I’m Keeping You. Jane Lark

Chapter Sixteen

      

       Chapter Seventeen

      

       Chapter Eighteen

      

       Author Note

      

       About the Author

      

       Also by Jane Lark

      

       About HarperImpulse

      

       About the Publisher

       CHAPTER ONE

      Rachel

      I drifted from sleep to dreams to being half awake. The things Jason and I had talked about at the party the other night were stopping me from sleeping, plus the conversation we’d had with our solicitor.

      Thoughts swept through my head, about my ex, Declan, and New York and meeting the guy I’d been meant to find—Jason.

      I rolled on to my back. My forearm lifted to my forehead as an image of Saint came into my mind. I slid back into sleep.

      I picked him up out of his buggy. My beautiful son.

      We were standing on a bridge, looking at the river in the park. I showed him the clear water as we leaned over the railing. “Look, you can see the fish.” I could see them. The water wasn’t like the Hudson. It was a narrow, shallow river. I could see right to the bottom. The weeds waved, making patterns in the flow of the current as the water headed on out to join a bigger river and make its way to the coast.

      The heat of the sun warmed the skin on my face and my arms. I felt superhuman, like I had a super-power. I was the best mom in the world. I was high, full of energy and charged up. Ideas fizzed around in my head. We were going to go back and paint, and bake.

      A play-dough recipe—I should Google a play-dough recipe.

      “Maybe I should ask Grampy to build you a sandpit. You need a sandpit, don’t you, Saint…” I looked down at the fish. Their tails swished at the water as they swam against the current.

      “And you need a fishing rod, to go fishing, and a little net. But I guess a net first. Maybe we should go get a net now, so we can catch a fish.”

      I lifted Saint up high, holding him above my head, above the railing. Not Lion-King style but so he looked down at me as I looked up at him. The sun shone behind him, giving my little Saint a halo. He made his three-month-old gurgling sound.

      I felt like Mufasa, though, or perhaps more like Sarabi; like I was the queen lioness. I’d only just discovered Disney. Disney movies were one of the new exciting mommy things in my life. My mom had never done being a mom. I’d never stepped inside a cinema when I was a kid, or watched a movie on TV.

      Since Saint was born, I’d sat down and watched more than a dozen movies with him, loads of times. I was different from Mom. I was a good mom. The best. And Saint was going to be the President, because I was going to bring him up so well, and he’d stand up before Congress and tell everyone he owed it all to his amazing mommy.

      I brought him down and hugged him tight. I loved hugging him the most. Squeezing my little, solid, happy human being. My body had made him; this perfect little boy.

      Sunshine heated my hair and face. I looked down at the water. It looked so cool. Jason used to swim here when he’d been a kid. He’d told me. It looked refreshing. I’d never swum in a river. I could have hardly gone for a dip in the Hudson back in New York, or dived into the Delaware when I’d lived in Philadelphia as a kid. But here, this was only a little, narrow river. “Saint, you oughta learn to swim. I bet you’d love it. Daddy said it was always fun… He liked it.”

      I held Saint against my chest and walked off the bridge, leaving his buggy behind. “I bet the water’s refreshing. It’ll be nice on a hot day like this.”

      There was an area where the bank sloped down toward the water. It was flat by the water’s edge.

      I walked down there. “We’re gonna swim, Saint.”

      I walked to the edge and kept walking, the cool water washing over my sneakers. It was a lovely sensation. I could see me teaching Saint to swim, holding his hands as he kicked out. I’d seen babies swimming in ads. Saint could do that. He was a clever baby. The water came up to my knees, getting the hem of my skirt wet, but I didn’t stop walking. I loved the cool sensation pushing against my legs and caressing my skin as the water ran around me and flowed on downstream. It was exciting to be in a river—to do what Jason had done as a kid. I was the best mom.

      The water came up to my waist and surged against me, swirling around me, creating little eddies. Saint’s toes dipped into the river, they were bare, it was a warm day; I hadn’t put socks on his feet. He made a gurgling sound.

      “Does the water tickle?”

      My clothes were soaked and clinging to my body, but even that was nice—a good feeling—because they were cool—and I was manically happy.

      The water spun in whirlpools just in front of us. It was dancing. The sunlight caught on the surface, making it sparkle. The world was magic. I imagined us swimming with the fish. I knew the whirlpools implied the current was stronger, but I was supermom—so that didn’t matter to me. My mind was full of images of me teaching Saint to swim; there was no space in my head for other thoughts. I took another step out. The water was up to my shoulders and up to his shoulders, and it was so good. The current and the pressure of the flowing water pulled at my feet. I fought to keep my balance, but it didn’t disturb me. Saint was just looking at me, with wide eyes, bemused by the new sensations. I laughed. I was going to let him go—I was going to let him swim.

      “Hey! Hey! What the fuck are you doing?” A strange guy called out from the bank. He was yelling at me.

      “Hey! You! Get back! You’ll drown the kid!”

      I hugged Saint tight as the guy waded into the water. He was trying to steal Saint. Another guy ran in and between them they got a hold of me and dragged me out. I fought against them, hanging on to Saint. But then the second guy growled into my ear. “What are you trying to do, kill him?”

      The words punched me. Kill him… No. “No. I’m teaching him to swim!”

      “He’s a baby!”

      One of the guys took Saint from my arms and began looking at him, all over, like he might be hurt. I sat on the bank shivering. The guys fussed over Saint, and they wouldn’t give him back. Other people came.

      The water hadn’t been cool, it had been cold. But I was just teaching Saint to swim.

      “Hi. Yeah. Cops.”

      One of the guys had his cell to his ear.

      “Yeah, some woman in the park just tried to drown her kid.”

      I stood up. “I didn’t. I was teaching him to swim. Kids need to swim. His daddy used to swim here. We were just swimming.” I hit the guy’s arm and tried to take his cell.

      “You weren’t teaching him to swim…” the guy who held Saint growled at me.

      I