The Collar
Page 39
Later, she decided. Maybe she’d talk to him about it in the morning. Right now she had to deal with that room.
She stood before it, unable to twist the knob.
“It’s a room,” she whispered as if not to disturb the secrets inside.
“Just a room,” she repeated.
With a deep breath and a determined twist, she opened the door. It was several moments before she could move or even form a coherent thought.
“Oh, Jeff,” she whispered in the stillness. “You didn’t.”
But he had. He had kept the room untouched for more than three years.
She blinked back the tears that gathered in her eyes, but it was useless. They ran unbidden down her cheeks.
The curtains were drawn, but a faint light from outside lit the room. She walked to the far corner and, without thinking, brushed her fingers across her belly.
The crib before her stood exactly as it had three years ago. Back when everything had seemed so right. So complete.
They had not planned for her to get pregnant. Jeff had been so upset at first. When he’d come around, though, everything had been perfect. Or so she’d thought. Her pregnancy had actually marked the beginning of the end.
But for a brief moment in time, she’d believed she had all she’d ever wanted. Then that moment had passed, and now she was alone.
There was no bedding in the crib, just a bare mattress. Jeff had been convinced the baby would be a girl, however, and had even gone so far as to get his grandmother’s rocking chair with a delicate pink floral print and put it in the nursery. It was still there, just as they’d left it.
Dena smiled through her tears, remembering the way she’d stood in this very room with her hands on her hips, telling him that was a fine way to ensure they had a boy.
“It’s a girl,” he’d said. “A daddy knows these things.”
She remembered now how he’d originally set up the nursery to surprise her and as a way to show her he’d accepted the idea of the baby and grown excited about it. She’d come home from a long day at the office and he’d barely been able to contain himself, leading her down the hallway with his hands over her eyes. He showed her the crib he’d bought and put together. For hours that night they sat on the nursery floor and spoke in excited whispers about their hopes and dreams for their child.
Five weeks later and for reasons unknown, barely twenty weeks into her pregnancy, she’d miscarried. Their tiny daughter was born too fragile to even take her first breath.
Excitement had turned to grief and their grief had become bitter.
“Never found the strength to put her things away.”
Dena jumped at Jeff’s voice, but she didn’t turn around.
“She’d be just over three now,” he continued. “Too big for a crib. We’d have to get her a bed…”
He remembered her. Thought of her. Missed her. A father’s love, unchanged by death.
“Sometimes at night,” she whispered, “I put my hand on my belly. It’s almost like I can feel her kick.”
“I only felt her that once.” His voice was laced with pain.
“I tell myself she was …” Dena paused, wiping at the tears running down her cheeks, but it didn’t do any good; others fell in their place. “She was too perfect for this world. She left before anything bad or evil could touch her.”
Nothing from Jeff. She looked up to the window but couldn’t see his reflection.
She closed her eyes. “Then I think, what if it was me? What if she had to leave because I would have messed her up?”
“For God’s sake. Dena, no.” He was behind her in a second, his hands rubbing her shoulders, and she resisted the urge to sag against him. “It wasn’t you.”
“She was all that was good and whole and pure.” A sob ripped from her throat. The doctors had been unable to tell her what had gone wrong. They said it could have been any number of things. “And I wasn’t good enough to hold on to her.”
His hands tightened on her shoulders. “You are. You are good enough.”
She turned to face him. She had to see his face when he answered her question. She didn’t know why she could ask him now when they’d gone so long without talking about it. Maybe it was because he was moving away for who knew how long or because they’d been intimate. Maybe she’d finally gotten to the point where it didn’t cause her physical pain to talk about it. “Then why aren’t I good enough for you?”
He turned white. “That’s what you think? That you’re not good enough for me? Christ, Dena. What have I done to you?”
“I know you’re leaving for Colorado because of your father. But it feels like you’re leaving me. Again. What is it I keep doing that makes you not want me anymore?”
“That’s not it. That was never it.” He cupped her cheek. “Letting you go ripped a hole in my heart so big it aches every time I breathe.”
Standing so close to him, she almost believed him. But it was easy to say the words. Words were cheap. “I don’t believe you. You won’t even let me get you off, much less really take me. What am I supposed to think?”
“I want you.” He ran his thumb over her lips while he gazed into her eyes. “I’ll want you till I die.”
She’d balled her fists so tight, her nails dug into her palms, but she forced her chin up. Words. Again with the words. She wanted more. “Prove it.”
“Dena.”
“I’m not asking for anything beyond tonight. Just tonight. I need you. I need to feel … something.”
He wouldn’t do it. She knew he wouldn’t. He’d turn her down, and in the morning she’d be ashamed to face him, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking.
“Make love to me. I know I said you’d have to beg me, but now I’m begging you. Please.”
“Don’t, Dena.” He kissed the tears from her cheeks. “Don’t beg me. I want you. I need you. And I’m finished pretending otherwise.”
He nearly shook with the knowledge that she blamed herself for the miscarriage. Was that why she’d left him so many years ago? Out of guilt? Did she think he blamed her? The doctors had told them there was nothing she could have done differently. Damn it all. He should have made her talk to him instead of just letting her move out of his house.
She stood before it, unable to twist the knob.
“It’s a room,” she whispered as if not to disturb the secrets inside.
“Just a room,” she repeated.
With a deep breath and a determined twist, she opened the door. It was several moments before she could move or even form a coherent thought.
“Oh, Jeff,” she whispered in the stillness. “You didn’t.”
But he had. He had kept the room untouched for more than three years.
She blinked back the tears that gathered in her eyes, but it was useless. They ran unbidden down her cheeks.
The curtains were drawn, but a faint light from outside lit the room. She walked to the far corner and, without thinking, brushed her fingers across her belly.
The crib before her stood exactly as it had three years ago. Back when everything had seemed so right. So complete.
They had not planned for her to get pregnant. Jeff had been so upset at first. When he’d come around, though, everything had been perfect. Or so she’d thought. Her pregnancy had actually marked the beginning of the end.
But for a brief moment in time, she’d believed she had all she’d ever wanted. Then that moment had passed, and now she was alone.
There was no bedding in the crib, just a bare mattress. Jeff had been convinced the baby would be a girl, however, and had even gone so far as to get his grandmother’s rocking chair with a delicate pink floral print and put it in the nursery. It was still there, just as they’d left it.
Dena smiled through her tears, remembering the way she’d stood in this very room with her hands on her hips, telling him that was a fine way to ensure they had a boy.
“It’s a girl,” he’d said. “A daddy knows these things.”
She remembered now how he’d originally set up the nursery to surprise her and as a way to show her he’d accepted the idea of the baby and grown excited about it. She’d come home from a long day at the office and he’d barely been able to contain himself, leading her down the hallway with his hands over her eyes. He showed her the crib he’d bought and put together. For hours that night they sat on the nursery floor and spoke in excited whispers about their hopes and dreams for their child.
Five weeks later and for reasons unknown, barely twenty weeks into her pregnancy, she’d miscarried. Their tiny daughter was born too fragile to even take her first breath.
Excitement had turned to grief and their grief had become bitter.
“Never found the strength to put her things away.”
Dena jumped at Jeff’s voice, but she didn’t turn around.
“She’d be just over three now,” he continued. “Too big for a crib. We’d have to get her a bed…”
He remembered her. Thought of her. Missed her. A father’s love, unchanged by death.
“Sometimes at night,” she whispered, “I put my hand on my belly. It’s almost like I can feel her kick.”
“I only felt her that once.” His voice was laced with pain.
“I tell myself she was …” Dena paused, wiping at the tears running down her cheeks, but it didn’t do any good; others fell in their place. “She was too perfect for this world. She left before anything bad or evil could touch her.”
Nothing from Jeff. She looked up to the window but couldn’t see his reflection.
She closed her eyes. “Then I think, what if it was me? What if she had to leave because I would have messed her up?”
“For God’s sake. Dena, no.” He was behind her in a second, his hands rubbing her shoulders, and she resisted the urge to sag against him. “It wasn’t you.”
“She was all that was good and whole and pure.” A sob ripped from her throat. The doctors had been unable to tell her what had gone wrong. They said it could have been any number of things. “And I wasn’t good enough to hold on to her.”
His hands tightened on her shoulders. “You are. You are good enough.”
She turned to face him. She had to see his face when he answered her question. She didn’t know why she could ask him now when they’d gone so long without talking about it. Maybe it was because he was moving away for who knew how long or because they’d been intimate. Maybe she’d finally gotten to the point where it didn’t cause her physical pain to talk about it. “Then why aren’t I good enough for you?”
He turned white. “That’s what you think? That you’re not good enough for me? Christ, Dena. What have I done to you?”
“I know you’re leaving for Colorado because of your father. But it feels like you’re leaving me. Again. What is it I keep doing that makes you not want me anymore?”
“That’s not it. That was never it.” He cupped her cheek. “Letting you go ripped a hole in my heart so big it aches every time I breathe.”
Standing so close to him, she almost believed him. But it was easy to say the words. Words were cheap. “I don’t believe you. You won’t even let me get you off, much less really take me. What am I supposed to think?”
“I want you.” He ran his thumb over her lips while he gazed into her eyes. “I’ll want you till I die.”
She’d balled her fists so tight, her nails dug into her palms, but she forced her chin up. Words. Again with the words. She wanted more. “Prove it.”
“Dena.”
“I’m not asking for anything beyond tonight. Just tonight. I need you. I need to feel … something.”
He wouldn’t do it. She knew he wouldn’t. He’d turn her down, and in the morning she’d be ashamed to face him, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking.
“Make love to me. I know I said you’d have to beg me, but now I’m begging you. Please.”
“Don’t, Dena.” He kissed the tears from her cheeks. “Don’t beg me. I want you. I need you. And I’m finished pretending otherwise.”
He nearly shook with the knowledge that she blamed herself for the miscarriage. Was that why she’d left him so many years ago? Out of guilt? Did she think he blamed her? The doctors had told them there was nothing she could have done differently. Damn it all. He should have made her talk to him instead of just letting her move out of his house.
