The Dance Begins by Diane Chamberlain Read Free Book Online

and brainy, an irresistible combination. Eleven years later, I still can’t resist him.
    “You’re in immigration law, is that right?” Patti looks at Aidan.
    “Yes. I’m teaching at the University of San Diego right now.”
    “And you’re family law?” She looks at me and I nod.
    “How long did you date before you got married?” she asks.
    “About a year,” Aidan says. It had only been eight months, but I knew he thought a year sounded better.
    “Did you try to have children right away?”
    “No,” I say. “We wanted to focus on our careers first. We never realized we’d have a problem when we finally started trying.”
    “And why are you unable to have children of your own?”
    “Well, initially it was just that we couldn’t get pregnant,” Aidan says. “We tried for two years before going to a specialist.”
    I remember those years all too well. I’d cry every time I’d get my period. Every single time.
    “When I finally did get pregnant,” I say, “I lost the baby at twenty weeks and had to have a hysterectomy.” The words sound dry as they leave my mouth, no hint of the agony behind them. Our lost daughter, Sara. Our lost dreams.
    “I’m sorry,” Patti says.
    “It was a nightmare,” Adam adds.
    “How did you cope?”
    “We talked a lot,” I say. Aidan still holds my hand, and I tighten my grip on him. “We talked with a counselor a few times, too, but mostly to each other.”
    “That’s the way we always cope,” Aidan says. “We don’t keep things bottled up around here, and we’re good listeners. It’s easy when you love each other.”
    I think he’s laying it on a little thick, but I know he believes he’s telling the truth. We congratulate ourselves often for the way we communicate in our marriage, and usually, we do a good job of it. Right now, though, with my lies between us, I squirm at his words.
    “Do you have some anger over losing your baby?” Patti directs her question to me.
    I think back to a year ago. The emergency surgery. The end of any chance to have another child. I don’t remember anger. “I think I was too devastated to be angry,” I say.
    “We regrouped,” Aidan says. “When we were finally able to think straight, we knew we still wanted … still want … a family, and we began researching open adoption.” He makes it sound like the decision to pursue adoption was easy. I guess for him it was.
    “Why open adoption?” Patti asks.
    “Because we don’t want any secrets from our child,” I say with a little too much force, but I feel passionately about this. I know all about secrets and the damage they do to a child. “We don’t want him—or her—to wonder about his birth parents or why he was placed for adoption.” I sound so strong and firm. Inside, my stomach turns itself into a knot. Aidan and I are not in total agreement over what our open adoption will look like.
    “Are you willing to give the birth parents updates on your child? Share pictures? Perhaps even allow your child to have a relationship with them, if that’s what the birth parents would like?”
    “Absolutely,” Aidan says and I nod. Now is not the time to talk about my reservations. Although I already feel love for the nameless, faceless people who would entrust their child to us, I’m not sure to what degree I want them in our lives.
    Patti shifts on the sectional and gives a little tug on her ponytail. “How would you describe your lifestyle?” she asks in a sudden change of topic, and I have to give my head a shake to clear it of the image of those selfless birth parents. “How will a child fit into your lives?” she adds.
    “Well, right now we’re both working full-time,” Aidan says, “but Molly can easily go to half-time.”
    “And I can take six weeks off if we get a baby.”
    “When.” Aidan squeezes my hand. “Be an optimist.”
    I smile at him. To be honest, I wouldn’t mind quitting my job altogether. I’m tired of divorce after divorce and