"The end of February," she said gently. "Jake, I know you have to deal with this in your own way. But is there something, anything, I can do to help?"
He sat motionless for a long minute, as though he were reluctant to voice his thoughts. Jake was a vigorous, intelligent man. Tall—six foot plus—and solidly built, he was not conventionally handsome, but his square jaw projected an impression of strength.
Now he seemed to call on all his concentration, all his strength, all his command, when he raised his head and straightened in his chair. He looked at her again. His eyes were passionless, his expression determined. "There is something you can do, Natalie. And it will help a great deal."
Her breath had caught somewhere in her chest. The sense of dread she'd felt earlier grew to frightening proportions. She waited for him to explain.
"You can consent to have an abortion."
* * *
Chapter 2
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Natalie's hand flattened the big shirt to her stomach in an unconscious gesture of protection as she stared at him, unable to believe what he'd just said.
The big electric clock on the kitchen wall swept away the seconds. Slowly the chilling effect that accompanied shock worked its way into her bones. For a moment, she did not, could not, speak.
An abortion.
She wondered if she should have seen this coming. Because this baby she carried, that Jake had just asked her to dispose of, was not hers. Not related to her in any genetic way. The baby was Lisa's and his child.
Silently he watched her, his gray eyes noncommittal, and waited for a reaction.
At last she said, "I'm eighteen weeks pregnant, Jake. Approaching the legal limit for termination. But I can't have an abortion." She was grateful that her voice hadn't stumbled over the word. "That you would even suggest such a thing is—is—" Then her voice did break under the emotional impact. "How could you, Jake?" she whispered.
He looked away. "How could I not?" he asked quietly. He seemed to be speaking more to himself than to her, having drawn inside himself somehow.
She might as well not have been in the room. After a moment she got to her feet and went to look blindly out through the six-paned window of the kitchen door, out over Lisa's garden.
Lisa's garden, Lisa's house, Lisa's husband. Good God, what was she doing here? She leaned her forehead against a cool glass pane.
Lisa's baby…
It was another bond—a tragic one—that she and Lisa had shared. The inability to bear children.
Lisa could not carry a child because of an accident she'd suffered many years ago. Her womb had been destroyed.
Natalie would not carry a child because she might pass along the terrible gene she carried in her body.
She squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lips together hard, feeling the edge of her teeth grind against the tender flesh, deliberately arousing physical pain to distract her from the pain in her heart.
She'd carried the pain with her ever since she was old enough to understand that though she was healthy and free of the disease, she could pass this gene to any baby she might have.
She'd never been willing to take that chance, and she'd grown accustomed to the idea that she would never be pregnant. She didn't even think about it much until she'd met and fallen in love with Joseph. She had told him, of course, long before they had become engaged. They'd discussed adoption, but Joseph had gotten sick…
Then a little over a year ago, everything had changed when Lisa had come to Charleston for a visit with her parents. The first night, Lisa had called Natalie to invite herself to dinner. Over the meal, she'd introduced the concept of using in vitro fertilization—and her body—to make a baby.
Natalie had dismissed the idea out of hand. "Lisa, my friend, you are nuts." She'd grinned to take the sting out of the words, but her meaning was straightforward.
Lisa's dark eyes had sparkled like the Fourth of July. "No, I'm not, sweetie. My body is still capable of producing an egg, and Jake has no problems. It's all done in a clinic. I've brought you some materials to read that explain the process.
"You wouldn't lose anything either, Nat," Lisa had persisted. "The timing is perfect. Jake and I would insist on an allowance, so you wouldn't have to worry about working. You can move to Savannah, into our downstairs apartment, sit around and get fat while you finish your book."
Natalie scowled at her friend for using that as an argument. Though she was happy with her job as a feature writer for Charleston's evening newspaper, it was her dream to write fiction. Her editor at the paper was from New York and knew someone who knew someone.
She had sent off a proposal for a novel based on colonial history of the coastal area. After several weeks of self-doubt, she'd recently received a positive response from a well-known New York agent, saying he would be delighted to read a completed manuscript. How long did she think it would take? She'd estimated that she could have a completed manuscript within a year.
Naturally she'd called Lisa in Savannah immediately, to share the exciting news first with her best friend. It was an opportunity she didn't want to ignore. And Lisa knew it.
Surely Lisa didn't imagine she would do something like carry a child for money. Before she could voice her objection to such an outrageous idea, Lisa read her mind.
"Of course, it wouldn't be like taking money for having a baby for some stranger." She grasped Natalie's hand in both of hers. "We're family, and we would naturally want to help you fulfill your dream as you would be helping us fulfill ours."
Her grip tightened; she shook Natalie's hand a bit. "Just think of it, Nat. All these years, neither of us ever thought we could produce a child. But one of the best in vitro clinics in the state is right there in Savannah. The three of us—we could have this baby. Jake and I will be the genetic parents, and you will give the baby life. But it wouldn't stop there, you would always be involved. Like another mother. What a lucky kid! And Joseph would have loved it, too, wouldn't he?"
Natalie's eyes had swum with tears during the impassioned appeal. The mention of Joseph caused them to spill over. Even nearly three years after his death, the memories still hurt terribly. She wiped the tears away with the back of her hand. "I can't do this, Lisa. You know I love you, and if I could help you get a baby, I would. But—" she shook her head decisively "—no." She turned her hands palm up and shrugged her shoulders. "I'm not a risk taker."
"But you're so strong, Nat."
"Me?" she said, surprised.
"You're the strongest woman I know," Lisa had answered seriously.
Was she? wondered Natalie. Was she strong enough?
Lisa never had been one to take no for an answer. It was what made her so successful. "Just think about it, Nat. That's all I ask. What was it my mama used to say about someone who was pregnant? 'She has a bun in the oven.' Well, I'll furnish the bun, and you'll be the oven." She laughed then, and Lisa's laugh was irresistible.
Almost.
"No," Natalie repeated. "Besides, what would you do with a baby? You're so busy." Lisa had opened her home-decorating service the year she married, and it had become an extravagantly successful venture. She was often away from home several days a month, shopping for antiques in Europe, fabrics in the Far East.
"Jake and I will work it out," Lisa said breezily, then she sobered. "I know it's a rather startling suggestion. But please think about it."
"You could get another—"
Lisa interrupted her immediately with a determined shake of her head. "I would never consider letting anyone else carry my baby. You're my sister."
She'd meant it, of course. And Natalie understood completely. Had their situations been reversed, she would have felt exactly the same way. "Jake agrees with this crazy idea?"
Lisa pretended to be offended. "Of course, I'd never make a decision like this without consulting him."
"Consulting?" Natalie laughed dryly. Lisa joined in. They both knew of Lisa's talent for persuasion. Her husband seldo
m objected to her plans.
Lisa's grin faded, to be replaced by a wistful smile. "You know Jake. He doesn't reveal his feelings as openly as I do, but you should have seen the look in his eyes when I first mentioned it. He would love a child, Nat."
"I'm really sorry if you've had your heart set on this, Lisa, but I can't. Won't." She added the latter, more forceful word so that her friend would know she meant what she said.
"You won't even think about it? Nat, I've never known you to be close-minded before."
Natalie had continued to refuse, but in the end she'd promised to read the material that Lisa had brought and think about the request.
And think, she did. Once the idea had been suggested, she found that she could hardly think of anything else. Eventually, after weighing the pros and cons carefully, she had decided that she would do it.
She'd finally gone to Savannah to spend a weekend and had told Lisa and Jake that she had pondered their proposal. She still had reservations—mainly because of Lisa's high-pressure job—but one look at Jake, at the bright gleam in his eye, convinced her that he would hold up his end of the bargain.
So she had agreed to carry a child for Lisa and Jake. And then, for the rest of the weekend, they'd used every argument they could think of to dissuade her. Finally, in exasperation, she'd demanded to know if they'd changed their minds.
Lisa, her pretty dark eyes shining with amusement, had grinned at her husband, then jumped up from the sofa where she'd been sitting beside him. She hugged Natalie. "Of course we haven't changed our minds, sweetie."
"We simply wanted to make sure you didn't have any lingering reservations, Natalie," Jake added as he joined them. He draped his arm over Lisa's shoulder. "What you're doing for us—" He shook his head, obviously touched. "We wouldn't want you to be unhappy."
Lisa stood back then, gripping Natalie's shoulders, and looked into her eyes. "But you haven't. You really do want to do this, don't you?" she asked, her voice husky with emotion.
Natalie smiled at her friend. And at Jake. "Yes, I really do want this," she answered softly. "I really do." She took a deep breath. "And I think Joseph would want it, too." It's the one last thing I can do for him, she added to herself.
The complicated process took a long while. Even so, they were luckier than most. And sooner than any of them had expected, Natalie was pregnant. In July, when the doctors had confirmed her condition, she'd resigned her job, giving half-a-month's notice, and moved from Charleston to Savannah.
Now, as she stood staring into the garden, she was almost to the halfway point of the pregnancy. And the father had decided that this child should not be born.
This baby might not be related to her in a genetic way. But, dammit, it was related to Joseph. And she had been his wife. And this baby was inside her body. Didn't that give her the right to have some say-so?
She rolled her forehead against the glass and fought off the tears. What rationalization could she use with Jake? How could she convince him that what he'd asked was impossible? At last she lifted her forehead from the window and licked her dry lips. Another memory flashed suddenly in her mind. Bright morning sunlight, Jake leaving for work, she at the open kitchen window.
It had been her first morning in Savannah; she was still trying to get used to this upheaval in her well-ordered life. He'd seen her there and detoured from his course.
"Good morning." He'd smiled. "How is the pregnant lady?"
"Fine." She had smiled, but something of her nervousness must have shown in her face.
He'd come in, fresh like the morning in a spotless starched shirt and dark casual slacks, carrying a charcoal-gray sports coat. He had spoken to her gently, reassuringly. "Lisa tends to see most things from her own perspective. But this has been very difficult for you, uprooting your life, hasn't it?"
She nodded.
"I hope you know we're here for you, Natalie." He never had shortened her name like Lisa did. "Anything, anything you need—including company when you're lonely or jokes when you're blue—you have only to ask."
His understanding had eased her fears. She smiled. "I know, Jake. Thank you."
The pleasant memory faded. She looked over her shoulder. The gentle, considerate man was gone, probably forever replaced by this angry, bitter one.
He seemed to have regained his balance and determination. A muscle jumped in his jaw once and then again while he held her eyes with his steady gaze.
Her eyes skittered away first. She came across to sit in the chair opposite him, the table between them this time. She placed her elbows on the hard oak surface, her arms outstretched, palms up in a beseeching gesture. "Jake, I think I can understand your feelings…"
The commonplace opening didn't have the desired effect. Her heart sank as she watched his hard expression change to pure granite.
Jake narrowed his eyes as a caution to the woman seated across from him not to argue. Not now. He'd watched the emotions, the memories, chase across her face. He knew what she was thinking, but it was impossible for Natalie to understand what he was feeling. Impossible.
And he recognized from her expression what her reply was going to be. She was going to fight him on this. He maintained his unflinching demeanor. "No, you can't understand." He could tell that hurt.
"I grieved when I lost Joseph," she reminded him evenly.
Impatience and anger crept into his voice. "Joseph was sick. Sick and in terrible pain. There was no hope of his recovering. His death was a relief, for him and for all of us."
His words were like lashes, flaying her heart. She shook her head. "No," she whispered. "Never a relief, never that."
"Lisa was alive," he went on harshly, ignoring her protest. "We had dreams. The baby was a part of them. She's gone, the dream is gone." He broke off for a moment, trying to gain the upper hand over his emotions, the sting in his eyes, the hard mass in his throat. "You here … seeing you every day … pregnant. I can't live with it."
"Jake, you're not being fair," she protested. "I should have the right—"
"Fair?" The anger roiled through him like hot lava. "Life sure as hell isn't fair. You are carrying a—a fetus that is not yours, Natalie," he said brutally.
He saw the effect of his words. Her face paled, her features became wooden, her hands clenched together on the tabletop until her knuckles were white. For the briefest second he deplored his callous handling of the situation. Then he shook his head, hardened his heart against all regret. A clean break with the past was the only way he could survive.
During the time he was away he had forgotten about the child. No, that wasn't right; he hadn't forgotten. The knowledge was there, but he had confined it to a brittle glass sphere and rolled it into the back of his mind for later reflection.
The day Lisa was buried, he'd fled. He'd headed up the coast, driving until total exhaustion had over-taken him. He'd found himself in North Carolina, where he'd pulled into the first motel he came to, checked in and slept for twenty-eight hours. It was the only peace he would know for more than a month and a half.
After the one call to Andrew, he didn't talk to anyone. He walked the beaches; he ate only when weakness reminded him. Lisa's birthday in early September passed in an alcoholic blue haze.
Finally, after weeks of existing in a vacuum, he had begun to pull himself together, to come back to life. It was only yesterday as he was slowly making his way back to Savannah that he remembered the child.
Without warning the glass sphere had shattered; the memory had hit with the force of a tornado. He'd had to pull the car off the highway until he could breathe again. His thoughts were scattered, chaotic. He gripped the steering wheel and rested his forehead on his clenched hands, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain.
Images. Of Lisa. Of himself. Of Natalie and Joseph. He couldn't seem to focus.
At last, thankfully, he'd realized that unlike Joseph's debilitating disease, unlike Lisa's sudden and tragic end, this was a dilemma that he could do something
about. It was the right thing to do. The only thing. Lisa was gone.
Abortion was not a crime, and he would not be swayed by an emotional appeal from Natalie. She would have to accept his decision.
At his harsh outburst, she had looked down at her clasped hands. She sat stone still; except for the slight rise and fall of her breasts she might have been carved of marble. He was fully aware that she was confused and hurt by his bringing up the idea of abortion. Hell, he was confused, too. And hurt. God, did he hurt.
Now she murmured something in a low voice. He didn't catch the words. "What?" he said, glaring at her classic profile.
Slowly, with an obvious effort, she raised her head, as though the weight were too substantial for her delicate neck to support. Her hair was tumbled. She'd run her fingers through the mass a number of times. The whole picture was of a disarming fragility. Her facial expression was determinedly composed, serene.
Jake knew that her grief did indeed run deep, but the only hard evidence of her distress was the defenseless expression she couldn't quite hide completely in her wet, wide blue eyes. He hardened his heart against the vulnerable sight. He would not be swayed. She would have to—
"I said, 'I think I felt the baby move.' Last week, for the first time. It was a tiny quiver, like a butterfly, inside me. It felt very … real." Her voice broke; she moved her hand absently. "And I remembered what we went through to make this baby, what a miracle it seemed. I can't understand, Jake, how you could even…" Her chin rose. "You see why I have to fight you on this?" she finished.
Jake stared at her, paralyzed by her words. If she had slammed him in the gut with a railroad tie, he couldn't have been more stunned.
At last he shook his head, managing with effort to break off the eye contact. She could feel the baby.
Moving inside her. His baby. Lisa's. Dear God.
BABY MAGIC Page 3