He reached for her hand, but she couldn’t stand his touch
“Don’t. I only want to feel my baby.” Lydia laid her hand on her stomach, aching to feel the sensation of their unborn son, lazily twisting inside her. “I miss him.”
Josh’s expression went blank again. He folded his hands, white-knuckled, in his lap.
She could end it now, put a stop to the loneliness and fear. Once they’d married, he’d considered their relationship complete, nothing more to worry about. He’d turned his attention to his priorities—his clients. Feeling left out and unneeded, more hurt than she’d ever admitted, she’d tried arguing, explaining, and finally she’d found poor comfort in her own work. But the baby had made them try again.
She had two choices. Tear him to shreds or try to save their marriage. Could hurting him ever be revenge enough?
Dear Reader,
My favorite romances are about couples struggling with life—the everyday challenges that follow that first happily ever after. It can be small things--not knowing your mate prefers potatoes when you love rice, needing the comfort of a thin sliver of night-light when he can sleep only in total darkness and complete silence. Or it could be, as with Lydia and Josh Quincy, separate views of life that simply refuse to meld.
Josh and Lydia coast along in their marriage, ignoring ever-increasing differences, until a tragedy forces them to reevaluate everything about themselves—what they want, where they want to live, if they can be together. Even in the best of marriages, these questions arise, and I’m always curious about how we answer them. Josh and Lydia made me wonder how I’d answer them myself.
I hope you’ll enjoy this story, which remains with me still. I’d love to hear from you. Please feel free to e-mail me at [email protected].
Best wishes,
Anna
Marriage in Jeopardy
Anna Adams
To Sarah—with all my love and my deepest hopes that
all you desire and dream of will come to you. You are the
essence of joy. You shine with hope. You make me glad.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
LYDIA QUINCY OPENED her eyes. Memory rushed at her with the menace of an oncoming tornado. She remembered walking out of the elevator at the courthouse construction site. A woman had come around a stack of bricks. She’d never forget that woman’s mouth, stretched in a grin of pure malice. Lydia’s muscles clenched as she tried to duck again. That woman had swung a piece of rebar straight into Lydia’s stomach.
The moment replayed like a loop of film.
She tried to breathe.
Staring around the unfamiliar room, she saw blank tan walls and mountains of hoses, wires, tubing. A machine that screamed with blinking numbers. A shapeless beige curtain and hard plastic rails on her bed.
One more breath brought nausea so strong she had to escape. She struggled to sit, but an IV stung her arm. Oxygen tubing pulled her head back.
“Lydia?” Evelyn, her mother-in-law, spoke to her in a sleepy voice. How could she be here? She lived four hours away. “Lie down, honey.” Evelyn leapt to her feet, sending a metal chair screeching across the tile floor.
Lydia slumped against a flat pillow and it crackled beneath her head. She pushed both hands down to her stomach, but bone deep, she already knew what had happened.
The physical pain was nothing, compared to her grief. She drew her knees high, clamping her hands to her belly. She felt only emptiness. Not life. Emptiness.
“My baby.” She let her hands sink to her sides. “My baby,” she cried in anguish more animal than human.
Evelyn grabbed her arm. Tears washed her glasses and spilled over her lined cheeks.
“I’m sorry.” She peered toward the door, as if she hoped someone would show up and save her.
“Where’s Josh?” Lydia half expected he’d stayed at work.
Evelyn had been reaching for the call button at Lydia’s side, but drew back. “He wanted to be the one to tell you, but I can explain—”
“I know. Don’t say it out loud.” The second someone did, her pregnancy would be truly over. All that hope, so futile now… She couldn’t stop loving her son just because she’d never have him.
“Lydia, honey…”
She pushed at her mother-in-law’s thin shoulders. “No, no, no.”
“Shh,” Evelyn whispered, putting her arms around Lydia anyway. “Shh.”
Lydia sobbed. “I want my baby.” He’d died, but somehow she hadn’t. “Why am I alive?”
Evelyn moved away, grimacing. “I know how you feel, but you can’t—you have to live.”
A nurse hurried into the room and nudged Evelyn away. “Mrs. Quincy, I’m glad you’re awake.” The woman checked the machine’s readouts and threaded the IV tubes through her fingers. “Mrs. Quincy?” she repeated as if she needed Lydia to answer.
“I’m all right.” Lydia nodded at the nurse, but reached for her mother-in-law. Her hand fell through air to the sheets. “Is Josh in court? How did you get here first, Evelyn, when his office is only a few blocks away?”
“Your husband?” the nurse asked. “He’s here. He passed our station a few minutes ago.”
“He left?” Typical, but still it hurt. Things had begun to get better during the twenty-two weeks of her pregnancy, but before then, they’d spent much of their five-year marriage pulling in opposite directions, unable to speak, unable to explain why they couldn’t. Once they’d learned the baby was coming, they’d both wanted him so much they’d pretended nothing was wrong.
“Josh has been here whenever they let us in,” Evelyn defended her son. “But you know how he is. Impatience and anger go hand in hand, and add worrying about you—he needed a walk.”
Lydia knew Josh better than his mother did. While she could hardly hear above the pain screaming in her own head, Josh had no doubt taken refuge in calls to his office. That was Josh. If he couldn’t fix his private life, he turned to maintaining his reputation as the best public defender in Hartford, Connecticut.
“I—” She wanted to be angry. God knew, she’d had practice, but she needed her husband. He’d lost their baby, too.
“What?” Evelyn asked. “What can I do for you?”
“Do?” No one could erase the instant or the memory. Sun glinting off a green truck’s hood had blinded her as she’d walked around the bricks. One of those bricks had grazed her arm. She turned her elbow, trying to see the scrape, to see anything except that woman.
Her unborn son