Always a Mother. Linda Warren
continually in the doctor’s office with her. The pediatrician kept her on antibiotics, and they worried about their baby taking so much medication.
Then the ear infections started, and Sarah was hospitalized twice for pneumonia. Claire got very little sleep because the baby needed lots of attention. That made her load heavier, but she’d never complained. Several nights Dean found her in the rocker, crying and holding Sarah. Claire was worried something was really wrong with their child and the doctors couldn’t find it. Dean was worried, too. He would sit and hold both of them until the morning light. That was all he could do, and at times he felt so helpless.
The first few months, Claire couldn’t work, and lost her jobs. His mother helped, and Dean tried to take care of Sarah at night. But Claire always seemed to be awake.
At times it was a struggle for Sarah to breathe. Claire did tons of research and insisted on a diagnosis. The doctor suspected she had asthma, but said Sarah was too little for him to know for sure. He said her airways were inflamed, and would heal with antibiotics and time.
That wasn’t good enough for Claire and Dean, and they immediately switched doctors. Sarah was put on a nebulizer machine for albuterol treatments. It plugged into the wall and had tubing and a mask that went over her nose and mouth. The medication went into the machine and Sarah breathed it in. They saw results almost immediately.
The new doctor agreed that Sarah had asthma, and said that some children grow out of it. But at least their baby was getting better. Dean and Claire were so relieved.
It was a hard time, however. Sarah also had allergies, and Claire washed her bedding every day to get rid of dust mites. They covered the mattress and pillows with allergy covers and gave away all her stuffed toys. Bunny bought a humidifier because they couldn’t afford to.
Once they adjusted to Sarah and her needs, life settled down. Claire started tutoring students so she could stay at home. The pay was very good and it worked out well.
Dean had heard it said that you can’t live on love, but during those first few years they had very little else.
CLAIRE STARED AT THE phone, wanting to call Dean. She needed to hear his voice, but she wasn’t ready to tell him yet. She had to continue to examine her life alone—to measure the sacrifices she’d made. Were they sacrifices or was that what love was?
She opened a letter—one she’d written while waiting for Dean to come home from a football game, a time she’d questioned that sacrifice.
Dean,
Sarah had one of those days. Nothing seems to help her breathing and she’s fussy. I feel so helpless…
The page blurred.
November 12, 1983
SARAH WAS SIX WEEKS OLD and Claire had been up with her most of the night. She was exhausted, her nerves frayed. She curled up in a rocker, trying to get Sarah to nurse, but the baby kept spitting out the nipple. Claire worried she wasn’t getting enough milk.
Texas was playing football and Claire flipped on the TV to watch her husband. Bunny came by to catch the game with her, and made popcorn. Claire was glad to have her company.
Just as Sarah went to sleep, Bunny yelled at the TV and the baby woke up.
“Sugar, I’m sorry. I get all excited when I see my boy getting bruised.”
“It’s okay.” Claire stood. “I’ll put her in her bed and maybe she’ll sleep for a while.”
“Why don’t you lie down, too, sugar?” Bunny suggested.
“Are you kidding? I want to watch Dean so I’ll know what he’s talking about when he tells me about the game.”
Sarah went to sleep quickly, and Claire hurried back to the living room. The game was tied, with less than ten seconds to play. The two women sat on the edge of their seats, biting their nails. Texas had the ball. The quarterback threw a long pass, and Claire and Bunny jumped to their feet, holding their breath as the pigskin sailed through the air. Dean leaped high in the end zone and dragged it in with the tips of his fingers. The fans went crazy and Claire and Bunny hugged, careful not to shout too loudly.
With the game over, fans poured onto the field. A reporter held a mike out to Dean and asked him a couple of questions. The noisy crowd prevented Claire from hearing him clearly, but she saw his smile—that lazy grin that turned her knees to pure sweet honey.
His sweaty hair hung across his forehead and he reached up to touch it, a signal to Claire that he was thinking about her. Smiling, she tugged her hair in response. The camera followed Dean as he jogged toward the locker room. A blonde grabbed him and kissed him. The reporter commented he hoped that was Dean’s wife.
But it wasn’t.
Claire sank into her chair, her joy dissipating. For the first time, she realized other women saw Dean as an attractive man, just as she did. The understanding left her in a state of shock. She should be there with him, sharing these moments of victory in his life. Instead she was home, feeling very left out.
Bunny caught the look on her face. “Sugar, don’t pay that any attention. It means nothing to Dean.”
For the first time, Claire wondered about that, too. “I don’t know, Bunny. I’m tired most of the time. Sarah spits up all over me and I smell like spoiled milk. I don’t feel very attractive.”
“Now you just stop thinking like that right now, do you hear me? Dean loves you and that little girl in there.”
“But don’t you think he’s flattered by the attention?”
“He’s a man, sugar. Of course he is, but I know my boy. His one thought now is to get back to you and Sarah.”
Claire wasn’t so sure. Life just seemed to be one jolt after another, and she didn’t know how much longer she could hold it together. Could her parents have been right? Was she too young to even know what true love was all about? No. She would never believe that. Not for one instant.
That night she lay in bed waiting for Dean. The game was out of town, so she knew it would be late when he came home.
She was half-asleep when she heard his key in the lock. A few minutes later, he slipped into bed beside her.
“Hey, beautiful.”
She wiggled in his arms. “I don’t feel beautiful.”
“What?” He turned on the bedside lamp. “What’s wrong?”
Pushing her hair out of her eyes, she sat up. “I saw you kissing that girl.” Claire hated that she couldn’t keep the hurt out of her voice.
He caressed her cheek and she leaned her face into his hand, loving his gentle touch. “I didn’t kiss her. She kissed me, and I have no idea who she was.”
“Still…”
He reached for something on the nightstand. “I wrote this on the plane.”
Unfolding the paper, she read,
My sweet Claire,
Today I realized why I’m hooked on your kisses. They’re sweeter than watermelon wine and hotter than a hooker’s on Saturday night. No other woman can ever top that.
A bubble of laughter left her throat. “We’ve both had Bunny’s watermelon wine, but how do you know what a hooker’s kiss tastes like?”
He grinned. “Purely a guess.”
“Now I know why you made such awful grades in English.”
He gently laid her down. “There’s only one woman I want to kiss.” His lips trailed a line of fire from her neck to her jaw. When his mouth covered hers, any remaining doubts vanished. All she felt was happiness.
Looking into her eyes, he said, “I love you. Only you.”