Cause For Alarm. Erica Spindler

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СКАЧАТЬ too.” He led her to the living room. There, before the still glowing fire, he’d placed two floor pillows. Beside them waited a chilling bottle of champagne and two crystal wine flutes.

      They made themselves comfortable. Richard popped the cork on the champagne and poured. He handed her a glass, then held his out. “I thought we should celebrate privately.”

      She pinged her glass against his. “To your campaign.”

      “No,” he corrected, “to us.”

      “I like that. To us.” She smiled, then sipped.

      For several minutes, they chatted about the events of the evening, sharing tidbits from conversations they’d had and chuckling over the antics of a couple of their less inhibited guests.

      “You make me better than I am, Kate,” Richard murmured, serious suddenly. “You always have.”

      “And you’re drunker than I first thought.”

      “I’m not.” He took the glass from her hand and set it aside. He laced their fingers. “I know how hard this last year was for you. Because of the…the infertility.”

      Her eyes flooded with tears. “It’s okay, Richard. I have so much. It’s wrong for me to want—”

      “No, it’s not. And if not for me, you could have it. You could have a baby.”

      “That’s not true, Richard. I’m infertile, too, I have—”

      “You have fertility problems, Kate. Hormones can be adjusted, endometriosis treated, ovulation stimulated. I’m sterile. Shooting blanks, as they say down at the firm.” Bitterness crept into his tone. “How do you think that makes me feel? To not be able to give you what you want more than anything? To be less than a man.”

      It hurt to hear him express his true feelings, ones he hadn’t before. She tightened her fingers on his. “That’s bullshit, Richard,” she said softly, fiercely. “The ability to sire children is not what makes a man. It’s not what makes you a man.”

      “No? That’s the way it feels.”

      “I know how it feels, because this is my problem, too. Bearing children is something all women are supposed to be able to do. It’s a given, part of being a female. To not be able to without medical technology feels like a betrayal.”

      “I’ve let you down,” he said quietly.

      “No, Richard…that’s not what I meant.”

      “I know. But that’s the way I feel.”

      She turned fully to him, clasping his hands in hers. “Who’s to say we’re entitled to everything, anyway? Who’s to say we’re supposed to have all that our hearts desire? Look at us, at all we have. A beautiful home. Successful careers that we enjoy. Each other, Richard. Our love. An embarrassment of riches. Sometimes I have to pinch myself. I can’t believe it’s Kate McDowell who’s living this life. Sometimes I’m afraid I’m having a really good dream and that any minute it’s going to turn into a terrifying nightmare.”

      “I won’t let it, sweetheart. I promise.”

      She brought his hands to her mouth, a sense of urgency tugging at her. “People have lied, cheated and killed to get what we take for granted, we have to guard what we have by appreciating it. We can’t ever forget how lucky we are. The minute we do, the minute we get greedy, we could lose it all. We can’t forget that, Richard. We can’t. It’s important.”

      He laughed. “And you still believe in leprechauns and fairies and the power of a four-leaf clover, don’t you?”

      “It could all be gone tomorrow.” She tightened her fingers on his. “I’m serious, Richard.”

      “So am I. We can have it all, Kate. I want that for you.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he shushed her with a finger to her lips. “I have something for you. A late Christmas present.” He slipped a business-size envelope from its hiding place under one of the pillows and handed it to her. “Happy New Year, Kate.”

      “What is it?”

      “Open it and find out.”

      She did. It was a letter from Citywide Charities, informing them that they had been accepted into the Agency’s Gifts of Love adoption program.

      Kate’s heart began to hammer, her hands to shake. Citywide’s program was the best in the area. They accepted only a handful of couples every year; at the end of that year, or shortly thereafter, those couples would have a baby.

      She had studied up on adoption and on the programs and options available in the area. She had looked wistfully at Citywide. But every time she had mentioned adoption to Richard, he had flatly refused to even discuss it.

      She lifted her gaze to her husband’s, overcome with emotion, eyes swimming with tears. “What happened? You didn’t think adoption—”

      “But you did.”

      Tears choked her, and she cleared her throat. “But we…if you don’t really want to adopt, we can’t. It wouldn’t be right.”

      “I want to make you happy, Kate. This will be a good thing for us, I know it will. And it’s the right time for us to start a family.”

      She couldn’t find her voice, but even if she had she wouldn’t have been able to find the words to express her joy. So she kissed him instead. Deeply and with the love and gratitude that filled her to near bursting.

      They had kissed this way many times before, but this time was different, special. This time her heart felt fuller than it ever had before.

      By this time next year they would have a child. They would be parents. A real family.

      “Thank you,” she whispered again and again as she kissed him. She removed his clothes, he hers. The remnants of the fire warmed them, as did their exploring hands, their exploding passion.

      “This is going to be our most perfect year ever,” Richard whispered as he positioned himself above her. “Nothing will ever come between us, Kate. Nothing or no one.”

      Part II

Julianna

      2

       New Orleans, Louisiana, January 1999

      The corner sandwich shop was located on one of the central business district’s busiest corners. The shop, Buster’s Big Po’boys, specialized in shrimp-and-oyster po’boys—huge sandwiches made on slabs of French bread and stuffed with fried shrimp, oysters or both. Most New Orleanians ordered them dressed—with lettuce, tomato and mayonnaise, the latter slathered on, good and thick. Of course, if fried seafood didn’t appeal, Buster’s offered all manner of other fillings and even a few nonsandwich specials, like traditional New Orleans red beans and rice on Mondays.

      As corner sandwich shops went, Buster’s was pretty run-of-the-mill for the Crescent City—housed in a century-old building, its plaster walls were cracked and peeling, СКАЧАТЬ