My Babies and Me

Aghast, Michael stared at her, his arm falling to his side. “You sound like you’re happy about this,” he said.

“I am.” Her eyes glowed as she met his gaze, glowed with happiness, with awe.

“You’re nuts.” Brilliant, Kennedy, just brilliant. But he couldn’t think of another thing to say.

“I don’t think so.” She stood up to him unblinkingly. “I get two children but only have to go through one pregnancy.”

“You’re alone, Susan.” Wasn’t she getting it?

“Even more reason to go through this only once.”

“It’ll be two against one.” He tried to make this clearer to her. “Two babies to carry, two diapers to change, two pairs of screaming lungs, two hungry mouths.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I have two arms, two hands, two ears and two breasts, huh?” she asked him, completely undaunted.

“You’re nuts,” he said again and turned back toward the car, leaving her to follow him.

Leave it to Susan to speed blithely ahead, certain she could cope. She had no idea what lay ahead. No idea how busy she was going to be, how exhausted.

He slowed his gait a little, waiting for her to catch up. Of course, it wasn’t as though she had any choice in the matter. She couldn’t very well send one of them back.

Putting his arm around her shoulder, he pulled her against him, letting her know in the only way he could that he was sorry for what he’d said. His heart gave a lurch as he felt her arm slide around his waist.

He’d fathered not one child, but two.

He was deserting not one child—but two.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“I’M QUITTING soccer, Mom.”

Laura stilled, the pan of spaghetti sauce bubbling wildly beneath her unmoving spoon. When Seth had first left she’d dreaded hearing those words and then cried tears of relief and thanksgiving when they hadn’t come. Now, almost ten months later, here they were.

“Why?” Deep breaths. Think.

“It’s a dumb game and we have a dumb team.”

More deep breaths. She started stirring again, measuring her breathing by the slow steady passes of the spoon. “It’s not a dumb game, Jeremy,” she told her nine-year-old son. “In Europe, it’s as famous as football.”

“We have a dumb team.”

Where was this coming from all of a sudden? Why?

Most importantly, how did she beat it? Soccer had given Jeremy direction, kept him off the streets and out of the trouble he’d been heading into—fast.

“You guys have had a decent season,” she reminded him.

Slouched over the kitchen table, his face twisted by the hands on either side of his cheeks, Jeremy looked miserable. It was Friday night, his sister was at a friend’s house for the entire evening, and Laura was making his favorite dinner. By all rights, he should be feeling pretty good.

“We’d’ve been number one if Seth hadn’t quit on us.”

Feeling guilty for that, for the fact that the team had suffered, the other boys had suffered, because of decisions Laura had been forced to make, she couldn’t deny her son’s accusation.

“You’ve hung in with the team all year, Jeremy,” she pointed out instead. “You’ve practiced hard, improved incredibly.” Glancing over, she saw that her son was hanging on her praise. “So why quit now?” she finished softly.

Shocked when tears sprang to Jeremy’s eyes, Laura dropped the spoon, turned down the heat on the homemade spaghetti sauce and joined Jeremy at the table. Dinner could wait.

“What is it, honey?” she asked him.