Chapter Eleven #3
“You haven’t been to work in three days. I know you’re exhausted and I came by to see if I could help.” He held up two grocery bags. “I brought food.”
“Talk about a prince among men. Come on in.”
He stepped inside. The living room was a little messier than usual, but otherwise it looked fine.
He wished he could say the same for Heather.
Weariness dulled her eyes. The shadows underneath were darker than he remembered and there were hollows in her cheeks.
She wore sweats and a T-shirt, but the shapeless garments couldn’t hide the fact that she’d lost weight—something she couldn’t afford to do.
“So you haven’t been eating, either,” he said.
“I know.” She walked up and down the length of the living room, holding her crying daughter.
“How long have you been carrying her around?” he asked as he went into the kitchen and began putting the groceries away.
“Days. I mean that literally,” she called after him. “I don’t think either of us has slept in the past forty-eight hours. Before that, she was crying for three or four hours straight. I figure I’ve only got another week of this left, but it’s hard to get through.”
Jim paused in the act of sliding milk into the refrigerator. Had that been a break he’d heard in her voice? He quickly closed the door and returned to the living room.
“I’m trying to be a good mother,” she said, her voice suddenly thick with tears. “I want to do the right thing, but I don’t know how to make her feel better or help her get some sleep.” She sniffed.
Jim couldn’t help staring at her. In all the time he’d known Heather, she never complained, never whined and certainly never cried.
The only tears he’d seen had been tears of joy after Diane was born.
And she was strong. She’d even stayed calm while giving birth in an elevator assisted only by a stranger who didn’t know what the hell he was doing.
He liked giving things to her and helping out, but mostly because it made him feel better.
He never thought of her as being in need.
“You’re crying,” he said.
She sniffed again, then wiped her cheek with her arm.
“No, I’m not. I’ve been walking so much my eyeballs are sweating.
I don’t cry. I’m not some weak, mindless female.
I’m tough and independent. I’m fine. We’re both fine.
” The volume of Diane’s cries went up a notch.
Heather moaned. “Someone please tell me what to do.”
He didn’t have any answers so he did the only thing he could think of.
He walked over to her and took the baby.
Then, with his free hand, he hugged Heather close.
“It’s going to be all right,” he murmured against her soft, sweet-smelling hair.
“You don’t have to go through this alone. I’m right here.”
“But I don’t want to depend on you.”
“You’re not. You’re borrowing me for a short period of time. There’s a difference.”
“But I can’t do that. It’s—” She froze in his arms. “Do you hear that?” she whispered.
He listened. “I don’t hear anything.”
“I know. She’s quiet. She must have missed you.”
Jim glanced down and saw that Diane had fallen asleep in his arms.
“Don’t move,” Heather breathed.
“I can’t stand here forever.”
She looked as if she wanted to argue.
“Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll put her down. If she wakes up while I’m doing that, I’ll take responsibility for getting her quiet again.”
He moved slowly into Diane’s room and put the sleeping baby into her crib. Diane stirred and snuffled, but she didn’t wake up. He straightened and turned, then saw Heather leaning against the door frame.
Light from the living room spilled into the hall and illuminated her from behind.
She looked slight and tired, but still beautiful.
Even without makeup and in an old T-shirt and sweats.
He wanted her at that moment as much as he’d ever wanted her.
But he’d grown used to ignoring the desire, so he walked out of the room and closed the door behind them, all without saying a word.
“Go take a shower,” he told her, wishing he could be the one doing that instead. Fifteen minutes in icy water just might take away his need for her. At least temporarily. “After that, you can take a nap. I’ll watch Diane and walk with her if she wakes up.”
Heather closed her eyes and sighed. “A shower. That would be fantastic.” She was already heading across the hall to her bedroom. “I’ll only be ten minutes.”
“Take your time,” Jim called, knowing that it wouldn’t matter if it was one minute or an hour. The entire situation was torture.
He returned to the living room, turned on the television and started flipping through channels.
Nothing caught his attention, so he turned off the machine.
As much as he wanted to pretend otherwise, he was stuck, so he might as well give in.
He leaned back, closed his eyes and thought about Heather…
naked…and dripping wet, then wished he was brave enough, or stupid enough, to join her.