Raising the Soldier's Son(16)
His heart was racing as he ripped into the next letter. A photograph flapped out with it. Small, and black and white.
I’m pregnant, Kirk. I’ve written this letter a thousand times, trying to work out how to tell you, what words will make it easier for a man who’s decided he doesn’t love me to hear that a baby is on the way. I’m sorry for both of us that it’s worked out this way. I just thought you should know. I’ve enclosed a sonogram picture. I think the baby has your feet.
His fingers were shaking as he lifted the picture higher, staring at the grainy image. Age had made it peel in the corners. The date was there, clearly printed in the top corner, along with Annabeth’s name.
Despair groaned inside of him as reality finally began to intrude.
Kirk, I’m not going to write anymore, except to tell you once our child’s born. I just need to know you’re alive. I love you. I always will. I can live with the fact you no longer love me. I just need to know you’re safe.
He blinked into the room. Ridiculously, for the first time in his adult life, he felt tears threaten. He shook his head, forcing himself to go on.
Kirk.
Our baby’s here. A beautiful boy. Wade Kirk Sparks is what I’ve called him. I don’t know if you’ll mind him having your name in there. I don’t even know if you’re alive to mind.
Wade’s beautiful. He arrived six weeks earlier than he should have (I guess he’s got your impatience, too). He’ll be in hospital a while, but the doctors think he’ll be fine. If you’re out there somewhere, I guess you’d want to know.
A premature baby. Why had Wade been born so early? He looked back on the earlier letters. The stress and pain she’d been feeling. Could he have caused Wade’s early arrival? He swore and ripped into the next letter.
Kirk,
I wasn’t going to write to you again, but I thought you’d need to know. Wade’s out of hospital. He’s fine. Tiny. So tiny and perfect, and I’m terrified I’m going to kill him, because how can I possibly keep something so beautiful and fragile alive? Remember my goldfish graveyard? And they just need clean water and a few fish flakes. This is a baby! I wish you were here. I’m sorry that you’re not, because you’ve already missed so much and he’s only a couple of months old.
The next letter was post-marked eight months later.
It’s Wade’s first birthday. I still don’t know if you’re out there, but if you are, I thought you’d want to know some stuff. He’s doing well, on the whole, though he is still tiny. Our doctor’s sent off for some tests, but Dan’s not too worried (that’s the new doctor in Clearview. Doc. Carter finally resigned; can you believe it?). To give you an idea, Wade’s one, but he’s about the size of a six month old. His development is great though, otherwise. Doing all the normal baby stuff. I love him so much. I know you would, too.
Kirk pushed the box aside, his heart pounding in his chest.
He took the stairs two at a time and sprinted to his car.
He started the engine and drove off before he’d even shut his door.
He screamed into the luxury interior, cursing as loudly as he could, gaining no peace from the torrid raging emotions swirling through him.
He tore down the interstate, into Clearview, and forced himself to slow to the speed limit. All he could think of was Annabeth, and what she’d gone through. What he’d put her through then, and what he was still putting her through. All because he hadn’t wanted to saddle her with someone like him. He swore again, taking the turn to her home. He cut the engine and leaped from the car.
His eyes scanned the house, frantic, fervently hoping she would be home. His eyes landed on a small shape, huddled on the porch, a magnifying glass in hand. The boy looked up as Kirk approached, and his expression was direct and assessing. Kirk’s heart turned over. He recognized the expression, and now, so much about the boy. What a fool he had been, to see his diminutive size and assume the worst! He forced himself to seem casual.
“Hey,” he said with a nod.
“Hiya,” the boy’s smile was curious. “You’re my mama’s friend.”
Kirk nodded. “Kirk Robinson.”
“Hello, Mr. Robinson. Pleased to meet you.”
Kirk smiled at the boy’s manners, but pain followed swiftly behind. Annabeth had done that. She’d done all this herself. “What are you doing there, Wade?”
“Watching the ants,” he said, turning back to his magnifying glass. “They get food and carry it away. Look, even tiny pieces of crumb. Cool, huh?”
Kirk crouched down on his haunches, but he didn’t look at the ants. He was watching his son, seeing every detail of his face, seeing him as he should have done earlier in the week.
“Is Beth, I mean, is your mother home?”
“Yep.”
Kirk grinned. “Can I go in?”
“Yep.”
Kirk stood, shoving his hands in his pockets and shouldering his way into the house.
This time, when he stepped inside, he didn’t notice the peeling paint and faded sofa cushions. He saw the homely touches of the house Beth had provided for their child. The bright pictures, framed and hung haphazardly against the walls; the lamps with colorful shades; and the toys stacked neatly in the corner.
Beth was in the kitchen, her face pale, as she watched Wade play. Her hands were in soapy dishwater, but she was frozen. She looked so fragile, so damaged.
“Beth,” his voice was quiet. He cleared his throat. “We need to talk.”
Slowly, she turned to face him. It wasn’t fair that anyone should be so gorgeous, she thought distractedly, as she removed her gloves and laid them down on the kitchen table. Wearing simple jeans and a check shirt, he looked powerful and relaxed. She wiped her hands down the cotton fabric of her summery dress.
“About what?” Her pale eyes refused to meet his. Instead, she focused on the cleft in his chin.
“Wade. Everything.”
She shook her head. “You read the letters.”
“Yes.”
She closed her eyes briefly, gripping a chair for support. He shouldn’t have needed proof. When she opened her eyes, disappointment was obvious in her features. “So you believe me now?”
“Yes.” He dragged a hand through his thick hair. “Damn it, Beth. I wish I’d believed you all along.”
“That makes two of us.”
“He’s so like you.”
She nodded.
“He’s so small. I just thought…”
“I know what you thought.” Finally, she lifted her ice blue eyes to meet his gaze. “I tried to explain.”
“I know.” He took a step forward, and instinctively she moved backwards, banging into the kitchen bench.
“Don’t touch me,” she warned in a shrill whisper. She knew where it would end up if he did, and she couldn’t let it happen again. Despite her anger with him, and a stream of hatred, too, she felt such strong, overwhelming flames of desire licking at her. She couldn’t give in to them.
His skin was grey beneath his tan. “I won’t, I won’t.” He spun away from her. Kirk Robinson had always known where he was going. He always knew what to do, what to say. He was utterly lost with Annabeth.
She pulled down a couple of coffee cups. “He’ll probably get a growth spurt soon.”
“Is it because he was premature?”
She added tea bags and boiling water to the mugs, then passed one to him.
The fragrance of the liquid made him smile wistfully. “I don’t think I’ve had a peppermint tea since I was last in Clearview. Here, with you.”
The memories of their past were too painful to contemplate. Beth ignored his words.
“His prematurity could be a factor. Or it could be genetics. Best we can tell, he’s absolutely fine developmentally. Just small.”
“I thought he didn’t speak.”
“You didn’t wait around to hear him,” she pointed out icily, sipping the tea and scalding her mouth in the process. She slammed the cup down on the bench top and spun away from him, focusing on Wade. He was still watching the ants in a way that made her heart sing. He was her little scientist in the making.
“No, I didn’t. Beth, do you want me to apologize? Because I will. A thousand times. I’m so sorry.”
Tears stung her eyes but she blinked them away. “There is no apology that can fix things for us, Kirk.” Her expression was as bleak as her words. “If it was up to me, I’d never want to see you again.”
His chest felt as though a rock boulder had been dropped on to it.
“Don’t you get it?” She whirled around to face him. “I loved you. So much it hurt! I thought you were dead, Kirk. I begged you to just let me know you were alive.”
“I didn’t read the letters until just now, Beth, you know that.”
“You shouldn’t have needed a letter to know how I would feel. Worried sick, Kirk. I was beside myself.”
He put his tea down and came to stand in front of Annabeth. “I know.”
“And you were off with some other woman. What an idiot I was.”
Confusion crinkled his brow at her reference to another woman. Then, he remembered the lie he’d told her, just to end the conversation. Too many lies. Too many secrets.
“Not an idiot, Beth.” He turned to look out at Wade. Would he have made a different choice, if he’d known? Undoubtedly. Leaving Beth had made sense when he’d believed she could pick up and start her life with someone better. Someone who would make her happy. But Wade had complicated all that.