Beneath a Southern Sky - By Deborah Raney Page 0,75
head in puzzlement, then turned back to her. “Hey, where’s Nattie?”
“She’s with my mom. Just go get in the shower.”
He mumbled, questioning, under his breath, but he headed back to the bathroom.
Ten minutes later, they were enjoying roast beef and mashed potatoes, sweet corn, and tangy three-bean salad—all Cole’s favorites. He ate the last bite of his buttered crescent roll, leaned across the corner of the table, and put a finger under Daria’s chin. “Now would you please tell me what this is all about?”
“Not until you’ve had your dessert.” She had managed to keep her secret all through dinner and was thoroughly enjoying the buildup.
“Daria, come on! I am dying of curiosity!”
“You really want to know?”
“Even more than I want raspberry cheesecake.”
“That much, huh?”
He nodded, waiting.
She took his hands in hers. “This, my dearest darling,” she said, deliberately drawing out the suspense, “is to celebrate the fact that by this time next year there will be another little set of feet pitter-pattering on these floors.”
He looked at her mutely, apparently uncomprehending.
She laughed at the dumbstruck expression pasted on his face. “We are going to have a baby, silly!”
“What?”
She waited for him to whoop and holler, but he obviously was not catching on. “Cole, do I have to draw you a picture? I’m pregnant, honey!”
“Daria? No! You’re not…”
Whatever she had expected to see in his eyes, it wasn’t this gleam of fear, this bizarre, grim reaction to the wonderful news she’d just given him.
“Cole? Aren’t you happy? I thought you’d be happy. Honey?”
He pushed his chair back from the table and got up, pacing, rubbing his forehead as though her news had given him an excruciating headache.
She rose and went to him, frantic now to know why he seemed so adverse to the wonderful news. She put a hand on his back and was alarmed to find that he was trembling. “Cole! What’s wrong?”
“Sit down, Daria. We need to talk.”
Her heart began to bang in her chest. What was going on? What was wrong with him?
Like a robot, he returned to the table and sat down, his face an expressionless mask. He put his head in his hands and scrubbed his face, sighing again and again as though he was trying to catch his breath.
“Cole? Please, what is it?”
“There’s something I have to tell you, Daria. I-I haven’t told you everything—”
“What are you talking about, Cole? Please, you’re scaring me.”
“Daria, you…you don’t know everything…about Bridgette …about how she died.” He sighed again and then turned to look her full in the face.
“Bridgette had—we had a baby together, Daria.” He swallowed hard. “We lost him—a little boy. He was stillborn, the cord got wrapped around his neck.”
Daria was stunned, and tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh, Cole. How terrible!”
“We named him Carson. We held him in our arms, and then we buried him two days later. I don’t even have a picture of him.” He recited the information as though he were reading it from a newspaper, as though it had nothing to do with him.
“Why didn’t you tell me this, Cole?” In spite of the deep sorrow she felt at his obvious grief, she was shocked and angry that he had kept it from her. Cole had been a father! He’d had a little boy! How could she not have known this about him? How could he have failed to tell her something of this magnitude before? What other secrets had he kept from her? And yet her heart was broken, for she knew how deeply he must have felt this sorrow, how great the pain he endured must have been.
“I should have told you, Daria. God knows I should have.”
“Then why didn’t you?” Her voice sounded cold and unsympathetic, but she felt betrayed, not sure if she even knew this man anymore.
“I was afraid. I was afraid it would be more than you could accept. It was a terrible time in our lives. Bridgette had been so happy, so looking forward to the birth. She took the baby’s death really hard—understandably. But she couldn’t seem to get over it, Daria. Months went by, and she still couldn’t even function. She just checked out. She started hating the doctors, hating God… After a while I think she started hating me, blaming me. And maybe she was right to blame me.”
He paused, and Daria could see that he was trying to gain control over his emotions. She waited in silence for him to go on, her mind racing.