Nine Months Ago

Stephany had both breasts exposed and she made no attempt to cover herself. The thought struck me that she wanted me to see them, ready with milk to feed the black baby in her arms.

The more I looked at my wife the more all the familiar feelings of my love for her flooded back. At the same time, I was struggling with my emotions at the sight of a black baby latched onto her pink nipple. It was tearing me apart when the well-used cliché crossed my mind, 'It's not the baby's faul.'

It was a week before Stephany and her mother agreed that she was strong enough to come home with me. During that week we had only tried once to be intimate. Stephany wasn't strong enough and I couldn't get some nasty thought out of my head.

Because of the baby, Stephany wasn't working and her mother came around every day to help her. Eventually, when Stephany was strong enough and my nasty thought about her rape were under control, we made love. It wasn't like it used to be, I don't think either us expected it would be.

We were at last talking about the baby. 'It's my baby,' she kept telling me. 'It doesn't matter anymore how I got pregnant. I wish it had been you, but I'm not getting rid of it.'

Her decision left me with two choices, neither of which I liked. I took the one that I thought Stephany wanted and told her. 'As soon as you are well enough, I think we should try and give Jessica a little brother or sister.'

She sounded pleased. 'Would you really do that, Stephen?' she asked, as she continued nursing Jessica. 'I'd need you to love Jessica just as much as our baby,' she told me.

The concerned look on her face brought tears to my eyes and for the first time I asked if I could hold the baby. As she handed her to me she was smiling, but it wasn't the radiant smile I was expecting.

Because it was the first time I had held Jessica I was surprised just how light and small she felt in my arms. I already knew she was a beautiful baby, despite her colour, which was more milk chocolate than dark brown. I suppose because she had a white mother.

As I held her in my arms, my head was filled with so many conflicting thoughts. I looked up and Stephany was staring at me with a very solemn face. 'She really is a beautiful baby,' I told her.

Stephany smiled. 'Thank you,' she said when I handed Jessica back to her.

After then I started to help with looking after Jessica, especially with bathing and changing. I couldn't help with night-time feeding because Stephanie continued to breast feed her.

Over the next few weeks, as Stephany's condition improved, her mother only came twice a week. We were now sleeping together and making love more often, but it was still a long way from the way it had been. Stephanie kept apologising. "I'm sorry Andrew, it will be better next time."

After two months I thought things were getting back to normal. We were having conversations about the baby, when we could start trying to have our own baby. She was even talking about getting back to work at some time. We were also spending more time being intimate to each other. Only the love making didn't get any better.

Nearly three months after Stephany and Jessica came home with me, her mother's car was in the driveway on the Friday I came home from work. They were waiting for me in the hall, both looking nervous. Stephany was holding the baby and her mother has a case in her hand.

'Andrew, Stephany wants to spend the weekend with me and her dad,' she told me.

I looked at Stephany and got a bad feeling when she just stared back at me. 'Why, have I done something wrong?' was my unthinking response.

'No, Andrew, you haven't done anything wrong. It's just that Stephany thinks you both need a break,' her mother told me.

I moved closer to my wife. 'Please Andrew,' she hesitated. 'It's just for a few days.'

I was about to say that her mother had said she was only going for the weekend, when she stepped past me and opened the front door. 'I'm sorry, Andrew,' was all my wife said as she stepped out of the door. He mother quickly followed her. There was not even time for a kiss goodbye before they were in the car and driving away.

I was dumbfounded. I thought everything was getting better. I had accepted Jessica into my life and my wife and I were getting back to making love again. What had just happened totally bewildered me.

When I phoned Stephany, it went to voicemail so I phoned the home number and her mother answered. When I asked to speak to Stephany she told me she was sleeping, which I thought a bit unusual in the middle of the morning. She told me that she would ask her to call me when she was ready. Which all sounded very strange.

Stephany didn't call me anytime Saturday or all-day Sunday. I was beginning to get very concerned about my wife's reason for going back to her mother's house.

Monday evening almost as soon as I got home there was a knock and I expected it to be my wife coming home from her mother. Instead a man asked me my name and then handed me a large brown envelope. 'Please sigh here,' he asked and held a clip board, indicating where I should sign.

When I eventually opened the envelope, several papers fell out onto the table. One was an envelope for me in my wife's handwriting. Recognising the divorce paper didn't surprise me as much as I expected. Slowly I opened the envelope and took out the letter.

Dear Andrew,

Together with this letter are the divorce papers you so unexpectedly had me served with.

You deserve an explanation why I have returned them, which I hope you will understand and that it will make it easier for you the accept my decision.

I know just how difficult it has been for you to accept Jessica but she is not the reason why I have returned the signed divorce papers.

As much as I have tried, I am unable to get over the despicable way you treated me after you saw me and the baby in the hospital. Although I can understand why you just turned and walked away, what I can't understand is the callous way you treated me afterwards, by refusing to answer any of the phone calls and message from myself, and my parents.

Even my letters were unanswered, so I doubt you even took the trouble to read either of them. If you had there would have been no need for us to meet at the solicitors. You even delayed that meeting by several day; even though its urgency had been impressed upon you.

For nearly three months I have tried to overcome my feelings about your callous behaviour in the desperate hope that Jessica and I could make a new life with you.

I now know that is not possible, as I can neither understand, nor forgive you for the way you treated me when I needed you so desperately.

Please do not contact me, or my parents again.

Stephany

The more I read my wife's letter the more I despised myself. I certainly could not forgive my own behaviour, any more than Stephany was able to.

I returned the signed divorce papers to her solicitor the next day.