Stella MacLean - Bringing Emma Home

She remembered when their eyes met, when he took the pencil from her fingers and showed her how to solve the problem. She remembered the fall leaves raining down around them, offering a crackling melody under their feet as they crossed the school parking lot to his Jeep. As they reached his vehicle, he took her hand, and from that moment, there was no one else for her but him.

Now, sitting in their bedroom in a solitary wingback chair, with the beginning tendrils of early light slipping around the bedroom drapes, her love for her husband was even stronger than it had been eighteen years ago when they first met. Glancing across the room to where Aidan lay sprawled on the bed, her gaze followed the line of his cheek as he slept, the easy movement of his chest as he breathed deeply, and she considered climbing back into bed with him.

Her fingers trembled as they traced the edge of her wedding band and diamond solitaire while the anxious ache brought on by the past held her in the chair, unable to go to him. They had been married for ten years and really focused on getting pregnant for nearly seven years, which meant that Aidan had left a lot of the out-of-town travel to visit clients to her brother, Lucas Barton. They were partners in a computer engineering firm they’d started when they’d both graduated from university.

Yet despite the sacrifices, despite how hard she and Aidan had tried, how much testing they’d gone through, she had to face the fact that she would not give birth to a baby she could hold and love with all her heart.

As their last failed chance to have a baby of their own crushed her dream of becoming pregnant, she finally decided to broach the topic of adopting a baby. Last night she’d cooked Aidan’s favorite meal—shrimp and grits—and made his favorite dessert, chocolate cake. She’d spent days preparing the meal and rehearsing what she’d say.

She’d been so excited after dinner, unable to stop repeating the story of Cecilia and Dave, her friends, and their new baby boy, James Patrick Adair. When she mentioned that she’d put a call in to the same adoption lawyer their friends used, she’d waited for Aidan to respond, to say anything that gave her hope he might be willing to adopt. He hadn’t.

Later, when they’d gone to bed, Aidan had turned away from her, leaving her disappointed and feeling completely alone. More than anything, she’d wanted him to hold her, to tell her that they would see the lawyer about an adoption as soon as his schedule allowed. She would have gladly accepted his need to put off that appointment for a bit because of his busy work life. She would even have accepted his asking to think about it awhile, plan for the changes adoption might mean. Anything to feel that there was still a chance for a baby to complete their life together.

What hurt even more was that he hadn’t made love to her, hadn’t tried to soothe her feelings of emptiness. Back when they were trying so desperately to get pregnant, their lovemaking had become more mandatory than spontaneous. But since they’d stopped trying, they’d rediscovered the joy of making love in their king-size bed.

She glanced around the room, remembering how happy she’d been when they bought this home with its four bedrooms—bedrooms she’d hoped to fill with their children. Her gaze returned to Aidan’s face, relaxed in sleep, and she felt even more determined to encourage him to talk about adoption.

He stirred and her heart soared. She rose and went to the bed, sat beside him, soaking in his scent, smoothing the tufts of his glossy auburn hair mussed by the pillow. “Are you awake?” she whispered.

“Hmm.” He reached up, his fingers trailing through her blond hair, tantalizing her with his touch, the feel of his skin on hers, the very presence of him filling her with joy.

He moved the sheets back, his arm reaching out to surround her. “Get in here, woman. I’m not ready to get up just yet, and you don’t need to sit in the cool air,” he said, his voice deep, his smoldering look banishing everything but her need for him.

She snuggled in, pulling the sheet over her half-naked body. “What were you doing up so early?” he asked, kissing her chin, his hands smoothing the hair from her face. “You’re not up checking your temperature, are you?” He gave her an inquiring glance. “I thought we were done with that.” He pushed a pillow under his shoulders, pulling her tighter into his embrace and kissing her, a long, slow kiss that melted every bone in her body.

“We are,” she said, her throat feeling blocked while the memories played around her mind—the hope, the effort, the beautifully decorated nursery, the agony of loss...all of it for nothing. What should have been happy, wonderful years of starting a family had become the most desolate time of her life.

He tucked her close to his side, his lips brushing her forehead. “This is hard for you, and for me, but the doctors had to tell us the truth. We have to accept that. We’ve got to move on.”

“I know. But weren’t you excited about my news last night?” she asked, stroking his chin, watching to see how he’d respond. Maybe after a night’s sleep he was ready to talk about when they could see the adoption lawyer.

He sighed. “We need to really think about this a little more. After what we’ve been through, it’s a huge decision.”

“I realize that.” She continued to gently touch his face, feeling the light stubble there. He didn’t pull away as he had last night. “But the adoption lawyer has made such a big difference in Cecilia and Dave’s life. I want to talk to him. I decided to call his office to see if we could get an appointment...if you’re willing to go with me.”

“What was his name again?”

“Sterling Martin. I told you all of this last night,” she said, feeling frustrated but trying to hide it. “His office is just off King Street. He specializes in private adoptions. Cecilia and Dave are so happy with their new baby. James P is such a perfect child.”

Aidan’s fingers trailed along her collarbone, something he did whenever they talked about having a child. “Honey, I know how important this is to you. To us. But just this once, can we wake up and think about something else? Like maybe a vacation to Europe. We always said we wanted to go. Remember? All those times we watched our friends take off on vacation to some place interesting while we stayed home because of your worries about what could happen if you conceived while we were out of the country.”

His words stung. She understood his feelings and, at times, had shared them. But he didn’t understand how much she needed a baby. Her arms ached every time one of her friends had a baby. Then, when Cecilia and Dave had adopted, Grace finally felt hopeful over the possibility she and Aidan might, too. He simply needed more time to think about it, and she was willing to wait. “Sure. Why don’t I make breakfast for us? I promise not to talk about adoption.”

“That’s my girl. All I really want to do is spend time with you. Just you. Would that be okay?”

“I would love that,” she said, recognizing the expression on his face. He wasn’t going to talk about a child right now. It was up to her to accept that and have a pleasant breakfast with him. But that didn’t mean she was giving up. Not a chance.

Suddenly, she brightened. She knew what she’d do. She would invite Cecilia and Dave to dinner, maybe a good Southern barbecue evening. Cecilia’s praise for Sterling Martin would carry more sway than anything Grace herself could say at this point. Aiden had a great deal of respect for Cecilia, one of the computer engineers in his firm.

He rubbed her shoulder, his fingers circling the skin over her collarbone—a clear sign that Aidan had something on his mind, something he wasn’t ready to share with her. “What is it, honey?”