What Were You Expecting? (38 page)

***

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said softly as he watched her approach.

“I guess not,” she replied, standing a foot away from him, arms folded protectively over her chest. “I just thought if you could see how lovely they are, you wouldn’t hate the thought so much.”

“The thought?”

“Of children.”

“I don’t hate children, Maggie, I just…”

He stood up, shoving his hands in his pockets and staring at her. She looked so sad, so damn sad and confused, and it was his fault. And suddenly their love for each other, their commitment to their marriage—all of it—seemed like a sham, like nothing but a fantasy. Any fool could see how much she loved being with those kids, how much she wanted her own. He was a selfish bastard for loving her, for letting her love him, when he couldn’t give her the one thing she wanted more than anything else.

“We need to talk,” he said.

“Aye.”

“Upstairs?” After weeks of treating her place as his own, he suddenly felt the need to ask permission.

“Sure.”

She looked him in the eyes, as if to ascertain just how bad this conversation was going to be, and then swiped her hand over her worried, glassy eyes. He opened the door and she walked past him, preceding him up the stairs and into her apartment. She didn’t turn on a light. She walked straight to the loveseat and sat down, tucking her feet under her, and for the first time ever, he took a seat in the chair across from her, rather than sitting down beside her and pulling her into the crook of his arm. He rested his elbows on his knees, lacing his hands together between them and bowing his head, as if in prayer.

“Tell me why,” she whispered in the darkness.

“Why?”

“Why you don’t want children.”

He swallowed, wishing he could see her eyes, at the same time glad that he couldn’t. He swallowed and cleared his throat, finally exhaling a shaky breath before speaking.

“I told you that my high school girlfriend, Veronica, died. But, that wasn’t, um—the whole story. She um—she died giving birth to our son, Jens.”

He heard Maggie’s gasp from four feet away, but she didn’t approach him, didn’t cross the room to put her arms around him as she had when he told her about Veronica. She stayed where she was, her expression inscrutable in the darkness.

“The Christmas prom picture? I got her pregnant that night. We kept it a secret, and after graduation we moved up to Missoula together and stayed in a rented room. She wouldn’t go see a doctor. She was scared to death of her mother finding out.” His eyes filled with tears and he wet his dry lips with his tongue. He hadn’t articulated this story since he’d told it to Tess five or six years ago, and saying the words aloud was just as difficult now as then. “She went into labor while I was at work. When I got home, she’d already been in pain for nine hours. She had a book and thought I could help her deliver him, but things got worse and worse. She wouldn’t let me call anyone. It was only after she passed out from the pain that I carried her to the ER. His sh—um, his shoulder was, um, was stuck. They had to—they broke her pelvic bone trying to get him out, but…but…”

“Oh, my God,” she whispered and he heard the tears in her voice, the pity, the deep sorrow.

Nils didn’t know where the strength came for him to keep talking, to finish the story—he only knew she needed to know. He cleared his throat as tears streamed down his face in the darkness. “Neither of them made it. They both died. I only got to hold him for a moment before they took him away.”

And suddenly Maggie was on the floor kneeling before him, her hands on his knees, her cheeks glistening in the moonlight.

“Tha mi duilich, mo muirnín
,” she whispered, and he knew in his heart and by the broken tone in her voice that she was telling him how terribly sorry she was.

He slid from the chair to the floor, leaning his head down until it rested limply on her shoulder. She encircled his body with her arms, pulling him into her embrace, whispering soft, comforting words in Gaelic as he wept quietly for Veronica and Jens.

***

After a while, his body stopped trembling and Maggie stood up and took his hand, leading him to her bedroom, where they got into bed together, lying side by side on their backs in the darkness.

“Your Pop doesn’t know?” she asked. “Lars? Your mother?”

“No one,” he answered. “Just you.”

“And Tess.”

“Yeah.” She felt him nod his head beside her. “And Tess. She was kind to me, Maggie. She was the first person I ever told. The only person.”

“I’m grateful to her,” said Maggie quietly, surprised to discover that her jealousy was gone and she was telling the truth. She was thankful he’d had someone—
anyone
—to talk to about such a tragic episode in his life. “I dinna know how you kept it inside for so long…”

“What would have been the point of burdening my parents? Veronica was dead. Jens was…” His voice broke and he cleared his throat. “It would’ve broken their hearts.”

She propped herself on her elbow, gazing at his strong face tenderly. “So you bore it alone.”

He nodded again.

“How? You were so young. Only eighteen.” She thought of Summer today in her kitchen, so innocent, so lovely and certain about her future. So full of hope and conviction. All of Nils’s innocence had been stolen from him before he ever reached adulthood.

“Old enough to be at fault for what happened.”

“At
fault
? Surely not. No one was at fault. You were just kids.”

“No, Maggie. It was my fault.”

“You were practically a chi—”

“No. You don’t get it. It’s
my fault
they died. Don’t you see? She was tiny. He was a big baby. Because of me. My genes. My fault.”

The full horror of his burden started to come into focus as she listened to his words. “Oh, no. No, love. She was young and frightened. She didn’t want medical care. She—”

“—would be alive today if she hadn’t been pregnant with
my
baby. He broke her bones trying to be born. He—”

“Nils, stop. Please, love…”

“They died and I survived. It was my fault. Mine and solely mine.”

“No,” she said again, shaking her head, as more tears flooded her eyes. He had blamed himself for long enough. “It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

She reached out to touch his cheek and felt his jaw clenching beneath her palm. She knew the tell. He was holding something back.

“What else?” she whispered.

“Why I won’t have children. It’s because I made a promise. I went to his grave and I promised him it would never happen again.”

“To Jens?” she asked, feeling dazed.

He nodded, tightening his jaw again, and she knew he was holding back tears.

“You promised your son you wouldn’t have any more children.”

“I promised him that his death wouldn’t be in vain. I promised I’d never risk the same thing happening again.”

Her eyes closed and she withdrew her hand from his face, rolling onto her back as the pain of realization engulfed her.

“I…oh, Nils, I…”

Her words trailed off into the darkness. She wanted to tell him that she understood—not only that she understood but that she respected his decision. However, a wave of sorrow took hold of her heart and squeezed it so hard, she thought she might faint. It only took a moment for her to realize the awful choice before her: she could have Nils or she could have children of her own, but she couldn’t have both.

She didn’t know how much time passed in silence before she felt his hand move silently to cover hers. Without thinking, she adjusted her hand so that his fingers lined up to lace through hers.

But it was hours before she slept.

***

The sun streamed through the windows and she squinted, burrowing deeper into her pillow and feeling Nils’s arm tighten around her reflexively. She realized she was still wearing the t-shirt and jean cut-off shorts she’d been wearing the night before. They’d never even changed for bed.

An unexpected heaviness washed over her as the details of last night’s conversation returned to her consciousness.

“Are you awake?” she whispered.

“Yeah,” he answered, his breath warm against her neck. “Didn’t sleep much.”

“Me either,” she confessed in a thready voice, turning in his arms to face him.

His eyes were tired and sad, as though he’d bypassed worry during the night and already surrendered to hopelessness. “I still have that tour today and tomorrow.”

“I know,” she answered.

“You’re not coming,” he said softly. A statement, not a question.

“I think I need a little…time.”

He swallowed then nodded briefly, dropping her eyes and clenching his jaw. The hand covering her hip flexed and released. “Am I losing you?”

“I have to get my head around it.”

“I’d never hurt you, Maggie. I’d never get you pregnant. I’d never let that happen to you. I promise.”

It was then that she realized how totally out of synch they were. And though she knew it would hurt him to hear the truth, she needed to say it. She needed to be honest and know that he had heard her.

“Nils. Love. The only thing I am still longin’ for in
my
life is
your
child. You wouldn’t hurt me. I’m not scared—”

“I am.”

“But, I’d have medical care. As much as I needed. And we’re adults. We’d be—”

“Maggie,” his eyes were flinty and sharp and he lifted his hand from her hip, moving it to his own. “I can’t.”

“That’s not technically true. Technically, you
won’t
.”

“I made a promise.”

“When you were a kid. A scared, guilt-ridden, grieving kid.”

“I made a promise,” he repeated softly, but firmly.

“I see.”

“It’s not about me not wanting kids. I love kids.” He reached out for her again, lightly this time, but her body throbbed with relief to feel connected to him again. “We could adopt. A little redheaded girl. Like you.”

She couldn’t keep the sadness from filling her eyes so she closed them, taking a deep breath and trying not to cry as her dreams died before her eyes.

“Maggie?”

She couldn’t hold back the tears as she answered him. “I’ve never looked like anyone. I’ve n-never looked at someone’s face and seen my own s-smile, the color of my eyes, the line of my j-jaw. I’ve never known what it is to belong to someone by b-blood.”

“And you want that.”

“Aye. I do.” She reached up to wipe her cheeks with her free hand, sniffling miserably.

He abandoned her hip again, rolling onto his back and throwing his arm over his eyes. “What you’re asking me to do? I can’t, Maggie. It’s not just about breaking my word to Jens, I can’t risk it. How could I put you in danger? You, who I love more than life. Seeing you bleeding and struggling and—”

“Listen.” Taking a deep breath, she rubbed her eyes, forcing her tears to stop. She was still leaning up on her elbow and she reached out, placing her damp hand flat on his chest. “Your brother has two bonnie babies. You sister has one, too. Same genes. Beautiful, healthy children. Beautiful, healthy mothers.”

He lowered his arm and looked at her, his eyes beseeching her to understand. “Please don’t ask me to do this.”

“I’m not askin’ you for anythin’,” she insisted. “I just want you to think about it.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head “no.”

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, rolling away from her and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “I can’t.”

Tears coursed into her hair from the corners of her eyes as he left her, pulling her front door closed behind him with a firm, but quiet, thud.

Chapter 18

Maggie lay in bed for a long time until her tears subsided and she was left with red, burning, puffy eyes. She was sad for so many reasons: the sheer horror of his story and the way he’d had to bear not only the loss by himself, but the memories, made her want to weep all over again. She thought of all the times he gruffly disengaged from a conversation with her, or looked away in pain when she helped a child with their hot cocoa or hosted Little Café on the Prairie. She was sure now that her love of children was the reason he’d kept her at arm’s length for so many years.

She swung her legs over the bed and headed to the bathroom to turn on the shower. And now she knew the truth: he was perfectly capable of having children, but he wouldn’t. She couldn’t ask him to break the promise he made to his dead child, yet her heart twisted with the unfairness of the situation. She loved him, she wanted him, but he wouldn’t give her children. It made her so frustrated and so sad, she wanted to scream.