She stared at him through watery eyes. “That was our agreement—to have a child and raise it together. We never discussed the other things. I didn’t think they were important to you.”
“They are and you’ve stomped on my feelings long enough.”
“Then I think you’d better go.”
Some of his anger evaporated. He didn’t want it to end like this. He’d wanted to say so many things to Elise and everything had come out wrong and harsh. “I…ah…”
She gritted her teeth and took a deep breath, composing herself. “It’s okay, Jake. I’ll survive.”
No doubt she would, but he hated hurting her. “The social worker is setting up a meeting with Ben.” He didn’t know why he said that. It just seemed to slip out. Maybe he was hoping for a break in her demeanor, something to give him a sign that the marriage wasn’t over.
“I hope you’ll be happy with your little boy.”
Her head was bent and he couldn’t see her eyes, but he knew it took every bit of emotional energy she had for her to say that. It also told him that there was no hope for them. Ms. Woods had said his chances for custody would be better with Elise. Now he’d have to take his chances alone.
“If you want to file for divorce, I’ll sign the papers.”
Her eyes jerked to his. “Is that what you want?”
No, I want us to raise my son together. But he said, “Yes, it’s what I want.”
CHAPTER THREE
JAKE HAD TROUBLE SLEEPING. He kept seeing Elise’s face, the hurt in her eyes…a hurt he had put there. Not intentionally, but still, he was the cause of her pain. He sat up and slipped on his jeans, grabbed a T-shirt and shoes and headed for the door. Wags followed. Jake went straight to his workshop, which was off the garage. Wags settled in his spot by the door, watching Jake.
The smell of fresh-shaved wood clung to the air. As a hobby, Jake did woodwork and it was something he loved. He flipped on the light and strolled over to a baby’s cradle that occupied the middle of the large room. Elise had seen it in a magazine and he was planning to surprise her with it when she became pregnant. He drew in a deep breath and pulled up a chair, staring at the cradle. Wags trotted over and barked.
“I know, boy,” Jake said. “We’ll go to the house in a minute.” He couldn’t take his eyes off the cradle.
It consisted of round spindles connected to a half-circular base at each end. The crib swung from a sturdy stand. He had spent many hours doing the intricate pattern of flowers on the circular base and the stand. The spindles were rounded in the middle and smaller on each end. Mrs. Myers, a friend of his who sewed, was making the mattress and lining out of some of the finest cotton ever grown and he’d ordered lace from Italy as a finishing touch. The picture in the magazine was white, but Elise had said if the baby was a boy she wouldn’t want white, so Jake was waiting to paint or stain the crib. Now he didn’t have to worry. It would never be finished.
He pushed the cradle and it swung gently back and forth as “Rock-a-Bye, Baby” played. He’d had a hell of a time figuring out how to get the tune to play when the cradle rocked, but a visit to the electronics store solved his problem. It worked on the same principle as a music box. Now it was all for nothing.
Wags barked several times at the sound and Jake nodded his head. Glancing up, he saw the new wood stacked against the wall. He was starting on a baby bed next, to match the crib. A tremor of despair ran through him. For the first time he realized how much he wanted a baby…how much he’d planned for it, too. Letting go of that hope wasn’t easy for him, either.
But now he had Ben. Tomorrow he’d see his son for the first time and that filled him with new hope. It didn’t diminish the feelings he had for his and Elise’s baby; it just made the whole situation difficult.
What would he do if Elise was pregnant? He ran his hands over his face. He’d deal with that if it happened.
“Jake, what are you doing working so late?”
Jake turned to Aunt Vin standing in the doorway.
“It’s almost eleven,” she added, walking farther into the room. “I just got in from playing bingo and… Oh, oh, the cradle is beautiful.”
“Yes,” Jake said in a low voice.
Aunt Vin watched him for a moment. “What’s wrong?”
Jake clasped his hands together. “Ms. Woods called. I’m…I’m Ben’s father.”
“Oh, and from your expression I’m guessing the fancy lady isn’t taking this well.”
“No,” Jake admitted, seeing no reason to lie.
Aunt Vin clicked her tongue. “She wants a baby and God just gave her a ready-made one. What’s the difference? They all need love.”
Jake pushed to his feet and put his arm around her shoulder. “Yeah, and I’m going to give my son all the love I have.”
“So you’re raising Ben alone?”
“It looks that way.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be here.”
“Thanks, Aunt Vin.”
They slowly made their way to the house, Wags running ahead. “I guess we need to get a room ready,” she remarked.
“Let’s wait for a few days. I want to meet Ben first.”
“Okay.” Aunt Vin paused. “She’s not even going to meet Ben?”
“No.”
Aunt Vin shook her head and went to her room.
THE NEXT MORNING JAKE WAS UP early and drove into Waco to meet Ms. Woods. He found the building without any problem. She was in an office that consisted of a small space cluttered with filing cabinets and a desk.
She rose to her feet. “Good morning, Mr. McCain,” she said as she shook his hand. “Have a seat.”
Jake sat in a straight chair by her desk.
Ms. Woods clasped her hands across a large folder. “Mrs. McCain not with you?”
“No,” Jake replied, and to avoid answering uncomfortable questions he asked, “When can I see my son?”
Ms. Woods looked as if she was going to press the issue, but then said, “There are a few things we have to discuss first.”
“Like what?”
“Ben. I want you to be fully aware of his situation.”
He heard that note in her voice again and Jake knew something was wrong. “What situation?’ he asked carefully.
She opened the folder. “Ben has special problems.”
Jake’s chest tightened. “Problems?”
“As before, the only way I know how to do this is just tell you.”
“I wish you would.”
“Ben was a twenty-seven-week baby—a preemie—and he wasn’t breathing when he was born. The doctors worked with Ben and it took nine minutes before he could breathe on his own. He was then flown to Memorial Hermann hospital in Houston. He was