My Babies and Me

Of course she was mother material. She just hadn’t had the occasion to use those maternal skills or instincts or whatever they were...yet. But she would as soon as she could.

Her fingers didn’t falter this time as she punched out Michael’s number. She had a goal. A purpose. And no one was going to stop her.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Kennedy, Mr. Kennedy is out of town today....”

And that about summed up the day for her, Susan thought as she dropped the phone back in its cradle. He’d left town on her birthday. He’d left town without telling her. What in hell was the world coming to?

She listened indifferently to the remainder of her messages. Her father had called to wish her happy birthday. No round of golf for her. Only her brothers got that invitation for their birthdays. Julie, her brother Scott’s wife, not only called to wish her happy birthday, but to invite her to little Joey’s second birthday party the following week. Scott was her oldest brother. And her least favorite. He was so much like their dad he made her crazy. But he was a good man and when she was in a normal mood, she had to love him.

Spencer, the doctor in the family and the youngest brother, had called for him and Barbara, his wife, who was also a doctor. What was this? It seemed as if everyone was ganging up on her. Like there was a conspiracy to make her feel better or something. Did they know how miserable she felt? How much she wished the day would just go away?

The thought gave her chills. She didn’t want any of them to guess that she wasn’t just hunky dory and happy-go-lucky with her perfect little life. She’d been defending it to them forever, and she’d bloat up and burst if she suddenly had to eat all those words.

Besides, Stephen and Sean hadn’t called yet. Which meant no conspiracy was afoot. Sean, the brother between Seth and Spencer, was the organizer of mutinies in the family. He’d have been the first to call and gloat if he thought he had a way to get to her. And Stephen? Well, she wouldn’t be surprised to get a birthday call from him sometime in March. If it weren’t for the fact that he was a renowned nuclear scientist, she’d worry about his IQ. The man was about as clueless as they came. He was also closest to Susan in age, being only one year her senior. He was going to hit forty this year.

Snatching the phone back up, Susan buzzed her assistant. “I’ll be out for the rest of the day,” she said the second Jill answered. She didn’t want to enter into any discussions about research and cases on the docket. It was her birthday and she was damn well going to enjoy it. Somehow. She loved birthdays.

“The McArthur boy lost his lawyer,” Jill reported anyway. “I figured you’d want to know.”

That was true. Susan did want to know. Later.

“Any change in his condition?” she asked in spite of herself.

“Still paralyzed.”

“Thanks.” Susan made a mental note to seek out Tricia Halliday the following week. Surely they could find a compromise on this particular case.

She just wondered how much groveling or bribing she’d have to do to get the hard-hearted woman to budge. Tricia cared about being right. Not about being human.

“I’m taking tomorrow off, as well,” she decided out loud. The next day was Friday. She was giving herself a birthday present.

“Heading for Chicago?” Jill asked. Susan could hear the impertinent grin in her assistant’s voice.

“Not that you know about.”

“Don’t worry, Susan, there’ll be no calls from me unless the old lady croaks.”

“Even that can wait until Monday,” Susan muttered as she hung up the phone.

Michael’s secretary had said he’d be back that night. She was going to be there to welcome him home personally. She needed a fix.

And maybe, just maybe, she’d get up the guts to ask for the present she wanted most in the world.

A tiny little life to nurture and love and fill her up again.

She had a feeling she’d have to put forth the most convincing argument of her life if she hoped to win this one. Of course, that was what she’d thought when she’d been set on talking Michael out of their divorce. And look where that had gotten her.

MICHAEL TRIED to reach Susan again when he touched down in Chicago. Not only was he dying to share his news, even if everything was only in the possibility stages, he’d also remembered on the flight home that today was Susan’s birthday. To celebrate, he stopped at the American Airlines counter and bought them both tickets to Hawaii for Easter weekend. It had been too long since either of them had taken a vacation.

The tickets were open-ended, as always. He could change them if Easter wasn’t good for her.

She was out of the office until Monday. Still no answer at the condo. Knowing how much Susan loved birthdays, knowing more than anyone how she did everything to excess, he was sure she’d found some crazy way to celebrate this last birthday in her thirties. Things like that mattered to Susan. Celebrating. And momentous birthdays. Michael usually had to stop and think to even remember how old he was. Age wasn’t anything that had ever mattered to him. He supposed it might be different for women.

Catching sight of a departure board as he walked by, Michael found himself searching for any flights leaving for Cincinnati that evening. He wanted to be with Susan. To share his news. To share her celebration. To make love to her...

He wanted to go home.

And because his wanting threatened to override good sense, Michael went to pick up his forest-green Pathfinder from the airport’s parking garage instead. His home was here for now, in the condo he’d purchased when he’d moved to Chicago seven years ago. He and Susan had made their choices then. Forced to decide between staying together and climbing to the top, neither one had been willing to give up on career success. As great as their marriage had been, their careers had meant more—to both of them.

He had the day’s industrial summaries to go over. Reports to study. He’d catch Susan later when she was all celebrated out.

And maybe he’d be able to talk her into a quick trip to Chicago in the not-too-distant future.

Two DRINKS AT LUNCH. Another one instead of dinner. And peace was as elusive as ever. Seth Carmichael stayed at his desk until his eyes stung from lack of sleep, and he knew he had to pack it in. Go home. He’d been up for more than twenty-four hours. He’d taken the red-eye after last night’s meetings in Alaska to make it back here in time for Susan’s birthday. He’d like to think that meant he’d fall into bed the second he hit his apartment, that he’d sleep the sleep of the just. Or the dead.

But he knew he wouldn’t.

And that was why he was still at work two hours after everyone else had gone home for the night. Of course, they all had families to go home to. Seth had an apartment filled with stale air. There weren’t even any plants sharing the place with him. He was gone so much any plants he brought home just shriveled up and died.

He locked up carefully and walked out of the building that housed the offices held by Hier Engineering. In the parking lot, Seth climbed into his Bronco, pleased with the power beneath his hands as the engine turned over instantly.

Bitch of it was, he liked his life. Or he had. He loved his job. Enough to know that when he was seeing double like this, he had to leave the figures alone. He couldn’t risk a mathematical error that could result in a tragic accident—a building not as sturdy as it needed to be, a bridge that cracked. These were his real nightmares.

Almost of its own accord, Seth’s Bronco headed in the opposite direction from home, toward a part of town he no longer had any reason to visit.

So why were his nights filled with a couple of sullen little faces and a more determined beautiful one? It had been four months since Laura’s ultimatum. Four months.

He felt as raw as if she’d hurled those hateful words only yesterday. They were as clear in his mind as if she had.

Hell, it wasn’t like she’d been a permanent fixture in his life. Or her kids, either. He’d only met them the previous summer when he’d shown up to coach soccer to a bunch of underprivileged kids and met a little boy with a whole lot of defensiveness but a lot of talent, too. He’d been drawn to Jeremy from that very first day, thinking of him at odd times through the weeks that followed—trying to figure out a way to help him.

And the boy’s mother... He could still remember the first time he’d stopped by Jeremy’s house to speak to his parents about the boy’s talent. He’d thought Laura was the boy’s sister when she answered the door. Her silky blond hair had been hanging loose over a frayed tank top. And her cutoff shorts had had more holes in them than her tennis shoes.

He’d been poleaxed right from the start. And that was before she’d even opened her mouth, before he’d discovered her indomitable strength. Before he’d found out the good news—she was single. Divorced.

The Bronco sped down the exit ramp. Seth didn’t reduce his speed as he continued on.

And Susan. What in hell had gotten into his sister? Didn’t she know she was his hero? That he measured everything he did by her standards? How could she do something as stupid, as heartless, as to even consider bringing a child into the world simply because she’d written it down in her damn planner? Who was going to raise that child, nurture him, love him, while Susan spent fourteen hours a day at work?

The soccer field came into view before he slowed down enough to be cautious. Jeremy might not even be there. He’d probably quit practicing the second Seth walked out the door of his mother’s house. Or maybe it had been the next week, when he’d gone to soccer practice and discovered that Seth was no longer his coach.

At least he knew the kid was still on the team. He supposed that was something.

And what would Seth say to the boy if Jeremy was at the field by himself? “Hey, kid, good to see ya. Sorry you weren’t important enough to me.”

Right. Just what a nine-year-old needed to hear. Face it. That was exactly what Jeremy was thinking, anyway. The kid’s father had run out on him. He’d expected Seth to do the same. And Seth had obliged.

The field was empty, just as he’d realized it would be. Of course, it was January. Freezing. Who kicked around soccer balls at eight-thirty on a January night?