by Nora Roberts
Max turned back. “You didn’t say.”
“You were on the walkie with Poe. You were worried. We didn’t know if we’d be welcome here, or what to expect. And it wasn’t like the butterflies I felt before. Ray called that quickening. It wasn’t like that. It was excited. Is that normal?”
“At eighteen to twenty weeks it’s good to feel movement. You’ll feel more, but don’t worry if you don’t feel movement every day right now. ‘Don’t worry’ is the mantra.”
Rachel glanced at the ultrasound, sighed. “I need you to scoot down, feet in the stirrups.” She walked over, took gloves from a box. “I need to do an internal. Once we get things running, we’ll do an ultrasound.”
Max pointed. “That?”
“Yes. Once we can use it, you’ll be able to see the baby on the monitor, hear the heartbeat. I can measure weight and length, check a lot of things. I might be able to—if you want—determine sex.”
“It’s a girl. I know that the same way I know the conception date. I know she’s healthy and strong, but—”
“You still worry.”
“An ultrasound would show you things that would help with that worry?” Max asked.
Understanding expectant parents worried about everything even under normal circumstances, Rachel sent Max a reassuring smile.
“Babies have come into the world healthy and strong long before ultrasounds.”
“But?”
“I’m a doctor. I’d love to have all the tools available.”
“I can help with that.”
Max stepped to the machine, laid his hand on it. Rachel felt the air vibrate around her before the machine hummed to life.
Lana reached out a hand to brush Max’s arm. “Max has a talent for machines, motors, engines.”
For a moment, professional equanimity lost against a celebratory fist pump. “Oh, hell yes! We have an engineer and an electrician—and an IT guy—who are all going to want to meet you as soon as possible.”
“Can you use it now, for Lana and the baby?”
“Let’s find out. If I’d known this was an option, you could’ve kept on your underwear.”
“If you think modesty’s a factor, it’s not.”
“All right then.”
Rachel pulled out a tube of gel, snapped on the gloves. “I’m going to put this on your abdomen.” She lifted the hem of the gown.
“Will this be painful?” Max asked, and took Lana’s hand.
“Painless.” Mentally crossing her fingers, Rachel rubbed the transducer over the gel. “There.” She nodded toward the monitor. “There’s your baby.”
“I can’t really … Oh God, I can!” Lana’s hand clamped on Max’s. “I can see her. She’s moving. I can feel her moving.”
“Hear that sound? That’s a good, strong heartbeat. And from the size, I agree with your conception date.”
“She’s so small.” Max reached out, traced the image with his finger.
“I’ve seen bigger bell peppers,” Lana agreed. “Is she growing all right?”
“We’ve got her at right about five and a half inches, and seven ounces. She’s growing exactly right. And you’re right again. It’s a girl.”
“I see her fingers.” Lana’s voice broke. “She has fingers.”
“Eight fingers, two thumbs,” Rachel confirmed. “We’re going to take a closer look—at her heart, her brain, her other organs—but I’m going to say I’m seeing a perfectly formed eighteen-week fetus, female. How long will this stay on?” she asked Max.
Still tracing the baby, he brought Lana’s hand to his lips. “How long do you need it?”
Rachel felt a bit like weeping herself. “If I didn’t say it before, let me say it now. Welcome to New Hope.”
* * *
Lana came out clutching a list of do’s and don’ts. A line of people snaked out from Katie’s table. Lana zeroed in on Ray, walked over to hug him.
“Told you, Mama.”
“The doctor said she’s perfect. We’re perfect. She’s hoping to talk to you and Carly after you’re settled a little. I liked her, Ray. I really liked her.”
He gave her a pat on the cheek with his big, broad-palmed hand. “You were right to follow the signs.”
“Hey, I’m Fred.” She bounced up, beaming. “You’re Lana, right, and Max? You brought Bill’s son. He’s so happy. They’re up at Bygones. I think they need a little time together. But Jonah said I should show you around, and let you see the house he thinks will work for you. If you want.”
“I really need to check on some things,” Max told Lana. “Some people.”
“Go ahead. I can go with—Fred? Is that short for Fredrica?”
“Short for Freddie. My mom was like a huge Freddie Mercury fan. You know, Queen?”
Lana let out a laugh. “Yes. And I’d really like to look around, see the house.”
“It’s right across the street. See?” She pointed over and up a few houses to a two-story white brick with a porch. “It used to be bigger. See?” she said again. “They made the other part of it into apartments. They’re kind of dated and need work, but the house part’s pretty good.”
“I’d love to see it.”
Lana tipped her face up to kiss Max. “Do what you have to do.” And she went with Fred.
“I live right there. Arlys and I share that house.”
“Did you meet her on the way here?”
“No, we worked together in New York. I was an intern at the station. Chuck lives over there—he has the basement, and Bill and Jonah live there, too. Arlys and I got to Hoboken to Chuck—he’s a hacker, he was her main source.”
“How did you get to Hoboken?”
“Through the PATH tunnels.”
Lana stopped in the middle of the street. “You went through the tunnel? Just you and Arlys?”
“We had to. It was bad. Some of it was really bad, but it’s over now, and we got to Chuck, and he has a Humvee, and we got out. He’s trying to get communications up again. If anybody can … We met Jonah and Rachel and Katie and the babies on the way. I love babies. And we went all the way to Ohio because Arlys’s family—but…”
“I’m sorry.”
Dangling earrings with multicolored beads swayed on Fred’s ears. “But we found Bill, and he came with us. We left signs for Will. And we met Lloyd and Rainbow and … I know I’m talking a lot. I’m excited.”
“So am I.”
Steps led straight off the sidewalk to the porch. Fred opened the door. “Somebody remodeled it, that open floor plan thing.”
“Yes.”
It was airy, Lana thought, and had decent light even with the small front windows.
“You can switch out the furniture if you want. Nobody minds if you switch things with another of the empty places. There won’t be so many empty now. I’m glad.”
“I can work with this. I’m so grateful for this.”
Whoever lived there had had clean, simple tastes. A sofa covered in a gray that made her think of Max’s eyes, chairs in a pattern of gray and navy blue. Tables of dark wood on a floor of golden oak. A fireplace with a wide mantel over it.
But the kitchen pulled at her. They’d carried the flooring through so it read as one flowing space, areas defined by a counter of cream-colored wood covered in deep gray granite.
She wandered in, clutched her hands together at the six-burner stove, the stainless appliances, the generous counter space. Double ovens, she thought, and wide atrium doors to bring in more light.
“It’s a good kitchen.”
“Everything’s dusty, but—”
“We’ll clean it. It’s a good house. There’s a nice yard. They said there’s a community garden. Are there herbs?”
“Sure. We had to start a lot of them from seed, but we’ve got lots of herbs.”
“I wonder if I can get some seed, or transplant some. Who would I ask?”
“I’m sort of in charge of that, so sure. Do you want to see upstairs?”
“Yes.”
“Katie said you were a chef in New York.”
“I was. A sous chef—an under chef,” she explained. “I worked at Delray’s. Three and a half years.”
“I know Delray’s!” Fred led the way to the stairs at a bounce. “I mean, I read some reviews. I couldn’t afford to actually eat there, but I read reviews. It was a hot spot.”
“Those were the days,” Lana murmured. “I’ll cook for you.”
“Really? If I get you cheese, can you make lasagna?”
“If you get me cheese, I’ll make you the best lasagna you’ve ever tasted.”
“We’ve got milk cows and a goat. If you have milk you can get cheese and butter. Cheese is harder, but I’m working on it. I found a book, and I’m using nettles and thistles for the— What is it?”
“Rennet. That’s damn clever, Fred.”
“I made some cottage cheese, and it wasn’t too bad. I’m a faerie, by the way.”
“I should’ve known. You have a brightness about you.”
“Your baby’s bright. Jonah said. He sees things like that. I can feel it, but he can see it, too. This would be a really nice nursery.”
Thinking about the baby, about the light, Lana looked in what had been a guest room doubling as a home office. But Fred was right. It would make a nice nursery. Not too big, not too small, with good light from a window that faced the backyard.
“We can move this out and get baby stuff.”
“I don’t even know what a baby needs.”
“I’ll help you, and Katie. Katie knows all about babies now. And she has clothes from when her babies were just born. We have a crochet circle just starting. They’d love to make you baby things.”
“A crochet circle.” A cheese-making faerie, a doctor, a house with a good kitchen, and a pretty backyard. “It’s like a dream.”
“There’s some bad. We have to have guards, in case. And most everybody accepts us, and most are happy to have us because we can help.”
Lana didn’t have to hear a but to know one was there. “Not everybody accepts Uncannys.”
“Not everybody, even though they don’t say so to your face. But there’s more good than bad. The other bedroom’s bigger, and it’s fixed up pretty nice. The bathroom up here—it’s just a half-bath deal downstairs—must’ve been redone not long before because it’s updated and all. Not like the apartments.”
Lana walked in, sat on the side of the bed.
“Are you tired? You can lie down awhile.”
“I’m not tired. I’m overwhelmed. You can start to doubt there’s real kindness left. Then you find there is. We’re so grateful.”
“We’re all we have. We should be kind.” Fred sat down beside Lana. “You’re adding to the community, and it makes us all stronger. Can I touch the baby?”
“Sure.” Lana took Fred’s hand, pressed it to her belly.
“She’s kicking!”
“She just started doing that today.”
“She’s happy, too. Are you hungry? We have ready-to-eat supplies at home.”
Kindness, Lana thought. The utter simplicity of kindness. “I’m always hungry—or she is. But what I’d really like is to see the gardens.”
“Yeah? It’s a nice walk. We can stop off, get you a snack on the way.”
“Queen Fred,” Lana said, making Fred giggle. “I’d like that. It’s been awhile since I took a walk just because it was nice.”
* * *
At the elementary school, Rachel reviewed new patient information—she’d seen twenty-two out of Max’s group—and made some additional notes.
Jonah, walking back from the nurse’s office, where they kept additional supplies, stopped. Just looked at her through the glass.
She’d let a woman—Clarice, who’d once owned a hair salon—cut her hair. He loved the way it sort of exploded in corkscrews around her face.
They’d set up the clinic together, often worked there side by side for hours. While his respect for her as a person and a doctor had grown, he’d learned more about her. Little things, he thought.
She liked science fiction novels, had lettered in track and field in high school, had never ridden a horse, and harbored a mild fear of them.
She’d collected PEZ dispensers—something he found ridiculously endearing.
He knew she’d lived in a group house with other interns for a year, and the daily soap opera had caused her to cut her budget to the bone so she could afford an efficiency apartment on her own.
He knew when she needed a break, five minutes to herself. And he knew his feelings for her, about her, had changed. What he felt now wasn’t a crush. What he didn’t know was what to do about it.
She looked up then. He saw the fatigue in her eyes, and the mild puzzlement.
To cover the fact he’d been staring at her, he stepped to the doorway.
“Sorry. I didn’t want to break your focus.”
“Just finished up. Or will be once I file all these.”
“I’ve got that. Take a break, Doc. Ray’s going to take some of the load off, don’t you think?”
“He’s willing, and he’s able. Carly, the nursing student? She got some practical experience on the trip here, but needs more training.”
He continued to file the patient information as she sat, rubbing at the back of her neck.
“Headache?”
“Just overload,” she said. “We’ve got a type two diabetic. They’ve done well managing that, and finding oral meds, but the supply’s low. Some of the group is on medication—hypertension, chemical balancing, beta blockers, blood thinners, asthma inhalers, and so on.”
He nodded, finished up the filing. “I was coming in to let you know we’re going to need more supplies. Even the bare basics are running low after today. We’re in decent shape,” he said as he turned to her. “But we just added nearly a hundred people. It’s time for a scavenger hunt.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“We need you here. We can figure out who’d be best to go along, nudge them into volunteering. I think we need to postpone the meeting—at least a day. Too much going on. And when we do hold it, if we’re comfortable with them by then, we should probably include Max and—it’s Lana, right?”
“Yes, and I agree about including them. Bill’s going to want his son there.”
“I’ll get a better sense of Will. He’s moving in with us. My initial take on him? He traveled hundreds of miles to find his father. That says something about heart and character.”
“Again, I agree. Here’s where I don’t. I don’t think we can or should postpone the meeting. Katie worked the sign-up, and Lloyd helped her with it for a while. Both of them came in to tell me Kurt Rove, the Mercers, and Denny Wertz stood across the street, watching. And Katie saw the Mercers stroll over and start on some kid—a teenager with a dog. Apparently one of them made noises and threats about putting the dog down when it growled at them.”
“Crap. Why didn’t Katie have someone come get me?”
“She was about to when Rove strutted across, and people in Max’s group had words to say back. Max walked up. Whatever he said or did had Rove and the Mercers backing off.
“We need those rules, Jonah. We need the order. And we need them yesterday.”
“All right.” He scrubbed at his face. “Okay. We’ve got about three hours. Add Max, Lana, and Will Anderson?”
“I think it’s the way to go. I can stop by and tell Max and Lana. You can talk to Will.”
“You need a break, Rachel. When did you eat last?”
“It’s been a long day, Dr. Vorhies.”
He opened the desk drawer, took out a protein bar.
“Why can’t they make these in hot fudge sundae, or rare roast beef au jus?” She unwrapped it, took a bite. “They’re just terrible. Good news is, they won’t last forever.”
“Could be like Twinkies.”
She laughed a little. “Zombieland. Love that movie. The other
good news is: However much the world is screwed, we’re not having a zombie apocalypse.”
“Yet.”
On a sigh, she ate more of the protein bar. “You sure can cheer me up, Jonah.”
“How about we take a walk? You could use some air, some just out-of-here time. We’ll go tell Max about the meeting, tell Bill and his son. Maybe walk down to the gardens.”
“I could use a walk.”
She got up; he forgot to step back. And he reminded himself he’d delivered twins under desperate circumstances. He’d gotten those twins, Hannah, their mother, and Rachel out of New York City. He’d done things during the past four months he never believed he could or would.
So why couldn’t he just make a move here?
He didn’t step back, and realized neither did she.
“I want to ask you something.”
She kept her eyes on his. “All right.”
“If none of this had happened, if things were just the way they used to be, and I’d asked you out for a drink, or maybe out to a movie, would you have agreed?”
She waited a beat. “What kind of movie? It matters. If you’d have asked me to go to some foreign art film with subtitles, I’d have said no. That’s no way to relax after a day in the ER.”
“I’ve never seen a foreign art film with subtitles.”
“Then maybe.” Those dark chocolate eyes stayed steady on his. “Sometimes it’s hard to go back there, to try to remember the way things were. But maybe. Why didn’t you?”
“I was working up to it.”
“Well, the way things stand now, you missed your chance for movie night. Got anything else?”
“I don’t want to mess anything up, make things weird between us. We’ve got to work here, and we’ve got to build that structure. So, if you’re not—”
“Oh, for God’s sake.”
She rolled her eyes as she clamped a hand on the back of his head, pulled him down until his mouth met hers.
He felt his mind melt. Just melt. All that longing, all that wishful thinking beat into reality. He held there, beat, beat, beat, until he felt her hand press against his pounding heart.
“I don’t feel weird.” With her big, beautiful eyes on his, she breathed out, slowly. “Do you?”
“I’m not sure. I should make sure.”
He lifted her to her toes, took her mouth again. He didn’t ask himself why he’d waited so long. Why question what seemed perfect?
“No. I don’t feel weird.”