Newborn Needs a Dad / His Motherless Little Twins

by Dianne Drake

  “Is that what you’re struggling with, Gabrielle?”

  “Not struggling. I gave up my job in Chicago because something much more important than anything I’d ever dreamed of came into my life. No regrets there, whatsoever. In fact, what I thought I was so passionate about disappeared when I realized that my baby needed something different than what I had. No contest. He won, and I don’t regret that because I’ve discovered that when you love someone more than anything in the world, the sacrifices don’t matter.”

  “So what you’re saying is that it might not be a sacrifice, if you truly love the person you’re doing it for?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Are you talking about White Elk?”

  “Maybe,” she hedged.

  “Well, when you are definitely, let me know because Eric and I crunched some numbers and we believe we could support you here as a part-timer for a while, with the option of expanding your duties in the future, when you’re ready. That is, if you want to stay.”

  “But I thought you were trying to figure out a way to expand your trauma unit?”

  “That, too. But we don’t want to let a good thing go.”

  “A good thing, as in me?” Admittedly, the offer did give her butterflies because she wanted to stay. But it caused problems, too, as she couldn’t give him an answer until she saw how he reacted to finding out about Bryce. Also, a little bit of disappointment settled over her, because she’d had this fantasy where he’d asked her to stay, and it was purely for personal reasons. He needed her, he wanted her. Not that he’d crunched the numbers and he could afford her, part-time. “Can I have some time to think about it?”

  “All the time you need.”

  “And this was the reason you’re taking me to Pine Ridge? To ask me to stay?” Again, she was disappointed. It was a silly reaction, because they were only colleagues. Still, she couldn’t help the way she felt, and right now it was definitely let down.

  “Part of the reason.”

  “And the other part?”

  “I like your company, and sometimes it’s nice to be part of a couple. I thought maybe you’d enjoy the evening out.”

  Gabby breathed a sigh of relief. It was not a romantic declaration or anything close to it, which was good. But hearing those words made her feel better. “I never dated very much. Didn’t have time. Didn’t have interest. Never met the right man. All of the above. And sometimes I wonder what I’ve missed out on, by making the choices I do. I know I didn’t sound very gracious when I accepted your invitation, but I’m glad you invited me, because I would enjoy an evening out.” Unfortunately, it was the end of the evening she dreaded.

  “Are you thinking about staying here, Gabrielle? I mean, I don’t need a firm answer, but I’m curious.”

  She shifted back down into her seat and twisted to stare at the stars again. Twinkle, twinkle little star. How she wished her life was simpler. “I’m thinking about all my options…keeping them open.”

  “And there’s really no one else involved? You’re not running away from someone?”

  “No one else.”

  “So, would I be out of line if I asked about the baby’s father?”

  Not out of line so much as simply too late. It was a melancholy subject. “I told you that there is no father involved. We had a brief relationship. He was a very nice man, someone who was there when I needed to be involved. My dad had just died, I was lost. And for me, getting pregnant wasn’t a concern because I never thought I could have children. Was told it wouldn’t happen because…I’d had an injury when I was younger. It left me with a lot of scar tissue and opinion after opinion through the years confirmed that bearing children wasn’t in my future. But never say never, right?”

  “But the father…he’s really not going to be involved with the baby at all?”

  “No,” she said, flatly. “And that’s all there is to it.” For now. She didn’t want to ruin the evening, didn’t want to drop the news on him, then spend the next few hours with a man who might not want to spend them with her. No, she wasn’t going to do this now. In her mind, the scenario worked out in a specific way. She’d rehearsed it, and she was sticking to the plan.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get so personal.”

  “Nothing to be sorry for. People are curious, and the only way you ever find out is to ask. But the good thing is, women have babies by themselves all the time. There’s no stigma attached, no societal taboos, at least in this society. Doors are opened much wider these days for single mothers.”

  “And you’ll be a very good mother.”

  She bristled right up. “Even without a father for my baby? Is that what you’re implying?”

  “I didn’t say that, Gabrielle. Didn’t imply it either. It’s a good decision for you, I see it in your face every time I look at you. You’re happy, and it shows. And so you’ll know, if you do decide you want to stay in White Elk, accept my offer, and raise your baby here, you have a host of new colleagues who will support you.”

  She wanted him to say more. Wanted him to tell her how much he wanted her to stay. Wanted him to make it personal. But that was wishful thinking. Neil wasn’t getting involved, the way she wasn’t getting involved, even though her baby hormones were trying to turn this into something much more than it was.

  Nothing was settled, and if anything, the offer that should have made her happy was beginning to feel like a dense, wet fog. A very cold one, at that.

  “This is wonderful!” The tables were all adorned with lit candles and white roses in crystal vases. The light was low, the reflection from the candle glow giving off a very romantic overtone. Tonight was a night for lovers was what it said. Wasted on her, of course, but appreciated all the same. “I’m not sure what I thought this restaurant would be like, but it’s…elegant.” Very different from the lodge look she had expected—cedar logs, stone fireplace, animal heads adorning the wall. The restaurant was refined, its menu select, its ambiance pure class. And she felt so clunky in her one and only maternity outfit—a black skirt and black sweater—and snow boots. Clunky in and of themselves. “Why didn’t you tell me it was so nice?” she hissed at Neil, who was impeccable in a gray wool suit, with his black turtle-necked sweater underneath. The beauty and the…underdressed frump.

  “I thought you looked fine.”

  The dining room was full, the singer, an older woman in a long sequined gown, kept the crowd mesmerized by her dulcet tones, and all Gabby wanted to do was sneak through to her table and hope the tablecloth was large enough to conceal most of her. “I expected a lodge dining room like the one at Laura’s. I didn’t know this was a world-class restaurant.”

  Neil laughed. “You’re being too self-conscious.”

  “Spoken like a man,” she snapped, looking down at herself. Things went well on top, started to deteriorate around her middle, were pulled pretty darned tight over her rear end, and the boots…a concession to comfort she’d found two days ago, on sale. Faux fur that looked like she was wearing a raccoon wrapped around each ankle.

  “OK, so maybe the boots aren’t good,” he admitted, fighting back a smile. “But they’ll be under the table, so no one will notice.”

  “Which is where you’ll find me,” Gabby muttered, as Neil took her by the arm and led her all the way over to the window. Naturally, he stopped at several tables along the way to say hello, to ask how someone was feeling, to introduce her to a highly styled couple he thought she should know. So, what could have, or should have, been a quick trip across the carpeted floor turned into twenty long minutes in which she knew people were turning their heads, asking questions. Pointing.

  “I didn’t know,” Gabby explained to Angela, who hurried over to the table the instant they were seated. “And I apologize.”

  “For what? I’m just glad you’re here. When I saw that Neil had made the reservation I decided to stay over and make sure your meal is perfect. Even though I won’t be cooking it. But I did make a fabulou
s chocolate trifle for dessert, since I knew you were craving chocolate.”

  Gabby pulled her boot out from under the table. “This is what I’m apologizing for. I might have to have a double serving of the trifle to get me over the trauma.”

  “She thinks she’s out of place.” Neil set aside the wine menu and went straight to the menu of imported waters. “I told her she’s fine, but she won’t believe me.”

  Angela laughed. “He’s right. You’re fine. And I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “How are you feeling?” Gabby asked.

  “You’re off duty, Doctor,” Neil reminded her, then ordered a sparkling water from Belgium. “Time to relax, which you’re not doing very well at right now.”

  “I’m fine, and I’ve got to get back to the kitchen,” Angela explained. “And I’ve got your meal all planned, so please sit back, relax, enjoy yourself.” She turned away, had a second thought, then turned back. “Dance. We have an awesome dance floor here. And I know an obstetrician who would tell you that the exercise would do you good.”

  Gabby gave her a scowl. “I don’t dance.” Angela was trying to turn this into a romantic date, and that wasn’t going to work, no matter how romantic the atmosphere, the food or the music. But the smile she saw on Neil’s face made her wonder if he thought differently. “I don’t,” she protested. “Never have, except for a couple of school dances when I was a girl, and I was terrible.”

  Angela scurried off to the kitchen, leaving Gabby and Neil to the discussion. “So you really don’t know if you can dance, then, do you?” he asked.

  “And I’m not about to find out.”

  “What if I asked you? Called in the gratuity you offered for the massage. Remember that?”

  “I remember reserving the right to put conditions on that gratuity, so I’d have to say no.”

  “And you wouldn’t find that a little rude, turning down your dinner escort that way, especially when a gratuity you promised still hangs in the balance?”

  “If my dinner escort valued his toes, he wouldn’t ask.” She sat back in her chair and folded her arms over her chest. “So don’t ask.”

  “What if I said that dancing is good for the baby?” His eyes positively twinkled with mischief.

  “Then I’d say it’s a good thing you’re not an obstetrician, because dancing has nothing to do with fetal development.”

  “You’re referring to Bryce as a fetus, now? And just when I’ve gotten use to personalizing him?”

  She didn’t answer as the waiter placed a champagne bucket next to the table. In it was a chilled bottle of sparkling water, which he served the way he would have served a fine wine. Gabby kept her eyes fixed on him while, across the table, Neil kept his eyes fixed on her—making her totally uncomfortable. Given different circumstances, this might have turned into the night he expected. But circumstances weren’t different, and nothing was going to change. Or, actually, it would once the evening was over.

  “Why are you staring at me?” she asked.

  “I’ve never been this up close and personal with a pregnant lady,” he admitted, “and I’m finding it fascinating. I’ll bet you don’t even know how many times in any given hour you raise your hand to your belly, and smile. And it’s a warm smile, one that comes from a place I’m not sure any man could ever truly understand, which is too bad, because I’ve always thought men were left out of the best part. It’s amazing, though, isn’t it? A brand-new life about to happen. We know how it happens, know that it happens, but it’s still amazing and all the men can do is stand back and watch.”

  “Want to do more than watch?” she asked. “He’s kicking, if you’d like to feel.”

  A smile spread across Neil’s face as he laid aside his napkin, stood up and went to her side of the table. Without a word, Gabby took his hand and guided it to her right side where, indeed, Bryce was making himself known. Then, instinctively, she pulled up her sweater to let Neil see the little blips her baby made on her belly when he kicked. “He’s one rambunctious boy,” she said, surprised how intimate this felt. Normally, she hated people coming up and touching her belly like it was their right. So many people did that. Poke, prod, pat…it made her cringe thinking about all the uninvited hands she’d had on her lately. But Neil’s hands, as he laid them on her bare flesh now, and felt the kick of her child in a way no one but she had before, were so gentle, so right. What surprised her was how the baby settled down almost immediately under Neil’s touch, like he knew that this man was part of his life.

  “You have a good way with him. I guess that’s why you became a pediatrician,” she said, pulling her sweater back into place as the waiter approached the table. All too soon the moment was over, and Neil was back sitting across from her, staring again, as the waiter fussed over the table, rearranging the flowers, setting aside the candle, refolding the napkins.

  Gabby liked it that Neil watched her that way. In an odd sort of way, it made her feel almost…sexy. And pregnant women were sexy. That’s what she told her patients every day. But sexy had no place in their relationship. They weren’t lovers, sharing a wonderful experience together. After this evening, after she told him the little boy he’d just felt kicking was his flesh and blood, they might not even be friends. So rather than saying anything, she took a drink of her sparkling water as melancholy slipped down over her. They had no future, no past. All they had was just this moment, which suddenly felt lonely.

  Dinner went nicely in spite of the glum mood that had come on her earlier. The food was wonderful, the conversation light. Neil wisely avoided talking anything of substance, for which she was grateful, and he even managed to stay off hospital matters. Throughout the whole thing, Gabby couldn’t help but wonder what it might have been like had this been a real date between two people in different circumstances. Maybe in love, or on the verge of it. But this was her lot now, and while the evening had brought on a good case of the blues earlier, she wasn’t really unhappy. They were temporary, while the excitement of what was happening to her was permanent. It’s all good, she decided on her way back from the ladies’ room. “And things will work out the way they’re meant to be,” she whispered to Bryce.

  She cut around the edge of the dance floor, where a dozen couples were dancing to something seductive that could have been sung by Frank Sinatra. The low tones from the tiny orchestra were so smooth and sensual, she couldn’t help but slow her pace, to watch for a moment, and to listen. Which was her mistake, because Neil stepped up from behind and led her straight to the dance floor.

  “Gratuity time,” he whispered, as he took hold of her hand and pulled her into him as far as she could go, all things considered.

  “And if I simply walked away?” She wanted to, but she was suddenly discovering that so much of her didn’t want to. For a little while, it would be nice to live in the illusion that they were a romantic couple caught up in the pure sensuality of the dance. Even with her boots…and her belly.

  “I’m not keeping you here, Gabrielle. I would never force you to do something you don’t want to do. So, it’s your choice.”

  Her choice…her body was already swaying to the rhythm. Swaying to Neil’s rhythm. It was like she couldn’t stop it. The music was drawing her in, pulling her even closer to Neil…he was holding her, they were dancing. Hands appropriate, of course. Proper dance etiquette. And she wished, dear heaven, she had on better shoes, something to help her glide more gracefully. But that didn’t matter, because they took up so little of the parquet floor, dancing mostly in one small spot. Tighter together. Their proper dance etiquette relaxing into something more personal, her arms slipped around his neck as his slipped around her back. They looked like every other couple out there. So close…Her head on his shoulder now, she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. The steady in and out of it, the gentle brush of his lips…no lips. No, that wasn’t his lips. Couldn’t be.

  Suddenly, Gabby pulled back, broke away, stared into his eyes. “I need to
sit down.” she said, trying not to sound as breathless as she was. Which had nothing to do with the dance.

  “Are you OK?” he asked, leading her off the dance floor.

  “Just a little winded. I’ll be fine when I sit down.”

  She wasn’t, though. She wasn’t fine at all. In fact, she was so disquieted she wasn’t able to eat a bite of the chocolate trifle Angela had sent along for dessert. “Did you kiss me?” she finally blurted out.

  He looked up from his spoonful of trifle. Smiled. “I might have. Why?”

  “Why would you ask me why? No, skip that, and tell me why you might have kissed me?”

  “The moment was right. So was the mood.”

  “Whose mood?” she sputtered.

  “Mine. Yours.”

  “How do you figure my mood was right?”

  “Your head was on my shoulder, your arms around my neck. Since I wasn’t the one who placed them there, then I figured the mood had to be yours, too.”

  He took another bite of dessert, and over the flicker of the candles between them she saw the pure devilry in his eyes. “I was…” Voice quivering, she cleared her throat. “I told you I didn’t dance. I didn’t know what I was doing.”

  “Then I claim the same thing. I didn’t know what I was doing. If I kissed you, that is.” A purely sexual smile crossed his face. “And that hasn’t been established yet,

  has it?”

  “I think it has.”

  “Did you see the kiss happen?”

  “Of course I didn’t. But I felt it.” Had felt goose bumps rising on her flesh, too. And shivers running up and down her spine. Shivers that were still there.

  “Are you sure that’s what you felt?”

  Oh, she was sure. But she wasn’t going to tell him.

  Neil scooped up a spoonful of trifle and held it across the table to her. Wiggled it ever so seductively close to her lips. And she wanted it, not because she craved the chocolate but because she craved the seduction. Or, rather, the illusion of seduction, as no man in his right mind would seduce a seven-and-a-half-months-pregnant woman. But it was so nice feeling wanted—in that way. And because she wanted it so desperately, she pushed herself back from the table, away from temptation. “What I felt was a man coercing me into doing something I didn’t want to do, and I was just being polite, so he wouldn’t be embarrassed by my rejection of him on the dance floor.”