Tug of Attraction (2 page)

“Sure. I’m in good health, if that’s what you mean.”

“Good. I thought you might be...”

“Dying? And wanting to have a child to fulfill some selfish goal of leaving a piece of my DNA behind?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Hell, I don’t know what to think.” He didn’t let go of her hand as he led her out of the park and toward Market Square.

She needed a distraction. Some conversation that had nothing to do with her idea. Maybe it
was
crazy.

“I notice you use a lot of Christian expressions. ‘Jesus.’ ‘Hell.’ ‘Damn.’ What’s that all about?”

He chuckled. “I guess I just let loose with whatever feels good at the moment. But in my defense, I only use the lord’s name in vain.” He glanced over at her and grinned.

Brigit rolled her eyes. “I suppose it would be hard to swear Wiccan style. Or are you part Christian? I’ve heard of Craigans—Christian/Pagans.”

“No. I was raised Christian, but I’m more of a Wiccan at heart. I think of the Goddess as creative energy. It makes sense since females bring life into the world...”

He had been focusing on her, but looked away as he let his thoughts trail off and dropped her hand.

“Try not to worry. I just need an uninterrupted place to explain myself. Are you taking me to a brand new restaurant or something?”

“No. Better than that. More private. We’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

They continued to walk on in companionable silence while Brigit glanced up at him from time to time. If only she could talk him into it...Together they would make a beautiful child. He was tall, broad shouldered, had dark brown hair and blue eyes with dark brows and lashes. She was dark brunette with violet eyes.

She liked his straight nose and strong jaw, which always wore a little stubble and gave him a rugged masculine look. And his skin was always tan, which must come from working on the water year-round. All in all, she would have been attracted to him even if she didn’t know him and just passed him on the street. Certainly a bonus.

Eventually they arrived at the docks. She thought he might be taking her to one of the waterfront restaurants, but then she saw the tug boats.

“Are we going onto your boat?”

He grinned. “Yup. No spirits there. I can guarantee it.”

“And no one human is apt to be there?”

“Not if they don’t have to be.”

“Perfect.”

He opened a sliding gate. It looked like it opened wide enough to let a truck drive through. But as soon as they were next to the boats, he clicked a button and the gate slid shut again. He secured a short ramp to the deck and took the lead.

“Be careful. It’s steep.” He reached out a hand in case she needed it, but she walked up easily, using one of the hand rails. As soon as she made it to the deck, he unlocked a door and ushered her inside the cabin.

Brigit had never been on a tug boat before and had no concept of what it might look like inside. To her surprise, it was larger than she imagined and had all the comforts of home. They had stepped into a roomy kitchen with a full sized refrigerator, long counter, and bolted-in booth with a sturdy table and benches on either side.

“Have a seat. Would you like me to reheat your tea?”

She glanced at the travel cup still in her hand. Even though she hadn’t been drinking it, the warmth was reassuring. “No thanks. It’s fine.”

He put his own cup in the microwave. A few seconds later, he joined her at the table and placed a box of cookies between them.

“Yum. Chocolate chip. My favorite!” she said.

“Mine too. Tell me everything you want to say, but don’t expect me to change my mind.” He popped one of the bite-sized cookies into his mouth.

Brigit took a deep breath. “Okay. Here it is. Not only do I want to get pregnant for the obvious reason, I have endometriosis. It’s not a life-threatening disease, but it makes me uncomfortable—especially once a month.” She left it at that, hoping he’d figure out for himself that her menses was heavy and painful.

His brows knit. “What does that have to do with having children?”

“Well, it’s weird, but the condition improves with pregnancy.”

She could see that she’d surprised him. The skeptical look was replaced by something more open—even interested.

“If you don’t mind my being indelicate, I can explain it to you.”

He laughed. “I may be a guy, but I don’t get freaked out about a woman’s...plumbing, so to speak.”

She rolled her eyes. “Just the mere fact that you called it plumbing—”

“I’m sorry. I was trying to be casual. Let me rephrase. There’s nothing about the female reproductive system that upsets me. I belong to a maternal based religion, after all.”

She sighed. “Okay. With endo, the lining of the uterus begins to grow outside the uterus as well as inside.  Pregnancy stops a woman from having her period, which is the worst time with endo.  During the month the lining of the uterus thickens to be able to carry a fetus. When no egg implants the lining sheds, that's when a woman gets her period, which is why there’s so much pain when you have endo, because you now have blood in your abdomen.  That lining can attach itself to any organ too. Intestines, kidneys, anything in the area.”

“Shit. I had no idea.” He reached out and took her hand. She smiled briefly.

“Yeah. Most people don’t. My sister has it too,” she continued. “Women in my family have traditionally had a hard time conceiving, but she and her ex-husband managed to have one child.  She was twenty-nine. As women get older, our chances of conceiving become that much more difficult.

“So this is about your biological clock?”

“Not entirely. Some women with endo are sterile because of it. A woman I know had a severe case.  They tried different medicine. Unfortunately nothing worked for her and she had to have a hysterectomy eventually.”

“So why don’t you just get married and try with your husband?”

“I won’t trick some poor sap into marrying me just to
maybe
get pregnant. Look, I want a child to love and raise on my own. I don’t believe in marriage anyway. My mother has been married four times. I thought you’d be perfect since you seem to be a happy bachelor.”

“I am. So why would I saddle myself with a child? I’m not the guy who wants a mini-him running around. And if I’m not that guy, why would I take on visitation, sports uniforms, music lessons, college expenses...”

“You don’t need to do any of that. In fact, I don’t want you to.” She took a deep breath and spoke quickly so he couldn’t stop her. “I don’t want you involved in any way. I live in another town, so you wouldn’t even see the child unless you went out of your way, and I’d like you to sign something saying you won’t.”

She dug around in her leather shoulder purse until she produced the document her lawyer assured her was an iron clad contract. “Here, read this.”

He took it from her, scanned it, and then handed it back. “Why don’t you just go to a sperm bank? You won’t even know who the father is.”

“Two reasons. First, I’d like to be able to tell the child that I knew his or her father, and that he was a good man. Second, in vitro fertilization is very expensive. If it’s difficult or impossible to conceive I could wrack up a ridiculous debt.”

Ethan’s distress was plain to see. He placed his elbows on the table and his hands covered his face. She let him process the information in silence for a few moments. At last, he scrubbed his face and then stared at her, frowning. “I just don’t see this as an option, Bridge.”

“You don’t have to decide right away. Think about it for a while. That’s all I ask.” She handed him the contract again. “Here. Keep this and look it over at your leisure.”

“I’m not a lawyer. I could look at this jargon all day long and I wouldn’t be able to spot a loophole.”

“That’s because there
are no
loopholes. I was assured it’s iron-clad. I don’t want the interference of another parent. I’ll provide for
all
the child’s needs. You won’t have any responsibilities. I promise.”

“What about child care? How are you going to afford that if you can’t afford to go to a sperm bank?”

“I have my mother. She lives right next door and would love to babysit.”

“Doesn’t she have to work?”

Brigit snorted. “She hasn’t worked since college. If marrying millionaires was an art-form, she’d be a master.”

“And you’re sure she’d welcome this responsibility full-time? I mean, doesn’t she have to do fund-raisers or something?”

“Fundraisers are usually night-time affairs. She took care of my sister’s son until they moved to Nashua—and she misses it. In an emergency I can take the child to work with me. Our director has two kids and they come with her occasionally.”

“Don’t you work in an animal shelter?”

“Yes. Can you imagine any kid not loving to spend a few hours there?”

Ethan chuckled. “How do I know you won’t just put the kid in a cage?”

She slapped his arm. “Ethan Cox! How dare you think that of me?”

He chuckled. “I was kidding. I know you’d make a great mother, but you really should think of other options.”

“What other options are there?”

“How about adoption or hiring a surrogate?”

“Did you not hear the part about pregnancy helping my endometriosis? Besides, I want a pregnancy
story
. I want to go through the months of anticipation and preparation. I want to relate to every female that’s had children when it comes up in conversation—and it comes up a lot with women. More importantly, I want to love and raise my own child from conception to college.”

“You mean you want to keep him in line with the ‘I spent fifteen long hours in labor with you’ story.”

She laughed. “That’s not bad as a last resort either.”

“I’m really not interested in marriage and kids, Brigit.”

“I know.” She smiled slyly. “We could never get married. I’d want to hyphenate names and my last name is Love.”

Ethan took a second, then burst out laughing. “Love-Cox.”

“See?” She said, grinning.

He shook his head, still chuckling. “Well, there you go. We can’t possibly get married.”

“Which is why you’re perfect,” she reiterated.

He snorted. “I’m so far from perfect I can’t even see it from here.”

“Hey, I’m not perfect either. You know where I spent the ten years right after high school don’t you? Follywood.”

“Don’t you mean Hollyweird?”

“LA is plenty weird, but I call it Follywood because so many young hopefuls spend their best years waiting tables and hoping for the big break that never comes.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t make it. You’re incredibly beautiful. Sorry, if I’m stating the obvious. Were you a terrible actress?”

She laughed. “I took acting lessons. Plenty of them. I even landed a couple of coveted tampon commercials.”

“Coveted?”

She grinned. “You’d be surprised at the jobs you’ll take when you’re poor. Besides, you never know who might be seeing that commercial, maybe a casting director who wants a specific type. Unfortunately, they all said I looked too much like Elizabeth Taylor.”

“How could that possibly be a bad thing?”

“They said they already had a Liz Taylor and didn’t want another one. Just like you don’t see hundreds of Marilyn Monroes on TV. An icon is too hard to live up to. And by the way, the only acting I was terrible at was acting like I’d do
anything
for a movie part—because I wouldn’t.”

“Have you thought of taking an acting job at the Seacoast Repertory Theater? I hear they’re paid professionals.”

“I have, but I’m trying to get away from that world. I want a simple life, Ethan. Working with animals and raising a child.”

“I admire your honesty. You’re upfront and I appreciate that.  It must not have been easy.”

She smiled. “I knew I could trust you. Thank you for hearing me out.”

He shook his head. “I just don’t think I’m the right man for the job, Brigit.”

Then a nasty possibility occurred to her and she slapped a hand over her mouth. “You don’t have any serious diseases do you?”

“No! Not that I know of. Physically, I’m healthy.”

“Whew. That’s all I care about. If you think you’re screwed up because of a few bad decisions in the past, welcome to the human race. I don’t need to know about any of that stuff. I think you’re a good man and a dear friend. I’ve always liked you, Ethan. I wouldn’t ask anyone else.” 

“So, you’re saying it’s up to me to say ‘yes,’ or your dream won’t happen at all.”

“Correct.”

“No pressure,” he mumbled.

* * * *

H
e sat in his kitchen with his hands wrapped around his coffee mug, and ruminated for about the fiftieth time.

She had left him with, ‘Just think about it. Please.’ Being in the same coven, they’d see each other every full moon anyway. She’d said he could take his time deciding and let her know whenever he was ready.

He had asked her if she could look at the father of her child once a month and see just another witch. She’d said, ‘I’ll see you as a friend, fellow witch and coven member, who did me a solid favor. If I ever
have
to name the father, I can use your witch name—Aubrey. But I’ll never ever give anyone your real name. I just ask you to let the idea percolate a bit.’

That was little comfort. Everyone in the coven knew his witch name, but he supposed it would be hard to track him down if the person looking wasn’t in the Coven.

Ethan had spent days thinking about this crazy idea. He’d been called in to work a few times, but not as much as he would have liked. It seemed as if work was the only place he could escape the picture of Brigit’s beautiful body next to his—skin to skin.

His took a sip of his lukewarm coffe. He seemed to forget to drink it when his mind took over and played out all possible scenarios.

Brigit would make a wonderful mother. He’d always respected the way she held herself. She had self confidence that was completely devoid of any arrogance. And she was intelligent. Her spells seemed competent and effective, and yet she could laugh at herself too.
Follywood.
A lot of witches were way too serious.