Later, Natalie was panting with relief as she accepted his hand and came to her feet in a quick surge. The intimacy of the exercises, including back massage, had been exquisite torture. But Jake's hands were large and clever, and, she had to admit, the massage was wonderful. She felt as if the class had gone on forever, but at last the two hours were over. She and Jake said goodbye to the others and left the building.
As they walked toward the parking lot, she admitted to herself that during the class she'd also felt envy. Envy for the other couples, the small secret smiles they exchanged, the soft laughter. None of them were embarrassed. She wouldn't have been embarrassed or confused, either, if it had been her husband at her back, if someone she loved had been touching her. As it was, she was much too affected.
Good Lord. What was happening to her? She had tried to convince herself that the incident with the hot chocolate had been an aberration. But it hadn't worked. Her best friend had been dead for only five months, and she was having lascivious thoughts about the friend's husband. Besides which, she had a belly a whale would envy, and it was only going to get bigger.
Mentally she shook herself. The explanation had to lie in her celibacy. She had not had a relationship since Joseph—three years and six months without sex must have finally shattered her rationality.
"Would you mind driving home, Jake?" she asked when they reached the car. "I'm tired."
"Sure." Jake took the keys from her. She did indeed look tired—the shadows under her eyes were like bruises. He closed the car door and circled the hood to climb in beside her. He glanced over, but she was staring straight ahead. "I really enjoyed the class," he said.
"Good," she answered shortly.
"I'm looking forward to next week. I learned a lot of things I didn't know."
She shot him a look that spoke volumes. "Me, too."
"Did it bother you to have my hands on your body?" He wondered why the hell he'd asked such a question.
She laid her head against the seat back and deliberately closed her eyes. "No, the massage felt good," she answered smoothly.
He smiled to himself when he saw a tiny muscle throb at her temple.
In spite of the shadows, she was looking much better than she had the day he brought her home from the hospital. Much better. She was eating better, too, and she'd gained some weight. Her cheeks were fuller, and her color was particularly high today. He adjusted the seat to accommodate his long legs, focused the rear-view mirror. Her eyes remained closed. He started the car, pulled into the street and headed for home.
His feelings for Natalie had always been extremely contradictory. The first time he'd met her, at Joseph's and her wedding rehearsal, he'd thought she was perfectly put together, almost intimidatingly so. He'd thought of her as Natalie the placid, the serene, from whom all the warmer emotions were washed at birth.
Lisa had told him he was dead wrong in his evaluation of her friend. Joseph had told him he was crazy.
She and Joseph made a striking pair. Though she had been married to his brother for five years, Jake never felt that he knew her well. After he and Lisa were married, he'd repeated his judgment that Natalie seemed cold. Lisa had been angry—he remembered vividly because she was so rarely angry—at his criticism of her friend.
But that was how he saw her, until Joseph's illness and death. Then he'd had his eyes opened with a vengeance. They had spent many hours together during those endless days, and he had learned just how wrong he was. He'd come to know her warmth and capacity for loving, and to admire her courage and appreciate her depth.
After Joseph's death, Natalie had demonstrated the independence he still teased her about. Despite the intensity of her grief, she'd refused any offer of financial assistance while the insurance was being processed. She wouldn't even accept help on a temporary basis. She hadn't changed one iota in that respect, he thought wryly. She still didn't like to take money from anyone. He was fully aware that the sum in the trust account was growing substantially. It was only because of the circumstances that she had allowed him to help in other ways.
Lisa had explained to him that Natalie's parents had been older when she was born and very set in their ways. Throughout her childhood, they had repeatedly reminded her of the extra expense she generated. When she was in high school, she had worked in the afternoons and on weekends, and she turned all her money over to them.
Lisa had not liked Natalie's parents at all; she'd had a number of choice things to say about them.
Natalie shifted in the seat, and he looked over at her again. Her finely sculpted profile was lit by the late-afternoon sun streaming through the window. Her hair was shiny.
Pregnancy had added a depth to her beauty. He was coming to know her better than he ever had, and he enjoyed her, enjoyed spending time with her. The people in the childbirth class obviously liked her. He had noticed several of the women initiating conversations, laughing with her over their common aches and the sizes of their bellies.
But still there were times when he could hardly bear to look at her, knowing that she carried Lisa's baby.
* * *
Chapter 7
« ^ »
Toward the end of January the days seemed to drag. But finally it was February 1. Natalie was actually in the last month of pregnancy. The very idea buoyed her spirits immeasurably, and she decided to go shopping.
She had bought a few things for the baby, but not all they would need. It was time to get everything ready. She left the house and headed for the mall, more enthusiastic about this shopping trip than she'd been about anything for days.
The parking lot was crowded, but she searched for a spot close to the entrance. She was certain to have a lot of packages to carry. Eventually she spotted a car pulling out.
The space was a tight squeeze. Luckily her car was a compact. She pulled in, turned off the motor and removed the keys. She dropped them in her purse, hooked the strap over her shoulder and opened the door, careful not to bang against the car parked next to her.
With one foot on the tarmac and one shoulder out of the car, she stopped. Her stomach was wedged into the angle between the door and the car.
She opened the door a bit wider and twisted around, trying to back out. Then she opened her window and tried again. Panting heavily now, she pulled herself back inside. This was ridiculous.
Surely she wasn't trapped in her own car. Maybe she could get out from the other side. She scooted across the seat and opened the passenger door. This angle of opening was slightly wider.
But not wide enough. At last she gave up, defeated. She sat there for a minute, blinking back the tears. "Pull yourself together, Natalie," she said out loud. "You are not going to cry over something so silly."
"Ma'am?"
An elderly man had bent down to look in at her.
"Did you say something to me?" he asked.
"No, I, uh, was talking to myself." She gave him a weak smile, which he returned. He said something indecipherable to his companion before climbing into the car next to hers.
As soon as they pulled away, she hurriedly opened her door to its limit and got out. She couldn't enjoy the shopping trip, however, for worrying whether she would be able to get back into the car later.
* * *
By evening, Natalie was able to view the incident with some amusement. She couldn't decide whether or not to tell Jake. He would get a good laugh out of it. But she wasn't certain she wanted to be the subject of his laughter. Not now. She had managed to rationalize her attraction to him by blaming it all on hormones and celibacy. But she still didn't want him to laugh.
She was dressed in the aquamarine warm-up suit and had her socks and sneakers in her hand when she heard his knock. She went to the door. "Hi. I was just going to walk."
"Want some company?" he asked, tugging at his tie. His suit jacket was slung over his arm. His smile was weary. "I could use the exercise."
"Sure."
He ran a tired hand around the back
of his neck. "Let me change my clothes, and I'll be right back."
He headed for the steps. His white shirt, which looked so neat from the front, was creased across the back as though he had sat in a chair all day. She knew how tiring that was.
She stood in the doorway, her eyes fixed on his broad shoulders, envying his effortless movements, until he disappeared through the door to his kitchen. It made her feel depressed to watch. If she were climbing those stairs, she would have to pull her chunky body up hand over hand, holding on to the railing all the way. She sighed and went back inside to put on her socks and shoes. From her perspective, this day, which had started out so well, had deteriorated further.
A few minutes later Jake was back at her door, comfortably dressed in a gray sweatshirt and sweatpants. He raised his hand to knock, but a movement caught his attention. Through the window, he could see straight into the living room to where Natalie sat on the sofa. One sneaker dangled from her fingers. He grinned and tapped the glass with a knuckle.
She looked up, and to his astonishment she burst into tears. The sneaker hit the floor, and she covered her face with her hands.
"What the hell?" The door wasn't locked, and he strode through to where she was sitting. He laid his hand on her rounded shoulder and felt the tremors beneath his fingers. But these weren't the anguished, tormented sobs he'd heard in the hospital; these were the tears of a frustrated child, pitiful, sniffling sounds.
"Sorry," she gasped between sniffles. She fumbled in her pocket for a tissue.
Then he saw what the trouble was. One shoe was half on and the heel had collapsed. He kneeled down at her feet. With deft movements he straightened the heel, slipped the other sneaker on her foot and tied the laces of both of them. "There. Is that better?" he asked her tenderly. With gentle fingers he brushed a strand of hair off her face.
She blew her nose. "Don't be nice to me," she said gruffly, looking at him. Her nose was red and her eyes were swollen. "I might start crying all over again."
He grinned and got to his feet. He took both her hands and hauled her up beside him. "Let's walk."
He kept one hand in his.
The bite of cool air felt good on Natalie's heated face. They had walked only half a block when she inhaled deeply and apologized again. "I don't know what got into me."
"There's nothing to apologize for," Jake told her. "Your emotions are volatile right now. And you're frustrated because you can't move around as easily as you're used to. It's perfectly natural. Remember what the instructor told us last week? Your abdominal size may seem grotesque, and you may feel that you're awkward and unattractive."
She looked heavenward. "Jake, please!" He had read every publication the hospital had on childbirth and took an active part of each session. He knew more than she did. "I'm sorry I ever let you go to that class."
"You didn't let me," he reminded.
"Oh. Yes."
"I meant to ask you—have you had leg cramps?"
Natalie groaned and socked his arm as hard as she could. "Will you please shut up?" He thought that was funny.
They had walked half a mile when they turned back. "Jake, I want to thank you again. This will all be over soon. I know it has been painful, but you're very patient with me and I appreciate it."
He stopped in his tracks. She continued on for a step or two. When she realized he wasn't beside her she turned. There was a curious expression in his smoky eyes as he looked at her. She cocked her head to one side and looked at him with a smile. "What?"
"I think I'm the one who should be thanking you," he said slowly.
She laughed lightly. "What on earth for?"
He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket and drew even with her. "You know, Natalie, you've helped me a lot. In dealing with Lisa's death, I mean." He still spoke slowly, as though not completely sure of what he wanted to say. "You've helped me begin to heal." He seemed surprised.
She resumed her walk with him beside her. "I'm so very glad," she said in a soft voice. And in a few minutes she added, "You don't know what it means to me to hear you say that."
"Why?"
She turned her head and looked at him with a small smile on her lips. "The day Lisa was buried, I vowed to myself that I would be there for you when you needed me, as you were there for me when Joseph died."
He pulled her in under his arm for a quick hug.
* * *
Natalie had been listening with one ear for the mailman. She was expecting a check from Southern Life. When she heard his step on the sidewalk outside, she shut off the computer and went into the living room.
The mail was dropped through a brass slot in the front door. As she had learned to do, she scooted the envelopes across the floor with her toe and sat in the low rocking chair to pick it up. Damn, she would be glad to be able to bend over again, she thought as she struggled to her feet with the mail clutched in her fist.
She returned to her temporary office, sorting through the junk. She tossed a handful of advertising flyers into the wastebasket and concentrated on the two envelopes that were left. One was the expected check. The other was addressed to her but bore no return address. She ripped into it and glanced at the calendar.
And laughed out loud. She had forgotten what day it was, but this was a valentine. Of sorts. No frilly ruffles, no ribbons or lace or shiny red hearts, simply a plain white card on which was printed:
Greetings,
This is a politically correct Valentine, printed on recycled paper, without bias, bigotry, sexism, intolerance, chauvinism, favoritism, nepotism or partiality. However, this card does also include affectionate feelings.
It was signed with a bold black scrawl. "Jake."
She decided that it was time for her to do something for him. So she called the office and invited him to go out to dinner. Her treat.
That night Tibernio's was packed. But as promised, a reservation wasn't necessary. Morris found a table for them near the back.
"I'm glad you suggested this," said Jake when Morris had left.
"Taking you out to dinner seemed the proper way to repay you for a politically correct valentine," she told him with a grin. "Besides, I got a check for an article today. You can have anything you want," she elaborated, waving the menu grandly.
"Well, now," he said, rubbing his hands together with relish. He raised a dark eyebrow at her. "Anything?" he asked, suggestively.
"Almost anything," she said primly. Then she looked down at herself, jammed in between the chair and table, and gave a dry laugh. "Yeah, anything."
He chuckled. "Don't underestimate yourself," he warned. "Even with the stomach, you're a very sexy woman."
"Don't say things like that." But she wasn't angry with him for the remark. She, too, had read the literature from the classes. "Reassure the mother-to-be about her desirability," one brochure had advised.
"It's true. You still have beautiful legs."
"I haven't seen them in weeks. You mean they aren't bowed yet?"
He laughed, and she was saved from more compliments when the waiter appeared to take their order.
The evening moved along comfortably with the atmosphere between them easy and light. At one point, Natalie sighed. "I didn't know how much I needed a night out."
Jake sat back in his chair. He studied her carefully. "It won't be long now," he said.
She hesitated and touched her napkin to her mouth.
During her last appointment, she had talked to Dr. MacGregor about how soon she could plan to return to Charleston. He had said that he would like for her to stay in Savannah for six weeks or so after the baby was born. "It's customary for your attending physician to perform your post-delivery checkup," he said.
She hadn't mentioned the doctor's advice to Jake, so she told him now. "In just about two months I'll be free to leave," she said, her smile a fixture of satisfaction and poignance. "And I know you'll be glad to be rid of me, too."
An enigmatic expression crossed Jake's face,
then was lost to his grin. "Oh, I don't know. You're tolerable to have around."
"Wait till there are two of us."
The grin faded; he became strangely subdued. "Yeah, well, I'll manage."
Natalie regretted her flippant tone and searched for something to say that would restore the pleasant atmosphere. Dessert had been served. She had taken one bite when she remembered the scene in the parking lot two weeks ago. "Do you remember the day I couldn't bend down to tie my shoes?" she asked, laying her fork down.
Some of the tension ebbed from him. "How could I forget it?"
"Well, that wasn't all that happened that day," she said. By the time she reached the description of the elderly man who thought she'd been speaking to him, Jake was shaking with laughter and she was chuckling herself, enjoying his response.
Her hand was resting on the white linen tablecloth. He covered it with his own. "I'm glad you can laugh about it. This entire experience has been very difficult for you, hasn't it?" The amusement faded from his eyes.
"It hasn't been easy for either of us. But before long we both can start to get on with our lives. You can concentrate on becoming the largest shipper on the East Coast. And I'll move back to Charleston and learn how to be a mommy."
He linked their fingers and held her hand tightly. "And you'll be a good one."
"Jake? I thought that was you hiding back here in the corner," said a woman's voice.
Jake released her hand and looked around. A couple was approaching the table. Their faces seemed familiar to Natalie, but she couldn't place them exactly.
Jake got to his feet politely, holding his napkin. He shook hands with the man and nodded to the woman. "Carl, Linda, how are you?" They were both short and rotund, and he towered over them.
"We're fine," said Linda, patting his arm. "I've been meaning to ask you to dinner."
"But you seem to be thriving," put in Carl. He looked pointedly at Natalie.
"Do you remember my sister-in-law, Natalie Armstrong?" asked Jake. "Natalie, Carl and Linda Dillon."
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