The Perfect Father. Elizabeth Bevarly
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baby seemed oblivious to his presence, however, so intent was he on the workings of a round toy filled with clear liquid and a variety of multicolored floating animals. Chase couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this close to a baby. Perhaps he never had. And he was frankly surprised to find himself so captivated by the little guy after such a short exposure to him.
“How old is Simon?” he called out to Sylvie.
“Almost ten months,” she replied. “He’ll be one in May. He’s pretty cute, huh?”
Chase nodded absently. “Yes,” he said softly. “Yes, he is.”
As if he knew he was the subject of the conversation, Simon glanced up and made a noise with his lips that sounded like a minuscule boat, then squealed with laughter at his own success. He waved his toy heartily at Chase before sticking it into his mouth, then sat perfectly still as he considered the bigger man. There was something about the baby’s expression, something about his clear, guileless, uninhibited gaze, that thoroughly unsettled Chase. But not in a way that made him anxious or uncomfortable, he realized. Instead, the baby’s obvious acceptance of him made Chase feel inexplicably good. Just...good. Good in a way he’d never felt before. It was an odd sensation.
“Coffee should be ready soon,” Sylvie said as she seated herself in a chair opposite Chase on the other side of Simon. With a resolute sigh she leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees, propping her chin in one hand as she dangled the other between her legs. “Now,” she continued, “back to what we discussed last week.”
Her plunge right to the point made Chase squirm involuntarily in his seat, and he tried to settle himself back against the overstuffed cushions in feigned comfort. Had he actually been the one to suggest they discuss this matter? he wondered. But before he could say a word, Sylvie began to talk again.
“I know you probably still have a lot of questions,” she said, “not the least of which is making certain you’ll be protected in this matter.”
“Protected?” he asked, confused. He sat forward again, his attention wandering once more to the baby playing on the floor.
“From legal liabilities,” she said in a matter-of-fact way that didn’t sit well with Chase. “I realize you don’t know me that well, and you’re probably scared I’m going to hunt you down in fifteen or twenty years and demand thousands of dollars from you to pay for college or a wedding or some such thing.”
She scooted forward to the edge of her chair, as if trying to emphasize what she had to say next. “I just want to reassure you right now that I have no intention of ever tapping into your financial resources for this baby. I make great money at Cosmo’s, and he has a wonderful insurance plan. My finances are in order, and I’m fully prepared and capable of raising a child on my own. Once I’m pregnant, that will be the end of any obligation you have to me or the baby. I’ll never bother you again for any reason. And I’m perfectly willing to sign any kind of document that would free you from all responsibility, financial or otherwise.”
Chase stared at her in amazement. He honestly hadn’t given that aspect of their arrangement a single thought. It made sense, of course. Naturally a man would want to be sure he didn’t get taken for a ride in a case like this, especially when it was the woman who wanted the child and not him. But as surprised as he was to realize it, something in him balked at the idea of relinquishing all responsibility for the baby he would help Sylvie create. It didn’t seem proper somehow, in spite of the way things had come about. It just didn’t seem right.
“But—” he began to object.
“And of course, I’ll expect the same courtesy of you,” Sylvie went on. “I’d like you to grant me the same assurance that you won’t come looking for me ten or fifteen years from now because you’re going through some midlife crisis and feeling your mortality and wanting to share in my child’s life. I think that’s only fair, don’t you?”
“I suppose. But—”
“We really do have to think of the child’s best interests in this case, don’t we? It wouldn’t be fair to her, or him, to disrupt her, or his, routine so late in life, would it?”
“No, I guess not. But...”
She inhaled deeply and met his gaze levelly, looking to Chase as if she were terribly uncertain and more than a little scared. Somehow, he got the feeling that she wasn’t nearly as confident of the things she was telling him as she was letting on.
“Then...then you’ll do it?” she asked quietly.
The tone of her voice when she uttered the question gave Chase the feeling that Sylvie still wasn’t sure she wanted to go through with it. He knew what he should do. He knew what he should tell her. He knew it would be a colossal mistake, not to mention a violation of ethical human behavior, to do what she was asking him to do.
But instead of looking at Sylvie when he responded, Chase’s gaze fell to the baby boy sitting on the floor, who was busily stuffing a red cloth building block into his mouth. When he saw that Chase was looking at him, Simon pulled the toy away and curled his lips into a huge smile. For the first time, Chase noted the four tiny teeth jutting from the baby’s gums, two on the top and two on the bottom. Then Simon laughed, a rough, cooing, joyous sound, his pale brown eyes and tiny nose crinkling with the action. That expression transformed the baby’s face, turning it into one of the most delightful sights Chase had ever seen, and he couldn’t help himself when he smiled in return.
Then, much to his amazement, he heard himself tell Sylvie, “All right. I’ll do it.”
* * *
“Okay, I think that takes care of most of the particulars,” Sylvie said some time later as Chase topped off their glasses with the last of the cabernet.
They sat at her kitchen table, all remnants of dinner either stowed in the fridge or ready for a spin in the dishwasher. Daniel McGuane had come for his son and gone hours ago, and now the couple was alone. A legal pad and two pencils lay between them on the table, several of the yellow pages filled with two vastly different types of penmanship where either Sylvie or Chase had remembered something that should go into the legal document they intended to have drawn up. A legal document they would both sign, and which would formally seal the deal they had made only hours before.
Sylvie felt strange as she skimmed over the finer points of the contract. She had wanted for so long to find the perfect father for her child, had spent so many weeks searching for just the right candidate. Now that she had him, she was suddenly uncertain what to do next.
“Can you think of anything else?” she asked, indicating the legal pad as she reached for her glass.
Chase shook his head. “No, I think this about covers everything. I’ll have my attorney draw up the contract, and you can have your attorney look it over before you sign.”
Sylvie was reluctant to tell him that she didn’t have an attorney, so matter-of-fact was Chase in his announcement—as if everybody in the world kept a lawyer on retainer all the time. It occurred to her again what vastly differing life-styles they led. He was a man who was wildly successful in the cutthroat world of business, a man who seemed to have limitless funds and opportunities, a man who was completely in command of his destiny. His was a definite A-type personality, displaying all the characteristics of someone who took charge of a situation without being asked, who never questioned his own judgment, who worked from sunup to sundown to make sure the job was done right.
She, on the other hand, acted compulsively and spontaneously much of the time—her reasoning often based on nothing more than whimsy or intuition at that—and until deciding she wanted a baby, had seldom given much thought to where the future might take her. Certainly she was responsible enough—she was actively cultivating a decent savings account, lived within a monthly budget and had modest needs—but she didn’t want to be the kind of person whose responsibilities extended beyond her own immediate experience. And having untold, very heavy responsibilities was something upon which Chase clearly thrived.
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