Shiver (6 page)

I mourn for the loss she must feel in the knowledge that she'll never carry her own child in her body. She'll never feel it kicking, or sense its presence. She tells me all the time that she's fine with that but she's not. Her desperate desire to adopt an infant is evidence of that.

Alexa can't have our baby, but she wants a baby. She wants the experience of holding an infant, and swaddling it next to her chest. She wants that baby to only know her as its mother and me as its father.

How in the hell can I take that away from her when she's given me everything?

"Sometimes I think that I want a baby more than anything." Her hand trails over her stomach, across the black sweater she's wearing. "Then there are times when I don't want things to change at all. I love Max and Chloe so much."

I arch my brow, waiting for her to continue, wanting her to share.

"When we got Max and Chloe I knew that they were born to be our children." She smiles brightly. "You could feel that too, right? It was as if they were waiting for the two of us. "

"They were." I graze my hand over her toes. "Those kids were waiting for us."

I met our children when I stumbled on a community daycare program. I volunteered my time to help and in the process I met my twins. It felt like fate at the time. It still does.

"What if there's another child waiting for all of us?" She pushes her foot into my thigh. "What if our family is supposed to be bigger? What if we're not done yet?"

"We can talk to a lawyer about adoption or we can foster another child."

She folds her hands in her lap, her eyes cast down. "I don't want to go out looking for just any child, Noah. I think if our baby is meant to find us, he or she will."

I don't argue. I don't push because the baby she's looking for may never find us. I now realize the hole that my wife feels inside of her may be the child we'll never be able to conceive.

––––––––

"G
randpa said you used to be a troublemaker."

I turn towards the soft voice of my daughter. Her small hands are resting on my forearm. She's dressed in her pajamas, her dark hair framing her face. I tucked her in bed more than an hour ago after telling her a story about our dog, Rex. My kids love that dog. I do too although I'll never admit it to them.

"You're a troublemaker," I counter as I pick her up and place her in my lap. "You're supposed to be asleep."

"Max is asleep," she offers as if that's the consolation prize. "He always falls asleep before I do."

I snuggle my face into her hair. "Are you not tired?"

"No." She looks up at me. "Did you get hurt because you were a troublemaker, Daddy?"

Her small brown eyes rest on the scar on my cheek. My children have asked about the scar at various times, in very different ways.

In Max's mind I'm a superhero who was injured while saving the world. I've corrected him by telling him that I was trying to save a friend but the bad guy hurt me. He prefers his story and until he's older, I've decided that correcting him is a waste of his time and mine.

Chloe is different. She's the one I catch staring at my face when she thinks I'm not looking. She's also the one who touched it repeatedly one night when we sat together on the sofa watching a cartoon. She didn't ask me about it then, and I never offered an explanation.

Since that day she's tossed out random questions about whether it hurts and why my twin brother, her Uncle Ben, doesn't have one just like it. I've answered each question with thoughtful tenderness.

I know one day I'm going to have to explain to both of them that I was stabbed when I was trying to fend off the boyfriend of the woman I thought I loved. I'm also going to have to tell them that it cost him his life so I could save hers and mine.

"I know someone hurt you, Daddy." She reaches up to wrap her arm around my shoulder. "I'm sorry that they did that to you."

"Me too."

Her lips skirt over the scar. "If I could kiss it better, I would. I would take it away so it wouldn't hurt you anymore."

There's no way in hell I'm going to get through this without crying. I don't even try and stop the tears. "It doesn't hurt anymore, Princess."

"I think it does."

"Why do you think that?"

Her hand picks up mine and rests it against my cheek, over the scar. "You're sad sometimes. I see you holding your face like this. You look so sad, Daddy."

"I'm not sad." I pull my hand away, cradling hers in mine. "I think about how I got the scar sometimes. That does make me sad."

"I know someone cut you." She tilts her head slightly to the left, her eyes glued to my cheek. "A boy in our class cut his finger with a knife. It looked like that."

I cast my eyes down. "A man cut me with a knife."

Her small hand jumps to my chin and as she tilts my head up to meet her gaze, I see the tears in her own eyes. "I would have stopped him, Daddy. I would have screamed at him until he stopped. I promise I would have saved you."

I pull her into me then, her head resting against my chest as my heart thumps a fast beat. I hold tight to her, wishing I could change my past, but knowing that nothing I can do will ever erase that night from my mind or my face.

***

"Y
ou're going to miss me like crazy, aren't you?" I whisper the question into the sweet smelling skin at the back of my wife's neck.  She had been fast asleep when I got to bed last night after taking Chloe back into her room and waiting for her to fall asleep.

I didn't wake her when I got up an hour ago and showered, dressed and gave the kids their breakfast.

"Not really," she says sleepily. "You hog the blankets, Noah. You're like a fucking giant. You take up most of the bed."

I chuckle deeply. "You're the blanket hog, Alexa. When I got in bed last night, you had them wrapped tightly around you. I was freezing cold the entire night."

"I'm naked."

"What?" I yank at the edge of the blanket, trying desperately to find a way in but she's encased herself. "Let me see. I don't believe you."

"Like I'm going to lie about that." she moves her head slightly. "Aren't you supposed to be on your way to the airport by now?"

I am. I'm catching a flight to Boston in less than two hours to meet my brother. That means I should already be out the door and on my way. "I want to see your body, Alexa."

"It hasn't changed since yesterday." She kicks her feet slightly, the motion doing nothing to dislodge her from the blankets. "You can see me when you get home tomorrow."

Why the fuck does that feel like forever right now. "We have time now. I can fuck you quickly. I can do it in the next five and still make my flight."

"What horny girl can refuse an offer like that? A fast fuck on the Noah Foster's cock?"

"It's not happening, is it?" I try to sound deflated but she's way too cute right now. "Can I at least get a kiss goodbye?"

She moves swiftly, kicking the blankets free, revealing a pair of jeans and the same god awful ugly sweater she was wearing when we went to Boston together last week. "Diana should be walking through the door any second and I already called an Uber. He's waiting downstairs for us. I'll go with you and kiss you goodbye before you go through security."

"Cock tease." I laugh as I graze my lips over hers.

"Only for you." She giggles. "Only for you."

––––––––

"D
ad might show up," Ben says as he slides out of the backseat of the taxi when I greet him on the street in front of my building in Boston. "I spoke to him this morning."

I pull my brother into a hug. A few years ago I thought we'd never speak again. Now, I can't go a day without talking to him or texting him. He's my best friend.

"I talked to him too." I reach for his overnight bag. "He's flying in from San Antonio later today. He'll crash here tonight."

"It'll be good to see him."

I look up at the sky. The looming clouds hold a promise of the snowstorm that the news outlets have been talking about all day. I ran down to the street in just a t-shirt and jeans when Ben called to say he was almost here. "Let's go inside. I'm freezing. Hopefully dad lands before the storm hits."

"I hope so. I haven't seen him in a few weeks." He falls in step behind me as we enter the lobby. "Whenever he's in Manhattan he's been working with Max on a secret project for your birthday."

I stop in place and turn on my heel. "You just blew that surprise, dude."

He chuckles deeply. "I didn't. Wait until you see what it is."

I want to push but I'm not about to steal anything away from my son.  I start walking towards the elevator again. "It's your birthday too that day."

"I'll be there for the unveiling."

I stop, once again turning to look at him. "Shut up about the surprise. You're fucking this up."

"I'm not." He taps his hand on my shoulder. "I hope one day I get to have a son like Max.  He idolizes you."

"He's a great kid."

"Have you figured out what we're going to do today?" He slides his dress shoe across the marble floor as we wait for the elevator. "We can go to mom's grave."

"She wouldn't want that." I motion for him to step into the lift once the doors open. "I have something else in mind."

"Alright." He shrugs his shoulders. "I'm going to defer to you since you're the oldest."

I laugh. "Don't you forget that, Doc. Never forget that."

***

"I
've tried to tell Kayla about how beautiful mom was." He skims his hand over her face in the image he's standing in front of. "I need to show her this picture. This says it all."

It does. It's a picture that I can't take credit for. My dad took it the day we were born. He actually took three pictures. One is of my mother holding both of us, one in each of her arms. The other is of her holding me and this one, the one I framed for Ben, is our mother cradling him when he's only a few hours old.

"I want you to take that home."

He turns towards me, his eyes locking on mine. "This is for me? You framed it for me?"

"I thought we should each have one." I nod towards a similar one on my desk. "That's me and mom."

He crosses the floor and looks down at the framed picture. "We looked almost identical the day we were born. We don't look as much alike now."

"You wish you looked like me," I joke. "We both know I'm the better looking one."

He hesitates only briefly. "My wife would argue that point with you. She tells me I'm hot."

"She has to say that, she's married to you."

He shakes his head as he chuckles. "I heard about the photo exhibit from Kayla. You're showing these pictures of mom?"

I scan the office. All the images of our mother are still in the same place they were last week when Alexa and I were here. I didn't move them when I arrived at the penthouse this morning even though that was my intention.

I've spent the past week trying to decide how to best utilize the gallery space I've been offered next month. "Alexa had a different suggestion. I might go that way."

He rests the picture in his hands on the desk. "What way is that?"

"I'll show you." I move across the room to a filing cabinet. "I made a few prints in New York and brought them with me. I want your opinion. I want dad to see them too."

I rifle through the large envelope I carried on the airplane with me. I had studied the pictures on the flight here and with each mile that passed I was more convinced that this is what I need to share if I'm going to put my work in front of the public again.

"I've been thinking a lot about how private mom was." I don't turn to look at him as I continue, "I can't ask her for permission to display these pictures but I can honor her in another way."

"What way?" He's behind me now. I can tell by the tone of his voice.

"Remember when mom would take us to the grocery store?" I pick out two pictures and hold them in my hand as I turn. "We'd buy a bunch of stuff for the food drive."

His eyes drop to my hands. "We'd stop there on our way home. She'd make us unload all the food. We even had to go back sometimes on Saturday mornings to help the staff sort through stuff."

"She used to tell us we got to help," I tell him. "She would correct me when I said we had to do it. She'd tell me got to because we were lucky."

"I remember."

I flip the pictures in my hands over so they're visible to my brother. "I started donating at the shelter that's three blocks over a couple of years ago. Whenever I was back here, I'd stop in there."

He reaches for the pictures, tugging on them. "You took these when you were there?"

I nod. "The people there aren't looking for handouts. They're hard-working. They want to contribute."

His eyes scan the photographs, stopping on the one of Opal. "This woman is beautiful."

"That's Opal," I say clearly. "She comes here to help me sometimes."

"This is the Opal that Alexa told Kayla about?"

My wife can barely contain herself when it comes to sharing news about any aspect of her life. I don't fault her for telling her best friend about Opal.

"Mom would have preferred if I made a show of these." I tap the edge of Opal's picture. "I'll take more. I'll capture their experience. I'll share it with others."

He nods slowly. "Mom would be proud of you. She'd be so proud of you for doing this."

'You're a doctor, Ben." I pat his shoulder. "She would have told every single person she met that her son was a doctor."

He meets my gaze. "I wish she was here. I miss her more now, you know?"

"I know. I know exactly how you feel."

––––––––

"H
is flight is delayed but he's going to be here tonight." I glide the full bottle of beer across the table towards Ben. "We'll walk back to the penthouse and meet him there."

"Do you think he's happy?"

"Dad?" I pick up a fry and pop it in my mouth. "He seems happy enough to me."

He takes a swallow of the beer. "I think about losing Kayla sometimes. I don't know how he did it. How do you go on after something like that?"