Mary sourly watched Marshall making goo-goo eyes at the Smithfield baby. She didn't get it. What was the deal with babies? Why did they reduce grown men and women to mumbly-wumbly talk and ridiculous faces? Marshall was making one right now, the long planes of his face elongated as his eyebrows shot up. Hannah giggled with pleasure and reached out one tiny hand to Marshall's face, grabbing for his nose. His low rumble as he chuckled delighted the small girl.
Mary felt a strange feeling run through her stomach as Marshall swung the little girl up and held her against his chest. He pulled her frilly dress down over her diaper and patted her back, while beaming a smile towards Hannah's parents. He was a natural with kids and children responded to him. His mobile face fascinated babies and his tall, lanky frame, cowboy boots and longhorn belt buckle fascinated toddlers. His endless range of knowledge fascinated older kids. Mary couldn't identify the tightly curled lump that inhabited her stomach as she watched the infant rest her head on Marshall's shoulder. She turned her attention back to Anne and William.
"So, everything going ok? Jobs, friends, baby?" She crossed her arms and waited, trying to ignore Marshall's deliriously happy expression.
William gave a short laugh. "Yeah, going ok. Had a minor accident with the minivan last week, which you know about. That was the highlight of the month." He shook his head. "Never thought I'd give up my Trans Am for a minivan." He looked at his child with that expression that Mary just quite didn't get. "We're adjusting to being here. Hannah is doing great, as you can see." He smiled indulgently as he gazed at the sleeping baby.
Anne walked over to Marshall, Hannah's favorite blanket flung over her shoulder, holding out her arms. "Here, let me put her down in the crib. It's her nap time. Although she seems quite happy where she's at." Marshall reluctantly handed the limp child over to her mother. Anne bustled off to the bedroom and the two marshals made their good-byes and left.
Marshall walked out to the GMC with a jauntiness to his step that irritated Mary.
"What are you so happy about?" she grumbled, casting him a baleful look.
"I like kids," he said, "babies are fun. Babies are what life is about." He gauged her reaction. "Hannah is a beautiful child. And she likes me." His lips lifted in the ghost of a smile as he thought about the tiny fingers grasping his nose, the warm weight of her against his chest. Mary's lips turned down in a scowl as she thought about Marshall turning into a pile of goo around the infant.
"What have you got against babies anyway? Don't you want kids one day?" He was curious. It was such a basic desire, didn't she feel any pull towards motherhood? They got into the truck and Marshall cranked the engine, looking sideways at her.
"Well, let's see. Crying, puking, poopy diapers, sleepless nights, my body held hostage for nine months, 24 hour a day responsibility. I already have most of that with my witnesses. Why would I want it all in an eight pound package?" She crossed her arms and leaned back against her seat, pinning him with an inscrutable look.
Marshall turned his attention to the road as he pulled smoothly out of the parking lot. He had an uneasy feeling they were dangerously close to crossing some kind of invisible line. There was something underneath this, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Glancing again at the blank mask of Mary's face, he realized there was something she was withholding, something big, something important.
He shrugged and focused on the car ahead of him, a white Camry with Texas plates. There was a car seat in the back. Safety concerns aside, he missed the days when he would sometimes see a small face peering out the back window at him.
"Ok, understandable reasons I guess. But what about the good things? What about watching her grow and develop her own personality? What about the unconditional love? What about that feeling of holding that eight pounds in your arms and knowing she's yours? That you created her with someone you love? That you could look at that child and say 'it's mine'." Mary snorted and threw him a hostile stare.
"What if that child is created not out of love, but out of lust one night in the back seat of a car? What then? What if you don't get the chance to watch that child grow up? What if there's no unconditional ..." her voice broke and Marshall looked at her in alarm.
"Mary?" She was angrily dashing the tears out of her eyes. She so did not intend to go down this path, not ever. The words had spilled out of her before she could stop them. On some level she must want him to know.
"Mary?" There was more urgency in his voice. She closed her eyes. Next was going to come the concern. She couldn't deal with the concern.
"Mary, talk to me." She shook her head. Not now, not now. The truck stopped and Marshall cut the engine. Reluctantly opening her eyes, she took in her location; a small park a few blocks from the office. She watched two kids on the swings, mom chatting on her phone nearby.
Marshall was gazing out his window, his slightly stiff body betraying his anxiety. He reached over and lightly grasped her hand. They sat in silence. The high pitched squeals of the little girl as she was pushed higher on the swing by her brother filtered in through the glass.
Mary took a deep breath. She had carried this secret for so long. No one knew about it. And she wanted to share it, to have someone else help her carry the burden of it. No,not someone; Marshall. Her best friend.
"I got pregnant shortly after I joined the ATF." The statement hung in the air. Marshall gaped at her, his expressive face an open book to Mary, who knew him so well. Sympathy (did she give the child up for adoption?), followed by horror (did she get rid of it?), followed by sorrow ( did she lose it?) His hand was squeezing hers harder and harder.
"It was number three Marshall," she said softly. "I was still in my first trimester, almost twelve weeks. I had progressed from shock to full blown panic mode. I hadn't even told anyone. We were on a raid and there was an explosion; meth lab blew. I was thrown off my feet. I wasn't really hurt, but..." Her voice trailed off. She sniffed and dropped her eyes to her hands, covered by Marshall's slender fingers.
"I hadn't decided what to do, but that little person inside me was making it's presence known. As scared as I was, as mad as I was because no one ever told me that the 99.9% effectiveness of the pill goes down the drain if you are on antibiotics, as much as I wished I wasn't pregnant, I still felt sad when I lost the baby. Lost the potential of that life. Lost something that was a part of me."
"Lost that unconditional love." Marshall's voice was low, understanding. He put his fingers under her chin and tilted her face up. Caressing her face, he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her cheek.
"I'm sorry Mary, that you had to experience that loss." His fingers trailed lightly down her jaw and circled around her neck, closing in a gentle hold. He pulled her into a loose embrace. She splayed her fingers against his chest, the steady thumping of his heart faintly discernible under the flat of her palm. His lips brushed her ear. "Thank you for telling me, for trusting me enough to tell me."
She nodded and pulled back, averting her eyes. "Let's get back to work." Marshall watched her a moment and sighing, started the truck.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Mary bit her lip and tried to keep her scowling to a minimum. She knew this witness was a favorite of Marshall's and just because Audrey got on her nerves was no reason to ruin the visit for Marshall. She dourly looked out the window as Audrey excitedly went on and on about her new profession.
"I'm in training to be a midwife! It's awesome to be there as a new life starts. Like you said when I entered the program, new beginnings. I am trying to do that for myself." She was gesturing with her hands, her face animated, her eyes sparkling.
Marshall smiled at her with pure pleasure. He reached out and took her hand. "I'm so happy for you. See, I told you the opportunities that can present themselves in the program are wonderful.'
Mary had turned just in time to see her partner clasp Audrey's hand and she felt a small something clench in her stomach. Why was that? Ever since their conversation after the visit to the Smithfields and the big doofus's light, comforting touches, she had experienced cravings for more; more of that warmth and understanding conveyed in his fingertips, more of the affection that was so apparent in the feather light brushes against her skin. This could not be good.
Tuning back into the conversation, she listened to Audrey describe her first birth attendance.
"And when the baby was born, the midwife placed him on the mothers belly. There was no 'It's a boy!'. We leave that for the parents to discover on their own, if they don't already know in advance." Audrey pushed over a bowl of chocolate covered raisins to Mary.
"You look like you could use some chocolate Mary. It's dark chocolate and its fruit, so you can tell yourself it's healthy."
Mary startled and attempted to rearrange her face. She'd had a rather alarming self-realization and needed some serious down time to think about it.
Audrey was continuing on with her experiences. "We have just started to cover the role of hormones in post-partum issues. I'm thinking I may be interested in doing counseling work also. It can be such an overwhelming experience for a lot of new moms, especially if they don't have a good support system. A lot of babies are born out of wedlock, so there isn't always a dad in the picture. They need all the help they can get." A shy smile crossed her face. "One of the moms asked me to be the godmother to her child. Her family had kicked her out and her boyfriend dumped her. We became friends and she's doing really well now."
Marshall squeezed her hand and let go as he stood up. "Well Audrey, you don't need me to pump you up anymore. You are managing great on your own. Let me know when you do your first solo birth."
They walked out to the car and Mary cast a sidelong look at him. She opened her mouth to make a comment, but Marshall held up his hand.
"Just be the river Mary. Go with it. She's happy and excited. That's what matters." Mary opened her door and Marshall stood behind her with one hand on the top of the door, effectively trapping her between the car and his body. She glanced up at him, then quickly away. He was using the penetrating gaze, boring into the center of her soul. She hated when he did that. She felt naked, stripped of all her protective layers.
Marshall's lips curled up in a hint of a smile when Mary dropped her eyes. He was starting to get to her.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Marshall answered his door to find Mary with a pizza in one hand and six-pack of beer in the other.
She held up the pizza box and quirked an eyebrow. "You doing anything tonight?"
Marshall grinned and stood aside, catching a waft of pepperoni and a faint scent of lavender as she walked by. He retrieved napkins from the kitchen and they dug in, eating in companionable silence. Mary popped the tabs on two Coors and handed one to Marshall.
"None of that Spanish sangria crap you gave me the last time I was here," she said as they knocked cans together in silent salute to each other. Marshall was on his third beer when Mary reached over and turned the sound down on the TV – she really failed to grasp the attraction of movies about alien invasion - and turned towards him. She took a big gulp and set her beer down on the coffee table, making sure she hit the coaster he had placed for her.
"You really want kids don't you?" The trepidation in her voice was evident, as well as something else he couldn't place. Her gaze was trained on him, steady, unyielding. He pursed his lips, perplexed.
"Yes," he said slowly, "I think I'd be a good dad. I like kids. I love spending time with my nieces and nephews. I'm even godfather to two of them."
Mary cocked her head to the side, studying him. "You would be a good dad," she murmured. "In fact, you'd be an awesome dad. I'm the one that would be a rotten parent." Her eyes slid away from his puzzled face and she reached for her Coors. Marshall caught her outstretched hand in his and brought it tight against his chest.
"Why would you say that?" he asked, an undercurrent of pain and anger in the question.
"My god, Marshall, you know my family. Not exactly winning parent of the year awards." She felt her face start to flush. Maybe this was a mistake. She had wanted to lay a few things on the line after the talk they'd had the other day. Marshall's warm touch on her face and neck had stayed with her the remainder of that day. Even under the shower, with the sting of the hot water beating down, she imagined she could feel the firmness, the sensitivity of those fingers. Something had changed between them that day. She needed Marshall to understand that whatever he may be feeling towards her, she wouldn't be able to fulfill some of his deeply held desires.
"Maybe not, but it doesn't follow that because your parents weren't the best in their roles, that you would be a poor parent. Don't rule out the possibility because of Jinx." He trailed heat across her cheek with his long fingers.
"I think you would be a good mom because you are so aware of the wrong way to do things. You are so full of hurts from your own childhood that you know what it is that kids crave. They really just want to be kept safe and to be loved. You can do that. Especially if you have the right man beside you raising those kids. A man who understands you, who loves you, who adores you."
Mary stared at him, all coherent thought fleeing from her emotion flooded brain. "Marshall," she whispered. He chuckled and held a light finger against her lips.
"Just think about it, ok Mary, before you reject the idea out of hand." He glanced at the clock on the VCR. "It's late and you should probably go." Again the heat from his fingers seeped into the pores of her skin as he traced the contours of her face.
"And don't forget, tomorrow is the Renaissance Faire." Mary groaned and closed her eyes. She'd agreed to go with him in a moment of weakness, there had been promises of paperwork completed. "I'll buy you a turkey leg," he laughed as he moved out of the way of her swinging arm.
The End