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HollyGolightly: No.
MrsRobinson: You need to. Talk to him. If he cares for you, he’ll listen. Maybe you can find a way to compromise.
HollyGolightly: How? I can’t give him a child.
MrsRobinson: It’s not all black and white, Holly. You can adopt. And you still have an ovary. If you really want a child of your own body, you can try in vitro fertilization with a surrogate. There are many ways to have children these days.
HollyGolightly: But I’m so old! I’d be sixty when the kid graduated high school.
MrsRobinson: Sounds like you already wrote the whole thing off.
HollyGolightly: I kind of had to, when I got my diagnosis. I had to accept that I’d never be a mother. Then Jack came along again, and I found myself wanting something that I thought I’d closed the door on.
MrsRobinson: Why didn’t you just tell him the truth from the beginning?
Good question. Why hadn’t she?
HollyGolightly: I honestly don’t know.
MrsRobinson: Were you afraid he’d leave you?
HollyGolightly: I never thought of it in those terms. I always knew I’d have to leave him eventually.
MrsRobinson: So you made the choice for him.
HollyGolightly: I guess I did.
MrsRobinson: Then you’ve sold him short. Let him decide. The worst he can do is break it off, and you’ll be no worse off than you are now.
True enough. Why hadn’t she thought of it in this way? Because she’d been too busy feeling sorry for herself, and too busy being selfish. She’d strung Jack along because she couldn’t bear to say good-bye. Then she’d escaped in a haze of cowardice when the going got rough. No more.
HollyGolightly: You’re absolutely right, Megan. Thank you so much! I’m going to call him right now.
MrsRobinson: Yes! Let me know how it works out. I’ll cheer for you if you have good news and I’ll hold your hand if it’s bad. That’s what we’re here for.
HollyGolightly: You’re a gem. I’ll log back on when I have news.
She hurriedly logged off, a spark of energy radiating throughout her. She grabbed her cell phone out of her purse, and then stopped abruptly.
She didn’t have Jack’s number.
All this time and she hadn’t thought to get his number.
How had she fallen head over heels for a man and not gotten his phone number?
She’d truly lost her mind. And her heart.
Calling information proved fruitless. He was unlisted. She didn’t know Luisa’s last name, either, so she couldn’t call her. She did, though, have Mark’s cell number and email on her course syllabus. He’d said his students could contact him anytime. She checked her watch. Somehow, she knew he hadn’t meant she could call him at ten thirty at night.
She’d have to wait until morning. She hoped she wouldn’t lose her nerve by then.
Chapter Twelve
Jack sat in his son’s room, watching the methodic rise and fall of the little boy’s chest as he breathed. When Sam had first come to him, only a little over three months old, Jack had been terrified of SIDS. He’d kept the baby in a cradle in his own bedroom, close enough to reach over and touch the little chest whenever he woke during the night. The rhythmic up and down motion had soothed him then.
The time had long since passed for Jack to worry about his boy making it through the night. But still, on nights when his mind whirled and wouldn’t let him sleep, he’d sneak into Sam’s bedroom, place his hand over his son’s chest, and let the soft cadence of his breathing—his life force—comfort him.
He’d never known what it was like to love a person more than himself until Sam had come into his life. That tiny little person had crept into his heart and grasped it with those chubby little hands, until Jack wondered if his heart had room for anyone else.
