The next day he started practice for the upcoming bowl game. That evening when he came home, Claire was sitting on the living room floor nursing Sami in one arm while Sarah nestled into her side with a breathing mask over her nose and mouth, taking a treatment. Claire’s hair hung limply around her shoulders, sour milk stained her blouse and she looked as tired as he’d ever seen her.
He quickly sank down by her and took Sarah and finished the treatment. As he held his little girl, patting her back, she went to sleep. He carried her into their bedroom and laid her in her crib.
The apartment was cramped, with one bedroom, a living area and kitchen combination, and a small bathroom. He and Claire had a crib on each side of their bed, and that was a problem. She wasn’t getting any sleep.
As he returned to the living room, he saw Sami was through nursing. He scooped her out of her mother’s arms and burped her.
Claire’s head fell back against the cushions. “I’m so tired,” she murmured.
Dean carried Sami to her crib and within minutes she was asleep. After partially closing the door, he went back to Claire. He gathered her into his arms and placed her on the sofa.
Kissing her gently, he said, “Just go to sleep, honey.” He reached for an afghan and covered her.
She snuggled into the cushions. “Don’t let me sleep too long.”
“I won’t.”
He turned off the lights and watched her for a moment before he made his way to the bedroom and closed the door. Both babies awoke during the night. He changed them, and gave Sarah a bottle after which she went back to sleep. But Sami was different. He carried her to Claire, who nursed her without really waking up.
Early the next morning he got up, made breakfast, then took it to Claire on a tray.
She stirred, glanced around and quickly sat up. “Where are the girls?”
“Asleep.”
She yawned. “What time is it?”
“About six.”
Her eyes went wide. “You let me sleep all night?”
“Yep. And here’s breakfast.” He pointed to the tray. “Scrambled eggs, toast and your favorite orange marmalade.”
“Oh, my. I feel like a queen.”
He sat beside her and took her into his arms. “You’re my queen.”
She rested her head on his shoulder. “You have practice today and I know you had to get up with the girls.”
“I can go on very little sleep.” He kissed the side of her face. “Football season will be over in a week, and classes won’t start for a couple more weeks. I’ll be here to help out more.”
“Thank you. I love you.”
He just held her and stared at the small Christmas tree they’d positioned on an end table. They had to put it up high because Sarah was walking and she’d pull it over in no time. Claire had decorated it with red bows and shiny balls, along with their special first Christmas ornament and this year’s new ornament. It wasn’t much, but it was all they had. Staring at the sparse tree, he vowed one day he would give her everything.
But “one day” always seemed to be out of his reach.
DEAN CONTINUED TO WATCH Claire through the window, and as he did, a frisson of fear shot through him. Why was she reading the letters? Could it just be nerves? Or was it something more? Suddenly he had to know.
He opened the door and stepped in.
“DEAN.” Claire wasn’t expecting him, and for a moment she was speechless.
“I was worried about you.” He moved some letters and sat beside her, kissing her cheek. “Feeling better?”
“Mmm. How did you know where to find me?”
“A lucky guess.” He tucked her hair behind her ear and her heart contracted. He was so handsome. Threads of gray shone in his dark hair and his features were leaner, more mature. She loved him so much, but how were they going to get through this? How was she going to tell him?
“You didn’t have to come. I’m fine. I just needed some fresh air.” It was the first time she’d lied to him.
“Do you think you have the flu?”
“I’m not sure.” She bit her lip to keep from telling another lie. “Did you get Bunny settled?”
“Yes. She’s all moved in.”
“She should be living with us. We have room.” When Dean had gotten a job teaching, they’d bought their first house. Claire loved the older homes on the tree-lined boulevards in the old Tarrytown area near the heart of central Austin, so they’d bought a two-story Victorian that had been built in the early 1900s. After they renovated, it was the perfect home, roomy and with lots of character. They still lived there.
Dean shrugged. “You know how Mom is. She likes her independence. And she said we need some time alone. We’ve never had that.”
“Mmm.” Claire glanced at the letters, feeling her chest close up. It wasn’t going to happen now, either. How did she tell him that once again she’d screwed up? Although she wasn’t sure why she was blaming herself. Dean was involved, too.
He followed her glance. “Why are you reading the letters?”
She swallowed. “To remember—the good and the bad. To remember dreams that don’t come true.”
“Claire, your dream is coming true.”
“I…” Her throat locked because of what she had to say.
“I know you’re nervous about college, about attending classes with students younger than your daughters. You’ll be fine, though.”
“Don’t try to pacify me.” The words came out angry, though she didn’t mean them to.
There was silence—a strained silence, which was rare. They could always talk about anything. But now…
Dean pulled her into his arms and she snuggled against him. “What’s going on, Claire? Why did you just leave like that?”
“I wanted some time to think. That’s all.” Lazily, she drew circles on his T-shirt. She had to tell him.
“About what?”
She drew back and slowly raised her eyes to his. “I’m pregnant.”
There was a noticeable pause.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m pregnant.”
He gave a fake laugh. “No. No way.”
“Really?” She lifted an eyebrow. “Remember Cancun and I forgot my diaphragm so we used a condom? Guess what? It didn’t work—again.”
He sprang to his feet. “It’s just nerves. You can’t be pregnant.”
She held up the letters. “I remember thinking that twice before.”
“I refuse to believe it. You’ve been on an emotional high getting ready for college. That’s all it is.”
“I know when I’m pregnant.”
“Have you seen a doctor?”
“No.”
“Well, then…”
“You can keep batting excuses through the air,