Fairy Dusted

Chapter One

He's finally asleep.

Smiling, Jillian O'Malley tiptoed away from the motorized bed in the infant nursery of San Francisco General Hospital's prenatal ICU for drug-exposed infants.

You're so good with him, Jill's friend Claire, a neonatal nurse, said. I wish you had time to help us every day.

I do, too, but my kindergarten class requires so much of my time.

Jill glanced wistfully around the spotless Unit. Modern equipment, like the constantly rocking bed where Little Joey slept, and numerous isolates overcrowded the large room. At-risk newborns needed a lot of attention and in her three-hour shift as a volunteer caregiver she could not hope to make a difference in an addicted premature baby's life.

Still, she kept coming back every Saturday. She simply couldn't stay away. Maybe I can come more often when school lets out next month.

The parents of your students don't know what a good thing they have in you. How did Little Joey's bath go today?

Better. I think the water soothes him. At least it seemed to, and afterwards, he let me rock him to sleep.

Claire's eyes twinkled. Didn't I see you with a baby in each arm part of the time?

Mandi was restless, and I couldn't let her cry, not when God gave me two arms and—

—a heart as humongous as all outdoors, Claire finished for her. What you need is at least four little ones of your own.

Is it obvious?

Your need for a baby? Oh, yes.

Unwanted tears instantly filled Jill's eyes and she shook her head, hoping to hold them back. That's just the trouble. I'm not sure Drew wants a child.

He'll come around. Most men are terrified at the prospect of holding a baby, but they quickly learn to—

Oh, I've seen him hold lots of babies. He loves little children. It's more like a feeling I get when we discuss having a baby, like he'd just as soon put it off for good.

Claire squeezed Jill's hand. Then you need to pin him down, make him open up to you. This not-knowing is tearing you apart.

You think? Jill wanted to ask, but choked on the first word.

She and Drew had tried unsuccessfully for years to have a baby. All the two of them had to show for their efforts was an empty house, empty arms, and now, these doubts about Drew.

She was hesitant to confront Drew. How could she stay with him if he said he didn't want a baby?

I better go, she said, taking a last look around. I promised Drew I'd help him with his research this afternoon and I still have some stops to make.

How's the book coming? Does he have a publication date?

It's always slow at first, and since the publisher only gave him a year to complete the research, Drew wants me to co-author the book with him.

As if you didn't have enough to do. Does the book mean we'll no longer be seeing you around here?

No way. Helpless babies born with two strikes against them through no fault of their own will always have a special place in my heart.

An hour later, her errands completed, Jill paused outside an upscale baby store in a nearby mall.

Those infant running shoes in the window display are calling to me.

An omen? A harbinger of good things to come?

In her mind she pictured their future son wearing running shoes just like Drew's.

The thought made her heart skip. She simply had to buy those tiny shoes and take them home.

She paused to admire a pink smocked dress, then a blue one drenched with delicate lace. Time for those later. Their first baby would be a boy.

May I help you? an extremely pregnant salesgirl asked.

Please. The running shoes for babies in the window. I'd like a pair.

Those shoes are one of our best sellers. I'll see if we have any left.

Jill sucked in a ragged breath. By now she was used to disappointments, but it surprised her how badly she wanted those shoes.

You're in luck. I found a pair still in the box. The clerk beamed as she returned from the back room. She removed the lid of the small box she held and pushed aside tissue paper to reveal the contents, a miniature pair of red Niki's trimmed in navy.

Great. Is this a sign? Does the store still having the shoes I want mean I've finally conceived Drew's son?

Shall I gift wrap these?

No. That won't be necessary. They're not for a gift.

Oh, are you expecting? I couldn't be sure with you wearing a Pink Lady smock.

I... may be. If not now, soon.

I know what you mean. It took us a long time to decide to go off the pill and now I'm pregnant. Larry thought a house should come first but that's never going to happen in this pricey neighborhood. Don't you love it, knowing there are no more obstacles in the way and you can go off birth control pills?

The pill had never been a part of Jill's daily routine and to avoid a lengthy conversation with the clerk, she smiled sweetly, paid for her merchandise, and left the store. Something other than going on the pill had kept her from conceiving, but not anymore. Any day now she'd know for sure. Once she was certain, she'd show her latest purchase to Drew.

*****

On his way home from his office on Monday evening, Drew O'Malley let off on the accelerator, letting a neighbor's young daughter roll by on skates before turning in his drive. She gave him a toothless grin and waved.

Wouldn't it be fun to hold a daughter's hand while she learns to skate?

No. If he had his way, it was not going to happen.

He couldn't put himself through the pain again.

Drew pulled into the garage and killed the engine, then sat in the dimly lit enclosure, hesitant to enter his own home.

Home. During a counseling session in Drew's office today Ralph Sims had confided, My wife and I lived together before we married, but it took the arrival of our first child to make our house a home.

Now, after the birth of three more sons and a daughter, Ralph feared his marriage was on shaky ground. Too many children? Or not enough time alone with his wife?

Ralph's marital problems were minuscule compared to the obstacles keeping Drew and Jill from finding true happiness. His client deeply loved his wife, the reason he willingly opened up to a marriage counselor, and Drew was confident his advice would help.

If only he could solve the problems in his own marriage as easily.

If only Jill didn't want a baby so badly.

Better still, if only he wanted a child. Things might work out for them if he did, but he wouldn't change his mind about this. Not when another young life would hang in the balance.

Drew's gut clenched. Sure as day followed night, Jill would never forgive him for not coming clean with her on this.

The sudden clang of a pot lid and footsteps moving about in the kitchen ended Drew's reverie.

Exhausted from trying to solve his clients' marital problems, he was more than ready to seek refuge inside. Enjoy a tasty meal seated across from his beautiful wife in their well-appointed dining room.

As if he would.

Dread kept Drew glued to the spot, afraid to open the back door, hesitant to face his one-hundred-ten-pound wife.

The pot lid clanged again. Drew yanked open the door and strode in.

Jill stood at the stove, stirring something in an iron pot, her dark auburn hair pulled back from her face with a silver clamp.

Gosh, that smells good. He grabbed a long-handled spoon and sampled the bubbling stew. How soon do we eat?

She glanced at him and smiled, a good sign. Lately, he never knew what to expect when he came home. Fertility drugs played havoc with Jill's hormones. With their relationship, too.

He constantly worried about their marriage. He'd be satisfied if they never had a child, overjoyed, actually. He and Jill growing old together, walking through life hand in hand.

Just because we're married doesn't mean we have to have a child.

To Jill, it does.

She'd make too much of his action if he patted her softly yielding butt, have him stripped and stretched out on the bed before his next breath.

Fertility drugs changed her. Gave Jill the upper hand in their sex life. Made her lust for him, and had gradually eroded their love for each other in her determined rush to give him a child. A child he was afraid to father.

So far, his prayers had been answered and Jill hadn't conceived, but how long could he depend on his luck lasting?

How was your day? he asked, giving her a tight hug, his hands firmly planted at her waist.

Looking up from the stove, she smiled. My day was great. When I finished rocking the babies in the hospital nursery I went shopping. Then Nancy and I took her children to the park.

Uh-oh. Probably meant her sister had heard about some new harebrained fertility scheme she wanted them to try. I bet the park was jammed.

She chuckled. After the overcast week we just suffered through, Sam and Sally behaved like spider monkeys let out of a cage.

He reached into the cupboard for a glass, filled it at the ice-water dispenser and took a long drink. Rowdy, huh?

Beyond belief. She stopped stirring, her spoon held in mid-air. Nancy and Ed are expecting again, but she hasn't seen a doctor and doesn't know yet if this will mean another multiple birth. Wouldn't it be cool?

Not to his way of thinking, but like she did everything else, Nancy would take having four or more babies under three-years-old in stride. She popped out babies as easy as bubble gum dropped from a gum machine.

Alex skinned her knee and Nancy was so patient with her, wiping away her tears and cuddling her. There's more to motherhood than just giving birth, I've learned, watching her.

I know, Honey. He sat his glass on the counter and wrapped Jill in his arms again. "You want a chance to prove you can be patient and understanding with a baby of your own. You can, I'm sure. And someday, maybe you will, just give it time."

Blinking back tears, Jill pulled away from him to stir the contents of the steaming pot with rapid strokes and adjust the flame. How much longer do you think we'll have to wait?

One of the many questions for which he had no answer, although she asked him at least once a week. No way to know. You know what Dr. Cooper said.

'It's in God's hands'? I get unbearably frustrated when he repeats such fantasies. You'd think a doctor with all his credentials would be able to give us a definite time line since he claims there's nothing physically wrong with either one of us.

Yeah, you'd think.

You're going to lose her. Drew's heart missed a beat. Had he waited too long to come clean about what happened in his childhood? If he confessed his fear of having children now, Jill would never forgive him, not with her biological clock whispering in her ear.

Roaring would be a better word choice.

Isn't it early to be—

Not if our having a baby truly is in God's hands. We're good people, Drew. A loving God won't keep punishing us.

Honey, you—

Looks like this is about ready, Jill said, untying her apron. Want to wash your hands?

His chest tightened. What if Jill has conceived?

She'd know for sure in a few days, and if she turned out not to be pregnant, she'd blame him. Again.

She'd be right, if fear of fatherhood could keep his sperm from burrowing into her womb.

Why isn't having a husband who loves her like crazy enough for Jill?

She wanted it all, the house, the picket fence, two-point-five children, their college education assured, and her husband's continued love, but love was never enough. The Andersons he'd counseled today had proved him right. Put them in the same room and a fight would break out. Still, Carol Anderson loved being a wife.

Taking care of a husband satisfied most women, just not Jill.

When had having a good marriage stopped being enough? He loved his wife with all his heart, would gladly give her every penny he ever hoped to earn and share every spare moment of his day with her.

A baby? Just the thought of another helpless infant left in his care made him quake.

This deep longing of Jill's for her own child was tearing him apart. She'd been this hopeful more times than Drew could count. Cold dread had squeezed his chest on those occasions, too, which really had him wondering if, by some miracle, could he be a good father to their child?

God, he hoped so, if and when the time came.

*****

The following day, a pair of tiny Niki's dangling from his fingertips, their empty box clutched in his other hand, Drew demanded, Mind telling me where these came from?

Where did you—

The closet shelf where I keep my bin of used golf balls. Any idea how these got there?

Jill's brittle smile wavered as she hesitantly moved across the carpet and claimed the shoes. "I bought them on Saturday."

Her hand shook as she stuffed the shoes back into the box and Drew wished he'd never asked. I saw them in the store window... and—

I know, Honey. It's all right. I'm sure if I'd been the first to see those running shoes, I'd have beat you to them. No wonder you couldn't resist. What else did you buy?

Shamed by the sight of his wife fighting tears, Drew pulled her into a fierce hug.

Her sea-green eyes shining, she leaned back and smiled faintly at him. Practical stuff—underwear for you and a Teflon skillet to replace the warped one. No diapers and no baby beds, although I did look.

Tell her.

Honey, I wish you wouldn't—

"Don't you dare say it, Drew O'Malley. I am not jumping the gun. We are going to have a baby, whether you want one or not."

She knows. His heart wrenched. Who said anything about—

You don't need to. I see it in your eyes. Just this once, be honest with me, Drew.

Tell her.

Honey—

What's the matter, afraid to admit you have marital trouble under your own roof?

Drew stepped back, feeling the full fury of her wrath.

Tell her.

Jill had only a fourth of the Irish blood flowing through her veins he had, but sometimes he questioned whether some of his pure Irish blood had found its way into hers.

Open your eyes, Drew, and look around. She jabbed his chest with her finger. Wake up to what's going on right under your nose. Or has listening to other people's problems all day made you immune to your own?

Who said anything about problems? I thought we were discussing you wanting a child.

The shoes she obviously treasured flew across the room and careened off the wall behind him. Exactly what I'm talking about. You haven't a clue.

Drew's heart sank. Jill was ramping up into a real tirade.

Tell her.

You always refer to us getting pregnant as 'my desire to have a child'. What do you want, Drew? Let's hear it from you.

Hear what?

You're stalling. Now I'm almost certain you don't want us to have a baby.

God help him, he longed to come clean to Jill, to reveal his fear and dread. Like a fool, he'd held his tongue when she first began to wonder, after five years of marriage, why she had not yet conceived. He was still getting to know her and was delighted to keep her all to himself. He also didn't want to rock the boat.

Well, now his boat wasn't just rocking. If something didn't happen soon to put an end to Jill's emotional storms their marriage boat would capsize, drowning Jill's hopes and dreams and his.

Damn those fertility drugs. This is not the right time to have a serious discussion with Jill. She's too overwrought tonight.

What if he never found the right time? Would their marriage survive?

No. He couldn't stand living this lie much longer.

Drew's heart rate accelerated, making him dizzy. He grabbed hold of a chair to stay upright.

After a moment, avoiding his gaze, Jill noisily sucked in a steadying breath. Brianne emailed a picture of Katie. It's hard to believe she's already four-months-old. I printed it out and put it there by your chair. Isn't she a doll?