The Forgetful Fiancée

Chapter Eight

Tara did her best to digest what Kevin had told her, to put herself in his place. How horrible, what a nightmare to believe you'd caused the death of a child. No wonder he'd freaked out.

"I wish I'd known," she finally said. "Maybe I could have helped."

"It's not too late."

The words hung in the air, almost tangible, as headlights from the opposite lane of traffic rushed by, illuminating Kevin's face like a strobe.

"Kevin," she said, "pull over. I need your undivided attention."

He did as she asked. When they were safely out of traffic, she felt she could say what needed to be said. And if she was lucky, Kevin would hear what he needed to hear.

"Parenthood is all about fear, and doubt, and sometimes sheer terror. While I was pregnant I agonized over every bite of food I put in my body, frightened I might unwittingly harm the baby inside me. During labor and delivery I was positive something would go wrong. The first time I held Andrew, I was sure I would crush him, or breathe some germ onto him and give him a fatal disease. When my doctor told me we could both go home from the hospital, it was a whole new level of terror. The baby and me, alone? I almost refused to go."

"You must have gotten over it, then," Kevin said. "You're as comfortable and natural with that baby as any mother I've ever seen. Once you got over the shock of seeing him in your lap, that is."

"That's where you're wrong. I'm still scared all the time. Is he going to fall? Catch a cold? Will I feed him something he's allergic to? Will he get stung by a bee? Is he developing normally? Is there some hidden genetic problem? I might fake it better than you, but I'm still scared."

"So when does it end? When do you get over being scared?"

"From what I hear, you never do."

"How do you…how do we live like that?"

She didn't miss the change of pronoun. Did she dare hope that he could embrace his responsibility for Andrew? He'd come all this way to stop her from leaving him. That must mean something.

"I can live with the fear," she said, "because every time I hold Andrew, or feed him, or bathe him, or see him smile, I know he's worth any discomfort I have to go through. It was kind of like when I was in labor. I thought I was going to die, honestly. I was sure no woman had been through such pain in all of history."

Kevin reached out and caressed her cheek. "I wish I'd been there for you."

"But as soon as I saw him, all red and wrinkled and screaming his head off, I didn't care about the pain anymore. He's a miracle, and he's worth any trial, any sacrifice." She glanced over her shoulder. Andrew, good baby that he was, slept peacefully in his car seat.

"You both are," Kevin said. "Let me try again. I'll do better. I'll come back to Chicago with you. I'll join the force again. And I'll be a better father. I'm teachable."

Lord, how could she turn down that earnest face? She'd never seen such raw need in anyone. "I'll have to think about it. For now, could you just take us to the airport? I need to get home."

He didn't argue with her. He drove her to the airport. He helped her with her bag. He stood in line at the ticket counter with her, all the while looking like he wanted to burst with an objection.

She was afraid to admit to him that she was a bundle of indecision. Whatever she did in the next ten minutes would radically influence the rest of her life.

"This line is taking forever," she grumbled. "Will you hold down the fort while I run to the washroom?"

He glanced nervously at Andrew, who still dozed in his car seat. She could have sworn he gritted his teeth in determination. "Okay."

In the ladies' room, Tara splashed her face with water. Her heart was so full of confusing feelings, she thought it might whirl its way right out of her chest. She loved Kevin. That much was certain. She could forgive his deception, since he'd only done it because he wanted a chance to win her over. But could they really make a life together?

As she returned to the line at the ticket counter, she saw something that made her choice incredibly easy. Andrew's car seat was empty. The baby was now in Kevin's arms, snuggled up against one shoulder. Kevin rocked back and forth with him, jiggling slightly, as if he'd been born to fatherhood. He was also talking to the baby, though she couldn't hear what he was saying.

He looked a little sheepish when he saw her approaching. "He started to cry. I'm not sure what he wanted, but…"

"He wanted exactly what you gave him," Tara said with a smile. They'd reached the front of the line, and she went to the next available agent. "I have a reservation, Tara Satterfield," she said. "But I'd also like to make another reservation for next week, Chicago to Colorado Springs. One way."

She sneaked a glance at Kevin, who appeared shocked. "You're coming back?"

"I'm going to Chicago long enough to pack up my things and tie up a few loose ends. Then I'm coming back here to finish, um, planning my wedding."

She wasn't about to drag Kevin to Chicago and make him live there, not now that she'd seen what life in Hardyville was like. It wouldn't be any big sacrifice for her to live there. Shoot, she wanted to. She'd never felt as relaxed and happy as she had over the past two weeks.

Kevin's mouth slowly spread into a grin. He rubbed Andrew's back absently as he looked at the ticket agent. "Got any more seats on that flight to Chicago?" He turned back to Tara. "I'm finally getting to know this little guy. I don't want to say goodbye to him now, even for a week."

Her heart swelling, she leaned into him and they kissed. A couple of other passengers who had heard the exchange applauded.

"Look at you," Tara said when the ticket agent cleared her throat, forcing them to end the kiss. "You've been holding that baby for at least five minutes, and you haven't dropped him even once."

Kevin smiled down at Andrew and switched him to the other shoulder. "Yeah, how about that."

"It will get easier, Kev, I promise."

"It already is."

With their tickets in hand, they walked toward security, a real family for the first time.