Chapter Twenty

Maja set down a steaming cup of herbal tea and whisked away the cappuccino that had taunted Kim for the past few minutes. “No caffeine. Tea has antioxidants.”

She gave a weak laugh. “Yes,  Mom. But i don’t think a cafe mocha when I’m this exhausted is going to cause any damage.”

“Caffeine stunts the baby’s growth.”

“So does stress and not making enough money to afford a baby.”

“Hmm, must be the hormones. You’re definitely cranky.”

“Maj.”

Her friend tossed a grin and plucked the lid off the tea. “I just like to piss you off. Make sure you haven’t turned into one of those mooning tragic heroines you like to read about so much.”

“Screw you.”

“Better.”

Kim looked up at her with genuine warmth. She was going to be okay. After two weeks away from Gerald, every day become a trial of strength and fortitude she was too stubborn not to meet. She’d keep the news a secret from her family but planned to reveal the truth this weekend. Maja would help her. And even though she hadn’t secured the loan for the bookstore, BookWorm was making a more steady profit. She’d survive.

Kim repeated the mantra every hour of everyday she spent away from the man she loved while her baby grew in her belly. He’d made his choice and she needed to face reality.

“The count took me to dinner the other night.”

Distracted by good gossip, Kim smiled and studied her friend. “And you didn’t tell me?”

Maja shrugged. “We clashed. All her did was talk about you. He’s in love with you, Kim.”

Kim laughed. “Trust me. There’s no spark and there never will be.” She clucked her tongue with interest. “You fought, huh? You may have finally met your match.”

Maja snorted. “That’s ridiculous.”

She pursed her lips in interest. “He may be the only man who can handle you, Maj.”

“Pregnancy has warped your brain.”

For a moment Kim caught a glimpse of regret shimmering from Maja’s eyes. She opened her mount to say something, but the poets lined up and took their seats. Moody music played through the speakers to set the tone. Lights were dim, darkness fell outside. A buzz of creative energy filled the room as the poets began to recite their thoughts and dreams into the mic. She clutched a notebook close to her chest as she watched on the sidelines and allowed herself to sink back into the comforting fold of images. She closed her eyes and let her senses take over, sharpening, judging as pictures flowed through her mind like oils seep and blend onto a canvas.

There was a brief pause as the poets changed.

Then she heard the voice.

At first, her mind was open to the deep, gravelly tune of the man who read into the mic. As her heart made the connection, a breatless, nameless fear filled her. Her breath hitched. Slowly, she forced herself to look at the poet standing on the stage.

Her husband.

At first, she thought her vision played tricks on her. The Gerald Randolph Anderson she knew did not exist on the stage. Instead, a stranger stood before her.

He was dressed entirely in Mets gear. A blue-and-orange cap was set backward on his head where stray brown locks escaped. He wore a Mets jersey, jeans and sneakers. He held an orange chain in his hand, and she saw Old yeller sitting beside him with a quiet dignity that bespoke of purebreds and not mutts. The dog wore a Mets bandanna around his neck. One ear crooked as a broken angle. His tail did not wag. Yet his eyes did not hold the haunted look she usually associated with her broken canine. Propped up in front of his two front paws, a cardboard sign displayed the words: COME HOME.

She blinked once, twice, and then realized the scene before her was real.

Gerald held a piece of ragged notebook paper between his fingers. He cleared his throat. She held her breath as his voice spilled into the mic and reached her ears.

“I’m not a poet. But my wife is. She taught me to look for the extraordinary in the simplicity. She taught me about emotion, and truth, and second chances. You see, I never realized a person can keep giving everything with no thought to take. Kimmy, you changed my life, but I was too afraid to reach for it. I believed I wasn’t goof enough. Now I realize the truth.”

Kim closed her eyes in desperation as tears leaked from her lids. Maja’s hand gripped hers. Her husband wanted her back. Yet, to choose that road was like the famous poem, an unknown factor. She understood his darkness better, knew if she turned her back on him she’d be safe. She’d make it on her own. The darkness beckoned her like an old friend. In that moment, she had her own choice. And God help her, she didn’t know if she had the strength to try again.

She opened her eyes.

Low murmurings and comments drifted to her ears. She stared at the man she loved and waited for him to speak.

“I love you, Kimmy. I want you and I want our baby. I want this ridiculous hound dog because I’ve grown to love him, too. I also figured out what I don’t want. I don’t want to live my life without you. I don’t want to live my life with you. I don’t want to be alone anymore. And I don’t want to believe I deserve not to have you. And I swear to Go, I’ll spend the rest of my life making this up to you.”

Her lower lip trembled.

Maja’s hand tightened on hers. “Do you still love him?”

She choked on her response. “I’m afraid i can’t do it anymore.”

Maja’s eyes burned with a fierceness that shot sparks. “Yes you can. You can do it again, and again, and again. If you love him enough.”

Her husband stepped down from the mic and made his way toward her. The carefully built wall rocked on its foundation. “It was always you. You made me whole again.”

And then, he knelt before her and placed his hands against her belly.

“My baby.” He whispered. “I was afraid I had nothing to give. But I do. And I want to give it all to you.”

The wall trembled with a shuttering force and crashed around her.

Kim made her choice.

She pulled him up and stepped into his arms. He held her close, his mouth to her ear, his hands around her back, as he whispered his promise to never hurt her again. A round of applause broke the silence, with loud hoots and high fives.

Maja grinned. “About time you come to your senses, big brother.”

Gerald grabbed his sister and brought her into the embrace. His face reflected a lightness and peace Kim had glimpsed before but never seen burn bright.

“I hope you know I intend to be godmother of this baby.”

Kim laughed. “God help us all if it’s a girl. She’ll be dressed in baby leather and brought to underwear shoots.”

“And if it’s a boy. I’ll teach him the proper way to make a woman happy.”

Gerald placed a kiss on his wife’s lips. “Oh, you’ll get both, Maj. I think I’ll take my wife home and start practicing on a second.”

Kim’s eyes widened. “A second? First I have to get past the morning sickness and weight gain and labor.”

“Piece of cake. I’ll be there through the whole thing.”

“Only if you wear that Mets jersey.”

Gerald smiled. “Actually, I’ve thought about your arguments on the subject. Maybe you’re right. Maybe the Mets deserve another fan on their arena.”

She lifted her eyes up to the sky.

“Thank you, Earth Mother,” she whispered.

Kim made a mental note to give the book of spells to Maja. Something told her Maja’s life was about to change. And she’d need all the help she could get.

As if he knew what she was thinking. Gerald kissed her. “Let’s go home.”

She wrapped her arms around him and allowed him to lead her back to the light.