My mother used to read Bible stories to me every evening before bed, the white children's Bible open in her lap. Most of the stories had little importance to me then, but lately one sticks out more than ever. This story in particular was about a great king. He was known to his people to be wise and just, the best of his kind. His name was Solomon.

Now, King Solomon often heard the cases among his people and acted like a judge. One day, two women came into court arguing over the maternity of a child. Both women pleaded their case, bickering before the King. Wisely, he told the women that if they could not agree as to who the real mother was he would solve their problem: divide the child in half. The true mother easily balked at the idea, while the other agreed that it was a good solution. The mother that gave her child up for its safety was deemed the real mother and was given her infant back.

Watching through the frosty glass window as Sheridan holds my son, the child we had to fight so valiantly to get back from Beth, I feel as if I am one of the parents in court. Instead of arguing over my child, however, I'm fighting over the love of my life.

"What are you doing here?" Antonio growls, viciously glaring at me. He looks past to where Sheridan is holding our son and frowns. "Is that Beth's child?"

"No," I reply, returning to observing Sheridan. "We found out that the baby is ours: mine and Sheridan. He was sick and when they tested Beth's blood to donate, they discovered she wasn't a match to him. Eve ran a DNA test and found out the baby is Sheridan's."

"Good, now we can be a family." He starts to walk past me, but I catch his arm. "Let go of me!" He jerked away.

"I'm not letting you go in there and ruin this moment for her."

"She's my wife," he argues. "I'll do as I please where Sheridan is concerned. No little brother of mine is going to keep me from the woman I love."

Love? Can he even fathom what it is like to really and truly love a woman? When Sheridan and I were together, I would look into her eyes and see more than her soul. I would see our future, our unborn children shimmering in the light of her eyes. She wasn't just under my skin; she was in my blood. I could breathe her and taste her. She was everywhere. When we were together, I was helpless.

"Love her?" I whisper. "You don't know the meaning of the word. You don't hear her thoughts when she's not speaking or see her dreams when you're snuggled beneath the sheets with her."

"Are you questioning my dedication to my wife?" he violently questions, grabbing my coat and pushing me up against the wall of the house. It figures that he would resort to this kind of barbarian behavior.

"No." I don't react. "Not your dedication, just your definition of love." Shaking him off, I turn my back on him. "Can I have one minute with her alone, Antonio, then I swear I'll leave."

Confusion crosses his features but he nods, albeit reluctantly. "One minute, after that I'm throwing your ass out."

I nod, entering the house.

"Luis!" She smiles, showing me the baby. "I've decided I didn't like the name Martin so I renamed him. What do you think of Logan? Logan Lopez-Fitzgerald."

"It's a great name." I smile tightly, joining them. "Hi, little guy." I gently run my fingers over his fuzzy head. "He seems much happier now."

"That's because he's with his Mommy and Daddy, isn't that right, Logan?" She tickled his stomach. "Would you like to hold him?"

I shake my head, having already bonded far too much with my son. Holding him now might rattle the resolved that I have built. I'll need all my strength to do what I have planned.

"We need to talk."

The seriousness of my tone causes her to pause and she flashes frightened eyes my way. She tucks Logan into his cradle, motioning to the couch. "Let's have a seat."

While she sits on the sofa, I settle in an armchair. Studying the carpet, I seek the courage to start the conversation. The silence between us lingers, though slightly more uncomfortable than before.

"You had something to say?" she asks softly.

"Right." I clear my throat. "This isn't easy."

"There's nothing you can't tell me, Luis, especially now. You've brought our son home to us, just like you promised. Now we can be a family; we can live together."

"That's just it," I respond. "We can't."

She nearly drops the stuffed bear she had been toying with, eyes flying to meet mine. "What did you say?"

"We can't be a family, can't live together."

"But...why?"

I sigh, trying to remember how brave the mother of that child had been. She was willing to let her baby be raised by another just so he would live.

"Because I love you."

"We can't be a family because you love me?"

She's obviously confused, so I explain. "I have loved you for a very long time now, Sheridan, and I would never hurt you intentionally. There's nothing I wanted more than to make you my wife and have a family with you, but things...things don't always go as we plan. Sometimes the things we love most we need to let go of."

I pause, trying to collect my thoughts. "Antonio may not love you the way I do and you might not love him the way you do me, but you are his wife. Over the last few weeks we've been pulling you this way and that as if you were a rope in a tug-of-war contest. It's not fair to you and definitely not healthy for you or our son. Something needs to give."

"We'll talk to Antonio, I'm sure he'll see..."

I shake my head. "He loves you; he's not giving up without a fight. I don't want my son --our son-- going through that. I especially don't want to make you go through that.

“Lately, I've found myself remembering things Mama used to teach us about our faith. How a man never comes between a woman and her husband. How we're to be honest and decent people by following the Commandments. Most of all I remember the stories she used to read to us; lately one sticks out more than the others. The tale of King Solomon..."

"And the mothers," she finishes, looking over at the bassinette where the baby lay. "But I'm not an infant, Luis, I can voice my desires and wishes. I don't want to be with Antonio."

"Maybe that's because you don't know how to be with him. Have you ever had a moment to be his wife without me in your life? No. Have you ever given yourself a chance to love him without comparing it to me? No. It's only fair that we give your love for him a chance and you can't do that with me here..."

"What are you saying? Are you leaving?"

I nod. "Tonight. I've only told Mama where I'm going so she can send me pictures of Logan. I'll come back to visit him soon."

Her face fell. "No! I won't let you walk out of our life, Luis. Logan deserved to know his father, his real father. I don't care if Antonio hasn't had a chance to be my husband. I don't love him that way. I never will."

"You can't mean that, Sheridan," Antonio speaks from the doorway. "We're husband and wife; we’re married."

"No! We're nothing," she spat. "I have a son with Luis, Antonio, and I want to have a family with him. I don't want to be married to you."

While they argue, I walk out.

When you love a woman, you will do anything for her, even if it seems painful at first. I love Sheridan and to prove how much I'll leave her free to love my brother and give him time to show that he's the one for her. If not, I'll know to come back and I will, because I love that woman.

I'd rather see her alive with him, than cut in half so we each have a piece. I'll give her up and hope that one day she'll be mine again.

The End

Disclaimer: This story in is in no way meant to infringe upon the rights belonging to , NBC, or any entity thereof. All rights to Passions and any related content, including characters used, belong to "Outpost Farms Production Inc", James E. Reilly, and NBC.
This story is the property of the author. Copyright 2003. Nothing may be reprinted in whole or in part without the written permission of the author.
When You Love A Woman- Copyright © 2003 - All Rights Reserved.