Beyond Desire

Luke laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “And it’s eating away at your conscience. Why are you so afraid to care for her? If you’d talk with her about the circumstances, as I did, you’d be more understanding and less wary. I promised myself that I wasn’t going to tell you this, Marcus, but she was a virgin, a thirty-nine-year-old virgin, and the guy showed so little regard for that fact that she had to be treated in the hospital emergency room. She told me that the night I spent with the two of you, and I checked her story. She got there in bad shape.”

Marcus brought his head up sharply, as he sucked in his breath, pulled air through his teeth and released a stinging profanity. “Too bad he’s not around. I would have loved to smash his face.”

“Marcus, go home and look at what you have there. Amanda isn’t a shell of a person like Helena. I told you before you married Helena that she was too self-centered, that she wouldn’t be able to handle the demands of marriage. You loved her, and that was what she wanted—constant admiration. She enjoyed the glamour of being seen with you, of other women envying her. Good-looking woman with good-looking man. Amanda is different, very different, and you know it. There is great depth to her. Real substance. And you’re not going to forget her just because three hundred and sixty-five days have elapsed. You won’t ever forget her. Legally and for all practical purposes, it’s your child she’s carrying. It will bear your name and call you father, and you will always want to know how it’s getting along. Always. Like it or not; those are the facts. And don’t forget that she’s given your Amy a new life; you can’t do any less for her child.”

Marcus nodded as the bright light of knowledge penetrated his mind, and he mulled over words that found their mark and pitched him into distress. “I know all of that, and you know very well that I’ll do the right thing by her. What bothers me is that I don’t have any viable options. The chemistry between us is so strong. Most couples go through a process of getting to know each other, having the attraction between them grow, mature. We started backward with both of us at a disadvantage and with a powerful mutual attraction.” Luke nodded. Marcus knew that Luke had seen it for himself the night that he had slept at their home.

Marcus spoke reluctantly, unaccustomed to sharing such intimacies, even with his brother. “A man wants to protect and care for his woman but, from the outset, I couldn’t have that role. And I don’t want to be married again. I won’t risk it. Not ever. Amanda is a born mother hen and a special woman, but what she wants from a marriage is the whole nine yards. I don’t blame her. It’s her right. But not with me, and I’m going to get out as soon as I can. I’m just going to try not to hurt her anymore. She doesn’t deserve it.” His sigh must have exemplified all that he felt, his hurt and longing, for Luke stared at him. Then he added, “But she’s sweet, Luke. God, she’s so sweet.”

His thoughts of that conversation still plagued him the following afternoon when he went to the hospital, something that he no longer dreaded.

“Hi, Daddy. Do you know about Winnie the poop?”

Marcus beamed at the love of his life. He hadn’t thought that he would ever again see Amy smiling and cheerful and free of pain. He leaned over and kissed her. “You mean, Winnie the Pooh. Yes. But how did you learn about Winnie?”

“A nice lady came and read it to me, Daddy. And she brought me a bunny, too.” He’d noticed how she cuddled the stuffed toy that was almost as big as she. Her toys had been removed to prevent her moving around too much after the operations.

“So you can have toys now?”

“The nurse said I could have Peter.” She kissed the bunny. “Oh, Daddy, bring a book when you come. I already know about Mother Goose and Daddy Goose, too, and I like Daddy Goose the best.”

A tired Marcus looked at his precious little angel. She hadn’t shown any interest in anything for so long. His heart swelled with joy. “Daddy Goose? She read you a story about Daddy Goose?” he asked, disbelieving.

Amy laughed excitedly. “No, Daddy. She told me that story. I said I wanted a story about a daddy goose. She didn’t have the book, so she told me the story. And you know what? Daddy Goose sounded just like you. I liked him much better than Mother Goose. It’s my favorite story.” It had been a rough weekend. He hadn’t gotten much done at the factory and, last night, relations between him and Amanda had been strained. But as he gazed down at the one person who needed him, his mirror image, he felt some of the weight ease from him. His smile came easily, as he squeezed her tightly.

“What’s the lady’s name, honey?”

“I don’t know, Daddy. I just call her Lady.” He kissed her goodbye and left. Somehow, he didn’t want to go home. Amanda would confront him about his inconsistent behavior with her. He didn’t know when, but it was a certainty, and he was not ready for that tonight. Hardly thinking about it, he found himself at Jack and Myrna’s home and knew at once that going there was a mistake. He didn’t want to talk about himself and Amanda. So he drank a mug of coffee, and after an interminable hour of evading their questions, went home, wondering when he’d begun to think of the place as home.

Guilt shot through him when he found her note in a sealed envelope taped to the outside of the front door. She hadn’t told him that she would have an amniocentesis test nor that she had the results. And he hadn’t known, either, that the test could pose problems. Now, she threatened a miscarriage and had gone to the hospital. He went in the house and called a taxi, too drained for the long walk back. Marcus wondered what else was going on that he didn’t know about, and knew that their lack of communication was his fault. Worried and anxious for his wife, he leaned back in the taxi, strung out.

He caught himself rubbing his chin with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand, a signal that he faced a moment of truth, and exhaled deeply in an attempt to shrug off his thoughts. But he couldn’t escape the fact that his feeling for Amanda was not the casual interest that one might have in a friend’s well-being, but a deep and personal desire, an increasingly intense concern for her health and happiness. A caring that had nothing to do with lust. When he’d read her note, he’d had a sensation of marbles rattling around in his belly. He didn’t want to care for her nor about her, but he had to admit that fate seemed to be refereeing their game with no consideration for his preferences. He leaned forward.