seen in the woods. She’d think I was losing my mind, or, at the very least, get pissed off that I’d seen Shelly Carpenter naked.
“Research,” I lied. “I went online and did research for the next book. And then I started to mow, until Merle interrupted me.”
“Mmmhmmm.” She flexed her toes as I rubbed her heel. “And I bet he and Dale twisted your arm to goof off for the rest of the afternoon, too?”
“Yeah, now that you mention it. They held me at gunpoint. We may have to move.”
She laughed, leaned forward, and gave me a kiss. “I love you, Mr. Senft.”
“I love you, too, Mrs. Senft.”
“Do you?” Her voice changed. She suddenly seemed sad.
“Of course I do,” I said. “Why would you ask me that? What’s wrong, honey?”
She shrugged and began to stroke Big Steve’s fur. “I started thinking about the baby again today. Our receptionist, Robin Harmic, is pregnant. She told us at lunch. I wanted to be happy for her, but I couldn’t. It…it should be me, you know?”
I hugged her tight and kissed her forehead. “I know. And it will be, eventually.”
“Will it?” she asked. “I don’t know, Adam. Maybe there’s something wrong with me. Maybe I can’t have kids.”
I spoke softly. “We’ve been through this, Tara. The doctors found nothing medically wrong with you. Chances are your body rejected the babies because there was something wrong with them. That doesn’t mean that it will happen again.”
“But what if it does? I can’t go through this again. I just can’t.”
A lone tear slid down her face, and I held her tighter.
Big Steve shifted between us. His sad brown eyes shifted from Tara to me and then back to Tara again. He knew something was wrong. Gently he put his cold nose under Tara’s hand and snuffled.
Tara patted him absentmindedly. “What if we keep miscarrying?”
“We won’t,” I promised, realizing how empty it sounded. “Next time, you’ll see. A year from now there’ll be four of us. You, me, Big Steve, and the baby. Five of us, if we have twins.”
She sniffed. “I’m just so scared. I know we haven’t…haven’t been intimate in a long while, and I’m sorry about that. I know it bothers you.”
“No, it doesn’t.” I was lying, of course. It did bother me, but I wasn’t about to let Tara know that. The last thing she needed to hear right then was that her husband was sexually frustrated.
She wiped her nose on her blouse sleeve. “It’s just that every time we try, I think about the miscarriage. I’m scared to try again.”
“It’s okay,” I told her. “I understand. Remember what the grief counselor said? It’s normal to feel that way.”
“But not for this long, it isn’t. I’m worried.”
“About what?”
“About all kinds of things. That you’ll go elsewhere. Find another woman, or have an affair with one of your fans or another writer, maybe at one of these conventions or when you’re on tour again. I worry that you’ll leave me because I can’t give you a baby and because we don’t have sex anymore.”
“Tara…” I was speechless.
“Maybe I’m just being silly, and I know that, but I’m scared.”
I took her face in my hands. “Listen to me. I’m not going anywhere. I love you. I’d never cheat on you or leave you for another woman. You need to know that.”
“I know. And I’m sorry. I’m tired of feeling bad. I want to move on, but I just can’t seem to do it.”
“It’s okay,” I repeated. “We’ll get through this. Together. I promise.”
We sat there, and I held her for a long time, and whispered to her, and stroked her hair and dried her tears, and softly reassured her. When she felt better Tara went upstairs and changed clothes while I heated up some leftover meat loaf. We ate dinner and then watched TV and played a video game. We didn’t talk about the miscarriages or our sex life or anything else unsettling. We pretended that everything in our lives was normal.
Before bed
“Research,” I lied. “I went online and did research for the next book. And then I started to mow, until Merle interrupted me.”
“Mmmhmmm.” She flexed her toes as I rubbed her heel. “And I bet he and Dale twisted your arm to goof off for the rest of the afternoon, too?”
“Yeah, now that you mention it. They held me at gunpoint. We may have to move.”
She laughed, leaned forward, and gave me a kiss. “I love you, Mr. Senft.”
“I love you, too, Mrs. Senft.”
“Do you?” Her voice changed. She suddenly seemed sad.
“Of course I do,” I said. “Why would you ask me that? What’s wrong, honey?”
She shrugged and began to stroke Big Steve’s fur. “I started thinking about the baby again today. Our receptionist, Robin Harmic, is pregnant. She told us at lunch. I wanted to be happy for her, but I couldn’t. It…it should be me, you know?”
I hugged her tight and kissed her forehead. “I know. And it will be, eventually.”
“Will it?” she asked. “I don’t know, Adam. Maybe there’s something wrong with me. Maybe I can’t have kids.”
I spoke softly. “We’ve been through this, Tara. The doctors found nothing medically wrong with you. Chances are your body rejected the babies because there was something wrong with them. That doesn’t mean that it will happen again.”
“But what if it does? I can’t go through this again. I just can’t.”
A lone tear slid down her face, and I held her tighter.
Big Steve shifted between us. His sad brown eyes shifted from Tara to me and then back to Tara again. He knew something was wrong. Gently he put his cold nose under Tara’s hand and snuffled.
Tara patted him absentmindedly. “What if we keep miscarrying?”
“We won’t,” I promised, realizing how empty it sounded. “Next time, you’ll see. A year from now there’ll be four of us. You, me, Big Steve, and the baby. Five of us, if we have twins.”
She sniffed. “I’m just so scared. I know we haven’t…haven’t been intimate in a long while, and I’m sorry about that. I know it bothers you.”
“No, it doesn’t.” I was lying, of course. It did bother me, but I wasn’t about to let Tara know that. The last thing she needed to hear right then was that her husband was sexually frustrated.
She wiped her nose on her blouse sleeve. “It’s just that every time we try, I think about the miscarriage. I’m scared to try again.”
“It’s okay,” I told her. “I understand. Remember what the grief counselor said? It’s normal to feel that way.”
“But not for this long, it isn’t. I’m worried.”
“About what?”
“About all kinds of things. That you’ll go elsewhere. Find another woman, or have an affair with one of your fans or another writer, maybe at one of these conventions or when you’re on tour again. I worry that you’ll leave me because I can’t give you a baby and because we don’t have sex anymore.”
“Tara…” I was speechless.
“Maybe I’m just being silly, and I know that, but I’m scared.”
I took her face in my hands. “Listen to me. I’m not going anywhere. I love you. I’d never cheat on you or leave you for another woman. You need to know that.”
“I know. And I’m sorry. I’m tired of feeling bad. I want to move on, but I just can’t seem to do it.”
“It’s okay,” I repeated. “We’ll get through this. Together. I promise.”
We sat there, and I held her for a long time, and whispered to her, and stroked her hair and dried her tears, and softly reassured her. When she felt better Tara went upstairs and changed clothes while I heated up some leftover meat loaf. We ate dinner and then watched TV and played a video game. We didn’t talk about the miscarriages or our sex life or anything else unsettling. We pretended that everything in our lives was normal.
Before bed
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