Another Man's Child
Lisa slid the plastic tube on the top bar of the other side of the crib. “I probably would’ve enjoyed it a whole lot more if I hadn’t just started medical school. All I could think about was how many hours it would be until I could get some sleep,” she said.
“I wish I could’ve helped you more, honey. You practically killed yourself that first year, and I was so busy climbing my own ladder I didn’t even notice how tired you were half the time.” He tightened a bolt on the bottom of the crib.
“Oh, no, Marcus! You were wonderful! Most of my classmates were working, and some were even raising families. Compared to them I was spoiled rotten. I had a wonderful home, no financial concerns, all the time I needed to study—and a lover who could always be depended upon to take my mind off whatever ailed me. You were what got me through medical school.” She handed him another bolt.
“That’s not the way I remember it You wore yourself out.”
“I was a woman in a predominantly male class. Whether it was true or not, I always felt like I had to do everything better than the rest, to prove I deserved the place I was taking up.”
Marcus glanced at her, loving her more than ever. “It wasn’t just that. You had to learn everything there was to know, didn’t you, hon? So you could save all the little Saras in the world.”
“I just needed to do my best,” Lisa said, rubbing her belly protectively. Soon, he could almost hear her saying. Soon her home would be filled with childish laughter again. And Marcus understood, more than ever, how much his wife needed the child she was carrying.
“Hold this while I get the bar to slide into this end,” Marcus said suddenly, cursing himself for reminding her of painful times.
Lisa’s breast brushed against Marcus’s hand as she moved to the other side of him. He fondled her nipple between two of his knuckles almost subconsciously for a second before she grabbed the edge of the headboard where he’d indicated. Her eyes were smoky as they met the sudden question in his.
“Later, buster. We’ve got work to do,” she said, but she was smiling again.
“Slave driver,” Marcus grumped cheerfully, filled with new incentive to get the job done. He could think of nothing better than losing himself in Lisa’s lovemaking.
Inspecting the sides of the crib before he attached them to the frame, he assured himself that the bars were close enough together that a baby’s head couldn’t slip through.
“How come you’re setting those springs so low?” Lisa asked as he was about to screw the bed together.
“There’s going to be a mattress on top of them, Lis. You don’t want the baby to fall over the top when it starts to stand.”
She grinned, warming the cold spots with
in him. “We can lower the springs later, as he grows. See, they’re adjustable. And at first, when he’ll only be lying down, I’ll need the mattress higher so I can reach him to lift him in and out.”
Marcus looked over the crib again, picturing, for a second, a newborn baby lying there and Lisa trying to get to it. He raised the springs. For Lisa.
He finished tightening the last screw and stood up, releasing the catch on the side of the crib to make certain that it lowered and raised as it should. Lisa pulled the mattress over and stood with it propped up against her leg.
“It looks great. And you didn’t even swear!” she said, admiring his handiwork.
Marcus glanced over at his wife. “Was I supposed to?”
She grinned again. “I don’t know. It’s just that I always hear people talking about how guys swear putting cribs together.”
“Oh, but I’m not ‘guys,’“ Marcus said, coming over to relieve her of the mattress. “I do a lot of things differently from most.”
“I’m holding you to that,” Lisa said, her voice husky.
He lifted the mattress easily, laying it on the springs he’d just fixed into the bottom of the crib, and was shocked by the surge of strange emotion that struck him. He was leaning over the crib just as he’d pictured Lisa doing a moment before. Except that this crib wasn’t his for leaning over. He wouldn’t be lifting a baby off this mattress. He’d never have a child of his own to tend to in the middle of the night. Clamping down on the raw agony that shot through him, he was filled with the old anger again, the cancerous rage that was as irrational as it was hopeless.
“I’m going down to get a beer. You want something to drink?” he asked Lisa, straightening abruptly. He had to get out of there before he ripped the damned mattress apart.
She was opening the package that contained the crib sheet. “Ice water would be nice,” she said, smiling her thanks. Her smile turned to a frown when she saw his face.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, immediately concerned. Her hands stilled.
“Nothing. I’m just thirsty. I’ll be right back.” He wiped the sudden sweat from his brow as he headed for the stairs. He hadn’t had such a destructive surge of anger in weeks. He’d thought he was done with all that, that he’d come to terms with himself, his place in Lisa’s life. Now he was beginning to wonder if he ever would.
“MARCUS!” LISA WAS calling, and Marcus reached out, but there were too many people around for him to get to her. All he could see was a flash of white. There were too many lights. The flurry of people made him dizzy with fear.
Someone screamed Lisa, he thought, but as he pushed forward, knocking over the people in his way, he heard the doctor calmly order him outside. It took three sets of strong arms to arrest his progress, but they couldn’t get him to leave.