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“That anger having been ingrained into his personality?”
“Well, you read the newspaper story about how he grew up,” she said. “Granted, his early years were a nightmare. But that doesn’t excuse what he’s done as an adult. He broke the law. He deserved his punishment. Possibly more than he received.”
“Remind me never to get on your fighting side, Mrs. Speakman. You’re ruthless.”
She didn’t take offense, knowing he was teasing her. “I just have no tolerance for grown-ups who blame their shortcomings, even their lawlessness, on a disadvantaged childhood. Mr. Burkett alone is accountable for his actions.”
“For which he has atoned,” her husband reminded her gently. Lightening the mood, he added, “I promise to do my part to see that our baby doesn’t have a disadvantaged childhood.”
She smiled. “Left alone, I think you’d spoil him rotten.”
“‘Him’?”
“Or her.”
“I’d love a little girl who looks just like you.?
?
“And I’d be over the moon to have a boy.”
Their smiles remained in place, but the unspoken words hung there above the dining table. Neither a son nor a daughter would have Foster’s features. Similar, perhaps, but not his.
Laura took another sip of wine. “Foster…”
“No.”
“Why ‘no’? You don’t know what I’m going to say.”
“Yes, I do.” He indicated her plate. “Finished?” She nodded. He laid his knife and fork at a precise diagonal across his plate and folded his napkin beside it.
She stood up as he backed his wheelchair away from the table. “I’ll ask Manuelo to clear the table while I get the coffee.”
“Let’s have it in the den.”
In the kitchen she filled a carafe with coffee, which she’d set to brew while they were having dinner. She placed it on a tray with cups and saucers, cream pitcher, and sugar bowl. She carried the tray into the den. Foster was washing his hands with bottled sanitizer. When he was done, he placed the bottle in a drawer.
She fixed his coffee and carried it to him. He thanked her, then waited until she had hers and was seated on one of the leather love seats, her feet tucked beneath her.
He continued the conversation as though there hadn’t been an interruption. “You were going to say that we could take the more conventional route. Have artificial insemination with an anonymous donor.”
That was exactly what she’d been about to say. “They keep sperm donors anonymous for a very good reason, Foster. We would never know his identity, never have a mental image of him. The child would be ours. We’d never be studying his or her features, looking for similarities to…to someone we’d met.”
“Do you object to Griff Burkett’s features?”
“You’re missing the point.”
He laughed and rolled his chair over to the love seat. “No I’m not, I’m teasing you.”
“I guess I’m not in a teasing mood tonight.”
“I’m sorry.” He reached up and ruffled her hair.
But she wouldn’t be placated so easily. “This is probably the most important decision we’ll ever have to make.”
“We’ve already made it. We’ve been over this a thousand times, studying it from every angle. We’ve discussed it for months. We talked it to death, and then talked it some more, and finally agreed it’s the right path for us.”
For you, she started to say but didn’t. “I know I agreed, but—”
