Peter helped Kacie into the house. She kept holding on to him, like a drowning person holds a life preserver, reluctant to be out of his arms even long enough to allow her coat to be taken off. Annie hovered anxiously, and both fathers watched with concern, all sensing the importance to Peter and to Kacie that he be the one to take care of her.
Kacie started crying harder again when she saw Paul. "I ruined...your...birthday!" She hid her face against Peter's chest.
"You didn't ruin a thing, Baby." Paul touched her hair and kissed the back of her head. "From the looks of things, you've given me another gift, whether you realize it now or not." He stared at Peter, eyes questioning.
Peter closed his eyes briefly and nodded in silent agreement before repeatedly pressing his lips to the dark head against his chest.
Paul rested his hand on the back of his foster son's head in silent benediction. "Peter, come on in by the fire. Both of you need to get warmed up."
Peter turned eyes to his father. "Pop, can you...?" His eyes begged for help.
"Yes, I will prepare something." Caine allowed a brief smile to flit across his face, the relief in his son's eyes loosening the knot in his stomach that no amount of meditation had been able to move.
Peter walked Kacie into the den, one sheltering arm around her shoulders, the other hand gripping her arm securely. Sitting on the couch, he pulled her into his lap and she huddled there, trembling from emotion and cold. Annie brought a blanket and tucked it around them both.
Caine came in bearing a cup of tea in his hands. Bending over Kacie, he instructed her, "Drink this. All of it. It will help calm you." She lowered the blanket enough to reach for the cup. He steadied her shaking hands with his, and she swallowed as best she could in between bouts of crying. When she'd finished the brew, she leaned back and curled up as close to Peter as she could get.
Caine lowered himself to the floor, sitting cross legged on the rug in front of the fire.
Peter looked helplessly at his parents as he held his crying wife in his arms. "I don't know what to do."
"You're already doing it, Son," Paul responded, and gently squeezed Peter's shoulder before walking over to his chair and sitting down in it, Annie joining him, perching on the arm of the chair as Paul took her hand and held it.
Peter rested his chin on top of Kacie's head and wrapped his arms about her more tightly. The warmth of his body and the thick blanket were easing her shivering. Rubbing his cheek across her hair, he gently asked her, "Is it all right to tell them, Hon?"
"I can't," she whispered, hiding her face against his neck. "I can't."
"Sh-sh-sh," he soothed, running his fingers through the hair above her ear. "I'll do it. It's all right. It's all right."
Moisture appeared in his eyes, and he said softly, "Kacie...Kacie told me that she...we...lost our baby. She had a miscarriage almost a month ago."
Sympathetic tears sprang into three pairs of eyes, and the reason for Kacie's recently erratic behavior became clear.
"Oh, Sweetie," Annie spoke first. "I am so sorry." Paul tightened his grip around his wife's waist, and she patted his arm.
"I want...I want...I want...my baby," she sobbed against Peter's neck.
"I know, Hon. I know," Peter whispered, stroking the sweat- and tear-dampened hair away from her face and kissing her brow.
He looked over at his father. "Pop, why can't she stop crying? She-she's gonna make herself sick."
Caine answered softly. "Because she had not shared her grief until now, it has festered in her system as an infection will grow if a wound is not tended properly. Her tears," he gestured as if reaching for something, "are allowing the poison to drain away. When the wound has bled clean, it can begin to heal."
"I have days when I still cry for my baby," Annie confided quietly.
"You, Mom?" Peter was stunned. "I-I-I never knew..."
"The girls were both little when Paul and I got married." Annie felt her way over to the couch. Perching a hip on the edge next to Kacie's legs, she faced the young woman, reaching out her hand for Kacie to take. Squeezing tightly, she spoke again. "We...we tried for over two years to have a baby together." Her voice caught. "We were so excited when I got pregnant. But I miscarried at eight weeks."
Kacie sniffled, rubbing her face against Peter's chest. "They told me I was ten weeks." She searched Annie's face. "How did you stand it?"
"I had Paul," Annie answered simply. "And he loved me enough to let me scream or cry or anything I needed to do. And believe me, I did them all."
Kacie's face crumpled. Sliding off Peter's lap, she launched herself into Annie's motherly embrace. "Help me. Please help me." Annie gathered the girl into her arms and they cried together, sharing their mutual pain and loss.
Paul held out a hand to Peter and pulled his foster son to his feet. "Come on, Peter, Let's give them some time alone."
The three men walked into the kitchen, and Paul started making a pot of coffee, needing something ordinary and routine to do.
Peter looked at his father, the identical hazel eyes reflecting his grief. "A child, Father." His chin quivered. "There was a child." A crushing sense of loss overwhelmed him, and then his father's arms held him as he cried.
Annie walked into the kitchen, still wiping tears from
her eyes. "Caine, Kacie would like to talk to you." He
touched her arm briefly before leaving.
Annie found her way unerringly to Peter, and she hugged him from behind as he sat at the table. "How are you doing, Sweetie?"
Peter leaned back into her touch. "Better. Better now that everything is in the open." He voice faltered as he spoke, "When I saw her with McClanahan, how could I ever have thought, even for one moment, that Kacie was being unfaithful to me? All that time she was grieving over our baby! My baby!" He reached up a hand and linked his fingers with his foster mother's.
"Because you're still learning to trust, Son." Paul answered for Annie and reached out to grasp Peter's free hand. "You've always had trouble believing that people could love you. I think, because you have lost so much in the past, it's become a self-defense mechanism. Convince yourself that you're unlovable; keep people at a distance. It's a way to keep from being hurt again."
Peter looked at him mistily. "Have you always been this wise?"
"Well, actually Son, yes," Paul answered solemnly, gripping Peter's hand in both of his and doing his best to keep from smiling.
They laughed together, and Annie kissed Peter's cheek. "He's still learning. Just like you."
Kacie stood before the fire, staring into the flames.
Caine appeared at her side, and she spoke without looking
at him. "You knew...didn't you?"
He shook his head. "No. I knew only that your heart was broken. I did not know why."
"I'm sorry," she faltered, stuffing her hands into the front pockets of her corduroy slacks. "I know how much you want a grandchild."
"As you wish for a child." He cupped her chin and turned her face to meet his compassionate eyes. "We must both be patient."
He pulled her into his arms, and she sagged against him gratefully. "I love you, Dad." Her hands came out of her pockets and she threw her arms around his neck.
"I love you, too." He kissed her forehead. Stepping back, he asked, "Would you do me a favor?"
"Anything."
"Could you please convince Peter to call me 'Dad', as you do?"
She laughed and kissed his cheek. "I love it when you joke like this. Why don't you do it more often?"
He shrugged one shoulder in his characteristic gesture. "I like the shock effect."
She laughed again and lowered her eyes before saying softly, "I shouldn't have run from all of you. I guess you could call that MY Persian flaw...when things get to be too much for me, I run." She scuffed her toe against the nap in the carpet.
Caine took her face in his hand again, and she looked into the hazel eyes so like Peter's. "You must change that into a strength. Instead of running away, you must learn to run to those who love you."
Wrapping arms around one another, they walked off to join the others in the kitchen.
Peter rose to his feet immediately as his father and Kacie entered the room. Kacie fled to the sanctuary of his arms, once again sure of her welcome there. She sighed deeply. "I want us to go home now, Peter. Can we go home?"
Weeks of doubt and fear had fallen away from Peter. Even though the sadness at the loss of his child remained, his heart was singing with renewed assurance of his soul mate's love. A love that had never been lost; simply misplaced for a time.
"Whatever you want, Kace." He caressed the top of her head with his chin and then kissed the spot.
Peter tipped up Kacie's chin and tenderly kissed her lips. Her eyes were red and swollen, and her hair in disheveled disarray. Her face was pale and blotchy, but to Peter, his wife had never looked more beautiful. "Let's go home, Sweetheart. It's time we went home."