Authors: Theresa Rizzo
Jenny stripped off her smelly nightshirt on the way to the shower and then detoured into the closet. She ran a loving hand over Gabe’s suits, shirts, and pants. When she came to his maroon robe, she pulled it from the hanger and crushed it to her. Rubbing her cheek against the terry material, she inhaled his scent, still strong. She swung the robe around her shoulders and firmly knotted the belt while walking to the bathroom.
Bleep, bleep, bleep. Jenny looked at the caller ID on her phone—Michael. Her hand hovered over the cell, then dropped to her side. She couldn’t talk to him now. There was little Jenny wouldn’t do for her baby brother, but she just didn’t have it in her to be cheerful today.
She looked at the clock—lunchtime. What if Michael had a problem? Maybe he was sick and the nurse couldn’t get hold of Mom. He started high school this year and so far he’d transitioned nicely, but fourteen-year-olds were quixotic and hormonal. She picked up the phone and played back his message.
“Hey, Jen. You didn’t forget my game today, right? It’s home. Mom said to ask if you’re eating with us.” He lowered his voice, “I wouldn’t—she made beef stroganoff
again
. Let’s go out. You ask. She won’t say no to you.”
Jenny smiled and shook her head as she erased the message. That kid always had an angle and wasn’t above using her to get his way. Too bad he was so damn cute. She sighed. Maybe it’d be good for her to get out and go to his game.
She picked up her phone, texting, 3:30. Be there.
After showering and dressing in ratty sweats, she let a whining Ritz out of the house. The poor dog had been totally baffled by the continual flow of people and Jenny’s weepiness. She sometimes whined and looked at the door, then ran from room to room, searching for Gabe. Or maybe she sensed his spirit watching them, Jenny fantasized. Whatever Ritz’s canine intuition, she rarely left Jenny’s side for more than a few minutes, as if fearing Jenny would fall apart without her.
Well, no more. Jenny was going to pull herself together. She’d start by collecting the mail, then going to Michael’s soccer game. It was a beautiful crisp day, but she didn’t stop to appreciate the smells and sunshine as she normally would have.
Jenny hurried to the mailbox and was surprised and disheartened by the volume of mail stuffed inside. A few were bills, but most were private cards. For once Jenny longed for more bills and junk mail instead of the well-meaning condolences she knew awaited her behind the flowing handwritten envelopes and gold Hallmark seals.
She tossed the mail onto the desk in the study, took out Gabe’s letter opener, and began slashing open envelope after envelope until all the mail lay exposed like her raw nerves. Carefully, she placed the bills to one side and then turned her attention to the much larger stack of correspondence requiring a response.
When the doorbell rang, she wanted to ignore it; on the other hand, it gave her an excuse to escape the sentimental notes sure to make her cry. A glance through the peek hole showed a messenger. She opened the door, allowing Ritz’s head to protrude.
“Jennifer Harrison?”
“Yes?”
“This is for you.” He handed her an envelope, then walked away.
Jenny frowned at the envelope, showing the return address of Schimmel and Rinehardt, Attorneys at Law, as she pushed the door closed. Ripping open the envelope, she stood stunned. He’d done it. George was actually suing her.
How dare he? Anger rippled through her, building in furious waves. Having Gabe’s baby was
none
of his business. She wasn’t going to let him get away with this. Gabe was gone, but she could have his baby and she would. George Turner could go to hell.
Jenny picked up the phone but didn’t know whom to call. Judith would be at work, and although they’d achieved a weird sort of friendship, they weren’t all that close. Though Jenny had to give her credit, Judith kept calling weekly and offering to help in any way she could.
Jenny’s parents didn’t know about her plans to have a baby. Knowing her mother, she’d probably protest something so nontraditional. Nope, they wouldn’t be supportive. Which left…who? Steve? She hadn’t seen much of him lately. He’d attended the wake and funeral, but Annie had pulled him away as soon as they’d left the graveyard, and she hadn’t had a chance to talk to Steve since.
In all honesty, after what happened that night, she wasn’t sure they’d be able to recover their old friendship. Things had changed between them. No matter how hard she pretended otherwise, she knew it was true. But still, he might be willing to help. She looked at the clock. He’d be at work now.
Before she attacked this latest crisis, Jenny decided to pull herself together. She’d take care of her backlogged correspondence, then deal with George Turner and get on with her life. She’d be free to concentrate on her and Gabe’s baby.
Jenny stared at the answering machine she’d been avoiding these past weeks. Nineteen messages had been recorded before the tape filled. She found a yellow legal pad and a pen, and punched the play button. The first two messages were old ones from Michael one reminding her about his soccer game, the other giving her movie times. Then Gabe’s deep voice came on the machine.
“Jen? Are you there? I guess not. I’m going to be a little late tonight, but if you want to pack a dinner, we can eat on the boat and still catch the sunset. It’ll be cold, so bring a blanket. They’re paging me. Gotta go. Love you.”
All Jenny’s newfound courage evaporated in an instant. She dropped the pen and covered her face with trembling hands. God, it was so
good
to hear his voice. Although it’d only been a few weeks since the funeral, it seemed an eternity since she’d heard Gabe’s voice or cuddled against his warm body.
Hugging a soft pillow to her aching heart, Jenny replayed his message and sat back, savoring the sound of his beloved voice. She pushed the replay button again. And again. And again. She swallowed hard against the tears, frantically wondering how she could save just Gabe’s message.
My God, how pathetic am I? Trying to save his message so I can play it over and over again, tormenting myself. Damn you, Gabe. Why’d you leave me
? Suddenly furious, she threw the pillow to the floor and stormed into the garage.
She punched the garage door opener to get light and then stalked over to what was left of Gabe’s bike. She kicked the tires and handlebar. She jumped on the wheels, trying to balance and hop up and down to break the spokes. When that didn’t accomplish enough damage, Jenny grabbed a hammer and beat the mirror and speedometer, over and over again, welcoming the pain vibrating up her arm.
Ignoring flying glass and sharp metal bits, she pounded away until the bike lay in pulverized, shattered pieces. Chest heaving, Jenny turned her fury on the new helmet Gabe had insisted she wear. Tears blinded her as she fell on the silver helmet, hammering away, pocking it like the surface of an old battered golf ball.
“Damn you.” Pound. “Why,” pound, “didn’t,” pound, “you,” pound, “protect him?” she sobbed through clenched teeth.
Intent on destroying the helmet, Jenny barely noticed the hammer being removed from her grasp. She clutched her heaving stomach and rocked back and forth. Debris littering the cold cement floor dug into her knees. Her breath came in tortured gasps, ripping past her swollen, raw throat.
“Damn you. Damn you. Bring him back. Give him back to me,” she wailed.
Strong arms pulled her close, rocking with her, until the anger burned away. Worn out, she leaned into the comforting hold and then stiffened.
“I’d bring him back if I could.”
Jenny looked up into Steve’s glistening blue eyes. Steve, not Gabe held her. She’d never again know the comfort and security found in her husband’s arms. She frowned and twisted out of his embrace.
He immediately released her, stood and backed away, as if remembering where their emotions had led them last time they’d cried over Gabe. Avoiding Steve’s gaze, Jenny wiped her nose on her sleeve and surveyed the broken glass sprinkled beneath the mangled bike and dented helmet.
“Want me to get rid of it for you?”
She nodded. The bike was a constant reminder of the accident.
“Not the helmet.” She flashed him a sheepish smile. “I might need something to hit. I nearly broke my wrist on that damn bike.” She flexed her wrist, then wiped remnant tears from her eyes.
Steve helped her to her feet. He led her inside, pulled out a chair for her at the kitchen table and handed her a box of tissues. Just like the old days before guilt made them polite, he snagged a Coke Zero from the refrigerator and poured half in a glass with ice for her and kept the can for himself. Leaning against the counter, he faced her.
He frowned and pulled his phone from his pocket. He swiped it open, tapped out a quick text, then placed it on the counter. “So, other than beating the hell out of Gabe’s bike, what’ve you been up to?”
Her lips twitched in appreciation of his attempt to lighten her mood. She shrugged. “The usual; paying bills, cleaning house, the dog, acknowledging condolences, you know. Stuff,” she said, pretending that the house wasn’t a mess, that the sink wasn’t filled with dirty dishes a week old, and that clumps of fur sticking out of Ritz’s normally smooth coat didn’t give her away.
His phone vibrated as Annie’s face showed on the screen. Steve glanced at his fiancé’s picture, then took another sip of his drink. “How’re the notes coming? There were a lot of people at the funeral.”
Jenny nodded at the phone. “Do you need to get that?”
“No. She knows where I am.” He raised his eyebrows. “Got a lot of notes left to write?”
She thought about bluffing, but decided it took too much energy and brainpower. “It’s awful.” She glanced at the basket of condolence cards, florist and gift basket cards. “There are over hundred. Do you think I have to write a personal note to all of them? It’s bad enough addressing them.”
“Why don’t you go to a printer? They should have a stock thank you and then you could just sign them. What about Judith and the kids? Haven’t they offered to help?”
“The kids shouldn’t have to do this.” She looked away, embarrassed. “Judith offered, but I don’t want to take advantage.”
“What about your folks?”
She shook her head. She didn’t want them writing her thank you notes.
He sat at the table across from her. “I’ll address them.”
“I couldn’t ask—”
“You’re not, I’m offering. Gabe was my friend, I want to help.”
“Thanks.”
“Anything else I can do?”
Jenny looked at Steve, considering. It was kind of personal, but she needed help and he offered. “Be right back.”
She hurried to the study then returned to the kitchen. Envelope in hand, she stood next to him, not quite sure how to start. She sucked in a deep breath, then pushed it out. “At the hospital when I lost both Gabe and the baby, I was completely devastated. Then it occurred to me. I couldn’t bring Gabe back, but I
could
have another baby. So when they recovered Gabe’s organs, I had them freeze his sperm so I could be artificially inseminated. I know it’s unconventional, but this way I can have our baby.”
Jenny watched Steve, closely assessing his reaction, deciding he would be a formidable foe at poker. “Anyway, George pitched a fit when he found out about the organ donation, but he couldn’t stop it. When he found out about the sperm recovery, he went ballistic. He actually accused me of raping Gabe.” She rolled her eyes. “Then I got this today.” She handed him the restraining order. “That jerk’s taking me to court to keep me from using Gabe’s sperm. Can you believe his nerve?”
Steve slid the sheaf of papers from the envelope and scanned the documents. Could he believe George’s nerve? He couldn’t believe
any
of it. Steve stared at the document in his hand. What the hell was this, a restraining order for sperm? He looked at Jenny. “Tell me again.”
“I donated Gabe’s organs and they saved his sperm so I could be artificially inseminated.”
Eyebrows raised, he looked at her. “You can do that?”
“Yup.” She nodded.
“How? I mean, he never regained consciousness. He was brain dead, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Then how’d they get his sperm?”
It was Jenny’s turn to look perplexed. “I don’t know. Surgery, I guess. That’s how they got the rest of his organs. The important thing is they did it.”
Steve mentally winced and resisted the urge to cup his balls. Yow. How painful would that be? But then Gabe was dead, so he wouldn’t have felt anything—but still. Owww. He looked at Jenny, curious. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why would you want to have Gabe’s baby after he’s gone?”
Her eyes widened as if his question was incredibly stupid. “Because I love him. Because I want a living reminder of him. He was an amazing man, who has wonderful traits to pass onto our children.”
Children
? Was she nuts? She’d do this more than once? Well, with Gabe’s sperm frozen, he guessed she could conceive a whole brood of kids without the guy. Just how much semen were they able to get?
He’d like to hear her explain that one to her future five-year old.
Yes, Mommy’s going to have another baby. How? Oh, don’t worry, honey, it’s easy. You don’t need a daddy to have a baby. Heck that’s the old-fashioned way, all you really need is a petri dish and a tube of frozen semen
. Too weird.
He brought his wandering thoughts back to the situation at hand and tried to sound reasonable. “Raising a baby alone would be hard. Not to mention that if the baby looked like Gabe, it’d be a painful reminder of him. You’d have to go through the pregnancy and birth without a husband. I’d think it’d make it harder to cope with his death.”
Jenny smiled gently and got a faraway look in her eyes. “Just the opposite.” She looked at him, pleading. “I need this baby, Steve. I need this piece of Gabe. Besides, who’s George to
say I can’t? It’s none of his business. It’s not as if under ordinary circumstances we’d consult him before starting our family.”