Once Upon a Pregnancy

by Judy Duarte

  Was she afraid of the effect alcohol might have on her? That it might lower her inhibitions like last time they’d spent the evening together? That she might let down her guard and allow herself to feel again?

  If so, he hoped she didn’t think he was trying to ply her with wine. He’d only meant to set a romantic ambience, not get her into bed. The next time they made love, he wanted her to be completely sober and still willing. And, more important, he didn’t want her to have any regrets in the morning.

  “Look at this cheese plate.” A smile that reached her soulful brown eyes sent his pulse topsy-turvy. “Have the guys down at the department been reading magazines on entertaining? This is pretty, as well as appetizing.”

  “Actually, a lady Leif has been dating invited a few of us over to watch the game and she set out a tray like this. It was pretty cool, and I thought you’d agree.” He shrugged, cheeks warming. He hoped she didn’t think he’d gone over the top.

  “It’s a nice touch,” she said. “No one has ever prepared anything special for me.”

  Someone ought to.

  And often.

  “Then you’re welcome.”

  As Mike turned to get the juice for her, she stopped him. “I’ll get it. Why don’t you have a seat and unwind. I took care of the dogs yesterday, so I know how tiring that can be.”

  “Actually,” Mike said, glancing to the hearth where the canines lay side by side, “they weren’t that bad tonight.”

  He’d taken them out in the backyard and thrown a ball to them until they were both worn-out and ready to settle down.

  While Simone was in the kitchen, Mike poured a glass of wine for himself.

  She’d just returned and settled into a comfortable position on the couch when her phone rang.

  “Uh-oh.” She furrowed her brow as she turned and reached for the telephone that rested on the lamp table. “I don’t know who it could be at this hour.”

  “A woman called earlier,” he said, “but she wouldn’t leave her name. I told her you wouldn’t get home until after eleven.”

  Mike watched as Simone snagged the receiver and answered on the second ring.

  “Hello?” The furrow in her brow grew deeper. “Yes, it is.”

  He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he listened to her side of the conversation. It obviously wasn’t a wrong number, but who the hell called people after eleven o’clock at night?

  “That’s too bad. No, I didn’t know.” She raked a hand through her hair, as though forgetting she wore it held back in a clip. Then she stood. “Would you please give me your number. I’d like to have it in case I need to speak to you later.”

  She made her way to the small rolltop desk against the wall and pulled out the top drawer. She fumbled inside until she withdrew a notepad and pen. Then she made a note.

  “Thank you. I’ll…uh…call her first thing in the morning.”

  Mike tensed, his senses on alert. Just from listening to Simone’s side of the conversation, the news sounded serious.

  She cleared her throat. “Yes, well…I don’t know why she didn’t call me, either.”

  When she hung up the phone, she remained standing, her back to him. She’d always carried herself with strength and pride, but her shoulders slumped and she blew out a heavy sigh.

  Mike put down his glass and made his way toward her. “Is everything okay, honey?”

  Damn, there went the endearment again. But this time, he wasn’t sorry he’d let it slip out. Not when he sensed she needed some tenderness.

  “I…uh…yeah. I’m fine.” She turned to him, her eyes red and welling with tears. “It’s just…well, my mom found a lump in her breast last week. But for some reason, she didn’t want to bother me with the news. That was a friend of hers who took it upon herself to call and let me know. She figured, even if my mom and I weren’t close, that I was a nurse and could answer some of her questions and put her at ease.”

  Mike slid his arms around her, and she leaned into his embrace, resting her head against his chest.

  He held her for a while, providing her with all he had to offer. His sympathy, his heart.

  Finally, as she drew away, her gaze caught his, and he saw the pain inside. The grief.

  What did one say to a woman who’d just learned of her mother’s frightening discovery?

  “That’s just like my mom,” Simone said, tears spilling from her eyes.

  “What do you mean?”

  She wiped the moisture from her cheeks and sniffed. “Needless to say, I’m concerned about her health and sorry she’s struggling with all that lump could mean, but this is the kind of thing a mother should share with her daughter, whether she’s a nurse or not. And it hurts to be reminded of just how lousy our relationship is. Especially if her condition proves to be life-threatening and I stand to lose her without ever having the kind of bond other mothers and daughters have.”

  Mike didn’t know what to say, what to do. He couldn’t get a handle on how a woman might feel upon finding a lump in her breast. Nor did he have any idea what that woman’s daughter might be going through.

  He figured they’d both be scared, anxious.

  A simple, well-meant “I’m sorry” slid out. Yet it seemed so…inadequate.

  “I’m sorry, too. And not just because of the news. I’m used to having my mom shut me out. She’s been doing that to me for years. But I got the feeling that her friend thought I was too busy to be bothered. And that’s simply not true.”

  “I know it isn’t.” If anyone had a heart for a person who was ill or hurting, it was Simone. And Mike was sorry that she and her mom were not close.

  Maybe, in its own way, a diagnosis like this might draw the two of them together again. He hoped so; he couldn’t imagine what his life would be like without the love and support of his family.

  A shank of glossy hair had fallen from the clip Simone wore; now the strands hung along her cheek. Mike brushed them aside. “If you need anything, if your mom needs anything, you can count on me for help.”

  “Thanks.”

  “That’s what friends…and lovers are for.” As he brushed a kiss across her forehead, she gripped his waist as though hanging on to him, to everything his offer held.

  When her lips parted, tempting him to place his mouth on hers, he was lost in a whirl of desire. He half expected her to push him away, but she slipped her arms around his neck and drew him closer instead.

  It had been so long…

  Too long.

  The kiss deepened, and their tongues mated, sweeping and swirling in sleek, hot need. He couldn’t get enough of her taste, of her touch, of her scent. And he held her tight, yearning to make them one.

  Still, he wouldn’t push. Wouldn’t make the first move toward the bedroom. He’d been serious when he’d vowed that the next time they made love it would be at Simone’s invitation, and she wouldn’t need even a drop of alcohol to influence her decision.

  As his hormones pumped, as his blood pounded in need, he reined in his desire to the point he thought he might die. And when she placed her hands on his chest and pushed him away, he thought he surely would.

  “I’m sorry, Mike. But I can’t. I just can’t do this.”

  Oh, she could. And she had. But he knew better than to argue.

  She unclipped the barrette in her hair, then combed her fingers through the strands. “I’m not the kind of woman who wants or needs a man in my life.”

  “You may not want one. But you definitely need one.” And Mike was the man she needed most.

  His suspicion that she’d been hurt in the past only deepened now.

  She strode back to the coffee table and picked at a clump of grapes he’d placed next to the slices of cheese. “In the three or so years you’ve known me, how many times have you seen me with a man—romantically speaking? How many times have I actually gone out on a date?”

  “That’s not healthy,” he said.

  “I’m not very good at relatio
nships, so it’s easier this way.”

  He couldn’t buy that. Still, it had been five or six weeks since the two of them had slept together. But he had no idea how long it had been for her prior to that.

  Too long, he suspected. The last guy she’d been involved with must have done a real number on her self-esteem.

  “Can’t you be content to let us just be friends?”

  God only knew how long he could keep this up. His hope was that she’d give in to her true feelings before he grew tired of waiting.

  Damn. He was only human.

  “I’ll take whatever you can give me,” he said.

  At least that was his plan for now.

  The next morning, Simone woke to the sounds of dogs barking. She rolled over in bed, raised up on an elbow and peered through the curtains. In the backyard, Mike was playing ball with Wags and Woofer, who obviously hadn’t learned the rules of Fetch.

  But she had to give Mike credit for trying to teach them how to bring the little rubber ball back to him and not keep it as a well-earned prize.

  What was she going to do about that man?

  If she believed in the power of true love, if she believed that she could become involved in any kind of lasting relationship, she would definitely consider making Mike a part of her life.

  But she knew her own flaws, as well as her strengths.

  When Cynthia Pryor, her mom’s neighbor, had called last night to inform Simone of something another mother would have disclosed on her own, she’d been completely taken aback. Not just by the terrible news, but by the blatant reminder that she and her mom had never been close, that they never would be.

  And thanks to their dysfunctional relationship, Simone would never be able to create a warm, loving family of her own.

  After the call, when Mike had held her, when he’d kissed her, she’d wanted so badly to accept all that he’d been willing to give her.

  But how could she when she knew she’d always hold back? When she knew she’d always retreat to that special place in her mind where no one could ever hurt her again?

  As she climbed from bed, another bout of morning sickness struck with a vengeance, and she hurried to the bathroom. When it was all over—God, she hated being sick—she washed her face, returned to the bedroom and sat on the edge of mattress. Then she dialed her mother’s house.

  After the third ring, a click sounded. Simone opened her mouth to respond, but when the canned voice of her mom’s answering machine began its recitation, she blew out a ragged sigh instead.

  “You have reached 518–555–2467. I can’t come to the phone right now, but if you leave your name and number, I’ll return your call at my earliest convenience.”

  Simone cleared her throat. “Hi, Mom. It’s me. I just wanted to touch base and see how you’ve been. Please give me a call when you can. It’s—” she glanced at the clock on the bureau “—it’s ten-fifteen on Thursday. I have to go into work this afternoon around three, but I should be close to home until then. I love you.”

  As she hung up the phone, she realized that she always ended her calls that way. I love you.

  But did she?

  Did that little girl inside of her still exist? The one who’d desperately wanted to hear those three little words repeated and know, without a doubt, that her mother truly meant them?

  No. That lonely child had faded into the past when Simone hit high school, where she learned that she could get the affirmation, respect and attention she craved from her teachers. So, as a result, she studied hard and excelled—especially in science.

  At one time, she’d actually thought about going to medical school, but the cost was prohibitive, especially without any family support. So she’d settled for nursing school, where she graduated at the top of her class.

  Fifteen years ago, she landed a job at Walnut River General and worked on any floor she was assigned. But she soon found her real calling in the emergency room, where she gained the respect of patients, coworkers and administrators alike.

  One nice thing about the E.R. was that Simone could become personally involved with the patients for a few hours, then was able to back off as they either went home or were sent to other floors in the hospital.

  Yes, she’d overcome a lot in the past thirty-seven years, but she still found it difficult to actually connect with people.

  When the rubber ball Mike and the dogs had been playing with hit the side of the house, the wooden window frame and the glass shook and shuddered.

  Simone peered out into the yard to see what was going on outside.

  Through the pane of glass separating them, Mike caught her gaze, smiled and shrugged at the same time. Then he mouthed, “I’m sorry.”

  She was sorry, too. Sorry that she couldn’t pin her heart and her dreams on Mike O’Rourke. That she couldn’t create something she’d never had.

  Once upon a time, she’d hoped and prayed to have what other children had been blessed with, but that dream had faded along with that little brown-haired girl who used to cry herself to sleep each night.

  The child whose mother had looked at her newborn for the very first time and determined that she was unlovable.

  Mike had found his true calling when he’d pursued EMT training at the local junior college.

  In fact, he loved everything about his job—the adrenaline rush, the satisfaction of saving a life.

  Sure, there were times when it was tough, times when he came upon an accident victim too late to be of any help.

  He didn’t like having to look into the eyes of a victim’s family and tell them there was nothing left to do but to call the coroner. But he accepted that as part of life, as part of his job.

  Tonight, just after eight o’clock, he and Leif were sitting around the television at the station with several other guys when the next call came in, and the men all sprung into action.

  Four and a half minutes later, they arrived at the scene of a car accident that had occurred when a seventy-six-year-old woman ran a stop sign at the intersection of Lexington and Pine, broadsiding a vehicle driven by a sixteen-year-old boy.

  The teenager in a white Honda Accord had suffered a possible skull fracture, lacerations to the face and a broken collarbone.

  The elderly woman had been hurt, too. But Mike suspected she might have had a seizure or ministroke while behind the wheel, which had probably caused the accident. They wouldn’t know for sure until she was examined at the hospital.

  Eight minutes after the arrival of the paramedics on the scene, both victims were loaded in the ambulance and en route to Walnut River General.

  As Leif and Mike monitored the vitals of the victims, the flashing red lights and siren alerted the other cars on the road to pull over and let the emergency vehicle pass.

  Simone was working tonight, and Mike hoped that after the patients were stabilized he’d have a chance to see her, to talk to her.

  After passing both the teenager and the woman to the E.R. staff, Mike and Leif stopped by the nurses’ desk to complete the necessary paperwork.

  “Hey,” Leif said, nodding toward an open doorway, where Simone stood at the bedside of a young girl who had a gash in her leg. “If you’re both working, who’s looking after the dogs?”

  “We decided to leave them alone tonight and hope for the best.” Mike glanced up from the form he’d signed. “I sure hope they don’t disturb her neighbors. They get a little loud and rambunctious sometimes.”

  The radio squawked, and Leif responded, alerting dispatch that the medics were available again. When he’d done so, he excused himself. “I’m going to get a soda. Want me to get you one?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  As Leif walked away, Mike took the time to study Simone, to watch her interact with a frightened little girl he guessed to be about six or seven years old.

  Simone took a disposable glove from a box, blew into the opening to create a balloon, then knotted the end. The fingers stood straight up, resembling eithe
r a rooster’s comb or a kid’s Mohawk. Then she took a black pen and drew a pair of eyes above the thumb and a mouth below it.

  The result brought forth a smile on the child’s face, providing some relief from her pain and fear.

  Why couldn’t Simone see in herself what he saw in her—the compassion, the dedication, the heart of a woman who truly cared?

  A woman who would make a great wife and mother.

  In the past, Mike had sowed his share of wild oats. But as family holidays came and went, each one growing bigger with another new in-law or the birth of a baby, he’d begun to feel a growing urge to find a mate, settle down and create a home and family of his own.

  Simone was a challenge, though.

  As she returned to the desk where Mike continued to stand, she tossed a pretty smile his way. “Wags and Woofer must be doing okay. Otherwise, I suspect Mrs. McAllister, the woman who lives next door to me, would have called to complain by now.”

  “I knew they’d eventually learn how to get along.” He’d taken that same stance with Simone, hoping that she’d get used to having him around, that she’d let down her guard and quit fighting her feelings for him.

  “Did you ever get ahold of your mother?” he asked. “How’s she doing?”

  Simone’s movements slowed to a snail’s pace. “I’m afraid I really don’t know. We’ve been playing phone tag.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Simone gave a half shrug. “Actually, that’s par for the course.”

  “Because you’re both so busy?” Mike had a brother who worked odd hours and was hard to find at home.

  “My mom and I never seem to connect.” She crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one hip.

  “Maybe you ought to try and talk to her again this evening,” he suggested, “when you get a break.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “I guess you’ll want to call her when you can have some privacy.”

  Simone scanned the E.R.

  Looking to see who was listening? he wondered.

  She uncrossed her arms and straightened, distancing herself from the conversation. “I’m probably the last one on earth she really wants to hear from. So I’m going to let her call me if and when she’s ready.”