One to Take (One to Hold 8)

“Amy was completely different,” Sylvia laughs. “She was always my baby girl, but she was as headstrong as Stuart. She knew exactly what she wanted, and she didn’t want anyone trying to hold her down or tell her what to do.”

“I understand that,” Mariska says, and my eyes move to her. She’s so pretty tonight. She’s wearing a black short-sleeved blouse that has a colorful southwestern pattern around the neck. Her short black mini is loose and shows off her smooth, tanned legs. She’s very sexy, glowing and full of life. Her hair falls long over her shoulders in loose curls, chestnut touched with the faintest caramel highlights.

Mom is still talking about my sister. “It was hard when she went through her difficult stage in high school. I wanted to protect her so much, but I knew she wouldn’t respond well to my interference. I had to let her get through that time, and she’s stronger for it now.”

My feelings toward Amy tend to be a little more forgiving. She discovered the same heartbreaking truths about my father around the same time as me—only Amy is almost fifteen years younger than I am, and I had no idea she knew. When she started acting out, we thought she was just being a teenager. We had no idea her heart was breaking, and she was trying to manage the pain on her own.

“I can’t imagine watching your child suffer.” Mariska’s voice is quiet. “I don’t even know ours yet, and already I feel so protective of her.”

Her eyes drift to mine, and I smile. She’s so young. She has no way of knowing I’ll have no qualms about beating the shit out of anyone who mistreats our baby.

“You’re being very quiet, Stuart. How are you feeling about all of this?” My mother always manages to pull me back into conversations.

“If I’m quiet, it’s only because I agree with what you’re saying.”

“Wise man,” Bill says with a chuckle.

I nod in his direction feeling guilty for my thoughts from earlier. He’s only ever had my back my entire life. I can’t fault him for being who he is, and who the hell knows? He could be right about the future.

Dinner finished, we carry our plates to the kitchen. Bill walks into the living room while my mother prepares a cup of coffee.

“I think I’ll turn in,” I say, glancing at the clock. It’s after ten, and I’m an early riser.

Mariska wants to know more about what we did as children, but I want to take her to bed and hold her in my arms. Make sure she sleeps, and protect her from anyone who might disturb her. In the end, she concedes.

In our suite at the back of the house, Mariska slips off her skirt, followed by her loose top. She turns to the side in front of the full-length mirror and spreads her hands over her flat stomach again. “Coming soon,” she says in a silly announcer-voice.

I grin as I watch her from the large king-sized bed. “You’ll be cute with a little baby bump.”

“I’m so excited about our family.” She hops over and joins me in the bed. “I know it’s hard for you to understand, since you always had a brother and sister, but I was always alone growing up.”

“Trust me, growing up with siblings does not make me less excited about our baby.”

She snuggles into my side. “I’m so happy you’re happy. I don’t know why I was afraid to tell you. I guess I just didn’t want anything to go wrong.”

“Nothing is going to go wrong.” I bring my arm down and surround her with my strength. “I’ll make sure of it.”

9

Accidents

Mariska

The room is too white.

The metal bars shine too brightly.

My eyes ache, and my head spins.

I taste it in my mouth.

Metal bars and metal beds.

Metal cabinets and metal heads.

Prink of a metal pin.

Metal bars on the windows…