by Jo Kessel
“What are you doing?” asked Jonah.
“I’m going to call Georgia.”
“It’s four in the morning in London,” Jonah reminded her.
Oh damn! In her excitement she had forgotten about the time difference.
“And besides,” Jonah murmured, tracing a teasing line up her inner leg towards her thigh, “the thought of you being some international TV superstar plus the gorgeous dress that you’re wearing is making me hot.”
The dress was nice. It was Martha who spotted it in one of Coronado Island’s chichi boutiques, her eye drawn by its pale grey fabric and funky pink floral print. The top had narrow straps and a tight-fitting bodice that enhanced Claire’s breasts. Its long floating skirt was asymmetric, shorter in the front than the back. Jonah began to ruche up the material gathered around her legs as his fingers inched higher. Words formulated in Claire’s head as well as the feigned angry tone she would assign to them. You mean you weren’t hot for me when I was just plain Claire Jackson, the Nutritionist? But the second Jonah’s palm found her panties and rested itself there, the words evaporated into the ether, forgotten. Moments later he wriggled his way onto her bare flesh, his fingers tickling her clitoris and then thrusting inside her, deeply. Her breath hitched as she closed her eyes. She could sense Jonah watching her and felt uncomfortably exposed.
“We haven’t baptised this sofa yet,” he whispered.
“We can’t do it out here,” she whispered insistently. “What if the girls aren’t properly asleep yet?”
His finger was now nudging her G-spot, causing her to wriggle and writhe under his intense gaze. The sensation was divine. So divine she was starting not to care who did or didn’t see them. So divine she didn’t want it to end. Jonah placed his spare hand lightly on her collar bone, slowly lowering it towards her breasts. Whenever his fingers grazed her skin she felt nothing less than beautiful. How was he capable of doing that to her with just a touch?
“Ok,” he said, removing her panties and leaning forward far enough that his lips hovered a millimetre above hers. “Let’s go inside.”
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Jonah locked their bedroom door behind them. In this heat he would always be found bare-chested around the house, but Claire wasted no time in removing his khaki shorts and Calvin Klein boxers in one deft move. As he stood there, a sculpted, perfectly-formed naked Adonis, it was clear that Jonah was more than ready. Claire pulled the hem of her dress upwards, about to take it off.
“No,” barked Jonah, “leave it on.”
He scooped her in his arms and carried her to the bed, landing her on top of him as he fell backwards onto the mattress. “I want to watch you,” he said, manoeuvring her to his centre so she could straddle him. He placed his hands on the sides of her lower waist, controlling her as she eased herself onto him until he was filling her completely. He loved that look of unadulterated ecstasy on her face as she rode him and circled him and taunted him, moving slowly and tantalisingly up and down and around, driving him to wild places that made him feel he couldn’t contain himself any longer. He scrunched her dress up so he could see her sex, caressing the skin on the divine, creamy soft flesh of her thighs. He loved her ripe breasts and how they spilled when she wasn’t wearing a bra. He reached up to touch them, feeling her swollen nipples hard underneath his hands and rolling his fingers over them. The dress had four buttons down the front. He undid them, slowly, one by one as Claire pushed him even deeper inside her, moaning as he hit her core. He unhooked the lowest button and freed her breasts, fondling them in his hands as he observed her, watching her red corkscrew curls dangle in a sexy mass down her spine as she tilted back her head, a few stray strands sticking to her face in the heat of the room. The extra heat their connected bodies generated as they rocked was tempered by a gentle breeze blowing from the overhead fan. Jonah didn’t mind the heat. If anything, it increased his libido. There was something inherently horny about the combined sweat of two people intertwined whilst making love. He pulled her face down so he could kiss her, their tongues matching the gyrations of their hips. It was exquisite.
“I love you,” he said.
He loved her so much that four more words formulated in his head, as a question. He was about to vocalise them when he felt a much more urgent desire building within. Instead he concentrated on that, watching Claire to see if she was close too and when he saw that she was he pulled her harder down on him and found her clitoris with his finger, bringing them both slowly and deliciously to climax.
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In the aftermath Claire placed her head on Jonah’s chest. He gently stroked her hair, hooking curls around his fingers. Her focus was glued on the ceiling fan and the whirring rotation of its blades, its action almost hypnotic.
“What are you thinking?” asked Jonah.
She was about to tell him what an amazing day it had been and to ask if he’d care to give it marks out of ten, when the appendix side of her stomach went into sudden spasm. It felt like being speared with a hot dagger. The agony was so excruciating that the shriek which left her lips sounded wild and bestial.
“What is it?” Jonah sat bolt upright.
She wanted to tell him that she was experiencing pain on a level which was off the radar, but she was suddenly overwhelmed by nausea and summoned all the energy she could muster to make a mad dash to the toilet. She only just made it in time, kneeling over the bowl, retching violently. Jonah must have come with her and held her hair in a ponytail, placing a calming hand on her shoulder.
“Do you think its food poisoning?” he asked her in between retches.
“I - don’t - know,” she mumbled, barely audible, indicating with a hand on her pelvis that she was still in pain.
“Claire, I’m going to take you to the hospital. I don’t like it. Something’s not right.”
She tried to tell him ‘no’, to not be ridiculous, that it was probably some gastric bug which would pass and that she didn’t want to trouble the girls, but then she started retching again. Jonah went to fetch his mobile and returned to her side as he called the complex’s caretaker, apologising for telephoning so late and asking if his wife Maria could come to baby sit, urgently.
“It was the way Jonah said ‘urgently’ which alerted Claire. He was usually so calm and cool, but she heard his voice crack and his panic unnerved her.
The next half hour passed in a blur. She was aware of Jonah manoeuvring her limbs into loose-fitting trousers and a t-shirt. She was aware of the doorbell ringing and of hushed voices as Jonah explained that he would be back as soon as he could and that he should be contacted if the girls woke up and were in any way alarmed. She was aware of being belted into a car and then carried out of it the other end. She was aware of being lain on a bed. “Ma’am we need to take a blood and urine sample,” a voice instructed. She was aware of a pin pricking her forearm but the pain barely registered because it was nothing compared to the throbbing in her stomach. Someone handed her a receptacle to pee into. She was aware of Jonah trying to help her accomplish this task but, after that, she had no idea. She dropped her head back on the pillow, exhausted from the effort and fell asleep.
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Scary words filtered into her sub-conscious.
Blood…………………………..urine………………positive…………..when……how………afraid……………soon……………sorry…………waiting…………soon……….sorry……………..possible……………………..ectopic……………..appendicitis………burst………………………………ectopic……….
Claire opened her eyes. Phew. There was nothing but silence around her. It must all have been a dream. Inches from her bed a white curtain was drawn. Where was she? She turned onto her other side. Jonah was sitting in a chair next to her, looking at her tenderly.
“Hey, Duchess,” he grinned. “How are you doing?”
Now she remembered. He’d brought her to the hospital. At least he didn�
�t look panicked any more. How was she doing? She sat upright. No pain, no nausea.
“I feel great,” she smiled. “Can we go now?”
Jonah furrowed his brow. An extra crease seemed to have etched a path on his forehead. He shook his head.
“We’ve got to wait for the doctor. A specialist is coming to see you.”
Claire swung her legs out of the bed.
“I don’t need a specialist. I feel great. I told you there was nothing wrong.”
Jonah pursed his lips and his eyes misted.
“Sweetheart,” he took her hand in his. “They did a pregnancy test and it came back positive.”
She clapped a hand over her chest. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. Pregnant, she was pregnant. She couldn’t understand quite how that had happened, but this was good news, wasn’t it? So why did he look so morose? Did he really want this so little? Was this going to be a replay of what happened fourteen years ago?
“Claire,” Jonah leaned in close and clasped her hand tighter. “At first they thought you had appendicitis but now, because of the positive test and all the pain you’ve been experiencing, they’re pretty sure it’s-
She finished off his sentence, the word ‘ectopic’ a whisper which dissolved in the air. So she hadn’t been dreaming that word, someone had said it. It was true. She sat back down on the bed and bowed her head, a tear plopping out of an eye and landing on her lap.
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Their day in Coronado already felt so long ago. She hadn’t said it out loud, but after lunch, when they were sitting on the beach watching the girls jump waves, she was so happy with how the four of them felt together as a family unit that she’d thought that having any more children would be a bad idea. It was far better to nurture what they already had than to complicate matters. She was going to ask Jonah if he felt the same way, but the day was so perfect that she hadn’t wanted to start any heavy conversations.
If there really was a baby growing in her fallopian tube, however, she knew the chances of her getting pregnant in the future would be greatly reduced, or possibly non-existent. Another tear and then another fell onto her trousers. An ugly thought entered her head. This is my punishment for what we did fourteen years ago. She decided to spare Jonah from sharing it with him.
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A white-coated doctor wheeled an ultrasound machine into her cubicle. Her demeanour was professional and caring. Her head was cocked sympathetically.
“Hello, my name’s Julie,” she said. “Would you mind lying back down and scooting to the end of the bed?” she asked.
Like a robot, Claire did as she was told and felt bizarrely detached as Julie squirted icy cold gel onto her tummy. On her other side Jonah sat on a chair, holding her hand, staring in fear at the blank screen. Julie placed the probe onto the gel and started moving it around, searching for an image. Claire was only thirty-seven. It wasn’t young in fertility terms but it wasn’t exactly ancient either. It was too soon to be told that you could never bear more children.
“When was your last period?” asked Julie.
“What does it matter?” replied Claire rudely. “It’s not as if it will make any difference.”
Julie temporarily stopped circling the probe.
“I know this is hard,” she said, “but I just need to work out the size of the foetus I’m trying to look for.”
“I don’t know,” Claire burst into tears. She couldn’t think straight.
Julie circled the probe again, looking puzzled and frowning as she dug more deeply into the flesh of Claire’s lower stomach. Claire turned to Jonah looking for reassurance but nothing on his face gave it to her. His eyes were wide and sad as they stared into the far distance. Julie swivelled the screen so that it was out of view. She started taking measurements and printing images.
“Have you found it yet?” asked Claire quietly.
Julie moved the probe across her stomach and dug in again.
“Hang on a sec,” she said, “I’m just trying to get a better view.”
There was nothing for it but to wait.
“I’m just trying to check if there’s anything I’m not seeing.”
Julie printed up some more images and rose to her feet.
“I want to get someone else to look at these images, for a second opinion.”
Julie left and Claire and Jonah waited in silence, each deep in their own thoughts. A couple of minutes later Julie returned with another doctor. She squeezed some fresh gel onto Claire’s stomach and began circling the probe again. “Here,” she pointed on the screen, showing her colleague. She moved the probe. “And here,” she pointed again. The colleague nodded and raised an eyebrow before leaving.
“Right,” said Julie, swivelling the screen back so that Claire and Jonah could see. “There are a couple of things I need to show you.”
It sounded ominous. Perhaps it was worse than a foetus implanted in her fallopian tube. Perhaps there were growths of a more sinister nature.
“Right,” she said, moving the probe to the far left. She pointed at a black mass on the screen. “This here is one lovely healthy baby, about eight weeks old I’d say, judging from its size.” She adjusted the volume knob and the sound of a pulsing heartbeat came up loud and clear. Claire turned to Jonah. She didn’t understand. Julie ran the probe back over Claire’s stomach and dug it in sharply to the left.
“Ouch,” yelped Claire.
“Sorry, it’s hard to see, but I wanted to show you this here,” Julie pointed to the screen again, “is another lovely healthy baby.” Again, she upped the volume and the heartbeat came across loud and clear.
“I’m sorry,” said Jonah, “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”
“Me neither,” said Claire, confused. Did she have a foetus stuck in each of her fallopian tubes?
“I’ve had a good look and I think the pain you’ve been experiencing is as a result of cysts on your ovaries, which we’ll need to keep a close eye on. As for the nausea, that’s most likely morning sickness associated with pregnancy. I thought there might be a third for a minute,” explained Julie, “but I’ve had a good look and I’m fairly certain it’s just two. Congratulations. You’re having twins.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
JONAH
Getting a good night’s sleep used to be high on Jonah’s agenda. At one point in his career it had become a vicious circle. If he didn’t sleep well then he wouldn’t play his best tennis and the more he panicked about it, the less he slept. He’d tried everything in his time, from meditation to herbal remedies to heavy-duty sleeping pills. The problem with the latter was that it frequently left him feeling groggy the next day, which wasn’t advisable for a competing athlete. The one thing that had always been a sure-fire cert as a slumber aid had been sex, but the rumours about athletes being advised not to have intercourse the night before an important event were all true. His coach had always warned him that it depleted energy reserves for the battle that lay ahead. Jonah hadn’t heeded this warning, however. Instead he’d come up with an alternative theory, preferring to believe that sex increases the amounts of testosterone in the body which in turn increases aggression. Who knows which theory was more correct? It was all speculation and he wasn’t going to abstain just because of some scientific mumbo jumbo, plausible or not.
Last night, after they got back from the hospital, Jonah didn’t sleep at all but, this time, he hadn’t cared. He didn’t once think about reaching for a tablet, herbal or medicated, and he’d already had sex. No, he simply hadn’t slept because he was too goddamn excited. Claire was pregnant. They were going to have a baby. And once she’d got over the initial shock of it, she too had appeared genuinely pleased. They’d twirled and hugged and kissed as the news had sunk in and, after Claire’s “oh my God, oh my god, oh my God, I can’t believe it,” had been repeated on a never-ending loop, she’d remembered that she’d done lots of things she shouldn’t have. “That must be wh
y I’ve gone off tea and coffee. And crikey, think of all the alcohol I’ve drunk and goat’s cheese I’ve eaten. Plus I did that stupid zip wire, not to mention all that sex we’ve been having. Crikey, do you think the babies are ok?”
Then her concerns had moved onto the girls. “What on earth do we tell them? How will they take the news? Where will we live?” She’d started to panic. “Shush,” he calmed her. “Everything’s going to be ok. We’ll look at all the options and make it work for us. There’s nothing that can’t be overcome. This is our new beginning. It was meant to be.”
At Coronado they’d gone to sit on the white sand after lunch whilst the girls waded in the ocean. He had watched the children, thinking how much he’d like to have more kids with Claire. He’d debated whether to mention it but the day was so perfect he had been scared of ruining it. In case she didn’t feel the same way, he had kept quiet. They decided to stay quiet now and not say anything to the girls yet, seeing as the youngsters were both leaving in a couple of days. Then, when it was just the two of them together, they could work out the logistics.