The You I Never Knew Part 25

Cody's wet red face lay against her chest, clad in a dotted hospital gown. The baby's tiny foot flailed, and Mich.e.l.le wore a look of complete, exhausted relief.

"You had the glow," he remarked.

"The glow?"

"The new-mom glow. Some people deny its existence, but it's a very real thing." Gently he outlined the shape of her face and the baby's.

"Very scientific, Dr. McPhee," she said, though a soft edge diluted her sarcasm.

And then, step by step, page by page, she took him through the lost years. It was like opening a door and stepping into a world whose existence he hadn't even suspected. A parallel universe, hidden from him for seventeen years.

He saw Cody as a round-faced baby, doted on by Natalie. A toddler in overalls and a Seattle Mariners cap waved at him from a wrenching distance of years.

"See that blue thing in his hand?" Mich.e.l.le rubbed her finger over the photo. "He never went anywhere without that thing. It's one of your old work shirts."

Sam felt a powerful jolt of emotion at the sight of his shirt, clutched in that chubby little hand. "Yeah?"

"When I left here, it was one of the few things I brought with me. Your-" She broke off and bit her lip.

"Your what? What were you going to say?"

"Your smell. It had your smell on it."

He put his arm around her. This was why things never worked out with him and women. He couldn't handle their softness, their fragility, the way his heart twisted in a knot when sentiment struck. "Aw, Mich.e.l.le, d.a.m.n it-"

For a moment she leaned into his shoulder. Then she seemed to get a grip and turned her attention back to the alb.u.m. A first-day-of-kindergarten shot revealed a kid who was becoming his own person as he stood by a redwood fence with a Power Rangers lunch kit and a Looney Tunes backpack. Sam viewed school portraits, Little League team photos, excursions to the zoo, the aquarium, ski trips, summers at remote beaches.

What struck him about Cody was the kid's smile. It was the kind of smile that made the sun look dim-it covered his whole face and lit his eyes. Joy radiated from every photo of him.

Cody didn't seem to smile much anymore.

Natalie Plum appeared in a lot of the pictures. Every so often, there would be a picture of Cody with a guy.

"So who's this?" Sam indicated a man in a Hawaiian shirt, roller-blading with a six-year-old Cody.

"Someone I used to date. I haven't seen him in years."

Sam hoped she didn't hear him let out his breath. He found a couple more interlopers-Cody's third-grade teacher: "He was the gentlest man. Cody really loved him."

"And you? Did you love him?"

"He wanted a full-time wife. I had no idea how to be that, so we stopped seeing each other."

"And this other guy?"

"Someone else I used to see. We met at a commercial-art convention."

"Did he want a full-time wife, too?"

She gave a humorless chuckle. "As it turned out, he preferred several part-time lovers. What a jerk."

"So did you date a lot?"

"Did you?" she shot back. "You're digging for dirt, Sam. And trust me." She drummed her fingers on the photo alb.u.m. "You won't find it here."

Sam spotted a good shot of Cody at about twelve, frozen in the midst of executing a perfect soccer kick. His face was intent, his gaze focused like a laser on the ball.

"He scored a goal with that kick," Mich.e.l.le said.

Sam would have traded anything-anything-to have seen that kick in person. "Looks like he was a good little athlete."

"He was, but he lost interest in team sports."

"Do you know why?"

"Because he turned sixteen?"

"Plenty of sixteen-year-olds go out for sports."

She drew a quick breath. "I told myself I wouldn't get defensive. I'm working really hard not to."

"Sorry." He touched the photo. It was a five-by-seven, covered with the gluey cellophane of the alb.u.m page. "This is a good shot."

She hesitated. "Brad took it."

"Ah. Brad."

"The year I met him. He was a community sponsor for the soccer club. His pharmacy franchise was, actually. Med-Plan Pharmacies." She flipped ahead a couple of pages. "Here we are at our ski place in Whistler."

It showed the three of them in front of a modern condo. Cody smiled his winner's smile. Mich.e.l.le's gaze seemed curiously off focus, as if she was searching for something beyond the camera. The guy called Brad was tall, probably six-two, and thick-set, with a tanned face and a white-toothed grin, designer logos splashed across his ski outfit.

Sam had no doubt this was a decent guy, well-heeled, caring.

But as he regarded the picture, he felt such a stab of complete hatred that he had to look away.

As Cody grew older, the pictures of him were spa.r.s.er, taken at infrequent intervals. "I think that's always the way," Mich.e.l.le confessed. "When they're little, you want a picture of them every time they sneeze. But by the time they're in high school, a Christmas picture is about all you remember to take. Here he is with his girlfriend," she said. "Claudia Teller. They didn't want me to take their picture, but they figured it was the only way I'd get out of their hair."

"What are they dressed for, Halloween?"

She laughed. "A school dance. This is formal attire."

The girl was somberly pretty, with anorexic shadows under her eyes and cheekbones. Her hair was too red to be natural, her smile too sly to be genuine. Standing next to her, Cody looked tall and fiercely proud.

"Is she still his girlfriend?"

"As far as I know. Her parents are upper management at Microsoft, and she's supposedly the most popular girl in the school."

"She looks like a barrel of laughs."

Mich.e.l.le grinned. "I'm glad it's not just me, then. But-" She looked away.

"What, Mich.e.l.le?"

"It's awful."

"So be awful. I won't tell anyone."

"I'm hoping our stay here will cause his relationship with Claudia to chill. Is that awful?"

"Cody would think so."

She pressed her hand down on the picture. "I want him to have a girlfriend. Just not this girlfriend."

Sam studied the pale girl in the photo. From the perspective of years, could he still blame Gavin?

"Face it, Mich.e.l.le," he said, "the days of arranging your kid's social life are past."

"But I know she's bad for him. He's completely blind to that. He thinks they're totally in love. Just like-" She stood up quickly. "We'd better see what Natalie's up to. She's a bit unpredictable."

"Finish what you were saying."

She went to the front window and stared out at the long white fields and mountains. He stood behind her. He wanted to clamp his hands around her shoulders, draw her back against him.

What did her hair smell like? What would her hips feel like, cradled against his?

"Were we wrong, too, way back then?" she asked softly. "Were we blind?"

"Your father thought so."

She turned to him, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. "My father never knew about us. At least, not until I told him I was pregnant." She moved past him. "You were gone by then."

"He knew, Mich.e.l.le." Sam couldn't believe she thought otherwise.

"He never knew, not until I-that last day. We were careful," she insisted.

"You ought to ask him sometime."

Something like panic flickered in her eyes. Her relationship with her father was complex, unfathomable to Sam. He sensed that she was afraid it might crumble under scrutiny.

"It's lunchtime already," she said in a rush. "I'd better get Natalie out of Edward's hair." She went to the door and got her jacket from a hook. "I'll leave those alb.u.ms here in case you want to look at them some more."

The moment had twisted, turned, changed. He had connected with her briefly, but she was slipping away again, eluding him. She seemed agitated as she stuck her arm in her jacket and fumbled with the zipper. "d.a.m.n," she swore between her teeth.

Sam took hold of the zipper and pulled it up. "Easy, Mich.e.l.le." When the zipper reached the top, he didn't step away, but placed two fingers under her chin, holding her gaze to his. Her skin was as soft as it looked. Maybe softer. "Thanks," he said, his entire awareness fixating on her lips. "Thanks for bringing those pictures. It meant a lot to me."

"Thank Natalie." She ducked away, bending to put on her boots. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Maybe I still carry a torch for you, even after all these years."

"Men like you don't carry anything that long."

"You don't know me, Mich.e.l.le."

"No, I don't." She went out onto the porch. "I guess that's my point."

"We can fix that," he said.

"If something in my life needs fixing, I'll take care of it myself." She seemed fl.u.s.tered, disconcerted by his attention.

It made him mad, the way she held him at a distance. "Oh yeah? From what I can tell by looking through those photo alb.u.ms, you sure as h.e.l.l haven't found what you want with... what's his name? Brad."

"How would you know that?"

"It's obvious. You're like this picture-perfect icon-a lover he doesn't really have to love, a partner who carries more than her share of the weight, a Barbie doll that looks good on the arm of his Armani tux."

"You don't know anything about me and Brad."

"Tell me I'm wrong."

"You're trivializing us. Trivializing a relationship that's been building-"

"Building toward what, Mich.e.l.le? A marriage, or a business merger?"

"Oh, and you're the expert on relationships, right?" She marched outside without waiting for him to reply.

He felt a stab of guilt because maybe she had pegged him right. Certainly his track record bore it out, more than she could possibly know. Tell her. Tell her now about the marriage. But the moment pa.s.sed, and he followed her outside.

Against the unrelieved white of the snow-draped paddock, Natalie Plum's tie-dyed skirts and leggings made a wild splash of color. She and Edward stood at the loading gate. She was talking a mile a minute, making fluttery gestures with her hands. When Cody came out of the barn leading the mare, even Natalie fell still. Sam and Mich.e.l.le hurried over, stopping at the opposite side of the paddock. "What's going on?" Mich.e.l.le asked.

"Edward and I decided the mare and filly could come out today," Cody answered.

"That's the one that kicked Cody in the head," Mich.e.l.le told Natalie.

"She's dangerous," Natalie said, aghast.

"All females in labor are. But she's fine now. Watch."

Edward must have been giving Cody pointers. The bridle was buckled on correctly. Cody walked the horse with the proper amount of lead, her steam-puffing nose at his shoulder. She followed him like a big docile dog. Across the paddock, Natalie's coos of admiration carried on a light, cold wind.

The foal stood on stick legs in the open breezeway, whickering nervously as Cody led its mother slowly away. Unwilling to let its mother out of its sight, the baby took a tentative step into the snowy yard, then another. Its front legs splayed apart and it stumbled, then righted itself. Its muzzle came up covered in snow. It sneezed, shaking its head. Cody looked back and laughed, a ringing sound that made Sam think of the pictures he'd just seen, of a younger Cody. A happier Cody.

It made Sam's heart hurt to watch them. His son and his favorite horse, and the foal they'd helped bring into the world. There was something special and right about the fact that they were all here together.

"She's a beauty, Sam," Mich.e.l.le said. "A perfect little filly. No wonder I can't keep Cody away."

Cody unhooked the bridle lead to let the mare walk around at will. The foal stuck close by her side, though it veered over to inspect Natalie, probably drawn to her flowing garments.

"I hope he doesn't get too attached," Mich.e.l.le said softly.