Joey went into the shed.
I was shivering when my husband Sam threw the blanket aside and joined me at the window. I loved the view from our high-rise and the lack of that old building smell, the musty reminder of past lives and unhappy memories. As his warm hands slid down my arms, I relaxed against his muscular body. A nightlight cast a soft glow from behind the partially-open bathroom door.
“Bad dreams?’ he murmured. His breath tickled my ear before I nodded.
“I don’t remember what it was about,” I answered his next question before he asked. This routine had become familiar to us. Sam was so patient. He actually loved me: a miracle I couldn’t grasp. I couldn’t tell him that his gentle need for a child launched old fears to the surface. My throat clicked over a dry swallow. I couldn’t tell him. Not tonight, maybe not ever.
We returned to the bed, cuddling under the warm blankets. The details always faded after a few hours, but not my dry mouth or the need to turn on the light. His reassuring touch heated my skin and I drew him closer. His familiar weight, the powerful rhythm of his lovemaking drew me into the happy present and a promising future.
Our apartment perched on the top floor of a recently completed ten story building. Our move to the West Coast had freed me. I wouldn’t live in an old house ever again.
After Sam fell asleep, I stared at the ceiling for hours. It was time for me to make a decision. Did I love Sam enough to give him a child? Was I strong enough to face my childhood fear and let it go? I wasn’t being fair to either him or myself.
The next morning my eyes felt like they’d been rolled in sand and stuffed back into my head as I made coffee, poached eggs and toasted English muffins for breakfast. I was glad it was Saturday and I didn’t need to work. I spent enough hours during the week at the computer doing claims adjustment.
“I’ve been thinking,” I started and he glanced up from the newspaper. His expectant smile choked off the words like a tightening noose.
He waited a minute before he verbally nudged me. “About?”
“Growing up,” I said. I slipped into the chair next to him and grasped his hand with both of mine. Warm as melted chocolate his brown eyes softened as his fingers closed around mine. “When we talked about a baby, I started thinking about being a child. I guess I never really said much about that.”
“You didn’t?” His thick eyebrows inched up. I loved Sam’s face. His nose would be called Roman in another age and his high cheekbones hinted at a touch of Indian heritage. “We talk all the time. You grew up in a small town called Rhodes End. Your parents died after you left home for college. You’re a sweet, well-adjusted normal woman with the sexiest body I ever knew.”
“I’ll agree with the sexy,” I said with a soft laugh. God, this was hard. I wanted to share my fears, but wondered if my solid, rational man would understand and believe me.
“Maybe we should go back to bed and check out all those sexy parts.” He drew me into his arms and pressed a deep kiss to my mouth. I strained closer as relief made me dizzy. I didn’t need to tell him now. It could wait another day. Or two.
Time both dragged and flew in the following weeks. Another month on the pill had me juggling the dispenser as I decided to get another refill. One more I whispered to the mirror. The woman who stared back didn’t smile. Her bleak hazel eyes held dark secrets. Her tight mouth curved down at haunting memories. When I blinked, the frightened child I had been appeared with her hands outstretched. The container slipped from my nerveless fingers and shattered in the sink. The tiny pills spun like the balls on a roulette wheel before disappearing down the drain.
