"Better?" he asked.
She nodded. "Thank you," she whispered. She started to pull away. But instead of letting her go, Jake lifted her in his arms and carried her into the bedroom. He deposited her on the bed and leaned down to brush her sweat-dampened hair away from her face. He hadn't realized until he'd lifted her how slender she was. For a pregnant lady, she weighed almost nothing.
She rolled to her side and curled into a fetal ball, her arms crossed protectively on her stomach. He pulled the comforter over her and patted her on the back. "Stay there," he ordered in a gentle tone. "I'll be back in a minute."
Natalie nodded. She felt too miserable to argue right now. But a few minutes later she was ready to. He returned to the room carrying her coat. "I don't want to go to the hospital, Jake," she protested when she realized his intentions.
"Sorry, honey. I called Mac and he will meet us there. My car is parked out front." He'd moved it from the garage and left the heater running before he came back for her. Now he helped her get her arms in the sleeves of the coat. Then he picked her up with the comforter still wrapped around her legs.
"I can walk," she protested, but his strong arms and broad chest made a secure place to rest, and she didn't protest too emphatically.
"I know, I know," he murmured soothingly. He carried her out to the sidewalk and held her in one arm, with her bottom supported by his knee while he opened the car. As he'd hoped, it was warm. He deposited her on the seat, folded the comforter in around her, closed the door and returned to lock the apartment.
"I really hate hospitals," she said when he joined her in the car.
He knew why. He turned toward her, his left forearm draped over the steering wheel, his right arm along the back of the seat. She stared straight ahead; her chin was hidden in the folds of the comforter. He brushed a strand of hair off her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. "They aren't my favorite places, either," he said seriously.
During the hours they'd spent at the hospital with Joseph, he, too, had grown sick of the smell, the whispered sounds, the macabre humor. "Mac wants to check you over, Natalie," he told her gently. "And I want to make sure for myself, too. Okay?"
Natalie sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. He was feeling responsible again. "All right," she said, though she was fully aware that she was going to the hospital whether she wanted to or not. In his present take-charge mood, Jake wasn't flexible.
She rested her head on the headrest and watched from the corner of her eye as he drove, his competent hands easy on the wheel. He was competent at every thing he did. Even in holding her head while she heaved. She would have thought she'd be embarrassed at anyone's having seen her throw up, but she wasn't. Her lips curved in a humorless grin. Instead she'd been grateful—grateful for his support and grateful that she hadn't been alone.
Dr. MacGregor was waiting for them in the emergency room. "Natalie, Jake," he greeted them shortly, while his gaze took in her pale face.
A nurse with a wheelchair waited to take her to the examining room. "I can walk," she objected, just as she had to lake. But this time she meant it.
"Hospital rules," the nurse said shortly. "Besides, you don't have shoes on."
Natalie looked over her shoulder to stare at Jake. Her eyes were large and dark in her white face. "I forgot my shoes," she said, as though forgetting her shoes was the worst thing that had happened to her tonight.
"Please sit down," said the nurse. It wasn't a request; it was an order.
Jake steeled himself not to cringe at the expression in Natalie's blue eyes. Her look appealed to him for support. He forced himself to smile encouragingly when what he wanted to do was run like hell. "Go with the nurse," he said. "I'll wait here for you."
He returned to the waiting area and slumped down in a molded plastic chair. The noise and bustle of the emergency room surged around him while he sat oblivious to movement or sound.
That look of appeal, of entreaty, had shaken him badly. Especially after the way he'd reacted to her touch earlier. And the hell of it was, he'd brought it on himself.
Jake muffled a groan and leaned forward in the chair, his hands dangling between his knees. On the linoleum floor at his feet was a red-and-white chewing gum wrapper. He picked it up and tossed it into a trash can. A white-clad nurse strode by, on her way into the room where Natalie and Mac had gone. He watched, waited, but no one came out.
He sat back in the uncomfortable molded plastic chair, crossed his arms over his chest and stared somewhere into the middle distance.
When Lisa died he'd thought he'd wanted to untangle himself, to free himself from the complications that surrounded this woman and this baby. He'd had no serious reservations about Natalie's staying in the apartment because he knew that she was very independent, that she would assume responsibility for herself, would not expect more of him than he was prepared—or able—to give.
But he had known for weeks now that he was getting involved more deeply than he'd intended. That was the reason why he had tried to back off a bit, to put some space between them.
This, tonight … this was more than simply being involved in her life, in her health. Tonight, when he'd seen her sick and weak, her body sustaining his child, he'd been scared out of his wits.
He shook himself free of the reverie. He looked around, spotted a soft-drink machine. Getting to his feet, he dug into his pants pockets for quarters. The drink was cold going down; it tasted good. Instead of returning to the uncomfortable chair, he paced the hall, dodging wheelchairs and gurneys, and a lot of people.
As he walked, he forced himself to face a fact he'd been avoiding. No matter how much he wanted to deny it, he was still bound and committed to this pregnancy. For the present, at least.
After the baby was born, after Natalie returned to Charleston, or wherever she decided to live, then maybe he would be free. But that couldn't happen, not now. Not until it was all over.
One thing he must not do was to let himself grow attached to the baby.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed when he heard his name called. A grim-faced Mac motioned him into the examining room.
Natalie lay on a white-draped table covered by a light blanket, her head elevated by two pillows. She gave him a weak smile. Her color seemed better, but her skin was not yet the normal peach color he was accustomed to seeing. The nurse was fiddling with something in the corner.
Jake stood, legs apart, and worked his hands, palms out, into the back pockets of his pants and waited.
Dr. MacGregor ran his finger down a clipboard. Finally he said, "Her blood pressure is slightly elevated. I don't think it's serious. She'll be all right, but I want to keep her here overnight for observation."
Jake nodded. "Whatever you think is best."
"She should be gaining weight steadily at this point, but she's lost a pound since her last visit to my office. She has less than two months to make up for the loss. At this point it is premature to predict a low-birthweight baby, but we must see that it doesn't happen."
"I'll make sure she eats three meals a day."
Natalie lay there, hands linked over her stomach. She felt much better now, able to speak for herself. Her expression grew dark as she glared at the two men who were talking across her as though she were an inanimate object.
"Eating is only part of it. There's more, Jake." Dr. MacGregor chuckled, but Jake could tell that the humor was forced. "This is one stubborn woman. She wants to continue working. I've told her I don't think it's a good idea. Standing on her feet—"
At last Natalie could bear this conversation no longer. She didn't care how felicitous their friendship was. "Would you two please stop it?" she interrupted. "I don't like to be talked about as though I weren't here," she snapped as she struggled to sit up. She was frustrated because of her clumsiness, but immediately Jake was there to help and she finally made it. "Dr. MacGregor, you don't understand—"
Jake put a restraining hand on her arm and looked at her defiant expre
ssion. "Mac, would you leave us alone for a minute?" he said.
The older man looked from one of them to the other. Finally he nodded. "I'll get started on the paperwork for admissions."
"Jake, I want—" Natalie began as soon as they were alone.
He interrupted her with a dismissive hand motion. "Look, Natalie. Surely you realize that you can't ignore the doctor's advice. What you want, or think you want, isn't what's important here. What we have to concentrate on right now is what's best for the baby."
She was electrified by his suggestion that she was behaving selfishly. Her emotions had been sitting on the surface all night. She felt angry blotches of color stain her cheeks. "We? Did you say we?" she barked. "Since when has the baby's welfare been important to you?"
Jake became very still; the color receded from his face. "I suppose I deserve that."
"You suppose right," Natalie said. Her voice shook under the force of her anger. "You didn't even want me to have the baby. If it had been up to you there wouldn't be one."
Her eyes narrowed to slits; she squeezed her hands into fists, her nails digging sharply into her palms. All the uncertainties she'd lived with, the foreboding feelings that she'd kept bottled up inside for months, erupted all at once, like a furious volcano. "I have had it with you trying to dictate my life when you don't care a fig about me or this baby. I'll make the decisions from now on. Do you hear? I'll decide."
Her hands trembled as she gestured, her eyes darted wildly, her voice rose and quivered like an arrow plunged into its target. And then she began to cry.
She fought it.
She feared it.
But the tears, held in far too long, would not be denied. They welled up in her eyes, blinding her, spilled over and ran down her cheeks. Her breath caught on a huge, harsh sob.
Instinctively Jake reached out for her. His hand was shaking, but she couldn't see. He stroked her back soothingly in big sweeping circles. "Natalie," he said, his tone quiet and reassuring. "Please, baby, please be still." He pulled her into his arms, held her there, against him, as frightened as he'd ever been in his life. He had never heard anyone cry with such despair.
And he had never felt so helpless, so unequipped. He kept rubbing her back, kept talking, barely aware of his words, only aware of the shudders that rocked through her slight body. "Listen, if it's what you want, I'll stay out of your decisions," he went on. "But you're going to make yourself ill. I do care about you. And about the baby. Please."
But she didn't hear him.
In the end, all he could do for her was to hold her securely, as he had held her once before, until the tears and sobs and shudders worked themselves out. He laid his cheek on top of her head and waited.
Finally the tempest began to diminish. Her sobs ceased. She gave a last shiver, a last quavering sigh and shifted slightly. The room became quiet except for the sound of her breathing. She whispered something he couldn't understand.
He moved his hands to her shoulders and half bent his knees so he could look at her face-to-face. Her long lashes were spiked, her lips were swollen and red. "What?" His voice cracked.
"I need a handkerchief," she whispered.
He checked in his pocket, but he didn't have one. He looked around. There was a box of tissues on the counter. Keeping one arm around her he reached out and gathered a handful. He handed them to her.
She blew her nose.
"Better now?" he asked gently.
"Yes. Thank you," she said.
One corner of his mouth lifted. "You're welcome."
"Jake, I didn't mean all those things I said." Her voice was still very subdued. "I'm sorry I fell apart like that."
"No apology necessary."
"You needed the release of tears. Your doctor advised that months ago," Mac spoke from the door.
Jake hadn't heard his friend come in. What was he talking about? He looked at him over Natalie's head, lifting a brow in inquiry.
Mac shook his head at Jake, one quick movement. When he spoke it was to Natalie. "The nurse is here to take you to your room, Natalie. You try to get some rest. I'll check on you before I leave."
Natalie smiled weakly at the nurse. No argument this time. "All right," she said. She felt completely drained and physically defenseless, as though her bones had melted during the onslaught.
Jake helped her off the table and held onto her firmly until she was settled in the wheelchair. He put both hands on the armrests, holding the chair steady. She looked up into his gray eyes, then away. She dragged her fingers through her hair. Then suddenly she realized what she must look like.
"What's the matter?" he asked, a slight smile tugging at his lips.
She looked at him again. "I'm embarrassed."
"For crying?"
When she nodded, he chuckled and leaned forward to kiss the top of her head. It was a casual salute, but she felt the warmth all the way to her toes.
"That's okay," he said, a teasing glimmer in his eyes. "I'd already held your head while you threw up. After that, crying is nothing to be embarrassed about."
Her groan of laughter was a relief. "You're heartless to remind me."
He touched her nose with a finger and his lips curved in a full, genuine smile that activated the dimples in his cheeks. His eyes crinkled when he smiled, too. She wondered why she'd never noticed.
"That's better," he said when she smiled back. "I'd rather see you laugh than cry," he told her, straightening as the nurse moved the chair away. "If Mac says you're okay, I'll be here to pick you up in the morning."
The two men stepped into the hall to watch her being wheeled away. When the elevator doors had closed behind them, Jake turned to Mac, all amusement gone from his face. "Is she going to be all right, Mac?" he asked.
"I think she'll be better than she was before." He paused.
Jake spoke into the silence. "What did you mean about doctor's advice?"
Mac plunged his hands into the pockets of his white jacket. "You know, Jake," he said almost conversationally. "As close as they were all their lives, Natalie had not cried since Lisa's death. The tension and pressure have been building in her for months. I think that's one of the reasons she hasn't gained as much weight as I would like. She wasn't prepared to go through this pregnancy without the support of her best friend. And she wasn't planning to be responsible for a child."
"And it's my fault?" Jake asked, keeping his expression noncommittal.
"Hell, no, Jake. You know that wasn't what I meant. It's no one's fault. Unless you want to blame fate, and that's a useless exercise. It's just that … well, you're my friend, but she's my patient. I have to concentrate on what's best for her. And you're concerned for her, too. Don't try to pretend otherwise. I've seen the way you watch her."
After the physical reaction he'd felt earlier tonight, Jake was on the defensive. He was aware of it, but he couldn't help himself. He crossed his arms as he glowered at his friend, using his own superior size to his advantage. "Mac, you're getting close to dangerous ground here. Lisa—"
Jake's voice held an unmistakable warning, but Mac chose to ignore it. "Hell, man, Lisa would want you to care about Natalie. Natalie was like her sister. She's a beautiful woman, and she's carrying your child."
He couldn't accept that. "You're mistaken, Mac. She is carrying her child," said Jake stonily.
Mac gave a sigh, heavy with regret, and made a note on the chart. "Have it your way. Just make certain that she doesn't suffer. I'll see you tomorrow." He looked up suddenly. "Did Natalie tell you that I suggested outside adoption?"
Jake, who had started to turn away, froze. "You did?" he asked softly. He wondered why there was suddenly a lump in his throat. "When? What did she say?"
"It was a while ago, last September, I believe. I told her I could put her in touch with an agency." Mac shrugged. "She told me that she didn't believe either of you would go for it."
Jake looked at Mac for a long time, not really seeing him. At last he left.
When Natalie was settled in her room, dressed in a wrinkled, faded hospital gown and propped up in the bed, she finally focused on the problems before her. Strangely she found she could face them with equanimity. Perhaps the doctor had been right; perhaps the catharsis of tears was something she needed. She didn't know. All she knew was that she was more at peace than she'd been since Lisa died.
Dr. MacGregor had also decreed that she could not spend eight hours on her feet every day if she hoped to carry this child to term and deliver it healthy.
He'd been brusque and blunt. If his intention was to shock her, he'd succeeded. Of course she would do as he advised; there had never been any question about that. But it wasn't in her nature to let someone make her decisions without even the benefit of discussion.
She could still write. And if worse came to worse, she would have to use the money from the trust in the bank. Jake was right about it being there whether she wanted it or not. But she'd had some idea of returning it to him someday. Or, if that were not possible, of putting it aside in an education fund for the baby.
Right now, however, her health and the health of this child were more important than money or pride.
Dr. MacGregor entered the room, cutting into her thoughts. He was followed by a tall, lanky nurse with a toothy smile and a huge, shiny needle. "We need a little blood," the nurse said cheerfully.
Natalie groaned.
* * *
Back at home, as Jake wandered through the rooms of his house, he was more aware than ever of the emptiness of the place since Lisa's death. He rarely heard sounds from the apartment below, but knowing Natalie was there had been satisfying. Now, oddly, he found himself feeling abandoned and lonely.
Hell! He stripped his sweater off over his head and threw it onto the bed. Having her here during these first months was a delay of what he would experience when she was gone for good. And he'd better get used to it. He took off the rest of his clothes and got in the shower.
BABY MAGIC Page 9