From the Heart

by Nora Roberts

  Dr. Edward Brennan switched off the ignition on his old Pontiac. The sun was beginning to set, and he’d put in a full day. His back let him know it. Getting old, he mused as he sat. There’d been a day when he could have delivered three babies, plucked out a pair of tonsils, set a broken tibia and inoculated three families against flu before lunch without slackening speed. But he was seventy and thinking it was time to slow down.

  Maybe it was time to take on an associate, someone young with fresh ideas. Dr. Brennan liked fresh ideas. He smiled a moment and watched the sunset. Too bad Kasey hadn’t taken to medicine. She’d have made a hell of a doctor. What a bedside manner she would have had.

  There were orange streaks shooting through the trees on his mountain. He was very proprietary about his little section of land. His mountain, his sunset. He felt that way when he sat alone. It was a good feeling and kept him going.

  Opening the car door, he lifted out the bundle of homemade bread and preserves that Mrs. Oates had pressed on him when he had treated her boy for chicken pox. He would enjoy his fee with a cup of coffee. After, he thought as he stretched his tired back, he might just have a glass of the illegal whiskey Mr. Oates had slipped him before he had left. Oates had the best still on the east side of the mountain.

  The door to his house was never locked, and he pushed it open, already tasting the bread.

  “Hello, Pop.”

  Dr. Brennan jolted, then stared at the woman seated behind his kitchen table. “Kasey!” He was stunned to find her and surprised that she hadn’t jumped up to rush to him for a fierce hug and noisy kiss. It was her traditional way of greeting him, whether they had been parted for a day or a year. “I thought you were still in Tennessee.”

  “Nope, I’m right here.” She smiled at him, then glanced at the bundle he carried. “Smells like fresh bread. Part of your fee?”

  “Mrs. Oates,” he answered, crossing the room to set the bundle on the table.

  “Ah.” Kasey grinned up at him. “Then you’ll have something a little more lively from Mr. Oates, I imagine. How’s your stomach lining?”

  “Sturdy enough for a glass or two.”

  She laid a hand on his. “How are you, Pop?”

  “Fine, Kasey.” He was studying her face carefully with a mixture of affection and professionalism. Something was not quite right. He squeezed her hand in return. She’d tell him when she was ready, in her own way. He’d known her too long to expect anything else. “What about you? What have you been up to? I haven’t had one of your six-page letters in nearly a month.”

  “Not too much.” She gave a half shrug. “I spent a couple of weeks in Montana. I got a terrific coat there; it would keep you warm in the Aleutians. I joined the Phiefer team for a while in Utah. Molly Phiefer’s just as tough as ever. She celebrated her sixty-eighth birthday in camp. I did a two-part lecture in St. Paul and fished for trout in Tennessee. And I quit smoking.” Her eyes darkened. She drew in her breath. “Pop . . . I’m pregnant.”

  “Pregnant?” His eyes shot open. “What do you mean, pregnant?”

  “Pop.” Kasey reached for his hand. “You’re a doctor. You know what pregnant means.”

  “Kasey.” Dr. Brennan discovered he had to sit down. “How did it happen?”

  “The traditional way,” she said, attempting a smile. “Even modern methods aren’t always reliable,” she added, anticipating the inevitable question.

  He’d let that pass for now. “How far along are you?”

  “What’s today?”

  He was used to her casual indifference to the passing of time. “May seventeenth.”

  “Four months and seventeen days.”

  “Very specific,” he noted with a nod of his head.

  “I’m sure.” She laced and unlaced her hands.

  Observing the nervous move, he switched to professionalism. “Have you seen a doctor? Are you having any discomfort, any side effects?”

  “Yes, I’ve seen a doctor.” She smiled again, soothed by the objective questions. “No, I’m not having any discomfort, and after an unfortunate month of morning sickness, I haven’t any side effects. We’re disgustingly healthy.”

  “And the father?”

  She laced her hands again. “I’m sure he’s very healthy, too.”

  “Kasey.” He cupped his hand over her fingers to stop their movement. “What are his plans about the baby? Obviously, you’ve decided to complete the pregnancy. You and the baby’s father must have come to terms of some kind.”

  “No, we haven’t come to terms of any kind.” She looked at him directly, and some of the vulnerability seeped through. “I haven’t told him.”

  “Haven’t told him?” He was more shocked by this than anything else. It simply wasn’t like her. “When do you plan to?”

  “I plan not to.” She reached for a cigarette and began to tear it into small pieces.

  “Kasey, he has a right to know. It’s his baby.”

  “No.” Her eyes shot up again. “It’s my baby. The baby has rights, I have rights. Jordan can take care of himself.”

  “That’s not like you, Kasey,” he said quietly.

  “Please.” She shook her head and crushed the remains of the cigarette in her hand. “Don’t. I didn’t make this decision overnight. I’ve thought about it for months. I know it’s the right thing to do. My baby isn’t going to be pulled apart because his father and I made mistakes. I know what would happen if I told Jordan.”

  Her voice was beginning to shake, and she took a moment to steady it. “He’d offer to marry me. He’s an honorable man. I’d refuse because I couldn’t bear . . .” Her voice broke again, and she shook her head impatiently. “I couldn’t bear to have him ask me out of obligation. Then he’d want to set me up some kind of financial support. I don’t need it. My baby doesn’t need it. There’d have to be structured visitation rights with the baby bouncing from coast to coast, never knowing where he belonged. It’s not fair. I won’t have it. The baby belongs to me.”

  He took her hands again and gave her a long look. “Do you love the father?”

  He watched her crumple before his eyes. “Oh, God, yes.” Kasey laid her head on the table and wept.

  Her grandfather let her cry it out. He hadn’t seen this sort of grief from her since she had been a child. He kept her hands in his and waited. What sort of man was this Jordan, whose baby she carried? If she loved him, why was she weeping here alone instead of sharing the joy of impending parenthood with him?

  He tried to remember the patches of information from her letters. He knew who Jordan was—the writer she had worked with during late fall and early winter of the last year. Dr. Brennan had admired his work. Kasey’s letters had been enthusiastic and confusing. But he was used to both from her.

  Why hadn’t he read between the lines? And now, for months, she had been dealing with the most important decision in her life alone. He hated to see her this way—lost, weeping. Once he had had to send her away from him. She had been lost and weeping then, too. He had thought his own decision had been right for her, and when the dust had settled, it had been. But the time in between had had its effect on her. He was intuitive enough to know that part of her present decision stemmed from her own experiences. All he could offer her was time and support and his love. He hoped it would be enough.

  Her weeping had stopped. Kasey kept her head down on the table while she rested from it. She hadn’t given into tears for months. Slowly she straightened and began to speak again.

  “I loved him—I do love him. That’s one of the reasons I’m handling it this way.” She sighed. She had needed to talk to someone since she had walked out of Beatrice’s sitting room four months before. “Let me explain things to you, and maybe you’ll understand.”

  Her voice was quiet now, without emotion, and she detailed the circumstances in the Taylor household. When she spoke of Alison, he saw the parallel immediately and kept his silence. Only when she told him of her final encounter with Bea
trice did he explode.

  “Are you telling me she threatened you?” He had sprung up, forgetting the strain in his back. He was ready to fight.

  “Not me.” Kasey reached for his hand and drew herself to her feet. “Jordan, Alison. There was nothing she could do to me, nothing that would have mattered.”

  “It was blackmail, Kasey. Simple, ugly blackmail.” His voice was rough with temper. “You should have gone straight to Jordan and told him.”

  “Do you know what he would have done?” Kasey took his arm. “He would have stormed in there, just as you’d like to do right now. It would have been a horrible scene with Alison right in the middle of it. Do you think I could take a chance on there being a court battle? She’s just a little girl. I know how she’d feel seeing her name and picture splashed in the papers, listening to the whispering.” Her eyes were eloquent, and her tears had dried. “Put yourself in my place, Pop. You were very close to it once. If you had to change what you did all those years ago, would you?”

  He sighed and drew her into his arms. “Kasey, I never thought you’d have to go through something like this again.”

  She had needed to come home, to feel his big, strong arms and gentle hands. She had needed a rock and had never known a sturdier one. “I love you, Pop.”

  “I love you, Kasey.” He held her for a moment and said nothing. It struck him suddenly that she was no longer willow slim. He could feel the roundness as she pressed against him. Unprofessionally, he was shocked by the change. She wasn’t his baby anymore but a woman carrying one of her own. “It just occurs to me,” he said softly. “I’m going to be a great-grandfather.”

  “You’ve always been a great grandfather,” Kasey murmured. “The best.”

  “You’ll stay until the baby comes.”

  Kasey sighed and relaxed against him. “I’ll stay.”

  He drew her away. “Are you taking vitamins?”

  “Yes, doctor.” She grinned and kissed his cheek.

  “And drinking your milk?”

  She kissed his other cheek. “What do you think of Bryan?” she asked him. “It could work whether the baby’s a boy or a girl. I think Bryan Wyatt has a nice sound. Dignified but not stuffy.”

  He lifted his brows. “I can see my work’s cut out for me.”

  “Or there’s Paul,” she went on as he walked to the refrigerator. “Of course, I’d have to have a boy, then.” Kasey watched as he poured a tall glass of milk. “Are we going to have some of Mrs. Oates’s goodies now?” She opened the bundle. “Are these damson preserves?” she asked as she held up a Mason jar. “I love damson preserves.”

  “Good.” Dr. Brennan handed her the glass of milk and smiled. “You can have some with your milk before I examine you.”

  15

  It was July before Kasey knew it. There were wildflowers in the woods and geraniums in the kitchen window box. At night the crickets sang incessantly. She could lie in bed late and listen to them while the baby moved restlessly inside her. He’s in a hurry, she thought. Or they are. Her grandfather was all but certain there were two. She had refused his suggestion that they go down to the hospital and make certain. She wanted to be surprised.

  It had been a long time since she had slept deeply. The baby wouldn’t permit it. They wouldn’t permit it. Kasey didn’t need any sophisticated equipment to tell her there were two. No one baby could be so active. When one slept, the other was wide awake and kicking. And she was huge.

  Kasey rested a hand on either side of her stomach. I won’t go full term, she mused. Twins traditionally arrive early. Closing her eyes, she began to drift again. She liked the movements inside her, liked knowing life was growing, impatient to arrive. She could almost see how they would look. A boy and a girl, she thought, with warm, brown hair and dark blue eyes. When she looked at the eyes, she would think of Jordan.

  She shifted again as she felt the distinct shove of an elbow. What was he doing now? she wondered. What time was it in California? Early enough that he might still be working? Would he have finished the book? Kasey wanted badly to find it in a bookstore, to bring it home and closet herself with it. It would bring him back, along with all the hours they had spent together in his study. She could save it for her children. They would never know it was their father who had written it, but they would learn to admire and respect him through his words. She wanted that for them and for Jordan.

  And Alison. Kasey rolled from her side to her back. She had written the girl, as she had promised. Her own zigzagging course across the country had made it impossible for Alison to answer. I should hear from her soon now, Kasey mused. I’ve been settled for nearly two months. I wrote nearly three weeks ago.

  Kasey pulled herself from bed and walked to the window. It was hot and sultry, making sleep that much more difficult. It might be best if she did forget me. I can hardly ask her to visit me now. She stroked her hand over her stomach. There’d be no way to explain to her and no way to be certain Jordan wouldn’t find out. He’ll take care of her and keep her safe. And I’ll do the same for our babies.

  The movement inside her stopped. Kasey went back to bed and slept.

  Dr. Brennan watched Kasey as she knelt on the ground between rows of vegetables and weeded. She was blooming. He had no worries about her physically. She was the picture of health, and strong. She had taken up her life again with characteristic enthusiasm. He was proud of her.

  He had some doubts about the wisdom of her decision, but she was dead certain. He had plans to speak with her again about Jordan, but he would give her until she had delivered and was on her feet again. The baby was his main concern. And the baby’s mother.

  “I don’t know why I planted lima beans,” she muttered and ripped at a stubborn weed. “I hate lima beans, but I just love the way they all sit in a fat little pod. I suppose I could have them bronzed.” She sat back on her heels and dusted her hands. “Some of the tomatoes are ripe. You could have them with supper tonight with the corn Lloyd Cramer gave you for his appendix.” She shielded her eyes from the sun and smiled up at him.

  “I got the best of the deal. His appendix was in bad shape.”

  “You’re so mercenary.” She held up a hand so he could help her to her feet, then she kissed him with her usual exuberance. “Do you think I should water the garden? It hasn’t rained all week.”

  He glanced up at the sky. “Watering the garden’s a sure way to bring it on. We could use it. The heat’s keeping you up at night.”

  “That, among other things.” She patted her stomach. “And, no, I’m not tired.” She laughed, anticipating his question. “I’ve got enough energy for all of us.”

  “Did you have your milk today?”

  “My carrots aren’t doing well,” Kasey responded. “I’m going to get the hose.”

  “I’ll water it this evening when it cools off. Go have a glass now.”

  “I’ll throw up,” she threatened.

  “That hasn’t worked since you were twelve.”

  She narrowed her eyes, measuring him. She knew he was every bit as stubborn as she was. “I’m going to make scalloped potatoes for dinner. And vanilla custard. That’s enough milk for anybody.”

  “You’ll get fat.”

  “I am fat.” She dashed into the house before he could comment.

  She sat at the kitchen table and peeled. A small mountain of potatoes was growing in front of her. There was something soothing in the simple, mindless chore, and she skinned more than her grandfather and she could possibly eat in a single sitting. We’ll have leftovers, she decided and glanced at the pile. All week. This is the last one, she promised herself and shook the potato in her hand. Or we’ll have to invite the neighborhood. She didn’t glance up as the door opened but continued wielding the peeler. “You might have to dig up a couple of starving patients,” she said aloud. “I got carried away here. You know, they don’t peel potatoes by hand in the army anymore, a terrible lack of tradition. They have these machines, and . . .
”

  She glanced up and froze.

  Jordan watched the color drain slowly from her face. He saw vivid shock in her eyes, and fear. The fear made his stomach twist. She dropped the peeler, and her hands shot under the table.

  Oh, God, dear God, she thought desperately. What do I do? What do I say?

  He said nothing, but his eyes were riveted on her face. Her hair was longer, he noted, almost to her shoulders now. When had she grown beautiful? She had been striking, alluring, unforgettable. But when had she grown beautiful? He couldn’t take his eyes from her face. How long had he waited to see it again, to watch it light up for him? It wasn’t lit now, it was terrified. That was his doing, but it wasn’t too late. It couldn’t be too late. All these months of desperation couldn’t be for nothing.

  Was her skin as soft as he remembered? Would she cringe if he touched her? He was afraid to test it and could only stare at her.

  Kasey gripped her hands together tightly under the table. She had to do something, to say something. She waited a moment until she was certain her voice wouldn’t give her away.

  “Hello, Jordan.” She smiled at him while her nails bit into her palms. “Passing through?”

  He took a few steps toward her but kept the table between them. Without it he would have to touch her. “I’ve been looking for you for months.” It came out as an accusation. He hadn’t meant to greet her that way. He had sworn to himself he would be calm, but calmness had deserted him the moment she had looked up at him.

  “Have you?” Kasey managed to keep her eyes level. “I’m sorry. I’ve been doing some traveling. Is it something about the book? I don’t know of anything we didn’t cover.”

  “Would you stop!” He was shouting at her. How could he be shouting at her now? he asked himself. But he couldn’t stop. Everything that had kept him going since she had left had crumbled the moment he had set eyes on her again. “I’ve spent six months in hell. How can you sit there looking at me as though I were a neighbor dropping in for a visit?” He skirted the table before she could speak and dragged her to her feet. “Damn it, Kasey . . .” His voice trailed off as he looked at her. “Oh, God.” It was barely more than a whisper as his gaze swept down, then up to her face again. “You’re pregnant.”