"It's not the harm he could do to me," Kevin said. "It's what I could do to him."
Tara shifted uneasily. "You'd better explain."
"That night in Chicago when we broke up… You were coming over to tell me you were pregnant – is that right?"
"Yes. I tried to ease my way into the subject. But at the mere mention of children, you went ballistic. You said you never wanted children, that the very idea made you nauseous. Do you blame me for not telling you that you were going to be a father?"
"No, I guess not. But I wasn't in my right mind that day. Something had happened on my shift, something… Tara, I killed a kid."
"What?" For the first time since he'd caught up with her, she didn't sound quite so mad.
"A little girl named Marvella White."
Kevin waited to see if the name rang a bell with Tara. The story had made the evening news, but in a city that had become numb to killing, the headlines about Marvella had quickly given way to some new tragedy.
"Marvella White was that little girl killed by her father," Tara said. "Right? What does that have to do with you?"
Kevin gripped the steering wheel harder. "I could have saved her. Instead I let her drugged-up old man blow her away."
Tara gasped. She couldn't help it. "You were there?"
"I was the first officer on the scene. A neighbor had called, said it was a domestic disturbance. I didn't know till I got there that some crazy S.O.B. was waving a gun, his wife screaming, pleading with him to put it down, two little kids cowering under a table.
"I called for back-up, but meanwhile I had to do something. So I tried talking to the guy. He said he was going to kill his wife. So I told him to think about his children – did he want them to grow up without a mother?
"The guy said, 'Why do I care? They're not my kids.' Then he turned his gun on little Marvella and shot her in the chest, just like that."
"Oh my God." Tara had had no idea. Why hadn't he told her what had happened? If she'd known, she would have made some allowances. Instead she'd been focused on her problems.
"I subdued the guy, and then I tried to stop Marvella's bleeding." He stopped, swallowed thickly. "She died in my arms."
"And you think this was somehow your fault?"
"It was my fault, damn it. I didn't know a damn thing about hostage negotiations. I had no business trying to reason with a guy who was high on PCP. All I did was provoke him."
"You did what you thought was right at the time. No one can say what he might have done if you hadn't talked to him. He might have killed them all, and you, too."
"That was what the board of inquiry said. But tell that to Marvella's mother, and her brother. All I know is when I lost her, I felt responsible. And I never wanted to feel that way again. I never wanted anyone to trust me with a child's life, in any capacity. The responsibility is just too huge."
Chapter Eight
Tara did her best to digest what Kevin had told her, to put herself in his place. How horrible, what a nightmare to believe you'd caused the death of a child. No wonder he'd freaked out.
"I wish I'd known," she finally said. "Maybe I could have helped."
"It's not too late."
The words hung in the air, almost tangible, as headlights from the opposite lane of traffic rushed by, illuminating Kevin's face like a strobe.
"Kevin," she said, "pull over. I need your undivided attention."
He did as she asked. When they were safely out of traffic, she felt she could say what needed to be said. And if she was lucky, Kevin would hear what he needed to hear.
"Parenthood is all about fear, and doubt, and sometimes sheer terror. While I was pregnant I agonized over every bite of food I put in my body, frightened I might unwittingly harm the baby inside me. During labor and delivery I was positive something would go wrong. The first time I held Andrew, I was sure I would crush him, or breathe some germ onto him and give him a fatal disease. When my doctor told me we could both go home from the hospital, it was a whole new level of terror. The baby and me, alone? I almost refused to go."
"You must have gotten over it, then," Kevin said. "You're as comfortable and natural with that baby as any mother I've ever seen. Once you got over the shock of seeing him in your lap, that is."
"That's where you're wrong. I'm still scared all the time. Is he going to fall? Catch a cold? Will I feed him something he's allergic to? Will he get stung by a bee? Is he developing normally? Is there some hidden genetic problem? I might fake it better than you, but I'm still scared."
"So when does it end? When do you get over being scared?"
"From what I hear, you never do."
"How do you…how do we live like that?"
She didn't miss the change of pronoun. Did she dare hope that he could embrace his responsibility for Andrew? He'd come all this way to stop her from leaving him. That must mean something.
"I can live with the fear," she said, "because every time I hold Andrew, or feed him, or bathe him, or see him smile, I know he's worth any discomfort I have to go through. It was kind of like when I was in labor. I thought I was going to die, honestly. I was sure no woman had been through such pain in all of history."
Kevin reached out and caressed her cheek. "I wish I'd been there for you."
"But as soon as I saw him, all red and wrinkled and screaming his head off, I didn't care about the pain anymore. He's a miracle, and he's worth any trial, any sacrifice." She glanced over her shoulder. Andrew, good baby that he was, slept peacefully in his car seat.
"You both are," Kevin said. "Let me try again. I'll do better. I'll come back to Chicago with you. I'll join the force again. And I'll be a better father. I'm teachable."
Lord, how could she turn down that earnest face? She'd never seen such raw need in anyone. "I'll have to think about it. For now, could you just take us to the airport? I need to get home."
He didn't argue with her. He drove her to the airport. He helped her with her bag. He stood in line at the ticket counter with her, all the while looking like he wanted to burst with an objection.
She was afraid to admit to him that she was a bundle of indecision. Whatever she did in the next ten minutes would radically influence the rest of her life.
"This line is taking forever," she grumbled. "Will you hold down the fort while I run to the washroom?"
He glanced nervously at Andrew, who still dozed in his car seat. She could have sworn he gritted his teeth in determination. "Okay."
In the ladies' room, Tara splashed her face with water. Her heart was so full of confusing feelings, she thought it might whirl its way right out of her chest. She loved Kevin. That much was certain. She could forgive his deception, since he'd only done it because he wanted a chance to win her over. But could they really make a life together?
As she returned to the line at the ticket counter, she saw something that made her choice incredibly easy. Andrew's car seat was empty. The baby was now in Kevin's arms, snuggled up against one shoulder. Kevin rocked back and forth with him, jiggling slightly, as if he'd been born to fatherhood. He was also talking to the baby, though she couldn't hear what he was saying.
He looked a little sheepish when he saw her approaching. "He started to cry. I'm not sure what he wanted, but…"
"He wanted exactly what you gave him," Tara said with a smile. They'd reached the front of the line, and she went to the next available agent. "I have a reservation, Tara Satterfield," she said. "But I'd also like to make another reservation for next week, Chicago to Colorado Springs. One way."
She sneaked a glance at Kevin, who appeared shocked. "You're coming back?"
"I'm going to Chicago long enough to pack up my things and tie up a few loose ends. Then I'm coming back here to finish, um, planning my wedding."
She wasn't about to drag Kevin to Chicago and make him live there, not now that she'd seen what life in Hardyville was like. It wouldn't be any big sacrifice for her to live there. Shoot, she wanted to. She'd never felt as relaxed and happy as she had over the past two weeks.