The doctor told her she needed to gain some weight and asked if she'd kept to her daily walk. He frowned a bit when she told him she was walking to work.
"You have a job away from the house? I thought Lisa and Jake told me you were a free-lance writer. Weren't you writing a book?"
"Yes, but … well, things have changed." She hesitated. "Jake's back."
He nodded, gave her a keen look and asked a few pointed questions about the job. When she answered honestly, he shrugged. "Working won't hurt you. Just be careful about standing for too many hours at a stretch. And add a few calories to your diet."
"I have something I'd like to discuss with you," she told him after he had concluded his examination and she was dressed again.
He nodded. "Come into my office. We won't be disturbed there."
She sat in one of two chairs for patients that faced his ancient metal desk and crossed her hands on her lap. "This is difficult for me, Dr. MacGregor, but I feel I need to discuss it with someone." She paused. "Jake doesn't want the baby," she said.
Instead of retiring behind his desk Dr. MacGregor took the other chair, beside her. He didn't comment.
"He says … he has agreed that I may adopt…" Her voice caught in her throat.
"Oh, Natalie," he said with a sorrowful, bitter-sweet smile. "We never dreamed it would turn out like this, did we? The three of you had such high hopes."
His concern, his empathy, the first genuinely kind response she'd heard since Lisa's death, was nearly her undoing. "After all we'd been through to ma-make this baby, he wanted me to have an abortion." Her voice rose a bit on the last word, but she fought against letting the tears fall. She was afraid that if she ever started, she wouldn't be able to stop.
"I know," he said quietly. He plucked a handful of tissues from a box on the desk and handed them to her. "He came to see me before he talked to you."
Her eyes met his kind gaze as she crushed the tissues in her grasp. For a long, silent moment she was unable to talk. "He came to see you? Why?" she finally asked huskily.
"I'm not altogether certain." He shook his head slowly. "We talked a bit about Lisa, where he'd been, unimportant things, until finally he got around to the baby." He waved his hand dismissively. "I told him that the baby's future was a decision for the two of you to make."
"I guess we've made it."
He settled back in the chair and linked his fingers over his paunch. "Natalie, you mustn't blame Jake too harshly. He was deeply distraught, to a degree that he wasn't thinking clearly."
She had to remember that Dr. MacGregor was Jake's friend. He would make excuses for him. "I understand that. And I loved Lisa, too."
She concentrated hard on a picture of a sailboat hanging on the office wall, trying desperately not to lose the slender hold on her equilibrium. All her doubts, all the problems she'd put off facing, all the obstacles she'd put out of her mind with such determination, seemed to be rising up to taunt her.
He leaned forward to take her hand, holding it tightly. "It would help if you could cry, Natalie," he said, his voice low with compassion. "Cry it out here, where it won't matter. Let the tears wash away your frustration and unhappiness. You'll feel better for it."
With his kindness to brace her, she was almost persuaded to let go. Almost. To ease the pressure that at times was unbearable. The hand he held remained lax, but she clenched her other hand into a fist, digging her nails into her palms. The small hurt reminded her of bigger hurts. "No. I can't." I might not be able to stop. She tried for a laugh. "I have to go to work, and I don't want to show up with a blotchy face and red eyes. I'd frighten the tourists away."
She pulled her hand from his. He watched her reflectively. "Natalie, have you cried at all since Lisa's death?"
"No. I'm afraid to," she admitted.
He dismissed her excuse and smiled his patient smile. "Don't be afraid of tears. They often have a healing effect. You have good reason to cry. You've suffered an appalling trauma, and you've held your feelings in check far too long. Now you're faced with another major change in your life that you weren't prepared for. I realize that these are personal problems, but I have a stake in you and this child, too. If you need to talk—"
Natalie pulled her shattered composure together. "I appreciate that, Doctor. But Jake and I are reasonably intelligent individuals. It may take some time—it would be useless to try and rush it—but I'm sure that between us we'll work this out."
He seemed relieved. "I'm sure you will. Have either of you considered outside adoption? I could put you in touch with an agency."
Natalie caught her breath and stared at him. The question rocked her foundations. It upset her almost as much as Jake had when he'd suggested an abortion.
Give up this child to a stranger? The only child she would ever carry within her womb? Never.
Her backbone seemed suddenly to be made of steel. She shook her head, grateful to have recovered her balance and determination. Now she could give him a confident smile. "No, we haven't discussed it, but I don't think that would be an option for either of us. Thanks, Doctor." She checked her watch. "I've kept you too long."
"I can be here as long as you need me, Natalie."
She remembered Jake saying those very words to her on her first day in Savannah. And look what happened to his support. The memory served to remind her that the best person to depend on was herself.
"Nevertheless, I'd better get to work and let you do the same." She dropped the unused tissues into a wastebasket and reached for her purse as she stood.
"Very well." Dr. MacGregor sighed and got heavily to his feet. Before he released her, however, he gave her a few additional instructions and changed her vitamins. "Don't forget to make an appointment as you leave. I'd like to see you in three weeks." He jotted something down on a prescription pad. "Here's my home number. Will you call if you need me?"
She opened her mouth to tell him that she wouldn't need anyone, but then she closed it again. He was simply trying to be kind. And he didn't press her further on the personal issues. For that she was relieved. She gripped the slip of paper, anxious now to get out of the office. "Yes, I will. Thank you."
When she was back in her car she rested her head against the seat back for a minute. Outside adoption? Let someone else have the baby? She faced the prospect with a real feeling of repugnance. Not a chance. But it was odd that the thought had never even occurred to her.
And odd that the idea hadn't occurred to Jake, either. She wondered if she should discuss it with him, then dismissed the idea as unnecessary.
* * *
Chapter 4
« ^ »
The first difficulty with Natalie's job came at the end of her first week. She was supposed to have weekends off—John had a college student who worked with him on Saturdays and Sundays—but he called early Saturday morning to tell her to open the shop and plan to work all day.
She was tired, but of course she agreed. It was a good job in pleasant surroundings, and she didn't want to lose it. She dressed in a pleated navy knit skirt and a white sailor-style top trimmed in bright shades of crimson that covered her hips. Her navy shoes had heels higher than she liked to wear now, but they were the only ones she had that went with the outfit. She had planned to go shopping for clothes today.
When she dragged herself home at six-thirty that evening, she found Jake waiting. He took one look at her and demanded, "Did you have lunch?"
"I didn't have time," she admitted.
"We're going to Tibernio's," he said, mentioning an Italian restaurant a couple of blocks away that served delicious food. She'd been there with Jake and Lisa one night shortly after she'd moved in.
She didn't argue too strenuously. Maybe this would be a good time to see if there was a chance of their being together with any degree of comfort. But when he would have hauled her off immediately, she protested. "I have to go inside first," she said.
"Why? You look fine."
She knew that
was a lie. She started to tell him bluntly that she had to go to the bathroom, that pregnant women did that a lot. Instead she said, "If we're going to walk, I'd like to change my shoes. These are beginning to pinch."
When she got inside, she took one look at herself in the bathroom mirror and groaned. No wonder he thought she needed food. The blush she'd applied to her cheeks that morning had long since disappeared, and she had rubbed off all traces of her lipstick. She was naturally pale; she didn't tan well so she avoided the sun. Combined with her pale hair and fatigue, her fair complexion made her look washed out even when she felt fine.
Hastily she made the repairs and changed into a pair of traditional loafers. They didn't complement her outfit but they felt good. She hesitated over her hair. It was fine and tended to be flyaway, so she rarely wore it down. But the pins that had held it up all day were beginning to aggravate her. If she was going for comfort, she might as well go all the way, she decided.
Jake waited in the living room. He turned when she entered and stood very still. He hadn't realized her hair had grown so long.
Or that it was so beautiful. The shining mass reached midway down her back. At the crown, it gleamed like highly polished gold and when she moved he could see silver lights in the curling ends. Honey and moonlight, he thought.
When he didn't speak, Natalie stopped. She'd used a twisted red scarf as a head wrap to hold the thick mass off her face. "Alice in Wonderland in a sailor suit, right?" she said with a disparaging gesture at herself. "The pins were hurting, but … should I put it back up?"
"No, no. I just didn't realize your hair was so long."
"I need a haircut. I'd planned to do that today, but then John called me in."
"It would be a shame to cut it," he said, then wished he hadn't. The comment was too personal. What did he care if she cut her hair?
Conversation was sporadic between them as they walked to the restaurant. But Jake was very much aware of the woman beside him. Too aware.
The maitre d' greeted them at the door. "Good evening, Mr. Armstrong." After a discernable pause, he went on. "I was very sorry to hear about the accident, sir. We'll all miss Mrs. Armstrong. You know she decorated—"
"Thank you, Morris," said Jake crisply, cutting him off. Damn, he wished all the well-meaning people in town would just keep their mouths shut. "Do you remember my sister-in-law?"
The man looked chagrined, but he nodded politely to Natalie, who smiled.
Jake looked around the crowded restaurant. "It looks like business is good, Morris. I should have called for a reservation."
"Reservations are never necessary for you, Mr. Armstrong." He bowed toward Natalie. "Nor for your family."
When they were settled in a booth, Morris signaled for the waiter. Jake took her menu away from her. "I'll order for you," he said.
"I'm…" Natalie started to protest, then thought better of it. "All right." She listened in amazement as he ordered—clam chowder, house salad, grilled swordfish with a baked potato, vegetables, a glass of milk.
"And for dessert—"
"No," she finally broke in. "No dessert," she told the waiter herself. "Jake, I'll never be able to eat that much food," she complained amiably.
He nodded at the waiter. "Cheesecake," he told the man firmly. "We'll take it with us if she doesn't eat it."
"Why did he say that reservations were never necessary for you?" she asked, emphasizing the last word as the maitre d' had. "At the door?" she explained when he looked blank.
"Oh. Lisa talked me into putting some money up. She thought a neighborhood restaurant would be a good investment."
Though she'd been here once before, she looked around with a fresh eye, noticing her friend's distinctive stamp on the decor. "Obviously Lisa was right. She always did have good instincts."
"I didn't think you worked on Saturdays," he said in a transparent attempt to change the subject.
She sighed and relaxed against the plump cushions of the booth. "I'm not supposed to, but the other clerk didn't show up today."
"Natalie, if you don't take care of yourself, who will?"
"I'm fine, Jake. I had an appointment with Dr. MacGregor yesterday."
He hesitated, then said, "I know. I called Mac last night. He said you'd told him what we'd decided. He also said it wasn't good for you to stand on your feet all day long."
She leaned forward to plant her elbows on the table. "Jake, we've been through all this. I'm going to work. I was lucky to find a job I enjoy, and if John has an emergency I'll do what I can."
"Even if it isn't good for you?"
She let the question slide, determined not to argue. "I've noticed you're putting in long hours, too. How are the plans for your expansion going?"
He raked a hand through his hair. The gesture said as much as words that he was under intense pressure. "I'm still negotiating for a piece of property that I'd like to have. It isn't vital, but it would give me a second rail spur. I don't want to begin construction until I have an answer."
She recalled a conversation they'd had months ago. "Is that the property that's tied up in the estate of the illiterate plumbing magnate?"
"You remembered that?" He seemed surprised.
"Sure. You talked about it when I first moved here."
He smiled deprecatingly. "God, I must have been boring."
"Not boring at all. Seven kids fighting over forty-three million dollars. That's the stuff of great American novels."
Jake looked across the table at her. He realized that since she'd moved here she'd shown more interest in his expansion than his beautiful wife had ever shown. Lisa had been bored by business, even the business end of her own decorating shop.
"When will you know about the property?"
He was still caught up in his thoughts. With an effort he recalled himself to the present, mentally setting aside his memories. "The first of next week, I hope. I signed a note at the bank yesterday for a hell of a lot of money." He'd finally deferred to Andrew's urgings to throw himself into his work, and he'd found that his assistant was right—initially, anyway. He wasn't sure how much it would help down the road, but it gave him a lot to think about today. "I don't want that money to sit in an account doing nothing for longer than a few days."
She shuddered lightly and smiled. "I can't imagine how it feels to borrow a lot of money." She looked down at the table and traced a design on the white cloth with an unpolished fingernail. "I've never even liked to make payments on a car."
He studied her bent head for a minute, wondering if she realized how revealing her statement was. He knew that Joseph had died leaving debts. Not more than his insurance would cover, but she had been left with very little after those debts were settled. She had never complained, wouldn't even discuss letting him help, but she'd sold their house and moved into an apartment.
The candle on the table between them illuminated her face. Her thick lashes cast shadows on her cheeks. "Would you like to drive out to the site tomorrow?" he asked suddenly. "See what all this talk is about?"
"Yes, I'd like to," she said with a smile. "I've always wanted to know what goes on around the docks."
"Nothing very exciting. I hope you're not disappointed."
"I won't be," she assured him.
Strangely, Jake believed her. The waiter arrived just then to place steaming bowls of chowder before them. "This smells good," he said, picking up his spoon.
Natalie made a sound of agreement and began to eat.
* * *
"Thank you, Jake. That was delicious," Natalie said as they left the restaurant. "Although I can't believe I ate the piece of cheesecake," she added.
When the evening had begun, she had wondered if they could spend time together comfortably. If her appetite was any indication of comfort, she'd been very much at ease. She slid a glance at Jake, who had eaten well, too.
"I'm glad you enjoyed it," he said absently. He walked along for a few minutes, his head bent. There was very little
traffic on the narrow streets. "Would you like to see a movie or something?" he asked abruptly.
The invitation surprised her. First he'd taken her to dinner, then he'd suggested the trip to the construction site tomorrow, and now this. Did his sense of responsibility include thinking he had to entertain her?
"Thank you, no." She checked her watch in the light from a street lamp. "It's early yet. I want to write for a while tonight."
"Maybe another time."
Their footsteps echoed hollowly on the sidewalk. "Yes," she agreed. "Another time."
* * *
The next morning, as she dressed in yet another expandable warm-up suit, this one royal blue, Natalie reflected on the preceding evening. Heartened by Jake's concern for her health, she concluded that it had been a beginning of sorts. She just wondered how long it would last.
She slid her feet into her sneakers and bent to tie them. On the day of the funeral, and again after he had returned to Savannah with his ominous request, she had despaired of his ever being able to face her pregnancy with any equanimity whatsoever. But after last night, no matter what he said, she was beginning to hope that someday, when he could deal with it, Jake would want to know his child. And that would be good for all of them.
She entered the sun-washed kitchen, opened the refrigerator and stood there staring in, wishing she'd saved the cheesecake for breakfast.
The telephone rang in the living room. She let the refrigerator door swing shut and went to answer. It was Jake.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
"Jake, it's only eight o'clock," she said with a laugh. "I haven't even had breakfast yet."
"We can stop on our way. There's a pancake restaurant not far from the site."
Suddenly Natalie had a suspicious thought. "Jake, you said you'd called the doctor. Did the two of you happen to discuss my nutritional habits?"
"He may have mentioned that you could stand to gain a few pounds," Jake said after a short pause, then he laughed under his breath. "But the last time I saw him, he said the same about me."
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