Marriage By Necessity

“She’s alone in the world, Granddad. How can I say no?”

“A lot of men would. Bringing up a kid on your own. That’s about the hardest thing you can do.” Harm had raised Nate’s mother and her younger brother by himself after his wife died of kidney failure. He’d done a good job with both of them, but Nate knew it couldn’t have been easy. Especially back in the days when single fathers were few and far between.

“You did it. And not one kid, but two. Mom and Uncle Dan turned out just fine.”

“They were mine,” Harm said bluntly. “Not some other man’s child. That might make a powerful difference down the line.”

“I can’t let that stop me. She’s got no one, Granddad. I loved her once. If I can do this for her now, I will. She wants a family for the boy, and a father. I don’t know if I’ll be any good at the job, but I’ve got to try. We applied for the marriage license this afternoon. The wedding’s Friday. Her surgery is Saturday morning at University Hospital.”

“So soon? Don’t give you much time to make up your mind. Only, it sounds like you already have.”

“The way I see things, it was the only choice I had.”

He and Sarah had talked for a long time the night before after Matty fell asleep on the couch. Or, more accurately, he had let her talk, outlining in minute detail all the arrangements she’d made for Matthew’s future. She wouldn’t be a financial burden, she insisted. And neither would her son.

That was when she’d asked him if there was a woman in his life. He had thought briefly of green eyes, a smattering of freckles, the brush of tapered fingers over the surface of an antique rocking horse, then dismissed the image. “There’s no one,” he had said, and meant it. Sarah had ducked her head for a moment. He suspected she had done that to hide the relief that hadn’t quite faded from her eyes when she looked up again.

“I…I should have thought to ask you that earlier,” she said.

“I would have told you earlier if it had been a problem.”

She had nodded and stood up, swaying just a little. “It’s getting late. We should go.”

“Why don’t you stay here tonight,” he’d offered before he could change his mind. “It’s too late for you to be driving back to Ann Arbor. You’re not used to country roads and there will be fog in the low spots.” She was pale, he noticed, and there were dark shadows under her eyes. Sarah had never been sick when they were married. It bothered him that she looked so frail and tired.

She had surprised him a little by agreeing. “All right. It is a long drive back.”

He’d put them up in the compact spare room of his trailer and then lay awake long into the night listening to the furnace kick on and off as the temperature dropped, wondering how in hell he was going to raise a child alone.

Harm must have taken his prolonged silence as a sign their conversation was at an end. He stood up, a short man, slightly stooped from years of manual labor but still strong, and began to pour water from a bucket he kept by the fire over the red-gold coals. Steam lifted into the cold air to mingle with the curling fingers of mist lying just above the surface of the lake. The cat reappeared at his feet and twined around his ankles, waiting to be let inside for the night. Harm stopped what he was doing and looked at Nate, his eyes narrowed against the smoke from the drowned embers. “You’ll do right by the boy,” he said. “I don’t doubt that. But are you doing right by yourself taking her back?”

“SARAH. ITISYOU. My dad said you were here but I just couldn’t believe he wasn’t mistaken.” Arlene Fowler’s words were as blunt as ever. She looked exactly as Sarah remembered her, too. She was a woman of medium height, a little overweight, but not fat. She had a pair of reading glasses pushed into the haphazard knot of hair on top of her head, glasses that she hadn’t needed the last time Sarah had seen her. There was still very little gray in her light brown hair, and only a few laugh lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth, although she would have turned fifty-seven on her last birthday.

Arlene wasn’t alone. She had a little girl with her. The child was wearing a pink satin windbreaker with “Barbie” stenciled on the front. She carried one of the dolls, frizzy-haired and naked, in each hand. Her little jeans had flared legs and her running shoes flashed hot pink lights along the side with each bouncing step. Her red-gold hair and turquoise-blue eyes matched Tessa’s, Nate’s youngest sister.

“Hello, Arlene.” Sarah wished she didn’t have to face Nate’s mother alone, but she’d given up putting stock in wishes a long time ago.

“Is Nate here?”

“No.” They had planned to see Arlene and his father, Tom, together as soon as Matty finished his breakfast. But that had obviously been too long for Nate’s mother to wait. “He’s in his workshop. He had to check on an overnight delivery of parts for the motorcycle he’s restoring.” It seemed odd that Nate had an ordinary job, and an ordinary life now. She had only known him as a soldier, a man with a dangerous MOS—military occupational specialty—performed under hazardous conditions, in war zones half a world away from those he loved.

“What are you doing here, Sarah?” Arlene’s tone was brusque but there was an undertone of hurt and confusion in her question. “We haven’t heard a word from you for over four years. Now you show up out of nowhere.” The little girl leaned back against Arlene and bounced up and down on her toes, her crystal blue eyes fixed on Sarah like laser beams.

“Nate and I were coming to talk to you and Tom later this morning.”

“I saved you the trip.” Arlene’s mouth thinned into a straight line. The momentary vulnerability Sarah had glimpsed in the older woman’s eyes disappeared.

Sarah hadn’t expected this to be easy. She liked Arlene. When things were good between her and Nate, she had felt they were on the road to becoming friends. But when they separated, Arlene had withdrawn her friendship. Sarah had hurt one of Arlene’s own. That betrayal would not be easily forgiven.

“Mommy!” She looked down to see her son tugging on the leg of her jeans. He was wearing his Spider-Man pajamas that she’d bought for him for his birthday. He was growing so fast they were already an inch too short in the sleeves. He rubbed his eyes and grinned up at her.

“Hi, baby.” She knelt down to give him a hug. If she didn’t make it through the surgery she would consider herself in heaven if she could take the memory of that smile with her into the hereafter.

Arlene’s little granddaughter quit jumping and stared at Matthew with her head tilted to one side. “Who are you?” she asked in a clear piping voice. “What are you doing in Unca’ Nate’s house?”

“Hush, Becca. Is this your son?” Arlene asked.

“Yes. This is Matthew. Matty, this is Mrs. Fowler. Nate’s mother.”

“My father said you had a child with you.” She smiled as she shifted her gaze to the little boy. “Hello, Matty. My name is Arlene.” Sarah relaxed. She should have known that Arlene wouldn’t let whatever animosity she might still feel toward her spill over onto an innocent child. “This is my granddaughter, Rebecca.”

“Hello.” Shyness overcame him. He hid his face against Sarah’s thigh.

Arlene’s charge had no such problem. “I’m Becca. Who are you?”

Sarah gave Matty a little nudge. One eye peeped out. “Matthew David Taylor. I’m three years old.” Matthew enunciated each word loudly and clearly.

“Me, too.” Becca dropped the Barbies she was carrying and held up three chubby fingers on each hand.

“She’s Tessa’s, isn’t she?” Sarah smiled down at the little girl. She would have liked a daughter someday, to dress in pink satin.

Arlene smiled, too. It was instantaneous and genuine, and reminded Sarah once more how fiercely devoted to her children Nate’s mother was.

“Yes. She’s expecting another at New Year’s. A boy.”

“I’m glad for her.”

“I want toast,” Matty announced.

“Yea, toast,” Becca chimed, as she bent over to retrieve her dollies.

“Becca, you had breakfast already. Twice. Once with your mom and once more with me and Grandpa Tom.” Arlene smoothed her hand indulgently over Becca’s fine, flyaway curls as she spoke.

“Still hungry,” Becca insisted.

“Why don’t you come in and wait for Nate,” Sarah offered, stepping back from the open door, then wished she hadn’t when she saw Arlene’s smile disappear. The words and gesture must have seemed too much like an invitation to a home that wasn’t her own. “I…I’m sure he’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“I’m here now,” Nate said coming up onto the deck that served as his front porch. It was roomy, stained silvery-gray to match the outside of the mobile home. The color scheme inside was predominately gray, too. Nate had painted all the paneling a creamy white above, and charcoal below. The carpet was the color of smoke, as was the overstuffed sofa and recliner that, along with a couple of lamps and tables and a big-screen TV, were the only furniture in the living room. The kitchen appliances were stainless steel, the countertops faux black granite. Even the built-in banquette, whose back contained open shelving that separated the living and kitchen areas, was upholstered in gray vinyl.

Those shelves were mostly empty, Sarah had noticed right away. There weren’t any knickknacks on the tables or pictures on the walls. Nate had never liked clutter, she remembered. She, on the other hand, loved light and color, and liked to cover every surface with all manner of odd or pretty things she picked up at flea markets and yard sales. They used to argue over her pack-rat tendencies, but like everything they had fallen out about, they’d always ended their disagreement by making up and making love. The strength and clarity of the memory caught her by surprise. She hadn’t thought about sex in months and months. Had figured she would never think about it again, but apparently she’d been wrong.

“Nate, what’s this all about?” Arlene’s voice demanded attention. “What’s she doing here? What’s going on?”

NATE SAW the stricken look on Sarah’s face and knew the reason for it. The old saw about little pitchers having big ears might be a cliché, but it was also right on the money. Matty and Becca were staring at the adults with intense interest.

“Hey, Becca Boo Jones. What are you doing here?”

She held out her arms, a naked Barbie in each hand. “Hi, Unca Nate.”

“Aren’t your dollies cold?” Nate knew the dolls had clothes. He’d spent a ridiculous amount of money outfitting one for Becca’s birthday last spring. He dropped stiffly to one knee wincing at the pain in his bad ankle. She gave him a big hug, poking him in the ribs with Barbie arms, squinching up her face with the effort.

“Whoa,” he said. “That’s a good one.”

“I want toast.” She loosened her grip a little. “So does that boy.” Her tone dripped with suspicion. She pointed a Barbie in Matty’s direction. “Why’s he here?”

“He and Sarah are staying with me for awhile. Sarah, would you make Becca and Matty some toast while I explain what’s happening to Mom?”

Sarah gave him a grateful look. “C’mon, Becca. Do you like jelly on your toast?”

“No,” Becca said firmly. “Cin’mon sweetie.”

“She means cinnamon sugar. There’s a shaker of the stuff in the first cupboard on the left. I keep it especially for this little monster.” Nate gave Becca a gentle little push. “Go on inside. You’re letting out all the warm air.”

Becca hesitated. “Where are you going, Grandma?” she asked.

“Just to the barn…to look at the motorcycle. We’ll be back before you’re done eating your toast.”

“Okay.” She stood nose to nose with Sarah’s son. “You want to play with me?”

Matty eyed the dolls with disapproval. “Not with dolls,” he said with disdain. “Where’s their clothes? It’s cold outside.”

“My dog ate them,” Becca said. “And then he throwed them up. My mom throwed up, too, when she had to clean up the mess. She’s going to have a baby. A boy. Right after Santa Claus comes. Right, Grandma?”

“New Year’s Day,” Arlene confirmed.

“That’s nice.” Sarah put her hand on Becca’s shoulder and urged her inside.

“I’d rather have a sister,” Becca said as the door closed behind them.

“What’s going on, Nate?” Arlene asked, turning to face him. She made no move to leave the deck. She pushed her hands into the pocket of her fleece jacket and waited.

“We were coming over this morning to tell you and Dad about the situation.” Arlene had her own insurance business with an office off the kitchen of the house he’d grown up in. Her hours were flexible so she was sometimes available for spur-of-the-moment babysitting for Becca, or his other sister Joann’s two boys. His younger brother, Brandon, was in graduate school out of state, and in no hurry to add more leaves to the family tree.

“Situation? I don’t like the sound of that. Anyway, your dad’s at the doctor. He’s getting some blood tests done.” Tom Fowler was a Vietnam vet and a man of solid values and modest aspirations. He worked at a plant across the state line in Ohio that manufactured knock-down furniture. He was shift foreman now and counting the days until his retirement.

“Cholesterol up again?”

“Yes, but don’t try and change the subject. Your dad’s blood tests are beside the point. Tell me what all this is about.” There was a note of pleading in his mother’s voice. It surprised him. Arlene Fowler tended to demand rather than plead.

Nate cleared his throat. “Sarah and I are getting married again.”

“Married?” She sagged against the deck railing. “Oh, Lord. Nate, have you lost your senses? You haven’t seen or spoken to each other for four years. And she has a child.” She blinked hard. “Another man’s child—”

Nate didn’t want to hear that phrase again. “Sarah’s very ill. She may be dying.”

She stared at him for a moment with her mouth open in shock. “Dying? Are you sure?”

“I talked to her doctor yesterday.” He leaned his hands on the railing and stared out over the lake as he told his mother everything that had happened in the last thirty-six hours. He wasn’t sure he had all the medical terms right but he did his best to explain. The doctor hadn’t been as pessimistic as Sarah that she wouldn’t survive the surgery, but the prognosis hadn’t been encouraging. “There’s no way to know for certain without cutting her open if the growth has progressed beyond the point of no return.”

“I…I had no idea.” Arlene fumbled in the pockets of her coat, looking for the cigarettes she’d given up over a year ago. “But Nate, surely there’s some other way? The boy’s father?”

“Dead,” he said flatly.

“Oh, Lord. I’m sorry. I didn’t know—”

“How could you?”

“No, I guess I couldn’t know. I’m ashamed to say I never answered her last couple of letters, or made any effort to stay in touch.” She lifted her hands in a helpless little gesture. “That can’t be changed now. I…I have to admit I’ve wondered off and on how she was doing the last couple of years, but I never suspected anything like this. How long has she been widowed?”

“Since before Matty was born.”

“And her husband had no family, either?”

“None that can help her. She’s as alone in the world as she ever was. That’s why I’ve agreed to take responsibility for Matty.”

“Oh, Nate.” Arlene covered her mouth with her hand for a moment. “I know how much you used to love her, but to do this for a woman who broke your heart.”

“What happened between Sarah and me is in the past. It’s about what’s best for the boy now.”

“A child who isn’t yours—”

“Mom. It’s settled.” She winced at the hardness he couldn’t keep out of his voice.

In silence they watched as Harm came out of his cabin and moved slowly down toward the lakeshore, tackle box in hand, followed by Buster. The old man was probably heading out to try and catch a mess of late-season pan fish for his supper; it was anyone’s guess where the cat was headed. The growl of Harm’s old Evinrude outboard motor broke the morning quiet.

“When?” Arlene asked after a few moments.

“We can pick up the license Friday afternoon. Mayor Holder, over at Lakeview, has us penciled in for five o’clock that afternoon. Sarah’s surgery is scheduled for seven a.m. Saturday morning.”

“So soon?” Impulsively his mother reached out and laid her hand over his. He turned his palm up and closed his hand around her cold fingers.

“It has to be, Mom. I can’t let Matty grow up the way Sarah did, shuffled from one foster home to the next, no security, no place to put down roots. He needs stability and a family. I’ll do my best to give him that.”

“When you put it that way I suppose there’s no use me arguing with you. You’ve always been the most stubborn of my kids, and that’s saying something. Always trying to get the rest of the world to march to your drummer.” She gave his hand a hard squeeze then fumbled in her coat pocket for a tissue.

“Don’t you think I’m up to the challenge?”

“Of course you are. You’ll make a wonderful father! Maybe this is the Almighty’s way of giving you—”

He knew where she was going with that line of thought and was glad that she stopped herself so he didn’t have to.

“God, I wish I had a cigarette,” she said, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.

“You haven’t had a smoke for over a year. Don’t go backsliding now.”

“Easy for you to say,” she sniffed. “Do I look okay?”

“You look fine.”

“I’m so glad I didn’t launch into Sarah with both barrels. Or you, for that matter. Two whole days of wondering what she was doing here. Your father warned me not—”

“Will you tell him, Mom? It would save me some time.”

“I’ll tell him,” she blew out a puff of breath. “He always liked Sarah but I don’t think he’s going to be any happier about this than I am.”

“You don’t have to be happy about it. Just stand by me.”

“Till my last breath,” she said fiercely. “Let’s go inside. I suppose I should get to know Matty a little better so he won’t be afraid to stay with me while…while Sarah is in the hospital.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Nate bent his head to give her a peck on the cheek. She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a quick, hard hug.

“I know you think you’re doing the right thing, and I suppose you are. But, oh Nate, she hurt you so badly.”

“We hurt each other, Mom, but that’s not what’s important now. She came to me as a last resort. There’s nothing left between us but a little boy who needs our love.”

She put her hand on his forearm as he turned to go back inside. “Nate, I just thought of something. What if the doctors are wrong? What if the surgery is a success? If Sarah is granted her miracle, what will you do then?”

CHAPTER THREE

HER WEDDING DAY was over.

In a few hours they would leave for the hospital. The trailer was quiet so Nate must have fallen asleep at last. The walls of the mobile home were thin and she had heard him tossing long into the night. It hadn’t always been that way. When they were married—before—he had always slept like a log, barely moving from the position in which he fell asleep. Always with her snuggled tight against him, safe and protected in his arms.

Best to stay away from memories like that.

It was why she dreaded the small hours of the night—the barriers she kept strong and in good repair during the day failed her in the darkness. The week had passed quickly. There had been lawyer’s visits, small domestic chores, precious time spent with Matty as he played with Becca and became more at ease with Nate and his family. But the nights had been long and stressful, for both of them.

She glanced around the shadowed room. All of Matty’s things were arranged to his satisfaction. His favorite SpongeBob SquarePants lamp was on top of the dresser. His clothes were folded in the drawers and hanging in the little closet next to hers, his toys piled into a new bright yellow storage unit in the corner. The fireproof box with all the documentation Nate would need when he became responsible for her son was sitting on Nate’s dresser.

She had sold or given away most of her possessions except for those she could pack in the minivan. Still, it had been difficult to find room for all of it in Nate’s trailer. There simply wasn’t much storage space. Matty’s baby book, the albums with pictures of his father and his Taylor relatives, were stored on the top shelf of the closet along with the few photographs various sets of foster parents had taken of her over the years. There was also the video of her when she was pregnant that David had made, which ended when she was seven months along, and he died. Later, she had taken some footage of Matty when he was small to add to it, but her heart was never in it and she’d ended up selling the video camera to one of her co-workers at HomeContractors so she could buy a still camera.

She was a throwback, she guessed. She loved photographs, the kind you could hold in your hand, put in an album to linger over, savor, relive. She had taken roll after roll of film of her son, a set for each year of his life. The camera was in the safe box, too. She hoped someday Matty would want to learn to use it when he was old enough.

There were no pictures of her and Nate among the keepsakes, however. She had destroyed them the day their divorce became final.

And there had been no pictures taken today, although she suspected Tessa had a camera in her car. She and her husband, Keith, a long-distance trucker, had acted as their witnesses for the short, informal ceremony in the mayor’s office at the back of the redbrick building that housed Lakeview’s six-man police force, as well as its municipal offices. There had been no rice to throw, no cake to cut. And no toasts to a long and happy life together. Because there wouldn’t be one.

Their whirlwind remarriage was probably already the talk of the entire population around Cottonwood Lake. More than once Sarah had caught the mayor taking in every detail of her simple navy blue dress and Nate’s dark suit. There had been an absence of flowers, except for the nosegay of fall mums that Arlene had pressed into her hands when they dropped Matty off at her house—all brides need a bouquet she’d said, shrugging off Sarah’s thanks. And the lack of other family and friends in attendance, and that no further celebration appeared planned to mark the event, was all grist for the gossip mill of a very small town. It was Nate who remembered the ring, a simple gold band that fit perfectly but felt heavy and unfamiliar on her hand. And a kiss, light and soft and warm as sunshine on her mouth. Another memory that wouldn’t go away.

A shadow blocked the light from the hallway. She turned her head to see Nate’s broad shoulders filling the narrow doorway. He was fully dressed except for his shoes. He was wearing jeans and a gray chamois shirt, open at the throat, the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows. He braced one shoulder against the door frame and pushed his hand into the front pocket of his jeans. The casual, masculine clothes suited him, just as his Army uniform had. She could never picture Nate wearing a suit every day, or working behind a desk, an office-bound, cubicle-dweller chained to a keyboard and monitor. He was a man born to be outside, to work with his hands.

“You should be asleep,” he said quietly.

“I’m not sleepy.”

“The doctor said you should get all the rest you can.”

“I’ll have eternity to rest.” She smoothed the blanket over Matty’s knees. She was tired and scared and her emotions were too close to the surface to easily control. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound melodramatic.”

“You shouldn’t dwell on the worst-case scenario.”

“You always dwell on the worst-case scenario when you’re a single parent.”

There was a heartbeat’s silence before he answered. “You’re not a single parent anymore, remember.”

“No, I’m not. Not anymore,” she whispered.

Matty frowned in his sleep, then he raised his little fists and rubbed his eyes. “Mommy,” he called, sitting up, looking around with an unfocused stare. He began to sob, caught up in a bad dream.