A Mother's Love by Ruth Wind Page A

married, he and Kyra, to give Merry the home she deserved? It would not be unpleasant, he was sure.
    But he imagined offering Kyra a marriage of convenience and the shuttering of her face.
    And was that even what he wanted? He didn’t know. He felt tangled and hungry and aroused and irritated that this stranger should have so much of an effect on him.
    A marriage of convenience, my eye, said a voice in his head.
    Dylan dismissed everything and went outside to sit withthe poor, exhausted woman, leaving the door open so they could hear Merry if she cried.
    Kyra sat on a stone bench facing the sea. “Is she asleep?”
    He settled next to her, breathing in the salty taste of night and sea and fish. “Soundly, I suspect.”
    â€œI was doing all right the first time,” she said. “I just let her cry and I was fine, and it seemed to me that she would cry herself out eventually and that getting upset would just make it harder on both of us.”
    He took her hand and she allowed it.
    â€œShe fell asleep and so did I. And then she just woke up screaming. As if she was in pain. And I couldn’t figure out what was wrong and I felt so terrible about it.”
    â€œImagine,” Dylan said, “that you have only one way to tell the world what you want. She woke up furious and hungry and nothing would do but to let you know that.”
    Kyra nodded. “I really started wondering tonight if I have what it takes.”
    A chill moved in him. “Do you mean you might not go through with the adoption?”
    â€œI don’t want to torture her the rest of her life. I mean, I really know what it’s like to have a lousy mother.”
    He rubbed his index finger around the edge of the nail on her thumb. “Is that it? Or are you ducking away from taking responsibility?”
    â€œPlease don’t use that tone of voice with me. I’m not the one who was running all over the world. I step up to my responsibilities. But I’m terrible at being her mother. Maybe I just need to recognize that I’m not a good mother.”
    The tenseness in him broke. “Ah, my lovely,” he said, pulling her under his chin. “Did you do yoga perfectly the first time you tried it? Did you learn to read in a day?”
    She looked up at him. “No.”
    â€œWhy would you think you’d know how to care for a baby right out of the gate?”
    She nodded. “I see your point. Thank you.”
    â€œAnytime.”
    Kyra was quiet for a time. Then she said, “Dylan, isn’t it going to kill you to wave goodbye to her?”
    â€œIt will. But I’ll come see her. And send eccentric presents.”
    She chuckled. “You might have to go a long way into eccentric to outwit the eccentrics at Yogariffic.”
    â€œYou love that business, don’t you?”
    â€œI love yoga,” she said. “And I like the challenge of making everything fit together so that the business can succeed. But I’m not sure I’m happy with the direction we were going. Africa wanted to go upscale and bring in all these extras that just don’t feel right to me.”
    â€œSo now you can eliminate whatever doesn’t feel authentic.”
    â€œBut that feels like dishonoring her memory.”
    Dylan nodded. “Sadly, life goes on.”
    It was so very quiet. The sea whispered below, and there was no wind, and her hand felt right in his own. “I wish you weren’t going,” he said without realizing he was going to say it.
    She looked at him soberly.
    Dylan continued, “I wish we had some time to explore this.”
    Her gaze lit on their hands, which felt to him as if they’d fit forever just this way. “We have tonight, don’t we? Let’s talk.”
    â€œAll right,” he said and put his arm around her. “Long as you sit close to keep me warm.”
    â€œI don’t mind.”
    Dylan felt aroused mentally and emotionally