Nikki Benjamin - The Baby Bind

“So you left me and now I’m all better,” Charlotte interrupted him bitterly as an unexpected rush of tears stung her eyes.

“Rehashing the past isn’t really getting us anywhere now, is it?”

Again Sean’s voice was surprisingly gentle.

“I have to agree, especially since we’ll be divorced by this time next year.” Forcing herself to get a grip on her roiling emotions, Charlotte met her husband’s gaze again. “But you’ve insinuated twice already that I’ve been less than honest with you about what I might have done to further our chances of adopting a child. I’m not going to sit by quietly and let you get away with it. I’ve always been truthful with you, Sean— always —and I swear to you that I always will be. But if you can’t, or won’t , trust me—”

“I do trust you,” he cut in, tightening his hold on her wrist just enough to help to make his point. “Obviously I jumped to some wrong conclusions earlier and I apologize.”

Charlotte eyed her husband skeptically for several moments. She was still more than a little angry with him, and she was deeply hurt, too. He could say that he hadn’t thought she’d made a fool of herself by trying so desperately to have a child that she’d been completely unaware of his true feelings. But that was how he’d made her feel six months ago and that was how she felt now.

Taking the time and energy necessary to nurse her grievances against him was a luxury, though—one she couldn’t afford at the moment. Sean’s offer to help her with the adoption had been tentatively made, at best. By continuing to behave toward him in a hostile manner, especially now that he’d eaten a small slice of humble pie, she might just cause him to withdraw that offer altogether.

“Just don’t do it again, okay?” she asked, still refusing to allow her gaze to waver.

“I won’t—I promise.” He finally let go of her wrist after another small, seemingly meant-to-be-affirming squeeze. Then he stood again, looking very weary all of a sudden. “I’d really like to read through the information from the adoption agency more closely, but right now I’m beat. Is there any chance we could pick up where we left off again in the morning, more cordially? I’m not sure how anxious you are to get back to Mayfair, or how you feel about missing a day of work. But I was thinking that since you’re already here, maybe we could try to set up an appointment to meet with our counselor at the agency sometime tomorrow, too.”

Exhaustion had been creeping up on Charlotte, as well, making her much more sensitive than she should have been. A good night’s sleep would better her mood quite a bit. Since she was going to have to spend the night in New Orleans, she didn’t have any great desire to rush back to Mayfair the next day, either.

What could it hurt to stay in the city tomorrow so that she and Sean could go over the paperwork together and, if possible, talk to their counselor at the agency? She might as well take advantage of his willingness to cooperate with her while she could.

“That sounds like a good idea to me. I’ll call the school district’s automated line before I go to bed tonight and arrange for a substitute to take my place tomorrow.”

“The more we can get down now, the better.”

“Yes, I agree.”

Sean smiled approvingly as Charlotte stood, too, the envelope in hand. She thought he would say something more or, at the very least, offer to go upstairs with her as he had earlier. But he stood with his hands in his pockets, apparently content to wait for her to make the next move.

“I guess I’ll call it a night, then,” she murmured after a few more moments of silence passed between them.

Feeling oddly out of place in the once familiar and much loved old town house, Charlotte turned to leave the kitchen, walking alone through the living/dining room to the staircase off the entryway.

She and Sean had shared so many happy times here together. They had visited the town house often, especially over weekends during the fall and winter months, so that they could enjoy the city’s various cultural events. But her memories of those days and nights were now bittersweet.

There would be no going back to the life they’d once had together. Sean had made sure she understood that, and she did. She could mourn the past and the loss of his love all she wanted, but it would gain her nothing in the end.

So she would look to the future, instead, where another kind of life awaited her, and another kind of love would fill the painful emptiness that now made her heart ache.

On her own in the guest room with the door politely shut, Charlotte called to arrange for a substitute to take over for her at the high school the next day. She washed her face and brushed her teeth, then turned back the serviceable navy-blue-and-white striped comforter on the bed, slipped beneath the blankets and switched off the lamp on the nightstand.

She could still hear the rain tapping against the window- panes, but more gently as the worst of the storm finally seemed to be over. The steady patter should have lulled her to sleep in short order. She was tired enough to want as well as to need the rest. But her mind still raced along too busily to shut down on her command.

Her own fault, she admitted, remembering how eagerly she had welcomed the mug of coffee Sean had set before her. Revved up by such a hearty dose of caffeine so late in the evening, she would likely toss and turn until dawn. That, in turn, would leave her at a distinct disadvantage when it was time for her to face her husband once again.

With a quiet sigh, Charlotte sat up in the bed and pushed aside the blankets. There was only one antidote she could think of for sleeplessness—a glass of warm milk dosed with a small shot of whiskey. She didn’t want to go downstairs again, especially if Sean was still in the kitchen. But suffering through a restless night would be much worse.

Still debating her alternatives, she switched on the lamp, then cocked her head to one side and looked up at the ceiling. From above came the muted sound of measured footsteps punctuated by a squeak or two as Sean walked across the floor. A few moments later, the pipes gurgled with running water and Charlotte made her decision.

She could run down to the kitchen, heat up some milk in the microwave oven, dose it with whiskey and be back in the guest room in a matter of minutes, all without Sean being any the wiser.

Feeling like a thief in the night despite her equal right to make herself at home in the town house, Charlotte crept down the hallway to the staircase. Ten minutes, at the most, and she’d be back in her bed, door shut, laughing at herself for being so apprehensive.

What was the worst that could happen to her, anyway— getting caught by her husband of ten years with the milk jug in one hand and the whiskey bottle in the other?

She made it to the kitchen without a problem, prepared her nightcap and was halfway across the living room, mug in hand, when she realized that she’d much rather sip her spiked milk curled up on one of the upholstered wing chairs tucked between the front windows.

The house was peacefully quiet, the darkness of the room broken only by the pale glow of gaslight coming through the slats of the wooden shutters. The intimate ambience suited her mood so much better than that of the sterile, unfamiliar guest room.

Soothed by the hot drink, Charlotte thought back over her conversation with Sean and the angry words they’d exchanged. He had been right when he’d said rehashing the past was a waste of time, as she’d acknowledged then. Still, she couldn’t help dwelling on some of the harsher accusations he’d made. Not only had they been very revealing; they had also held more validity than she liked to admit.