Читать книгу Their Precious Christmas Miracle: Mistletoe Baby / In the Spirit of...Christmas / A Baby By Christmas - Tanya Michaels - Страница 13

“All right.” Rachel felt surprisingly unself-conscious about talking to her belly through the thin cotton of her pink T-shirt. “You’ve made your point.”

Today, she and David were supposed to meet at the OB’s office and find out for sure if she was pregnant. But the baby had chosen now to make its presence known beyond a shadow of a doubt. While Rachel had experienced increasing twinges of nausea in the past few weeks, this was the first time she’d truly succumbed to full-on morning sickness. The back door to the house was still open—she’d been letting the dogs out in the yard when she’d had to make a sudden run for it.

Hadn’t she read somewhere that an expectant mother tossing her cookies was a sign of a healthy, growing baby?

She got to her feet slowly in case the room had any plans of spinning again, then she went into the kitchen, planning to call the dogs inside and consider breakfast options. The pregnancy books she’d bought the first time were buried in a closet back at her and David’s house, but she remembered reading that, while it seemed counterintuitive, food would help ease the nausea. As she reached the back door, she heard the barking. She peeked her head out and saw the dogs with their noses pressed to the wooden planks of the fence. On the sidewalk beyond, David’s posture was sheepish. The hounds raised enough of a ruckus to wake the entire neighborhood.

When he saw her, he called, “I was just out jogging.”

“Of course.” She whistled, causing the dogs to glance her way. None of them actually came toward her, however. The two older ones were at least quiet now, but Hildie kept yipping her excitement. Rachel took another step outside, wincing at the cold of the ground through her fuzzy socks. “I don’t think they’re going to leave their post until you pass by.”

David didn’t seem in any hurry. “Well, I guess I’ll see you at Dr. McDermott’s office … unless you want to ride together?”

It was a seemingly innocuous suggestion, yet she was left with the distinct impression he hadn’t heard anything she’d tried to tell him in his office yesterday. “David—”

“You know, with gas prices being what they are,” he added, “and carpooling being the more environmentally friendly option.”

Exasperating man. “Sic him, Hildie.”

“Honestly, Rach, what are you worried about? The few minutes alone in the car can’t possibly be as intimate as the visit itself. I mean, we’re going to find out for sure whether or not we’ve created a new life, hopefully get to see the first sonogr—”

“Shh! It’s bad enough that the dogs probably woke up everyone in the subdivision. We shouldn’t be out here discussing private matters.”

“You’re absolutely right,” he said smoothly. “I’ll come inside.”

He went from leaning against the fence to sprinting before she had time to protest. She’d say this for him—he could move.

But paying him compliments was the furthest thing from her mind when she opened the front door. “I don’t want to ride with you.”

Peering at her beneath the foyer chandelier, he frowned. “Up close, you don’t look … I mean … Rough morning?”

“I guess there’s really no debonair way to tell a girl she’s green and disheveled.”

“You’re sick to your stomach, aren’t you? I’m an ass. You shouldn’t have been standing out in the cold talking to me—you should be off your feet. Why don’t you go relax, and I’ll make some coffee? No, caffeine’s bad for the baby. I’ll pour juice and—”

“You’ll go away,” Rachel said firmly. “I appreciate the sentiment, sort of, but I don’t need help.”

“Why are you being so stubborn?”

“Why are you? David, I don’t want you to take care of me.”

He surprised her by putting a hand across her abdomen. “It’s my baby, too, Rach. Let me be part of this. Don’t shut me out again.”

She flinched at his soft words. “I would never try to push you away where the baby’s involved.”

“There was a time I wouldn’t have believed you would push me away, period.” He let his hand drop away.

He blames me. Worse, on some level, so did she. “It’s not—it’s not like I set out to create distance between us. But there were times when it was hard to be around you.” Like the day the doctor had called with the results from the routine test confirming that David was not the infertile one.

Of course he wasn’t. Robustly healthy, he didn’t even have the decency to come down with the occasional flu so that she could commiserate with other wives about what a lousy patient he was. Hell, if he ever did get sick, he’d probably be perfectly gracious about it. A tangle of long-suppressed emotion bubbled to the surface—resentment for her do-no-wrong husband and self-loathing that she hadn’t been able to love him more unconditionally, that she’d ever allowed resentment to take root.

“You know, it wasn’t exactly me pushing you, it was more pulling away. Retreating like a turtle. For my own defense.”

“Defense? I never would have hurt you!”

Not on purpose, but it was amazing the accidents that could take place in close quarters. “You don’t think it hurt when you pushed me to put my miscarriage behind us like it never even happened?” She cupped her hands over her belly, as if the protective gesture could somehow keep such a thing from happening again.

“I was encouraging you to look forward, to consider other possibilities. You were in such a dark place,” he reminded her, frustration thick in his voice.

“I was.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “And I felt very alone there.”

“I was trying my damnedest, Rach. What the hell more did you want from me?”

She struggled to find the right words, her own emotions and his growing impatience making an already difficult task nearly impossible. “Maybe what I needed was less from you.”

He shoved a hand through his hair. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Well, you know me. Overwrought, crazy Rachel.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”

“Finally.” She choked on a sob, wanting him gone so she could fall apart without losing the remains of her dignity. “Something we agree on.”

“I DON’T GET men,” Arianne said, leaning against the doorjamb.

“Then we’re even.” David kept his gaze on the spreadsheet in front of him. He needed to go in a few minutes, and he hated leaving things unfinished. “Because I don’t get women.” His curt tone would have warned away most would-be conversationalists.

His little sister, however, was impervious.

She sauntered inside the office and dropped into a chair. “Seriously, I’m baffled. Yesterday you were in a great mood. Today you’re biting off heads left and right.”

“You should go while yours is still attached,” he said mildly.

“What’s going on, Dave?” In contrast to her earlier tone, she no longer sounded like an adolescent sibling needling him. She sounded like a bona fide grown-up who was concerned—and more astute than people might think.

He met her gaze, wanting to tell her everything was fine but unable to lie to her outright. “Nothing that we need to discuss right now. Shouldn’t you be working?”

She waved a hand. “I doubt the owner will fire me over a few minutes back here. That’s the beauty of nepotism.”

David snorted. “Dad has never shown his kids favoritism. If anything, he’s tougher on us than he’s been on some of the part-time help over the years. You work darn hard.”

“I know.” She dimpled at him. “But I like hearing you say it. Now, are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or do I have to pull Mom aside and tell her I’m dreadfully worried about you?”

“Brat.” They both knew that Susan could be obstinately determined when it came to prying information from one of her kids. She’d already expressed some concern for him, and if Arianne added that he was acting strangely, his mother might not be content to leave well enough alone. He made a show of checking his watch. “If you’re done with your attempted extortion, I’m supposed to meet Rachel somewhere.”

“‘Somewhere’?” Arianne echoed.

“It involves your Christmas present. I can’t say more. It would ruin the surprise.”

“You’re so full of it. But at least Rach never has to worry about her husband keeping something from her. You’re a lousy liar.”

“I wouldn’t lie to Rachel.”

“I was joking. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, sure.” It was just that he didn’t find much about his marriage funny these days. He stood. “If I don’t get out of here, I risk being late.”

“Yeah, that gridlocked downtown Mistletoe traffic can be a real delay.” She sighed. “Fine, don’t tell me what’s wrong. Go wherever it is that you’re also not telling me. I’m only a blood relation, no one important.”

He made it all the way to the door before he turned back to press a kiss on top of Arianne’s head.

She blinked up at him. “What the heck was that?”

“I love you. You’re a pain in the ass, but it’s sweet that you worry about me.”

“Oh God. You’re not dying or something, are you?”

His laugh was rusty. “Of course not.”

“All right.” She raised up on her tiptoes to hug him. “Dave? Whatever is wrong, you should talk to somebody about it. If not me or Mom, then maybe Tanner. Or better yet, your wife.”

He’d tried to talk to his wife—and the disastrous results were why he’d been snapping at people all day.

THE PALE BLUE chairs in the OB’s waiting room were locked together bench-style, in rows of three, but Rachel and David managed to sit so rigidly that there was no chance of their bodies brushing. The silence reverberating in Rachel’s skull was giving her a hell of a headache. Yet despite all of that, she was perversely relieved by David’s presence.

She no longer harbored a molecule of doubt that she was pregnant, still, until she actually heard Dr. McDermott say everything was progressing just right, Rachel would remain a nervous wreck. Thank God she didn’t have to await the doctor’s diagnosis alone. So much for standing on your own two feet.

While she’d strongly wanted to throw something at her husband that morning, he’d been absolutely right on one point. It’s my baby, too, Rach. Let me be part of this. The memory was a raw wound, substantiating what she’d known but apparently hadn’t accepted: the reason she was suddenly getting the full-court press was because he didn’t want to lose his place in their child’s life.

Could she blame him, though? After all, he was the father.

“Rachel Waide?”

Her heart thumped against her chest. “That’s me.” And always would be. While she’d had her maiden name for far more years than her married surname, she didn’t think she’d ever truly be comfortable as Rachel Nietermyer again. She certainly didn’t want a different last name than her own child.

David had risen and was reaching automatically for her hand to help her out of the chair. She didn’t pull away on purpose, it was a skittish reflex, like flinching from something coming at you in your peripheral vision. David narrowed his eyes and swiftly looked away. She wished she could take back the moment. A strangled laugh caught in her throat—if she had the power to go back in time and change even small reactions, maybe they never would have reached this point.

They followed the nurse, who handed Rachel a clear specimen cup with her name written on it. After that was taken care of, the same nurse indicated the scale. Oh, joy, just what everyone wanted—to be weighed in front of an audience. She defiantly kicked off her shoes and stepped onto the platform. Ironically, her weight was lower than she’d anticipated. Her blood pressure, however, was much higher than normal. The nurse made a concerned tutting noise as she wrote the numbers on the chart.

“I’m, uh, a little more tense today than usual,” Rachel told the woman.

“Understandable. But it’s best for you and the baby if you relax.”

There were a few other minor tests to complete and medical questions to answer, although the vast majority of Rachel’s history was already well-documented in her patient file. Finally, she and David were shown into a larger-than-normal exam room where an ultrasound machine sat next to the table.

“Dr. McDermott will be with you in just a few minutes. She’ll most likely want to do a vaginal ultrasound.”

This would be to confirm fetal age and assess viability, Rachel knew, making sure the fetus was implanted right where it should be. Her nerves started to tie themselves into knots that would impress even the most seasoned sailors.

The nurse gave them a reassuring smile. “If we’re right about your being nine weeks pregnant, you’ll even be able to see the heartbeat today.”

Next to her, David swallowed. What was he thinking? His gorgeous face was alarmingly unreadable.

This time last year, although they were obviously having problems, Rachel would never have guessed there would come a day when he felt like a stranger to her. She had no clue whether he was remembering previous doctor’s visits, if he rued the unorthodox timing of this pregnancy, if he hoped for a son or daughter … Suddenly he turned, his gaze arresting hers. Whatever he was thinking, the emotion behind it was potent.

“I’ll just leave the two of you alone,” the nurse said. “Mrs. Waide, you’ll need to get completely undressed and put on the gown.”

Gown? Fancy term for a large piece of paper with two holes on the sides and a strip meant to tie in the back. When the nurse shut the door behind her, Rachel gulped.

David wasn’t meeting her gaze now. “I guess I should go wait in the hall.”

Considering that she was standing there pregnant with his child, that seemed a lot like closing the barn door after the horse already got loose. “You could turn around. Promise not to look?”

“You’d trust me?” He turned toward the wall and a pink poster about new Pap smear methods.

“Trust was never the issue between us,” she said. Whatever else his faults—or annoying lack thereof—it wasn’t as if she’d worried David would betray her.

“I don’t know,” he said after a moment. “There’s more than one kind of trust. What you said today about needing to protect yourself from getting hurt …”

There was a raw pain in his voice she hadn’t expected, and she paused in the act of unfastening her bra. He was keeping his word, not watching her, which presented an unusual opportunity to look her fill. He wasn’t basketball-player tall, but he was a nice height for her, strong and solid. His posture had always been correct; no one needed to remind him to stand up straight. Even so, there was a slight rounding to his broad shoulders, the tiniest sign of dejection. Or defeat.

“David, I wasn’t trying to hurt you with what I said this morning.” She folded her bra inside her discarded shirt, then reached for the waistband of her pants. This was a surreal conversation to be having while she stripped.

His laugh held no traces of humor. “See? We really don’t trust each other. You weren’t trying to hurt me, I wasn’t trying to hurt you. So why, instead of giving the other person the benefit of the doubt, do we jump to the worst conclusions?”

Because love made people vulnerable.

She couldn’t voice the thought without admitting that she still loved him, not in the bright, think-about-you-all-the-time way she had when she’d first met him. This was more bittersweet and weather-beaten. They’d shared so much, both good and bad. They’d grown apart like vines reaching for separate suns instead of becoming stronger together, but the memories they’d created would never fade completely. Especially since we created something a lot more tangible than a memory. She splayed her fingers over her navel.

“You almost done?” he asked, shifting his weight restlessly.

She grabbed for the paper wrapper. “Just about.”

“I can’t believe I’m alone in a room with you, you’re finally naked, and I’m stuck reading about innovations in cervical health.”

An errant giggle escaped her. “Sorry.”

“Really?” His shoulders straightened. “Because there are ways you could make it up to me.”

“Not that sorry.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured.”

There were two quick knocks on the door outside before Lydia McDermott stuck her head inside. “Everyone decent?”

“We’re ready.” Rachel scooted onto the table as the beaming doctor entered the room.

“So it looks like congrats are in order! The two of you must be thrilled,” Dr. McDermott said.

Rachel cleared her throat. “We’re … a lot of things. Surprised, for one. After all those months of trying, and then after we’d pretty much concluded we were giving up, bam.”

The doctor nodded. “You’d be surprised how it happens that way for many people. Couples who find out they’re pregnant halfway through adoption proceedings, or couples who have just adopted a baby and then find out another one is coming. The mind and body connection is a funny thing. It’s as if for some couples, once they accept that it’s not going to happen—as you said—bam, it does.”

“The universe has a sick sense of humor. Not that I’m complaining,” Rachel added hastily, not wanting to test fate. David came to stand beside her.

Dr. McDermott was a tall, aristocratic-looking woman who delivered dozens of babies each year. Though her sleek bob had gone almost entirely gray, her blue eyes twinkled and her attractive face was mostly unlined. She looked wise and capable.

Rachel knew with sudden certainty she didn’t want anyone but Lydia delivering this baby. I’m staying in Mistletoe. Which meant she had to decide on some long-term plans, the sooner, the better. She couldn’t stay at Winnie’s until the baby came this summer.

The doctor wore reading glasses on a slim chain around her neck and lifted them to better study the nurse’s notes. “How are you feeling? Any major side effects you want to discuss or ask about?”

“Well, the morning sickness has kicked in. That was fun,” Rachel said wryly. “And I was cramping a few days ago. Before the home pregnancy test. At the time, I figured it was just my stalled period about to start.”

“We’ll check everything out, of course, but lots of women experience abdominal discomfort from ligaments stretching. Things are moving around and changing, so there will be some minor pains. Don’t let them panic you. Any headaches, dizziness or breast tenderness?”

“Yes, on all three counts.” Thinking about how sensitive her breasts had become—it practically hurt to roll over in her sleep—Rachel felt herself blush. They’d always been sensitive, which, in happier times, David had used to orgasmic effect.

“All right.” Dr. McDermott walked to the counter and set down the manila folder. “Why don’t you lie back, and we’ll take a look.”

Rachel’s heart fluttered rapidly. As she reclined, she reached out without thinking. David reacted immediately, clasping her hand and giving it a brief reassuring squeeze. She couldn’t look at him—it would make the moment too unbearably intimate—but she was grateful for the contact.

If she stopped to think about what was going on, the ultrasound would have been a bit embarrassing, but she was far too mesmerized by the colors and blobs on the small screen Dr. McDermott turned toward her.

“There. See that? There’s your little one, right where he should be.” A tiny shape, curved but indistinct, a dark winking at the center.

Tears blurred Rachel’s vision. That was her baby, that was the heartbeat.

David sounded choked up as well when he asked, “It was just a figure of speech, right? The ‘he’? I mean you can’t tell …”

Dr. McDermott chuckled. “No, it’ll be a long time before I can advise you whether to buy pink paint or blue, but the months will go fast. You’re already well on your way to the second trimester! As anxious as the two of you have been, I’m surprised you didn’t take the home test sooner.”

How to explain that she’d been so preoccupied with her marriage falling apart that the first missed period had gone unnoticed? “Well, I was afraid to get my hopes up too soon.”

Lydia nodded, pressing some buttons on her machine. “Give it a few minutes, and you’ll have your first baby picture for the scrapbook. Everything looks great.”

Once the exam was over, they talked some more about what to expect and when Rachel should come back in for the next visit.

“That’s everything for now,” the doctor concluded. “I’ll step out and let you get dressed, give you a chance to think of any more questions. And a moment to celebrate your good news privately.” She smiled at both of them, then left.

Neither of them moved. David looked as poleaxed as Rachel felt.

He glanced at the grainy photo Dr. McDermott had handed him. “We did that.”

She grinned over his shoulder. “Yeah.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.” The enormity of the situation settled over her; she and David had created life. There was a new little person growing inside her. Even though she’d known it on an abstract level, seeing the visual proof was profound.

“You all right?” he asked.

“I’ll be better once we hit the second trimester mark,” she admitted.

“‘We’? Meaning you and the baby?”

“All of us.” She stopped, started again. “I’m still going to see my family in a few weeks, but just temporarily. Whatever else happens, I won’t leave Mistletoe until the baby’s born.”

He closed his eyes for a moment. “And after?”

“I … I’m still working on that.”

Not an answer he liked, but all she could give him was the truth. Whatever he might be thinking, he didn’t argue. Instead, he selected another wall to face—this time with a view of a smaller brochure printed on bright pink paper. Rachel slid her feet down over the side of the exam table. In the quiet of the room, the sounds of paper rasping against her skin and the slide of fabric seemed exaggerated. Within minutes, she was completely dressed and slipping on her shoes.

“All done,” she said.

“Rach?” He turned his head, his blue-green eyes burning like turquoise flame. “If I had asked you not to go, if I had asked you to see a marriage therapist with me first, to try working this all out … would you have agreed to give us another shot?”

Her chest constricted so tightly she couldn’t breathe. “I think I would have,” she said after a long moment’s thought. “If you’d asked before you knew about the baby, I would have.”