Читать книгу The Sweetest September - Liz Talley - Страница 12
ОглавлениеDR. JAMISON FRENCH’S office looked nothing like her doctor’s office in Seattle. The walls were a bright blue and the hot-pink chairs looked like something in a funky designer’s office rather than an obstetrician’s. The navy chevron-patterned changing curtain and a funny picture of kittens playing on the ceiling above the exam table seemed to make pelvic exams fun...uh, almost.
Dr. French rolled his stool over to where Shelby lay on the exam table, paisley paper gown open to reveal her white belly. The tech rolled the ultrasound transponder around in the gook on her stomach while the doctor focused on the soft lub-lub of the heartbeat on the monitor.
Feeling like she might heave up the oatmeal cookie she’d scarfed down hours ago, Shelby watched the small screen and the mass of...something that caused the swooshing noises. The panic inside subsided as she listened to the telltale sound of her baby’s heartbeat.
“I’m not seeing anything that concerns me here, Shelby,” Dr. French said, his blue eyes intense behind his artsy glasses. Pointing to the screen he continued. “Heartbeat’s strong for an eleven-week fetus.”
“So why am I bleeding? Was it riding in that stupid mule?”
Dr. French nodded at the technician, who removed the roller-ball thing and handed Shelby a few tissues to wipe off the lubricant.
“No, your baby is safe in your womb and hitting bumps or getting jostled shouldn’t cause any harm. About twenty percent of women experience spotting in the first trimester of pregnancy. Usually caused by implantation of the fetus, but since you’re past that point of your pregnancy, I don’t think that’s the issue.”
“Oh.” Dread knitted inside her. What was wrong with her? Had she done something wrong? She’d had some wine and, oh, hell, a couple of vodka martinis before she knew she was pregnant.
“When was the last time you saw your doctor?” Dr. French asked, noting something in the thin folder before setting it on the counter by the sink. The technician left, shutting the door softly, and the pretty nurse who’d taken her blood pressure slid inside the examination room and with a warm smile, started doing whatever it was nurses did behind the exam table.
“Two weeks ago. Uh, when I had the pregnancy confirmed.”
“And did he or she do a vaginal exam?”
“Yes.” Shelby sat up and wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her arms. She didn’t want a vaginal exam. She couldn’t handle something that made her any more vulnerable than what she currently felt. Tears sat on the horizon waiting for an excuse to make a debut.
“Hmm.”
“What’s that mean?” Shelby tried to not sound panicked. Her life had been flipped topsy-turvy, and the ground beneath her feet felt as thin as the paper gown she shivered in. Dear Lord. How did single mothers do this and not lose their minds? She felt out of control...and there was no one to hand the reins over to.
On her own.
Dr. French lifted his head from the chart and gave her a sincere, comforting smile. “Relax, lots of changes are going on in your body—like the alteration of pH levels, which can allow yeast to flourish. Any disruption of the cervical cells, like having intercourse, can cause those inflamed cells to bleed.”
“I haven’t had sex. Um, since that night.” Shelby looked at the closed door. John sat right outside in the small waiting area. Did Dr. French suspect John as the father?
Silly, Shelby. Sure, the good doctor had question marks in his eyes when John hurried her in the back door like it was some secret abortion clinic and he was the preacher’s son, but that didn’t mean he suspected his friend of being the father.
“We’ll take a look and see if that’s what’s going on. A woman’s body during pregnancy is a mysterious thing.”
Shelby stared blankly at him.
“If you’ll just lie back and scoot your bottom right down here,” he said, flicking on the gigantic lightbulb at the foot of the table.
“Oh, God,” Shelby breathed.
The nurse placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, Shelby. Try and relax.”
At this Shelby laughed...almost hysterically.
Yeah, sure.
Five minutes later, Shelby stood inside the small curtained dressing room, hands trembling and stomach pitching. As she pulled on her wrap dress, she beat back the self-pity threatening to wash over her.
Never had she felt so alone.
And there had been plenty of times in her life she’d stood by herself—the time she’d gotten lost as a child while on vacation, the time she found out her first love had only used her for sex, when she moved to Europe not knowing a soul and most recently in a bathroom at Boots Grocery. But enduring a pelvic in an unfamiliar office with the stranger who knocked you up standing outside scraped the bottom of the you’re-so-alone barrel.
Shelby curved her hand over her still-flat stomach, imagining she could feel the heartbeat beneath her hand.
Still with me.
Tugging on her boots, she whisked back the curtain and cracked the door so the doctor would know she was dressed. Sinking on the funky pink chair beside the wall of cabinets, Shelby pulled her purse into her lap and pretended she couldn’t hear the conversation between Dr. French and John.
“How do you know this woman again?”
Long pause. “I told you. She’s an old friend.”
Shelby almost snorted. Yeah. Two and a half months of old friendship.
“Her patient information sheet says she’s from Seattle.”
“Yeah.” Aggravation in John’s voice.
“I’m not trying to pry.”
Another long pause.
“Okay, maybe I am. You call and say it’s an emergency of the female variety, bring in a pregnant woman I’ve never seen before and then expect me not to ask any questions? I’m an old friend, too.”
More long silence.
A sigh.
“Fine.”
John’s voice again. “Is she okay?”
“Sorry. Patient confidentiality,” Dr. French quipped. A door shut and then Dr. French stepped into her exam room, annoyance in his eyes fading as he smiled. As the door clicked shut, he picked up her chart and grabbed a pen from his scrub pocket. Clicking it, he grabbed a prescription pad. “The good news is that at present, you’re not losing the pregnancy. I checked your blood work and you have a slight infection. Here’s a script for a cream that can help.”
Shelby opened her mouth to ask—
“No, it won’t hurt the fetus.”
“Baby,” Shelby said. What grew inside her had ceased being a fetus. It was her baby...and she supposed John’s, too.
“The small amount of cramping you’ve had is likely the uterus stretching a bit, making a nice home for your baby, and perhaps contributing to the bleeding. Still, I’d like to put you on limited activity for the next week as a precaution. Feet up. Lots of rest. It’s evident you’re tired and stressed.”
Shelby gave an embarrassed laugh, brushing her hair back, suddenly self-conscious about the no doubt tangled mess of curls...not to mention the mascara shadow under her eyes, which made her look like a heroin addict. She wasn’t interested in any man, but Dr. French was awfully attractive. How the tiny town of Magnolia Bend had netted both John the smoking-hot farmer and Jamison the sexy ob-gyn was beyond her. “I suppose it’s been a bit stressful these past few weeks.”
“Your body’s going through a lot of change, so maybe a little doctor-ordered rest will be good for you...and hopefully once the inflammation is gone the bleeding will stop.” Sticking his hand out, he shook hers. “I’d like to see you in a week. I’ll be glad to forward my notes and your chart to your regular doctor in Seattle when you return home.”
“So I need to stay in town?”
Dropping his hand, he took a second to think about her question. “If at all possible, yes. Miscarriage can be a complicated process. I don’t think the fetus, uh, baby, is in danger, but until we see if this cream works, it would be better for you not to travel. So put your feet up and focus on taking it easy for a week. If the bleeding becomes heavier or doesn’t lessen in three or four days, call me.”
Then he was gone, leaving her once again alone in the exam room. Shelby tucked the prescription in her purse, and found a tube of soft nude lipstick. If she were a bit more presentable, she’d feel stronger...like she could handle walking back out into the reality of her life.
She lingered a few moments, combing her hair, wiping away the traces of tears, and then left the room, running straight into John, who was lurking at the door.
His hands curved around her upper arms, steadying her, and Shelby tried not to think about how good it felt to have someone so solid beside her. “Whoa. You okay?” he asked.
Not even close.
She lifted her gaze and saw worry swimming in his eyes. “I guess. I don’t seem to be having a miscarriage if that’s what you’re asking.”
The worry lessened a bit, but then he seemed to remember where he stood. His head swiveled as if checking for spies...or maybe nosy nurses. His eyes landed on the door they came in. “Let’s go out the way we came.”
She pulled away from him. “I probably need to talk to the receptionist. I haven’t given anyone my insurance card.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it,” he said, taking her elbow again and guiding her toward the door.
“Stop,” Shelby said, wrenching her arm away, feeling skeevy about sneaking out and not paying. “I don’t need you to—”
“I know, I know.” He held up a hand, his mouth growing rigid. “You can handle everything on your own.”
He sounded mad...and maybe a little hurt. She wasn’t sure because she didn’t know him well enough to make a judgment.
An exam room door opened and a woman wearing a tent waddled out. Okay, it wasn’t a tent, just a maternity dress that masqueraded as one. But still...yikes. Would she get that enormous? The poor woman might as well have had RMS Titanic stenciled across her side.
“John?” the ship, ahem, woman asked, a little V of befuddlement forming between her eyes. She smoothed the linen shift against her bulging stomach and sailed toward them, questions bouncing in her eyes. “What the devil are you doing here?”
“Shannon,” John said weakly, his smile pained. “Uh, I’m here to see Jamison. This is his office.”
“I know that, silly,” Shannon said, inclining her head toward Shelby, her eyebrows raised in that age-old expression that meant Who’s your friend?
“Oh, you mean what am I doing here with Shelby?” He turned his regard to her.
“Hi.” Shelby did a little wave. “I’m a friend of John’s.”
“Oh,” Shannon said, her expression still puzzled.
“Shelby didn’t feel well and since Jamison’s a close friend, I asked if I could drop in.”
“Oh,” Shannon said again, her cheeks dimpling as she gave Shelby a smile. “Lucky you. Dr. French is the best doctor around. Women even drive up from New Orleans to see him.”
“Great,” Shelby said, wishing she’d allowed John to tug her out the back door without resistance. This whole thing was awkward with a capital A.
“Well, we need to go. Tell Rob I said hello,” John said, motioning Shelby toward the back door like a cruise director.
Okay, so she extended the ship imagery. Sue her.
“So are you new in town?” Shannon persisted, following them with the determination of a...
She was out of ship metaphors.
John paused, turning toward the inquisitive Shannon, but Shelby beat him to it. “Just passing through.”
“For the week,” John clarified.
“What?” Shelby snapped, realizing Dr. French must have told John he’d prescribed bed rest.
“You’re staying with my sister, Abigail, at her bed-and-breakfast, right?” John said, his eyes beckoning her to go along with his statement.
“Actually, I was going to stay in Baton Rouge,” Shelby said, giving John a look she reserved for naughty students. How dare he manipulate her? Magnolia Bend was a charming little town, but she didn’t want to spend her weeklong bed rest with John’s sister. Something told her it would be too...too suffocating.
Shannon looked from him to her, now resembling a...buoy bobbing in the current? Or maybe a cork? Or a—Shelby was officially about to lose it. She wasn’t sure what losing it might look like. She felt equal parts anger and hysteria.
“Laurel Woods is a lovely place to stay. I had my wedding reception there,” Shannon said.
“Really?” Shelby said, a giggle rising to the surface. She bit her lip and tried to hold on to the anger.
“Oh, sure. It’s one of the top bed-and-breakfasts in the area. Of course, we don’t get many tourists because we’re so close to New Orleans, but this time of year with Thanksgiving and the Candy Cane Festival around the corner, we see a few new faces.”
“Huh, that’s...interesting,” Shelby said, glancing longingly toward the back door. She needed to get out of there. Screw the insurance.
“In fact my brother’s playing at the street dance Saturday night after the tree lighting. Maybe I’ll see you both there?” Shannon’s question might as well have been a fishing line tossed into unknown waters.
Shelby couldn’t seem to stop the nautical metaphors. Anytime she couldn’t deal with situations she became plain silly...which meant if she didn’t vamoose, she’d say something inappropriate.
“Maybe so,” John said, tapping Shelby twice on the arm. “We better go.”
“Tell your father I enjoyed his sermon last Sunday...and tell your mama hello, too,” Shannon called out as John turned toward the door and nearly dragged Shelby with him.
Sermon?
Wait. John was an actual preacher’s son? The whole back door thing suddenly made sense.
“Jesus,” he said as he pushed out the door.
“Imagine that. A preacher’s son calling on his savior. Now the whole back door approach makes sense. You go into liquor stores the same way?”
“That’s not what this was about.”
Shelby lifted her eyebrows. “Whatever you say, sailor.”
“Fine. I wanted to get you in to Jamison’s without everyone asking questions, and I knew you’d get treatment faster. It was an emergency, right?”
“Right.”
“Doesn’t matter. Shannon will tell the whole town about me being with a woman at the local ob-gyn’s office.”
“That ship just sailed, huh?” And that was it. Her sanity snapped and the giggling started. John stared at her like she was deranged.
She was. At least temporarily.
“Sorry,” Shelby said, turning away, holding her belly, trying to find the remote control to her feelings. She teetered on the edge, the rollicking emotions pulling at her, making her wish for safe harbor from the storm.
Safe harbor.
The laughter boiled up again at the continued nautical nonsense, but she managed to stifle it. Turning around, she found John heading for his truck. He looked pissed, resigned, shell-shocked and pretty good in his jeans. She wished she hadn’t noticed that last thing, but there it was.
The man who had impregnated her in the bathroom was pretty hot, sad and grumpy.
Hey, a girl had to look for silver linings somewhere.
* * *
JOHN OPENED THE door for the woman who he suspected was either crazy as hell or suffering the start of a breakdown. Could be both, but either way she’d rolled into his world and pulled the rug out from beneath him. He’d hit the proverbial dirt so hard his proverbial ass had bruises. On an actual literal level, his head throbbed and the churning in his gut was something no antacid could cure. World rocked was an understatement.
He could get perspective later, though. At present he needed to convince her to stay in town.
Which could be a huge problem on a lot of levels, but still...he couldn’t help the inclination he felt to press Pause. He needed some time to think, some time to figure out possibly the rest of his life.
Shelby climbed inside the truck, allowing him to assist her, looking contrite after laughing like a cuckoo bird in the doctor’s parking lot.
He shouldn’t have been surprised. That night months ago, her vivacious laugh had first attracted him to her. Okay, if he were being honest, her body had been the first thing, but when she’d laughed, telling him lame jokes, he’d felt almost normal again. And then she’d flirted, pressing her polished nails against his chest, gazing into his eyes, telling him how good he made her feel...how much she needed someone like him to make her forget about the world.
That goddamn bright smile of hers and those baby-blues. By the time he was on his fifth beer, Shelby had been the answer to his prayers and he wanted to sink inside her, allow her to take the damn pain away and replace it with something as light as her laughter for just a little while.
God, send me something to take this damn pain away.
In John’s mind, God had answered, delivering Shelby with her perfect teeth and lush body.
Yeah.
God liked to play jokes...or maybe it was more his punishment for Rebecca’s death. Thanks, God. Good one.
John fired the engine, sliding a glance over to the woman who now sat solemnly, clutching her purse like it held the antidote to a horrible disease. Her knuckles were white.
“My sister has a bed-and-breakfast. You’ll be close by so I can check on you.”
“I have a hotel in Baton Rouge...all my things are there. Staying at your sister’s place isn’t necessary.”
“This isn’t just about you.”
She didn’t say anything, so he gave her time, rolling onto Main Street, heading back toward home. The postman gave him a curious glance...along with the woman who worked the dry-cleaning counter. John waved because it was expected, but he knew they wondered why he wasn’t out in the fields...and why a blonde sat next to him.
“True,” Shelby said finally, settling her gaze on him. “I get that you’re trying to do the right thing...that you feel bad about what happened that night—”
“You need help.”
“I don’t. That back there was a weird reaction to stress. I can’t help myself sometimes,” she said, looking sheepish, “but I’ll be fine on my own.”
“So beyond the half breakdown you nearly had, are you okay? I mean is the baby okay?”
“Yeah, Dr. French thinks it’s an infection.”
“I heard through the door. He said no traveling.”
“He recommended no flying.”
“Stay in Magnolia Bend.” He tried to keep his tone neutral. Half of him wanted her to fly out of his life, but the other half clung to the thought this woman carried his son or daughter in her womb. He didn’t want to feel anything for her. At all. But he couldn’t let her go.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she said. “I don’t belong here and it doesn’t seem fair to you to invite questions. I bet your town is full of Shannons who will be disappointed in their golden boy.”
John’s mind flipped to an image of his parents. They’d be very disappointed, along with his brothers and sister. Well, maybe not Jake. Then his mind flipped to his former mother-in-law, Carla Stanton, and the churning in his gut intensified. When Carla found out he’d fathered a child with a random woman, she’d be devastated. The idea he could lose everything popped into his mind. But if he let Shelby leave, he could lose something even more unimaginable—his child. “Having time to decide how we’ll handle this trumps what everyone else thinks. I shouldn’t care what anyone thinks.”
Not even Carla.
“But you do. You just sneaked me in the back door of the doctor’s office. You had a life...”
“Key word is had,” he said, his heart tripping over the truth Shelby had unearthed. He was ashamed of what he’d done that drunken night. He’d been untrue to Rebecca, sullying the day she’d left this earth with selfish desires. He’d sown this discord in his life and now he’d have to deal with the reaping. “Look, I don’t know how to feel. I wish I could say I didn’t give a damn about what people thought about me and the way I live my life, but—”
“You do?”
“I haven’t attended a single social event in town since Rebecca died. I’ve been in mourning and people accepted that. So to show up in town with a beautiful woman at my side, having people stare makes me feel...” He left off because he didn’t know.
Vulnerable? Guilty? And, yeah, maybe embarrassed he’d been so stupid. Getting a girl pregnant was a bonehead move and so unlike the salt-of-the-earth reputation he’d established in the town that had been home to the Beauchamps since the Civil War. Maybe if he hadn’t been such a part of the community it wouldn’t matter. Shelby was right. They weren’t living in the ’50s...though sometimes the small Louisiana town felt very much that way.
They passed the general store run by the Burnsides who were cousins on his mama’s side and the old men sitting outside playing checkers and lying about the fish they caught raised hands in greeting. He then tooted his horn at his uncle, Howard Burnside, who stood outside the courthouse wearing his sheriff’s uniform. “My whole family lives here.”
“Strange.”
“That’s the way it is in these small towns. I know almost everyone who lives here...and they know me.”
“So having me sit here pregnant from the one time you decided to take off your mourning clothes is a bit like crawling out from under a rock only to get pissed on?”
He had no reason to smile, but, damn, she’d nailed it. “I’d say that’s an accurate depiction.”
“So why do you want me to stay?”
“I can’t let you traipse off to Baton Rouge and hole up in a hotel room without someone to look after you.”
“Why? I’m a grown woman. I have a cell phone.”
She had a point, but something inside him balked at her leaving. He didn’t know exactly what he wanted in regards to the child, but if Shelby left Magnolia Bend, he might never know. Her leaving felt wrong. “Look, I know you can take care of yourself, but do me this solid—stay here. If something goes wrong, you’ll have someone to help you. I’ll get your things from the hotel. My sister won’t pester you or ask questions. I swear.”
“You’ll be working so what does it matter if I’m here or in Baton Rouge?”
“I can visit you each evening. We can get to know each other better.”
“Better than sex on a bathroom sink?” she snorted.
“Yeah, not my best moment.”
“I’ll say.” After a moment, Shelby continued, “I don’t need you to apologize for what happened or feel guilty. I don’t blame you anymore than I blame myself. We both screwed up and fiddler’s bill is steep.”
“Yeah, but I wish the dance had been a little better,” he said, recalling the cheap linoleum, the naked lightbulb and the way he’d made her feel when the realization of what he’d done washed over him. Not well done of him. Cheap, shoddy and now that he knew Shelby a little better, not deserved. “But it’s too late for regret. Best both of us can do is to move forward, doing what is best for our baby.”
“Our baby,” she repeated, her voice sounding lost.
Right as he pulled onto the highway, Shelby touched his arm. Her hands were small, still polished and soft looking. Nothing like Rebecca’s hands, worn from washing them too often at the preschool where she’d taught. Shelby’s touch sparked something in him, something he’d rather ignore and keep hidden.
Hunger for something more than what he’d lived for the past year and nearly three months.
“For the baby’s sake, I’ll stay until I get the all clear from Dr. Jamison, but I can promise you nothing beyond that.”
John looked over as she pulled her hand back into her lap and focused on the broken yellow lines of the road zipping beneath the old truck. “Okay, we can start there.”
