A Precious Gift

Before Brian could answer, a lean man approached them. Everett Baker was an accountant for Children’s Connection. Carrie had seen him now and then in the halls of the adoption agency, which was an annex to Portland General. A nurse who worked in the emergency room, Nancy Allen, often visited the children in pediatrics when Carrie volunteered there, and they’d become friends. Nancy and Everett seemed to have a friendship, if not more than that. She’d introduced Everett to Carrie soon after he’d taken a job at Children’s Connection. While Nancy was warm, outgoing and definitely an extrovert, Everett was the opposite—reserved, almost shy. But he was good-looking with a square jaw, dark-brown hair and eyes. He’d never approached Carrie on his own before, though. He’d always hung back and let Nancy do the talking.

Now he looked purposeful as he came up to them. “Mrs. Summers,” he said with a half smile.

“It’s Carrie, Everett. I don’t think you’ve met my husband, Brian.”

The two men shook hands. Afterward Everett shifted on his feet as if he were uncomfortable, but then he began, “I don’t want to hold you up. But Nancy told me you and your husband were thinking about adopting a child.”

Their intentions to adopt weren’t a secret, and Carrie had told Nancy about them a few weeks ago.

“We just finished with the final interview,” Brian said. In his voice, Carrie could tell there was curiosity as to why Everett Baker was interested in what they were doing.

With a quick look over his shoulder to the adoption agency offices where no one was visible, Everett continued. “I know how long the adoption process can take. When Nancy told me you were seriously interested, I thought I might help out. I have a friend who knows a lawyer and he can make private adoptions happen faster. If you’re interested in adopting out of the system, it would be something to think about.”

One look at Brian’s face and Carrie knew what he was thinking. Her husband was a by-the-book kind of guy and would have made a great police officer as he seemed to separate black from white easily, much more easily than she could.

Speaking for both of them, Brian handled the offer casually. “Carrie and I will think about it. This is an important step in our lives. Thank you for trying to help us.”

Although this discussion was serious, Carrie almost smiled. Brian was so good at handling delicate situations. He’d managed to give Everett Baker a don’t-callus, we’ll-call-you message without being rude.

“I know adoption is serious,” Everett agreed. “Babies are serious.” He looked troubled, and then the shadows passed from his eyes as he handed Carrie a business card. “You can reach me any time at that number.”

“Thank you.” Carrie tucked his card into her purse.

As soon as Everett walked away, Brian shook his head. “I don’t like the idea of going outside of a reputable adoption center.”

“I agree…for now. Let’s just see what happens in the next few months. If it goes a really long time and we haven’t heard anything or been chosen by a birth mother, maybe we’ll want to call Everett then.”

When Brian turned to face her, Carrie could see he’d already dismissed the encounter with Everett as well as the idea of a private adoption. “You asked me if I’ll be home for dinner. I won’t be. I have a meeting at the Hilton.” Apparently she couldn’t hide her disappointment because he went on, “I’ll try to be home before midnight.”

Carrie knew if Brian said he’d be home before midnight, he would be.

Her husband looked as if he wanted to say more, maybe do more. Public displays of affection had gone the way of holding hands and kissing in the car at stoplights. But as if he needed some type of contact between them as much as she did, he slid his forefinger along a wave of her auburn hair that had gotten caught under her coat. Gently he pulled it free and then stepped away.

“I’ll see you tonight.” His voice was low and husky, making her wonder if the pictures running through her head were running through his.

“Tonight,” she murmured.

A few moments later, Brian strode toward the parking garage, and she headed for the hospital. She loved reading stories to the children in pediatrics and today was her day to volunteer there. The time would pass quickly, and maybe at the end of the day she’d look at baby furniture before returning home to her big, beautiful empty house. Soon it wouldn’t be empty.

Soon, she and Brian would have the family they’d always wanted.

At eleven forty-five, Brian entered his kitchen after resetting the security system. Carrie was obsessive about it. If he slid into bed without waking her, he often heard her in the middle of the night going downstairs to check it. The few times he’d questioned her about it, she’d simply said she felt safer when she was sure it was on.

Striding down a hall, Brian bypassed the first floor spare bedroom and stopped in his den. After he set his briefcase on his desk, he hit a button on the computer, saw that he had no pressing e-mails, and headed for the second floor.

The house he’d bought after he and Carrie had married projected traditional charm. When he’d shown it to Carrie for the first time, she’d just kept saying, “It’s so big!”

It wasn’t that big. The two-story foyer opened into a dining room on the right and a living room on the left. A corridor to the left of the stairs led to his den and a guest bedroom. Pocket doors separated the living room from a great room, and beyond the great room’s French doors, outdoor floodlights beamed along a path leading to a gazebo-enclosed hot tub. He’d always envisioned three or four kids playing in the family room and in the yard. His gut still twisted when he thought about not being able to have kids of their own. Yet watching those babies in the nursery today…

He mounted the stairs, remembering the two-bed-room box house he’d grown up in. His father had lived there until he’d died two years ago, refusing to let Brian move him anywhere bigger. Carrie’s background had been even poorer than his own because her father had been disabled from a logging accident and her mother was unskilled. They’d been on and off welfare until Carrie had begun modeling. After Carrie’s mom had sent her daughter’s picture to a contest in a magazine, their lives had changed drastically.

The first night he’d met Carrie, he’d been bowled over by her—her beautiful long, wavy auburn hair and porcelain skin, her big brown eyes that seemed to see into his soul. She’d looked so sophisticated and been so poised and well-spoken that he’d never suspected her background had been similar to his.

Moonlight flowed through a skylight in the hall as Brian reached the top of the stairs. Their bedroom door was invitingly ajar and a dim light glowed within. When he stepped inside the master suite, his gaze didn’t sway toward the graceful columns that separated the sleeping area from a sitting room with its own fireplace. Rather it swerved unerringly toward the huge, king-sized bed. Although Carrie was five foot eight, with long graceful legs, she still seemed small and fragile in that bed.

Their triple dresser and the almost ceiling-high armoire were simply blurs as Brian quickly undressed and hung his suit in the closet. His wife was sound asleep. He could tell. When she curled on her side like that and tucked her hands under her cheek, she usually didn’t stir. Why should she? It was midnight.

He’d already been at the top of his game when he’d met her and had invested and saved more money than he could ever spend. His first successful land development deal had been followed by another and then another. He’d worked hard, used his intuition as well as his wit. He’d found, bought and sold land from Hawaii to Alaska to the coast of Maine. Although he’d always worked long hours, Carrie had understood the business he was in, knowing his pager could go off at any time or he could be bothered by an international conference call in the middle of the night. Still, during their courtship and the first year of their marriage, they’d had more time for each other. He’d taken her to Aruba and the Caymans. He’d introduced her to Tuscany vineyards and the moors of Cornwall. Sometimes trips were work-related, others they’d stayed in bed as much as they’d seen the sights. But then something had happened.

They couldn’t get pregnant.

Finally they’d both been tested and found Carrie’s tubes were blocked. Knowing how much he’d always wanted a real family, she’d been heartsick. The doctors had offered hope that had withered rather than materialized when the procedure to correct the problem wasn’t successful. Then the in vitro failed, too.

In the past few years, work had taken over more of Brian’s life, and Carrie just seemed to be on the fringes of it. Although the chemistry between them had tumbled them both into a whirlwind courtship and marriage, Brian had always sensed Carrie held part of herself away from him. Much more experienced than she was, at first he’d thought it was an innocent shyness, then a natural reserve that came from her upbringing. But as having a family eluded them month after month, she’d seemed to withdraw more, and he had to admit he’d been in turmoil about all of it, too. When she’d suggested adoption, he hadn’t wanted to consider it. But the tension had grown more palpable between them, and he’d finally agreed to begin the interview process.

Now…

Now as he approached the bed and looked at his wife’s body under the sheet, he realized Carrie wasn’t wearing a nightgown. Usually she did. Usually he enjoyed ridding her of it. The sight of her in the moonlit shadows, the idea of his skin touching hers, aroused him fully.

When she felt his weight on the bed, she came awake as if even in her dreams she’d been waiting for him. Her eyes opened and her hand fluttered out to touch him. It landed lightly on his chest. “I tried to stay awake. What time is it?”

“Midnight.”

“Long day,” she murmured sleepily but then came more awake and smiled at him.

The light, whispery scent of a flowery shampoo seemed to pull him closer to her. Switching off the lamp and angling on his side, he was suddenly overwhelmed by a caveman desire to make her his without gentle kisses and touches, without foreplay, with nothing but mindless need. Yet something had always kept him from doing that. Carrie’s entry into his life had made him notice starlight and sunsets and orchids growing on undeveloped land. She’d awakened a protective instinct in him as well as a primitive one.

When he slid his hand into her hair, she raised her face to his.

“Are you as excited as I am about adopting this baby?” she asked softly.

“I will be. It’s not real yet.”

“It could happen quickly.”

“Or an unwed mother could choose us early in her pregnancy, and we’d go through the whole process with her. It would take months.”

“That might be even more wonderful.”

His wife’s voice was happy with the idea, but Brian knew that that scenario carried its share of hazards. What if the mother changed her mind? What if she gave birth and kept the baby? As far as he was concerned, adoption was filled with land mines. But it was their only option now except for a surrogate, and he believed that would be even more complicated.

“You’re still not sold on adoption, are you?” Carrie’s voice caught with worry.

“I want a family, and I want it with you.” As far as he was concerned, that said it all.

Her eyes became luminous then, and he couldn’t restrain the desire to kiss her. It was hot and deep and wet, and Carrie responded to it by meeting his tongue with hers, wrapping her arms around his neck, moving her body close to his. They usually took it slower but there seemed to be a desperation in both of them tonight. Their touches, kisses and caresses were filled with a yearning he couldn’t define. When he entered her, she clung to him. Their bodies glistened as they climaxed.

When the ripples of pleasure from their lovemaking ended, Brian rolled away from Carrie, physically spent. More than physically spent. Something about their union tonight had shaken him. It was as if they’d been skating on a frozen lake, had felt the ice cracking beneath them, and had held on to each other just the same, denying what was happening.