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  “He does, but we’re in too much pain to see it.”

  Molly knew that, as well.

  Now, nearly four years after losing their son, Jordan was moving ahead and she needed to take that first tentative step herself. “I’m going to find myself an apartment,” she announced.

  “There’s no rush,” Ian told her.

  “It’s time I got on with my life.”

  “Like Jordan?”

  “He’s right, Dad. I shouldn’t have buried my pain. Heaven only knows how long I would’ve stayed in Africa if it hadn’t been for the rebels. I was hiding from life and it got to be downright comfortable.”

  “I realize I’m being selfish, but I hate to see you move out so soon.”

  Molly hugged her father, grateful for his love and support. He was all she had left in the world now. It was the same way it’d been from the time she was eleven, just the two of them.

  Once Molly decided what she was going to do, it didn’t take her more than a week to find a nursing job and an apartment. She moved several pieces of furniture from Jordan’s, along with a number of personal items.

  She made sure she went to the house when there wasn’t any chance of running into him. For courtesy’s sake, she left him notes, listing what she’d taken. She also gave him her new address.

  The duplex she’d rented was in a friendly neighborhood and included a small yard. Molly loved roses and was looking forward to planting some once she was completely settled.

  The apartment was roomy with two large bedrooms, a good-sized kitchen and a comfortable living room. It wasn’t home yet, but it would be once she’d arranged everything the way she wanted. Compared to her quarters in Africa, the duplex was a mansion. The best thing about her new home was that she wasn’t far from either Lake Michigan or her work at Sinai Hospital.

  Molly was dressed in cutoffs and a sleeveless T-shirt, placing books inside the bookcase, when the doorbell rang. She wiped the perspiration from her forehead with the back of her arm and got to her feet.

  She suddenly felt dizzy and collapsed onto the sofa, taking deep, even breaths. A moment passed before the world righted itself once more.

  Whoever was at the door punched the bell again, this time in short, impatient bursts. No one she knew rang a bell like that except Jordan Larabee.

  Standing, she composed herself and walked over to the front door. Jordan had a box braced against the side of the duplex, holding it beneath his good arm and having difficulty doing so. “It took you long enough,” he said gruffly.

  “Sorry,” she said, opening the screen door. Jordan walked in and dropped the box on the carpet next to the one she was unloading into the bookcase.

  “You forgot this,” he said.

  The dizziness returned and Molly slumped onto the arm of the sofa and pressed her hands against her face.

  “Are you all right?” Jordan asked, his expression concerned. “You’re as pale as a sheet.”

  “I …don’t know. I must’ve gotten up too quickly. Everything started to spin for a minute there… I’m fine now.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Listen, Jordan, I’m a registered nurse. I may not know a lot about some things, but I do know when I’m healthy—and I tell you I’m fine.”

  “Good.” He shoved his hand into his pants pocket and walked around the room, surveying the duplex. “What does Ian think about all this?”

  “My moving? Well, he’d rather I stayed with him for the rest of my life, but I’d prefer to live on my own.” She surveyed the contents of what he’d brought and didn’t find anything that warranted his visit. She could have picked it up the following day, or whenever she made her next trip to the house.

  Jordan strolled into the kitchen. “Do you mind if I get myself something to drink?”

  “Go ahead.” Apparently there was more on his mind than helping her move, otherwise he wouldn’t be making excuses to stay. “There’s lemonade in the refrigerator. I’m afraid I don’t have anything stronger.”

  “Lemonade’s fine.” He got a glass from the cupboard, a beautiful crystal one they’d received as a wedding gift from her aunt Catherine a thousand years ago. He paused, his hand cupped around the base of the glass.

  Molly moved one step forward. “I hope you don’t mind that I took those glasses… They weren’t specifically listed in the agreement. I didn’t think it’d matter.”

  “Why should I care about a few glasses?”

  “You looked as if you might object.”

  “I don’t,” he said. “I was just thinking about the last time we used them—Christmas, wasn’t it?” He stopped abruptly and shook his head. “Never mind, it isn’t important.” He filled the glass with lemonade and carried it into the living room, where he sat down on the sofa, balancing his ankle on the opposite knee. He stretched his arm across the back of the sofa and appeared to be at ease.

  Molly felt anything but relaxed. She sat on the ottoman facing him, hands pressed between her knees, waiting. Clearly there was something he wanted to say.

  He took a sip of the lemonade. “How have you been?”

  “Fine, and you?”

  “Can’t complain.”

  “How’s the arm?”

  The sling moved against his chest. “It’s getting better every day. I should be able to get rid of this by the end of the month.”

  “Good.”

  Silence.

  Briefly she wondered how long it would take him to get to the point of this conversation.

  “Was there some reason you wanted to talk to me?” she finally asked when she couldn’t tolerate the quiet for another second.

  He dropped his leg and leaned forward, leaning his good arm against his elbow. “The divorce will be final soon.”

  Molly knew that as well as he did. “So?” She didn’t mean to sound flippant, but she didn’t understand what he was getting at.

  “Are you happy?” He rubbed his face, as if he wanted to start the conversation over again. Sighing, he said, “I’m making a mess of this. Listen.” He vaulted to his feet. Jordan had never been able to sit in one place when something was troubling him.

  “You want to know if I’m happy?” she asked. “Do you mean, am I happy about the divorce?”

  “I don’t know what I mean. I just have this incredible sense of guilt over I don’t know what. Coming here like this doesn’t make a bit of sense, but somehow I’m not comfortable ending our marriage without…without what?”

  Jordan turned and their eyes met. She read his bewilderment and knew she’d experienced those same feelings herself, and like him, had been unable to put them into words.

  “I guess in some ways I’m asking you to absolve me,” he said with a short, mocking laugh. “The problem is I don’t know what it is I want you to forgive.”

  “The divorce makes me very sad,” she admitted in a whisper. “I don’t blame you, Jordan, and I’m not angry with you if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  “Maybe you should be. Did you ever think of that?”

  Molly took a moment to carefully examine her feelings. She wasn’t angry now, but that didn’t guarantee she wouldn’t be in the future. All the emotions tied into the divorce and their time together in Africa hadn’t been fully processed.

  “Give me a few weeks,” she suggested with a weak smile.

  “There’s something you should know,” Jordan said, his shoulders heaving. “Lesley and I have never been lovers.”

  “Jordan, please, that’s none of my business.” She stood and walked over to the bookcase, examining the even spines of the volumes she’d placed inside.

  “I know that. The fact is, it embarrasses me to be talking to you about my relationship with another woman. However, I want you to know that while I’ve committed my share of sins, adultery isn’t one of them.”

  Their conversation was growing decidedly uncomfortable. “You asked me if I was happy,” she said, throwing his question back at him. “That’s what y
ou really came to find out, and I’ll tell you.” She brushed the hair away from her face and held it there. “I’m ready to resume my life. I’m completely on my own for the first time.… Africa didn’t really count. I have a new job I start Monday morning. Am I happy? Yes, I suppose I am, but I’m not sure what happy means anymore. I haven’t known since Jeffrey died.”

  Jordan’s jaw tensed. He seemed to need time to compose himself. “Why does every conversation we have come down to Jeffrey?”

  “He was our son.”

  “He’s dead!” Jordan shouted.

  “And that’s the problem,” she shouted back, her voice trembling. “You want to pretend Jeffrey never lived. You wanted to destroy his pictures and ignore the fact that we had a child. I can’t do that. I’ll never be able to do that. Jeffrey was a part of you and a part of me and I refuse to deny he lived.” She was sobbing now and made no effort to disguise her tears.

  “How long will it take you to forget?” Jordan demanded furiously. “Five years? Ten? When will it ever end? Tell me.”

  His words exploded like firecrackers dropped into the middle of the room. “How long will you continue to grieve?”

  Squaring her shoulders, Molly met his angry glare, her fists clenched at her sides.

  “When are you going to start? When will you stop denying we had a son? When will you be willing to own up to the fact that Jeffrey existed?”

  Jordan didn’t answer, not that she expected he would. He headed for the door, threw it open and stalked outside.

  Molly was shaking so badly she had to sit down. She held one hand over her mouth to hold back the anguish. Her stomach cramped and she knew she was going to vomit. She barely made it to the bathroom in time.

  Her queasy stomach didn’t go away. The following morning, she woke with a headache and had to force herself out of bed. By noon she felt well enough to meet her father for lunch.

  She arrived at the restaurant to find him seated and waiting for her.

  “Molly, sweetheart, I’m so pleased you’re feeling better. Is it the flu?”

  “No,” she said, wrinkling her nose. She reached for the menu. “It’s Jordan. We argued and, well, it upset me. I’m fine now.”

  “What did Jordan say that troubled you so much?”

  “Dad,” Molly chided, loving the way his voice rose with indignation. “It’s over and forgotten. The divorce will be final soon and then we’ll never have anything to do with each other again.” She made a pretense of studying the menu.

  The waiter appeared before she could make her selection. Her father, however, had already decided. “I’ll have a bowl of the French onion soup,” he said, spreading the napkin across his lap.

  The waiter looked at her expectantly. Molly’s stomach heaved and she placed her hand on her abdomen. “I’ll… I’ll have a salad…a spinach salad.” Her voice quavered and a paralyzing numbness settled over her. She closed her eyes. There’d only been one other time that the mere mention of French onion soup had made her instantly ill. And with her various other symptoms—the dizziness, the exhaustion—she should’ve figured it out much sooner. She was a nurse, after all.

  “Molly?” Her father’s concerned voice sounded as if it came from a long way off. “Is something wrong?”

  She managed a weak nod. “Something’s very wrong. Oh, Dad, I don’t know what I’m going to do.” Tears flooded her eyes and she hid her face in her hands.

  “Sweetheart, tell me.” He gently patted her arm.

  When she could, Molly lowered her hands from her face. “I’m…pregnant.”

  Five

  Dr. Doug Anderson, her obstetrician, walked into the cubicle, reading Molly’s chart. She scrutinized him carefully, although she already knew what he was going to say. She was pregnant. Not a shred of doubt lingered in her mind.

  “Well, Molly,” Doug Anderson said cheerfully, smiling at her. “Congratulations are in order. Your test is positive.”

  “I guessed as much.” She glanced away, fighting back her emotions. Tears were close to the surface, along with the almost irresistible urge to laugh. She knew this hysteria was caused by her growing sense of fear.

  “Molly, are you all right?”

  She gestured with her hands, not knowing how to answer him. “I’m afraid, Doug, more afraid than I can ever remember being.” She’d lost her son; she didn’t know if she could survive that nightmare a second time.

  Doug pulled out a chair and sat down. “You aren’t going to lose this baby to SIDS,” he said, sounding remarkably confident.

  “You can’t guarantee that.” She was a medical professional herself and knew the statistics well. Crib death was a major cause of infant death in the United States. One out of every five hundred babies died mysteriously, for no apparent reason. She was also aware that the chances of losing a second child to SIDS were so infinitesimally small it shouldn’t warrant her concern. But it did.

  How could she not worry?

  “It’s more than that,” she whispered, fighting hard to keep her voice from shaking. “Jordan and I are getting a divorce. It’ll be final very soon.”

  Doug looked as if he wasn’t sure what to say. “I didn’t know.”

  Molly didn’t want to discuss her marital troubles, especially with someone who knew Jordan. “I realize I’ll need to tell him about the baby.” The prospect filled her with dread.

  “He’ll want to know,” Doug agreed. “It could make a difference.”

  Molly nodded. Doug seemed to think the news might have some effect on the divorce proceedings, but Molly doubted that. Jordan was involved with Lesley. He was the one who wanted out of the marriage.

  This complicated everything.

  Doug patted her hand and asked, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “No, but thanks for asking.”

  “I’d like you to make an appointment for two weeks from now.”

  “Okay,” she said mechanically.

  For some time after Doug left the cubicle, Molly didn’t have the energy to move. Although a part of her had accepted the information that she was indeed pregnant, another equally strong part of her had found comfort in denial. That luxury had been taken away from her. She was carrying Jordan’s child; there was no longer any question.

  Naturally she had no choice but to tell Jordan. The task, however, held no appeal.

  She returned to her apartment, changed into shorts and a sleeveless top, poured herself a glass of juice and sank into her chaise longue on the sunlit patio. She needed to review her options, but she couldn’t seem to get past the nearly suffocating fear of losing a second child.

  She’d barely had time to assimilate all the changes a baby would bring into her life when the doorbell rang, scattering her thoughts.

  She opened the front door to see Jordan, dressed as if he’d just walked off the job site, still wearing his hard hat. He frowned, obviously worried or displeased.

  “Hello, Jordan.” For one wild moment, she panicked, fearing he’d somehow learned about the pregnancy. It didn’t take her long to realize he wouldn’t be nearly this calm if that had been the case.

  “Could I come in?” he asked.

  “Of course.” She held open the screen door for him, wondering about the purpose of his visit.

  “Would you like a glass of juice? Or iced tea?” she asked.

  He looked tempted, then shook his head. “Listen, I thought I should clear something with you.”

  “About what?”

  “Kati’s wedding.”

  Her cousin’s wedding was scheduled for that Saturday.

  “She sent me an invitation,” Jordan went on to say. “I’m fond of Kati and, frankly, I’d like to go. But I won’t. Not if it’ll be awkward for you.”

  “Jordan, for heaven’s sake, don’t be ridiculous! Of course you should. Kati’s been half in love with you for years. There’s no reason you shouldn’t go.”

  He lowered his gaze. “I was thinking of asking Lesley to j
oin me.”

  Hearing the other woman’s name bothered her, but Molly refused to let Jordan know. “Are you asking my permission?”

  “In a way, yes,” he said, which was a concession coming from him.

  “We’re getting divorced, remember?”

  “I’m trying to be as honest and up-front with you as possible,” Jordan said, his voice raised as though he was struggling to maintain his composure. “The situation might be awkward, and it seemed only fair to give you notice.”

  “My family will find out about the divorce eventually. Now is as good a time as any to get it out in the open.”

  “If you’d rather I didn’t invite Lesley, then—”

  “Jordan, please, you’ve got to make that decision yourself. Don’t ask me to do it for you.”

  “I don’t want the wedding to be uncomfortable for you.”

  “Stop worrying about me.”

  “It’s your family.”

  “Do you think the divorce will come as a shock to my relatives?” she asked, forcing a laugh. “We’ve been separated for three years.”

  He nodded, but he clearly wasn’t happy with what she’d had to say. It occurred to her that she should tell him about the baby right now. The sooner she did, the better for everyone involved.

  Jordan walked back to the front door. “I’ll see you Saturday afternoon, then.”

  “Jordan.” Even to her own ears, his name had a frantic edge, and he turned around immediately.

  “Yes?”

  She looked at him, debating whether to tell him, and instinctively knew she couldn’t. Not yet. She needed time to come to grips with the news herself before she confronted him. When she told Jordan, she’d need to be strong and confident, and right then she was neither.

  “Nothing,” she said, offering him an apologetic smile. “I’ll see you Saturday.”

  * * *

  As he’d said, Jordan was fond of Kati. She was by far his favorite of Molly’s cousins, and since she’d specifically sent him a wedding invitation he felt honor-bound to attend.