Surrogate Page 8

  "Did everything go all right?" Robbie asked, looking first at Carrie and then, when she didn't respond, at Beth.

  "Everything is fine," she said, her tone a little more cheerful than she'd really intended, but that was the only way she knew to disguise the emotions she felt swirling within her. "We got the shower all planned out, and I'll take it from here."

  "We should probably head out," Galen said, switching his weight from one foot to the other, and Beth knew there was too much tension in the room; none of them wanted to discuss the elephant sitting there.

  Galen lowered his arm and took Beth's hand to lead her out. She let him, but as they reached the front door, Beth stopped short.

  "Could I speak with you, Robbie?"

  "Beth," Galen said in a low tone, almost a warning. He squeezed her hand tightly, and she knew he was trying to keep her quiet.

  Robbie glanced up from Carrie, and he frowned, studying her face, probably trying to guess what thoughts were running through her mind.

  "Sure," he finally said. "I'll walk you out." He turned and gave Carrie a gentle smile. "I'll be right back."

  Carrie nodded and closed her eyes.

  "Beth," Galen whispered again as they walked out the door. Part of her knew she should listen, but Carrie was her best friend, and she just wanted to know things were going to be all right--that Carrie would eventually be all right.

  Besides, Robbie was already following them out the door.

  As Galen looked at the two of them, he shook his head. "I'll wait for you in the truck," he told Beth, and bounded down the drive to his truck.

  Beth licked her lips and waited until her husband was out of earshot before she finally asked, "What is going on?"

  "What do you mean?"

  Beth studied his face, guessing that he was trying not to react, which couldn't have been easy for him, but he, too, sensed riptides in the water, waiting to drag them both under.

  "She's not acting right, and I'm worried."

  He clenched his jaw. "She's lucky to be alive, Beth." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You're right. She seems different, but I don't care--at least she's here. That's the only thing that matters."

  Beth reached out and touched his arm. "Maybe I'm just tired." She nodded at Galen. "We really should head off."

  She gave him one last smile and ambled toward the truck, still feeling his uncertain gaze, telling her that no matter how hard he tried to push away all the doubts, they refused to go.

  Chapter Eight

  All afternoon, Robbie tinkered around the barn. Part of him wanted to stay in the house, but he sensed Carrie needed some space. No, he didn't know exactly what had transpired between her and Beth--no doubt Beth had seen some of the things that had bothered him, too, and he didn't have any more explanations for those changes than anyone else--but the difference was that he had more at stake than everyone, which forced him to have faith in the face of things he didn't understand, things he'd probably never understand.

  Sweat beaded on Robbie's forehead and trickled down his temples, and as he looked up at the sky, he saw the sun temporarily vanish behind the rolling clouds. He didn't think it would rain, even though there was a slight chance in the forecast, and everyone was making a big fuss over it. Hell, the crops could use it, but nobody needed to get his hopes up too high. The odds just weren't that good.

  Grabbing a rag from his tool box, Robbie wiped his face. Despite feeling he should just stay out here, he gritted his teeth and decided to head inside to get something to drink. It was too hot not to. Besides, doing so would give him an excuse to look in on Carrie without coming across like the worry-wart he was.

  Carrie hated that.

  Still, he dropped the rag back atop of the tool box and strode to the house. Even before he'd reached the sanctuary of the porch, the sun had come back out and its rays burned through his shirt, confirming it was good he was returning to the air- conditioned cool before the heat broke him.

  As he nudged open the back door, he considered leaving his work boots on but then thought better of it. Yeah, Carrie had been acting weird since the wreck, but she'd chew him up one side and down the other if he scuffed the kitchen floor, so he might as well just go barefoot.

  Once he'd peeled off the boots, he stood for a moment, grateful for the way freedom felt upon his sweaty feet. He felt as though he were suffocating in this heat wave. The temperatures were setting new records, and it was getting old.

  "Carrie?" he called, stepping into house. Once his voice had died away, he found the silence uncomfortable. It was like it gave him too many reasons to worry, and he definitely didn't need more. Of course, she could just be taking a nap. It wasn't like she didn't need more rest than usual these days.

  That in mind, he slipped through the house, checking first in the living room, where Carrie sometimes napped on the couch. When he didn't find her there, he headed for the bedroom. Still no Carrie.

  Where the hell was she now?

  A panic set in as he thought about her going back to the site of the wreck, and Robbie didn't have a clue why it bothered him so greatly. It was like a fault line in his life now--a sharp division between what his life had been before the accident and what it had now become.

  "Damn it." He fished the keys from his pocket. He headed to the porch and slid on his boots again, figuring that getting something cool to drink would have to wait. There were more important things afoot than his thirst.

  He slid behind the wheel and started down the drive, only glancing back as an afterthought, but the sight of Carrie's shoes sitting by the ledge overlooking the water found his foot on the brake, sending a cloud of dust skyward.

  "What in the hell is she doing?"

  He shifted to park and jerked the keys from the ignition, heart racing. Normally, he didn't care about Carrie climbing among the rocks by the ledge; however, she was usually graceful and handled herself well, but since she'd gotten pregnant, all that grace had vanished as her abdomen swelled with new life.

  Robbie strode across the yard, headed straight for her shoes. He couldn't wrap his head around why she would just leave them, considering how rocky the ledge was.

  Frowning, he bent and grabbed her sneakers, the kind she could easily slip her feet into without bending, as that tended to give her a lot of grief these days. She hated asking for help--hated feeling she wasn’t as independent as she had once been. He could hardly blame her for that. Lately, there had been too much chaos in their lives for anyone's good, and had this all been some carnival ride, he would have thrust his hand out, waved at the operator, and yelled to be let off. But this was no ride, and there was no getting off.

  Shoes in hand, Robbie stepped closer to the rocks, expecting to find his wife sitting just a few feet below, watching the water break. Before she had gotten pregnant, this had been her place, but even she knew it was dangerous here, what with how unsteady she'd seemed since coming home from the hospital and all. No, Carrie should have been inside resting, not out here in the heat.

  As he looked at the ledge, he realized Carrie wasn't here, either, so he kept looking. Instead, he found her far below, swimming with the wild waves from distant boats breaking over the shore. The sunlight shone off the water and glistened on her skin, almost glowing, and its brilliance nearly blinded Robbie, forcing him to blink so his eyes would stop watering. When they had, he gasped, completely taken back. His wife, someone who'd always been so modest, was skinny dipping.

  He started to yell at her, asking if she'd lost her mind, but then, as he kept looking, found himself mesmerized by the way the water sparkled on her skin as she danced around, a smile on her face. More than once, she threw her arms wide, exposing her breasts to the world, something so un-Carrie. Her smile was wide and infectious, and when she laughed, that didn't sound like Carrie, either, but almost musical.

  The logical part of Robbie said he should go to her and figure out what kind of madness had laid claim to her, but that logical side was
no match for Carrie's beauty, suddenly more free than he had ever seen it as her hair rippled in the wind in its own sort of dance. From time to time, the waves sank enough he could see her rounded belly, full of the beautiful child they'd created together, a child he couldn't wait to welcome.

  "Carrie," he whispered, feeling the shoes slip from his grip. Some part of him heard them thunk atop the ground, but he paid them no mind, not when his whole world danced below and the view was so breathtaking.

  She was moving farther and farther out when suddenly her body disappeared beneath the water. He waited, his breath caught, but she did not resurface.

  "Carrie?" he said, his voice a little louder as whatever spell had lain claim to him suddenly released him. It was then he sped down the incline, more than once almost falling. Although he glanced frequently at the water, he didn't see Carrie. It was as though she had never been there, and that troubled him all the more.

  He couldn't run fast enough, yet the world blurred past as he kept his gaze trained on the water, waiting for her to resurface. Before he'd reached the bottom, she came up once but just as quickly sank again, and while Robbie should have felt a little more at ease seeing her head above the water, he didn't slow.

  By the time he'd reached the beach, Robbie was out of breath. He kicked off his boots, jerked his shirt over his head, and ran for the water, still trying to keep an eye on where his wife had been. In the back of his mind, he kept trying to believe she was just swimming, but she should have surfaced again by now. He should have seen her.

  "Carrie?" He shouted as loudly as possible, and his voice echoed around him, leaving him colder.

  He darted through the water, which had it not been so hot recently, might have chilled him. As it was, the water actually felt warm. Still, he didn't focus on that; he just kept running until the water was deep enough for him to swim. Then he went like mad, wondering if he'd could reach her in time. He had to. There was no choice.

  He took a deep breath and dove beneath the water, arms outstretched, fingers reaching. The frantic swim seemed to go on forever. He was almost ready to resurface, his lungs burning with pain, but it was then that his fingers brushed something--what he didn't know.

  Reaching, he realized it was hair, and his hands kept probing until he'd touched the slope of her shoulder and could wrap his fingers around her arm so he could drag her to the surface.

  As his head broke free of the water, he gasped for air and immediately concentrated on pulling Carrie up. How long had she been under? He tried to think clearly, but everything was muddled. He refused to believe she'd survived that wreck only to drown now; that just couldn't happen. He wouldn't let it.

  Although Carrie's eyes had been closed when her head had reappeared, her eyelids quickly fluttered and opened so she could peer at him, confused.

  "Carrie?" he whispered, his voice weak. "Can you hear me?" He kicked savagely, forcing himself to tread water while assessing the situation.

  "Yes." Her response came in that strange tone.

  He licked his lips and tried to tell himself everything was okay and that he had been overreacting. Unfortunately, the last few days had held so much drama he wasn't sure how to behave anymore. It would help if his world would just stop spinning so damned fast and let him breathe for a change.

  "What are you doing out here?" He wrapped his arm around her body, suddenly aware of her nakedness. He just wasn't sure whatever had possessed her. Under normal circumstances, Carrie wouldn't go skinny-dipping if her life depended on it; it just wasn't in her nature, and since she'd gotten pregnant, she'd seemed all the more modest, if that were possible.

  "Swimming," she replied. "It's hot."

  Robbie had to admit his wife was probably a sight cooler than he was at present. She was stark naked, and he was still in his jeans and socks. So much for an emergency. Normally, he'd let the heat from her nakedness wash over him until he'd forgotten he was supposed to be worried and frustrated, but here again his life felt so far out of whack, he couldn't just let it go, no matter how much easier doing so might have been.

  "What is up with you?" he shook his head and droplets of water plunked down. "All the times I tried to get you to go skinny dipping and there was no way you'd even consider it, then suddenly, today of all days, I rush down and find you naked as the day you were born in the middle of the lake, so excuse me if I'm just a little confused." He glanced toward the ledge, where they'd both come down and shook his head. From this angle, it looked even more treacherous, and had Carrie taken one misstep, she would have fallen. "Besides, you shouldn't be climbing down here, not when you're this close to having the baby."

  Carrie frowned and cocked her head to one side, considering what he was saying, and even that gesture seemed foreign. For one thing, Carrie rarely listened to a single word he said, and she didn't often take it to heart--like his advice about using cell phones while driving, something she had done more than once.

  "You are...." her voice died away. She seemed unsure how to phrase what she was thinking, and she kept staring at him.

  "Worried. I'm worried." He shook his head. "Not that it matters to you, but long before this child comes into the world, I'm going to go gray. You do know that, right?"

  At that, Carrie frowned. "I don't understand." She still spoke in that strange tone that sounded nothing like his wife, but the edges were starting to smooth, molding themselves more into what Carrie had sounded like before the accident. Granted the timing of her syllables and stresses were still off, but he suspected that in a few weeks she'd sound like herself again--something he'd be glad of. He was tired of everyone in town staring at him like his wife had been struck with a plague when she was just really fortunate.

  "Carrie, my hair is going to be white at this rate."

  He kept swimming with her in his arms until he could touch ground and then he carried her ashore. She was heavier from the weight of the water and the extra pounds she'd picked up during the pregnancy, but that didn't matter so much. She hadn't been heavy before she'd gotten pregnant, and the extra weight hadn't made her that much bigger, just more awkward, so he didn't have much trouble carrying her to the place where his shirt and boots waited.

  The whole time she was cradled in his arms, she kept staring at him with an intensity he felt almost uncomfortable, as though she could read every thought in his head, and that would be a mistake on her part, especially with her naked like that.

  "What are you staring at?" he whispered.

  "You."

  Most people would have had the good sense to stop looking aonce they'd been called on it, but Carrie had always been stubborn, and she was still staring when he eased her to the ground and picked up his shirt.

  "Where are your clothes?" he asked, about to jerk the shirt over his head.

  "In the water. I couldn't really swim with them." She glanced toward the ledge.

  It was his turn to gawk. "You just happened to strip them off in the water and left them there?"

  She nodded unabashedly and pushed the red hair from her eyes. "Yes."

  "Well, I can't exactly have you running around naked." He handed her his shirt. "So put this on before somebody drives by and gets more of a thrill than he intended."

  "What do you mean?" She looked up at him innocently, and he wanted to throttle her. No other woman ever had him wrapped around her little finger, but Carrie hadn't been any other woman. She was as unique as they came.

  He purposely let his eyes rove over her curvaceous body and smiled. "You can't tell me you don't know you're beautiful. I don't care if you're eight months pregnant. It only makes you more stunning, and I'm not about to share you." He tossed the shirt at her. "So before I have to fend off any travelers, how about putting this on?"

  She didn't seem any less confused as she accepted the shirt and slipped it over her head. Although it was more than large enough to accommodate her belly, since her back was wet, the fabric stuck to her skin, and she couldn't jerk it down.


  "Here," Robbie said, walking around her. "Let me help."

  With a soft tug, he pulled the fabric loose, and it fell to the middle of her thighs, covering all the important parts. As she smoothed the soft cotton over her body, Robbie kept expecting some kind of smartassed comment. On any other day, she would've spouted one off, but today she was quiet, the same quiet she'd been for days now.

  Bending, he picked up his boots and started for the house, keeping half an eye to the side to make sure Carrie followed. Although he was much cooler and could probably have gone back to work, he'd lost his momentum. Glancing at the bright sky, he felt the same restlessness as that which had claimed him ever since the wreck. He knew his life was unsettled, but he had no clue how to turn the tide.

  It was evening when Robbie stood in the pasture, watching the sun burn its farewell across the sky. He'd always loved sunsets, but this one felt strange--a harbinger of some sort--the nervous shift in his stomach told him as much.

  It's nothing, he told himself, yet it didn't matter what he said. Fear washed over him in waves of furious sunlight burning through him, stealing his breath. Robbie lifted the ball cap from his head, wiped away the sweat, and set it back as he turned toward the house. Instinctively, he knew that the only way to release all the tension was to go inside and find Carrie. She'd always been his place of solace, the only comfort which could help him unwind when things were unsettled. He'd lay with her in his arms until the world ceased to exist, and that would be enough for him to recharge and restore himself for the next day.

  She was his refuge--or had been. Now he just drifted aimlessly while the world fell around him. Still, being near her would help. It always had.

  His mind settled, he locked the barn and trudged toward the house. As he glanced down at his clothes, he realized the first thing he needed was a shower; with any luck, perhaps the warm water would wash away more than just the sweat and dirt. Then he'd look in on Carrie.