“I intend to,” I fling over my shoulder.
I have to stand in line five whole minutes. And five minutes in a line when Miss Rachel is doing spins around the man I . . . well, I mean the father of the children who are playing my children. I can’t let her get by with it, can I?
“Size seven and a half,” I tell the guy at the counter. I want to add “stat,” but restrain myself.
“Fresh out.”
I stare at him for a second, thinking I must have heard wrong. “What? How can you be out of size seven and a half?”
“You’d think it wouldn’t be possible,” he says with a shrug and a mocking grin. “But here we are, all out of that size. What are the odds?”
Smart aleck. I give him a snarly glare, and he gives me attitude. Punk. O-kay. “Do you have a seven?”
“Yeah, but I suggest going with the eight if you’re determined to skate in the wrong size.”
Oh, sure. My feet are going to slide all over the eights. There’s no way I’d be able to stand up, let alone skate. I toss him a condescending smile. “Yeah, thanks. The seven please, kiddo.”
He shrugs. “Suit yourself.”
“Thanks, I will.” Ten minutes later, I regret that decision. My feet kill me the second I lace into the foot corsets, and again, I’m faced with a choice. Go back to the arrogant rental kid and admit I’ve made a mistake or once again go down fighting. And so I choose B. Go down fighting. And I do. Go down that is. The second I hit the ice, I—well—hit the ice.
I try to stand up, but even hanging on to the wall, I can’t seem to get a foothold. “Need some help?” Rachel’s mocking tone shoots through me like a stream of acid. She comes to a graceful stop and crosses one foot over the other. Show-off.
“No thanks. Just getting my sea legs.”
“Okay. Don’t say I didn’t offer.”
“I won’t.” I wave her on and down I go again. She laughs and skates away. Note to self: keep two hands on the wall at all times. Also, set fire to Rachel Savage’s dressing room at first possible opportunity.
“May I?” My heart skips a beat as David slides to a stop and holds out his hand. Funny how my reaction to his offer is so much different than when Rachel did it.
“Thanks. It’s starting to come back to me.” I take his hand, and he helps me stand, then slips his arm around my waist to steady me.
“Like riding a bike. Stay with me until you get your footing.”
Be happy to, Romeo.
I think this experiment in family life is sort of a failure. Here I am, hanging onto David for dear life while Rachel buzzes by me, laughing and chatting with Jenn and Jeffy as well as her two nieces. What is she? Aunt of the year? As much as I hate to admit it, she does have a way with the younger set. I should probably keep my eye on how she relates to them and then emulate it during my scenes.
I’m starting to freak myself out.
“You okay?” David’s voice breaks through my introspection.
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”
He clears his throat, as though weighing whether he should state the obvious, which is that Rachel is stealing my time with those kids. They were supposed to start forming a relationship with me today. Instead, they don’t know I’m alive.
The phone clipped to my waistband blares the Friends theme. “Help me stop so I can answer that, will you?”
“Sure.” His voice is filled with amusement, but I don’t care. I’m just concerned with his strong arms keeping me from falling on my rear while I answer this call. He steadies me, and I reach for the phone.
“Hello?”
“Tabs?” My sister’s trembling voice reaches through the phone, and I’m immediately on alert.
“Shelly, what’s wrong?”
“I-I think I’m losing the baby and Mom can’t leave Dad and I can’t reach Mikey. Brian is taking me to the hospital. Can you please meet me there? I-I really need family with me.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” I hang up and whip around to David. “I have to go. It’s an emergency.” Tears burn my eyes. “My little sister thinks she’s losing her baby.” God must be the one keeping me on my feet as I skate off the rink and hustle to the bench without waiting for an answer. My heart is in my throat.
David sits in front of me and starts unlacing one of my skates. I see his lips moving, and I assume it’s in silent prayer. He wiggles the too-tight skate and frowns. “This is too small. Your feet must be killing you.”
I nod. “They are. The guy didn’t have the right size.”
To his credit, he refrains from responding as he peels the other skate from my burning feet.
“Thanks.”
“I’m going to round up the twins so we can take you to the hospital.”
“There’s no need for that, David.” I touch his shoulder. “I’ll take a cab. The kids haven’t had nearly enough time to skate, and they deserve it after working so hard today.”
He stands and apparently catches Rachel’s eye because in a minute she skates off the ice, Jenn and Jeffy in tow. “What’s going on?” she asks.
“There’s been an emergency and Tabby has to leave. I’m driving her, so we’ll need to leave too.”
The twins send up a howl of protest. “You said we could eat at Rock Center Café.”
“I know, Jenn,” David says. “But some things can’t be helped. We’ll do it again soon. I promise.”
“We’re hungry, Daddy.” Little Jeffy’s voice is trembling.
“We’ll drive through McDonald’s as soon as we get Miss Brockman to the hospital.”
“Look,” Rachel says. “We’re going to be here for a while, and I promised my nieces supper at Rock Center Café too. Why don’t I look after Jennifer and Jeffy for you?”
David hesitates, and you can’t blame him. Under any other circumstances I know he’d say thanks but no thanks. But a couple of things stand in Rachel’s favor. She’s a well-known daytime actress, and the kids already seem to like her really well. Darn it. Anyway, he looks at the kids, who apparently take this as a signal that they should begin to beg.
“Please, Daddy,” Jenn pleads.
“It’s really no trouble at all.” Rachel’s perfectly glossed lips curve into a smile. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a card. “Just in case you don’t have my cell phone number, it’s on this. If you haven’t called by the time we’re ready to leave, I’ll take them to my house, and you can collect them from there. Okay?”
She carries her card with her wherever she goes? Sheesh, I don’t even have any business cards, let alone personal cards.
David takes it, and I see her do the “accidental” hand brush. Making a play for him at a time like this. No class.
“All right. You two be good for Miss Savage.”
“They’ll be fine.” Rachel smiles down at the kids, and I swear she looks like she really does like them. “Won’t you, kids?”
“Yep. Can we go skate some more?”
“Stay where Miss Savage can see you, and don’t go to the bathroom by yourselves.”
Rachel places her perfectly manicured fingers on his chest. His chest! “Please don’t worry about them. You know I’ve been taking care of children all my life. Remember my six brothers and sisters? Four of them are younger than I am. I wouldn’t take my eyes off those kids for one second.”
I hate to be the one to say it, but she hasn’t been paying attention to her nieces at all, and they’re currently hanging out with a couple of boys who look slightly too old for them. “I think your niece is looking for you,” I say.
She turns back to the ice, where the older of the men waves. “That’s my cousin.” She smiles, waving back. Then she turns to David. “Really, let me keep the twins for you. I honestly don’t mind.”
David gives her that beautiful smile of his. “Thank you.” He pauses for one last look at his kids and holds out his hand to me. “Let’s get you to your sister.”
14
Shelly is still
in the emergency waiting room when we arrive. Brian is sitting next to her, his hand wrapped around hers for support. He barely even looks at me when we rush in. Shelly glares.
“You said twenty minutes. It’s been thirty. Do you know how long ten extra minutes can be when a woman is cramping?” She lets out a gasp and Brian’s face goes pale as she squeezes the blood from his hand. I wait for the pain to subside.
“I’m sorry, Shelly. We were skating at Rockefeller when you called. David had to make arrangements for his kids.” And it’s not like I’ve never had cramps. But I know that’s not what she’s talking about.
Her eyes tear up. “I’m sorry I snapped. But they aren’t calling me, and I’m afraid I’m going to lose the baby before the doctor sees me. Will you talk to someone?”
“We’ll do our best, Shelly.” David pulls me toward the receptionist, and I wish with all my heart I had Dancy’s guts. Remembering how she bullied the nurse for me, I buck up and pretend I’m my friend.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” David says. The receptionist totally ignores him.
I lean over the counter and wave my hand in her face. “Excuse me!”
Oh, no, she did not just raise a manicured nail at me.
“Excuse me,” I insist.
“I will be with you in a minute,” she says with a haughty tone that gets under my skin.
“No. You’ll be with me now.” I slap the counter. “My little sister isn’t going to lose her baby while you finger through a bunch of stupid charts. There is a room full of witnesses who will be called on to testify in a lawsuit if you don’t get off your behind and get my sister back to an examining table immediately.”
The waiting room begins to rumble with support. “You tell her, baby.” “Get that little girl to a doctor.” The receptionist’s face takes on a look of annoyed anxiety.
“All right. I’ll see if we can get her in.”
“Thank you,” I say sweetly.
I walk back to my sister and take the seat on her other side since Brian’s not budging from his position.
“Try to stay calm, Shell,” I say even though I know darned well it’s a dumb suggestion.
A few minutes later, the nurse comes out to the waiting area. “Dr. Wyman called. He wants to admit you for some tests. Someone will be down from labor and delivery soon to take you upstairs.”
“Do you need me to sign anything?” Shelly asks, her voice teary. My heart aches for her. I can see that she’s sick with worry. Her hand keeps covering her tummy as though willing her child to live.
The nurse shakes her head. “You’re preregistered. We have all your information. But we’ll need to see your insurance card.”
“I—” Shelly looks down, and I feel her shame.
“Just bill her as a self pay. You have the address.”
The nurse looks at Shelly as if to confirm. My sister nods.
“All right then.”
I turn to David. “Listen, there’s no reason for you to hang around. I can take a cab later, after I’m sure she’s okay. Or have Laini or Dancy come get me. You’ve gone above and beyond the call of duty, and I appreciate it a lot.”
“Can’t Brian drive you?” he asks.
“Hmm?” The mention of Brian seems out of place. Like a weird dream. Not scary. Just not right, you know?
“Your boyfriend, Brian.” David peers down at me as though trying to probe my soul. “The one taking such great care of your sister.” Is it my imagination or is he a little offended for me? Would this be the appropriate time for me to tell him Brian is not my boyfriend, but rather a semi-stalking pain in the butt that my mom wants for a son-in-law? But the words won’t form.
Instead, I give a wave. “Oh yeah. I’m sure Brian can take me home.” I’m not going to mention that he must have brought my sister to the hospital in a cab or that the most he can do is share a cab ride with me—and probably make me pay for it anyway.
David’s brow puckers, and I’m almost positive he doesn’t believe me. But ever the gentleman, he nods. “All right. I guess I’ll call Rachel and go take the twins off her hands.”
“Good idea.” Don’t leave Hansel and Gretel in the wicked witch’s clutches long enough for her to fatten them up and eat them for supper.
He turns to Shelly, who is still sitting with her feet propped up on a chair, waiting for someone to come and take her to labor and delivery. What is taking them so long, anyway? I stuff my irritation as David reaches out to her. “I’ll be praying for you and your baby.”
Relief slides across Shelly’s face. She grabs his hand. “Thank you, David. Thank you so much. Please ask God to keep my baby safe.”
“I will, honey.” Is he sweet or what? I just want to grab him around the waist and press my cheek against his broad chest and not let go.
In the next minute a nurse’s aide shows up pushing a wheelchair. “Shelly Brockman?”
Shelly drops Brian’s hand and stands carefully. I see her grimace and my heart twists.
“Can I stay with her?” Brian asks.
“Are you the father?”
His face goes red. “No, ma’am.”
“It’s okay,” Shelly says. “I’d like him to stay with me.”
The nurse’s aide gives a shrug. “I guess it’s fine.”
Brian turns his gaze to me. “D-do you mind?” The poor guy has such guilt in his eyes I feel a little sorry for him.
“Go. Be with her, Brian.”
“I-I never meant for it to happen with us. She just… we have a lot in common and I… at the hospital when your dad was sick and then New Year’s Eve. She…” He clears his throat.
“Brian. Really, it’s okay. I’m glad you two are hitting it off.”
David leans close. “Call me and let me take you home.” I meet his eyes and my breath stops. The caring in his expression makes me feel—I don’t know exactly because it’s a new feeling—but I’d love to experience it every day of my life from a man who loves me. A man besides Dad, that is.
“Okay.”
“Promise?”
“Yeah. I gotta go or I’ll lose track of my sister.” I give him a rueful smile. “And Brian.”
He smiles back and hands me a business card. “You don’t have my number.”
Does everyone have business cards but me? I feel a blush. He knows I have no intention of playing damsel in distress. I’ve been taking care of myself for too long. Who needs to be treated with kid gloves?
“Thanks.”
I hurry down the hallway just before the elevator doors close. “Hang on!” The nurse’s aide scowls but pushes the open button so I can slip in. David watches until the doors close. The last thing I see is his thumb and pinky pressed like a phone receiver against his ear and mouth.
“Call me,” he mouths.
Maybe having a man hover is nice every now and then. I glance at Brian, who is definitely hovering over my sister. As long as it’s the right hoverer, I suppose it’s okay.
Do you think God is punishing me?”
Shelly’s question takes me aback, and I walk across the room and squeeze her hand. “Why do you say that?”
“You know, I was so angry that I got pregnant and that Drew ran off with his other girlfriend. At first, I really wanted an abortion. I mean, I honestly had no intention of carrying this baby. Even at my first doctor’s appointment I was going to ask for the name of someone who would perform an abortion and use the money you gave me for prenatal care to pay for it.”
“Shelly!”
“I know. It would have been terrible of me, but I was feeling so desperate and I—I hated this baby, Tabby. I felt like it was totally ruining my life.”
Oh, sure—blame the baby. I can’t find much sympathy. Because if anyone ruined her life, she did it to herself. “What made you decide not to run off and get the abortion?” Am I naïve or what? It never even occurred to me that she might take the money I gave her and use it for an abortion.
“The doctor put the little machin
e on my stomach, and I heard the baby’s heart beating. At first I thought it was mine. But Dr. Wyman said, ‘Your baby’s got a strong heartbeat.’ When I realized that was my baby, I just didn’t see it as an inconvenience anymore. I remembered that verse in the Bible about God knowing a baby before it’s even formed inside the mother. And it was like God was telling me that He would take care of everything. That He loved this baby enough for both of us.”
I don’t usually feel jealous of my sister. I’m the one who always has the most going for her. The most friends, the most money, the most respect—the only thing she has more of than me is dates. And well, look what it got her. Which sort of brings me back to the point. Why does she get to be a mom before me? But then, what kind of mother would I be anyway? I pat my sister’s hand. “That’s wonderful, Shell. I’m so proud of you.”
She smiles a truly happy smile. “Every time I closed my eyes, I’d hear that heartbeat in my mind and something started changing in my heart toward my baby. I truly love it now. I want this baby. So, do you?”
“Do I what? Want your baby?”
“Of course not.” She rolls her eyes. “Do you think God is punishing me?”
“Why would He?”
“You know… because I wanted an abortion.”
“Shelly, listen to me. I don’t know why this is happening. And I don’t know the end result. Only God does. But I find it very hard to believe that God would give you this love for your baby only to punish you with a miscarriage. I personally believe He’s too gentle and loving for that.”
“So you don’t think I’ll lose it?” She’s looking at me with eyes as trusting as a toddler. Everything in me cries out to reassure her. I’m praying for the best.
“I don’t know. But if you do lose the baby, I don’t believe it will be a punishment from God. People lose babies every day for a million different reasons. Let’s just keep praying, okay?”
Catch a Rising Star Page 14