“I’ve thought about nothing else since,” she admitted. “First, you have to realize I wasn’t thinking about keeping the baby. Not until a couple days before I asked Cait. Not consciously, anyway.”
He nodded.
She took a deep breath, then told him how she’d been Christmas shopping and had found herself surrounded by baby clothes in a department store. “It was…excruciating,” she said softly. “I told you about the endometriosis.”
“Yes.”
“What I didn’t tell you is that I had to have a hysterectomy.”
Hell. He’d noticed the scar, thin and obviously not recent, and not asked about it. He guessed he’d vaguely thought she’d lost her appendix.
“There I was,” she continued, “not even twenty-five, and I could never have another baby. It hit me really hard.” Her gaze searched his, burrowed beneath his skin. “I mourned as if I’d had a late-term miscarriage. I hadn’t known how deep the assumption had been that I’d have more children.”
Richard couldn’t help himself. He reached across the table for her hand. She returned the clasp, he thought unconsciously.
“Eventually I told myself I’d moved past it. But I think now I hadn’t. I’d only buried the feelings. I told myself how ridiculous it was. I was lucky to have a wonderful daughter. I certainly didn’t want any more children with Colt by then. Cait was enough for me.”
“But she wasn’t.”
Molly frowned. “I don’t think it’s really that. It’s…something more primal. I don’t know how else to explain it. I wasn’t a woman anymore. My arms ached to hold a baby.” The ache was in her voice, too.
Richard tightened his hand.
“I found myself staring at other people’s babies. Even…” Shame colored her cheeks. “Once, I was shopping and saw this really tiny baby in a stroller. The mother had her back turned, talking to a sales clerk, and I couldn’t take my eyes off the baby. He was wearing a blue cap, so I knew he was a little boy. I wanted that baby.” Her mouth quirked and she met his gaze, uncertainty in hers. He could see what she was thinking. Have I horrified you? “I wasn’t quite crazy enough to consider stealing a baby, you understand. It was part of my mourning, I guess.”
“I wish you’d told me.” His voice came out hoarse.
“Told you what?” she asked, looking perplexed.
“All of this. How much impact the subject of babies had on you. That you’d had the hysterectomy. That another pregnancy wasn’t unlikely, it was impossible.” He wanted like he’d never wanted anything to be holding her, but knew it was too soon.
If it ever happened. If she could forgive him.
“What you must have felt when we discussed abortion as a possibility,” he concluded.
Her eyes were suddenly bright with tears. “I didn’t know you initially. And later, well, I thought I’d come to terms with all of it. I tried so hard not to influence Caitlyn too much.”
“It would have killed you if she’d had that abortion.”
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “The terrible thing is, I still think that might have been best for her. I know she’s carrying the baby to term because of me. Because she imagines I was heroic for not having an abortion when I got pregnant in college.”
“Look at me, Molly.” When she did, Richard said, “Trevor is standing beside Cait because of me. Because he thinks I was heroic for marrying his mother. For not demanding she have an abortion. Is that a bad thing? He’s acting like a decent human being because I did, or, at least, that’s how he sees it. It’s ironic that Cait’s pregnancy has been his salvation. He had to face responsibility and he grew up.”
“So… You’re saying it’s not so bad that Cait made the choice she did because of my influence.”
“That’s what I’m saying. Don’t feel guilty, Molly.”
Her fingers trembled in his. “Thank you.”
“I was wrong, the things I said.” He had to get this out, but she was already shaking her head.
“No. You were right. I was selfish.”
“No.”
“Yes. Listen to me. Please.” Her voice shook. She wrenched her hand free.
“All right,” he said, pitching his voice to be soothing. “I’m listening.”
“Keeping the baby may be the right thing. In fact—” her chin tilted “—I think it’s too late for me to tell Cait and Trevor that I can’t. Won’t.”
He nodded, but wasn’t sure she even saw. Her focus was inward.