I woke up to an unfamiliar feeling. I found myself wrapped up against Blake. My body immediately stiffened. 

“Relax, Jessica,” Blake whispered low in my ear.

I looked at the bedside clock to see that it was barely five in the morning. A little too early to be up, but that was Blake. I took a deep breath and settled against him.

“Jessica, have I done something that hurt you or made you feel uncomfortable?”

“No, why?” I whispered carefully.

“You seem to tense up every time I touch you or come near you.”

I turned over in his arms so I could see him. I wanted this conversation to be face to face. I made myself reach up, touch his cheek, and look into his eyes that still looked warm and even inviting. “Blake, it’s not you, it’s me. I’m broken.”

He applied gentle pressure with his hand to the small of my back and brought me closer to him. “What do you mean, you’re broken?”

I felt the sting of the tears. “Ever since the surgery, I … don’t feel like me. Like there’s something wrong with me. I feel like I failed you, and our baby. And that I’m unattractive.”

He reached up and gently ran the back of his hand down my wet cheek. “Jess, you didn’t fail anyone, especially not me. I’m the failure here. I’ve obviously failed to convey how beautiful I think you are. And how much better my life is because of you.”

“Yeah, we’ve been really happy together,” I responded sarcastically.

“So, we have some things to work on. I couldn’t imagine my life with anyone but you.”

“You don’t have a very good imagination then.” I smiled.

He smirked back.

“I just want to feel whole and wanted and comfortable in my skin … and in yours.”

He moved his hand up through my hair and pulled my face closer to his. His lips just barely hovered above mine. “Believe me you’re wanted, but I can be patient until you feel like you’re ready again.”

“Blake, what if it takes a while? And you get tired of waiting?”

He pulled his head back and narrowed his eyes. “Are you asking if I would cheat on you?”

“Sometimes I wonder if I had slept with you when we were dating that maybe … maybe we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“Jess,” he said almost angrily, “what happened with me and Sabrina had nothing to do with you, other than the fact that I hated myself for pushing you away. It was a moment of intoxicated insanity. I mean, look at her. There’s no comparison. You were right to make us wait. I want Madeline to be just like you.” He leaned in and brushed my lips once with his. “You are always worth the wait. You don’t ever have to worry about that. I’m sorry you even had to ask that question.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

“You don’t need to apologize. Just tell me what we can do to fix things.”

“I told you that Dr. Ames said we should touch each other more.”

He grinned devilishly. “Finally, a doctor that makes sense.”

“Your best friend is a doctor and so is my dad.”

“They’re all right, too.”

“She means like holding hands, kissing goodbye and hello, those types of things.”

“I’ve been trying to be better at that.”

“You have, and I like that. She also says I need to disconnect sex with getting pregnant.”

“But,” he said hesitantly, “that’s not even an option anymore.”

“I know, but sex became more about getting pregnant than it did about connecting with you.”

He nodded in agreement.

“I’m sorry.” I thought back about how sex had become like a chore. Nothing is sexier than telling your husband he has to have sex with you because you’re ovulating. He always obliged, but I could tell he wished it were a more natural event. I did too, but I was determined to have a baby. The romance of it all went out the window.

“Don’t be sorry—we both wanted that—but sometimes I only wanted you.”

“Well, that’s all that’s left now.”

“You’re not the consolation prize.”

I snuggled in closer and breathed him in. “You know, sometimes I think I may be in love with you.”

He drew me as close as he could. “I guess that’s better than ‘I don’t know.’”

“Are you going to move back into our room now?”

He kissed the top of my head. “I said I could be patient, but I’m not a masochist. Let’s take things slow and see how it goes.”

“Okay,” I said, relieved and disappointed. “Do you think Maddie will think it’s odd we don’t sleep in the same room?”

“I have a feeling the only odd thing for her will be how normal life will be with us.”

I hated thinking about the life Maddie had led up to that point. It made me more determined to be like Maria, or at least a really good knock-off.

I spent the next hour being held by my husband, nothing more and nothing less. I enjoyed every second of my head against his chest, listening to the strong, steady beat of his heart. We didn’t talk, but we listened to each other, if that made sense. It was the best start to my day that I had had in years. I could have stayed like that for a lot longer, but Blake was anxious to get his day started. He was more than ready for Maddie to be legally his.

Once we were ready and fed by room service—anytime Blake could avoid people he did—we went our separate ways. Blake took Maddie with him. I wasn’t sure what he would do with her at the attorney’s office, but they both seemed happy about it. I wasn’t going to complain. It was a beautiful summer day and I had it all to myself. I started off with a garden tour around the Mormon temple. It was within walking distance from our hotel, which was perfect, since Blake took my car.

The gardens were stunning. They had over seven hundred varieties of plants and flowers from all over the world, at least that’s what the tour guide said. The kaleidoscope of color was amazing. Everything from the deepest reds and blues, to the softest pinks and yellows. I snapped so many pictures I think the button on my camera groaned. Other than the magnificent gardens, my favorite had to be the reflecting pool outside of their granite temple. It was breathtaking to see that castle structure reflected off the still water.

Then, for the fun of it, I did a tour of the temple’s visitors’ center. I figured when in Rome . . . I had friends that were Mormon, but I didn’t know a lot about what they believed; I thought it would be interesting. It ended up being more than interesting. At first it was mostly historical, about how the Mormons ended up in Salt Lake City before it was even called that. Heck, it wasn’t even the United States when they arrived as pioneers. Some of the details were harrowing, and quite frankly, depressing. I had no idea that they were driven out of Illinois and forced to trek west, or how many of their people died in the journey from starvation and the elements. It got uncomfortable for me as the tour guide started talking about people burying their babies in shallow graves by the trailside. I had to force my tears back.

They didn’t stay back long as the guide went on to explain that the pioneers trudged forward with the faith that someday they would be reunited with their lost family members.

I left the tour early. I walked out into the beautiful, sun-filled day and found a bench to sit on while I composed myself. I looked up at the beautiful granite structure that the tour guide said took forty years to build and wondered about God and if he was really there. And if my Carter did live on, and if I would see him again.

My pastor preached about heaven and life beyond death, but after so much loss, my faith had been shaken. In the midst of my contemplation, my phone rang.

“Jessica,” my husband said on the other end.

“Yes.”

“Hey, we’re done here. I’m going to drop Madeline and Sabrina off at their apartment.”

“Randy won’t be there, will he?” I couldn’t stand the thought of him being around Maddie.

“No,” he said authoritatively.

“I’m glad to hear that.” Though I didn’t really like to think of Maddie in that apartment at all, I guess she had survived this long.

“Where are you? I’ll meet you when I’m done.”

“Right now I’m at the Mormon temple, but I wanted to go to City Creek Center. They’re having an art show I wanted to check out.”

“An art show?”

“I know it’s not your thing. But do you think you could indulge me?”

“If that’s what you really want to do.”

“I can meet you back at the hotel.”

He paused, and then paused some more. “I’ll meet you at City Creek Center.”

“Don’t sound so happy about it.”

“Jess, I’ll see you there.”

I shook my head. How we ended up together, I would never know. I swore we had nothing in common.

I grabbed a smoothie and soaked in the sun while waiting for my husband to join me. Within a half hour he came waltzing down the sidewalk, looking handsome. I rarely got to see him in anything but jeans and a t-shirt. He was still wearing jeans, but they were clean and snug in the right way and he was wearing an azure-colored button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up. It brought out the blue in his gray eyes and it suited him and his physique well. It was also nice to see him in some leather dress shoes instead of work boots. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the whole construction worker look, but this was nice, too.

I stood up from the bench I had been occupying—wearing the flirty pinkish sundress I had bought when I overhauled my wardrobe—and smiled at my not-so-happy-looking husband.

“There a lot of people here,” he commented as soon as he got to me.

“Hello to you, too.”

“Sorry,” he said as he kissed my cheek.

“Thanks for being a sport, or at least willing.”

“I told Madeline we wouldn’t be long. She’s finishing up packing.”

“All right,” I said before I turned toward the City Creek Center entrance and began walking that way.

“Hey.” Blake tugged on my hand.

I stopped and looked up at him.

His features had softened some and I could see the annoyance dissipate. “I’m sorry I’m on edge. I’m just ready to be out of this place.”

“Did something happen at your attorney’s office?”

“No, other than Sabrina being late and forgetting Madeline’s medical records, so we had to fax a release form over to her pediatrician. And it looks like Madeline hasn’t had a physical in years. I’ll need to get her in to see Easton as soon as we get home.”

I smiled and shook my head at my husband, the first-time father. “You can’t take her to see Easton.”

“Why not?”

“Your daughter is a young woman, and young women don’t want male doctors, especially ones she may see at our house. Make her an appointment with his partner, Dr. Singer. Debbie’s who I go to.”

He nodded his head in agreement. “That makes sense.”

“Everything else okay?”

“Can we go home tonight or at least drive to Grand Junction?”

“Yeah, sure. Do you want to leave now?”

He smiled down at me. “No. I want to spend some time with my wife.”

“Even at an art show?”

He didn’t answer, at least not verbally. I got that his answer was “no” by his crooked grin.

“Come on.” I pulled him along. It wasn’t going to kill him to spend an hour or so being immersed in culture, or at least pretending to be. Besides, the architecture of City Creek Center alone was art. A manmade stream flowed through the shopping area, and the waterfalls and fountains were amazing. Even Blake could be impressed by that. I mean seriously, they had trout swimming through the thing.

Blake would never admit to me that he was impressed, but I could tell as we walked toward the art show that was being held near the fountain that at least his interest was piqued, at least it was until we got to the art part. Blake thought we could just make a quick trip around and not stop and look at anything, but he was wrong. I planned to take a little time and immerse myself in the beautiful masterpieces that surrounded us.

The first thing that caught my eye was a wire sculpture of a tree with a child in a swing hanging off one of the branches. How people created such things, I would never know, and part of me didn’t want to know. It was more magical that way. This particular artist had several wire sculptures of trees. Some were made to look like they were blowing in the wind and some were even in color; they were all lovely.

Next were some heavenly looking watercolor paintings. One I particularly loved was done of the reflecting pool I had visited earlier in the day. I kept looking at Blake to gauge his reaction and it was the same for every piece. It said, “Can you please hurry up, I think I’d rather poke my eyes out.” So I began to ignore him. I even released his hand and walked at my own pace.

It was then I came by the most alluring oil painting I’d ever seen. I don’t know why, but it was like the woman in the painting was calling to me. I drew closer to the fairly large painting set up on an easel and framed beautifully in thick, black-painted, sculpted wood. The artist sat next to her creation and smiled at me like she knew the painting had pulled me in.

I knew better than to touch the art, but it was like my hand had a mind of its own. I had to stop it from reaching up to the hauntingly beautiful woman that stood on a cold beach looking out toward the tumultuous, unforgiving ocean. Though she was facing the water, her left hand, with a simple gold band on it, looked as if it was almost reaching back to the warmth. The scene behind her was of a fine home, warm and inviting with a fire blazing, and a feast on the table. Yet this raven-haired woman with the wind blowing against her wasn’t looking back. She looked determined not to.

I turned to the gray-haired artist who had a twinkle in her violet eyes. “Why is this woman not turning back?” I asked her. It seemed like that’s what she should do.

She smiled as if she knew a wonderful secret and was about to share it. “This woman is my great-great-great grandmother. She couldn’t look back because my great-great-great grandfather was across the ocean.”

I smiled. It was a love story, or so I thought. “So she followed him?”

“She gave up everything she had to do it,” the artist responded.

“Everything?”

“Her parents disowned her because she joined a strange new faith and promised herself to a man her parents disapproved of. When she finally made it to America, they worked until they could afford to cross the plains and make it west to this valley. They lost practically everything they owned, even their infant son, but together they made it.”

I looked up at Blake who had decided to join my side. I was surprised to see him listening intently to the story.

I turned back to the woman. “How did they get over such a loss?” I wiped an errant tear from the corner of my eye.

Blake took up my hand and applied gentle pressure.

She smiled again like she wanted to share another secret. “Because they had each other and their God. Together they built a beautiful life in this valley. It’s why I’m here today.”

“Did she ever regret leaving her comfortable life and home?”

“Not once. She wrote in her journal that ‘to look behind keeps us from the promises that lie before us. To face what is before us is nothing short of bravery.’”

“I like that,” I whispered. And oh, how I wished I could be brave like that woman. “What was her name?” I asked.

“Margaret Mackenzie. Same as me.”

“It’s a lovely name. How much for the painting?” I asked almost offhandedly as I stood mesmerized by it. I almost choked when she told me how much, but I was still tempted to tell her to wrap it up or box it up or whatever they did, but reason set in before I took a big bite out of my savings account. I turned from the painting of Margaret Mackenzie to the living, breathing version. “Thank you.”

She handed me her card. “In case you change your mind,” she said as she winked at me.