Back on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #4)(44)

“We have Cody,” Brad reminded me gently.

Cody was deeply important to me; I didn’t need to tell Brad that. And yet, I still ached. My arms had never felt so empty. My heart hurt. For the first time, I understood with all my being the pain Carol had endured before Cameron came into her life.

“Cody is as much my son as if I’d given birth to him,” I whispered.

“Yes, but you never knew him as an infant.” Brad was telling me he understood what I was feeling. “Do you want a baby?” he asked, his voice low and soothing.

I nodded, deploring the tears that filled my eyes. “I want your baby.”

Brad placed his arm around my shoulders and kissed the top of my head. I knew he was struggling to find the words to comfort me. Above all, I needed his assurance that he loved me despite my physical inadequacies. If he’d married just about anyone else, he could have fathered a second child. It was his bad luck that he fell in love with me.

I was aware of how ridiculous I was being. I didn’t care. I wanted to feel a baby—our baby—stretching, kicking and growing within my womb. That was denied to me because of my cancer. It was unfair and wrong and I was miserable, swallowed up in self-pity.

“I would’ve been a good mother,” I sobbed.

“You’re already a great mother.” Brad got out of bed and went into the bathroom, returning with several tissues.

“Let’s adopt,” Brad suggested as I mopped my face.

“Adopt?” I repeated the word as if I’d never heard it before. We’d talked about it, of course, but I suppose the option had never seemed real to me.

Brad stood there waiting for a response.

“Do you want to adopt?” I asked.

“I would if that would help you,” he said. He made it sound as simple as snapping his fingers.

“Oh, Brad.” In that moment I loved him so much. But the problem was, I didn’t know what I wanted.

“We can start calling adoption agencies tomorrow morning.” He seemed pleased with this solution. “I do have flashes of brilliance every now and then,” he murmured, getting into bed again.

“You do,” I said. With gratitude and love, I spread eager kisses over his cheeks and lips.

My husband took my face between his hands and kissed me back, each kiss growing in intensity. “This doesn’t mean,” he whispered between kisses, “that we should give up our efforts to…make a baby.”

“Absolutely,” I agreed, sliding my arms around his neck and pulling him to me.

My husband is an appreciative lover, and I felt his tenderness and his love in every cell of my body as we moved together, whispering encouragement.

Afterward, we lay spent in each other’s arms. Earlier I’d felt bereft, lacking as a woman. Brad had showed me I was woman enough to satisfy him, and knowing that brought me intense pleasure and pride.

“I’m hungry,” he whispered close to my ear.

“Brad! How can you think about food at a time like this?”

“Sorry, I can’t help it. I’m famished.”

“There aren’t any cookies left.” I’d baked peanut butter cookies Sunday afternoon for Cody. But Brad liked them as much as Cody did and had eaten more than his share.

“I’ll have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” he said, tossing aside the covers. He shrugged into his robe. “Want one?”

My first reaction was to decline, but then I changed my mind. “Yeah, that sounds good,” I said, folding back the blankets. I found my nightgown and slipped it over my head.

By the time I joined Brad, he had the bread laid out on the countertop and was searching the cupboard for a jar of peanut butter.

“Next to the stove, right-hand side,” I instructed him.

While he made the sandwiches, I got out milk and poured us each a glass.

“So, should I check into adoption agencies tomorrow?” Brad asked.

“I…I’m not sure yet.”

“You don’t seem convinced.” He turned to look at me. “We need to be very sure about this before we apply.”

“Let me think about it some more, all right?”

“Of course.”

“There are a lot of questions we’ll have to ask ourselves,” I pointed out.

“Such as?”

“Well, we both work. What about day care?”

Brad unscrewed the lid on the jelly jar. “My mother watched Cody after he was born so Janice could work,” he said. “I can approach her about that so we won’t have to worry about child care.”

“Okay.” Still, there were plenty of other questions. Like: Would we be willing to maintain a relationship with the birth mother if she wanted one? And what if the child had some inherited disease or condition—could we cope with that?

“I could pick her up after work,” Brad was saying.

“Her?” I teased.

“Did I say her?” he asked, sounding surprised. “I guess I just assumed you’d want a girl.”

“How about you?” I asked.

“I’d be happy either way.”

“Me, too.”

“On the other hand, if we have a choice, I think I’d like a little girl.” Brad slapped two slices of bread together and handed me the first sandwich. I reached for a plate and cut my sandwich in two. Brad ate his standing over the kitchen sink.