Linda Warren - Always a Mother

“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, but it’s not going to change a thing. I’m pregnant.”

As the words finally sank in, he closed his eyes as if he was in pain. “Oh, God, not again. Not now.”

“That’s why I wanted this time alone, to think about what to do.”

His eyes flew open. “What do you mean?”

“I have choices.”

“You mean…”

“I don’t know what I mean. I’m trying to accept this, trying to let go of that foolish college dream. But right now I’m stuck in anger mode. This time I want to take the easy way out and I can’t even believe…”

“What can’t you believe?”

She licked her dry lips, knowing she had to tell him what she’d done. “This morning when I realized what was wrong with me, I bought a pregnancy test. It confirmed what I suspected.” She swallowed. “Then I…I drove to the Planned Parenthood Clinic. I’m a woman. I have rights. And I wasn’t letting my dream slip away again. All I could think about was myself.”

“And?”

“I sat in the car praying for strength, and suddenly it felt like God slapped me in the face. I was thinking about killing our baby without even talking to you. I can’t believe I did such a thing.”

“Claire, honey.” He moved toward her.

“No. Don’t come near me or I might strangle you.”

He paled.

“I’m sorry. I have to sort through everything I’m feeling…alone.”

“But you’re not in this alone. It’s my child, too.”

She looked directly at him. “Yes, but your forty-three-year-old body will not be giving birth. Your dream will not be snatched from you again.”

“You can still go to college and be pregnant. A woman can do it all.”

“I don’t want someone else raising my child.”

“I’ll help.”

“Football practice has already started and your time at home is limited. That limits your help, too. And you’re hoping to get a college coaching job.”

“I’ll turn it down.”

She groaned. “Oh, yeah, guilt is just what I need.”

“Claire…”

“I’m the mother. I’m the one who will do all the work, the one to make all the sacrifices.”

“I made sacrifices, too. I gave up a pro football career.”

“You didn’t give it up. You injured your knee.”

“I still had offers.”

“What?” The color drained from her face. “You weren’t taken in the draft and you never mentioned any offers.”

“Because I knew it was time for me to be at home for you and the girls.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You kept it from me? Did you think I was so weak that I couldn’t take the news?”

“You’re the strongest woman I know and it was so long ago I don’t know why we’re talking about it.”

“Because you kept it from me as if I was some dependent, fragile wife who needed you at home.”

“Claire, I turned it down for two reasons.” He held up one finger. “I wanted to be home.” He held up another finger. “Because of my injury I would have been second string, and that wasn’t acceptable to me.”

She glanced down at her hands, some of her anger leaving her. “That must have hurt.”

“Not really. I had to put my family first.” He took another step toward her. “Honey, we can work this out.”

“Probably,” she said. “But I need some time to accept the pregnancy graciously and with love—the same deep love with which I accepted Sarah and Sami.” She wasn’t sure why she was fighting for time or why she was arguing with Dean. Maybe she blamed him. She needed to come to terms with that, too.

“So what are you actually saying?”

“I’m saying you go home and I’ll stay here.”

He paled even more. “You want us to separate?”

“Yes. For now. College starts in ten days and by then I’ll know if I’m going to go or not.”

“I don’t understand why you’re shutting me out.”

“I don’t either. All I know is that I have to keep remembering, reading the letters to experience that deep well of commitment and love I had then. I have to let go of the dream with dignity and not blame it on a precious, innocent baby.” She blinked back a tear. “We’ll be in our sixties when this child graduates from high school. Can you handle that? I’m not sure I can.”

“Claire…”

“I’m just being honest, and I hate myself for the selfish things I’m thinking. At this moment I hate everything.”

He swallowed visibly. “Do you hate me?”

She looked at him. “I’ve loved you forever. I love your smile, your kind heart, your compassion and caring, even the gray in your hair. I love everything about you, but I’m not feeling any of that love right now.”

“You will. The Claire I love can deal with anything.”

“Maybe this is the one thing she can’t.”

“I’ll never believe that.”

“Dean.” She sighed. “Go home and let me sort through this.”

“We’ve never been apart.”

“Yes, we have. It just never felt like it.”