"I don't believe we actually met," said Linda. "But I saw you at Lisa's funeral." She was the kind of woman Natalie instinctively distrusted, all sweet and gushy, but her smile never reached her eyes.
"Yes, I was there," answered Natalie. "How do you do?"
"I didn't realize you were Jake's sister-in-law. Someone mentioned that you've been a widow for some time, haven't you?"
The sweetness had evaporated. Natalie felt as though she were under interrogation. She maintained a polite smile. "Yes."
"And I understand you've moved in with Jake," Linda said, her voice taking on a hard note.
Stunned both by the innuendo and by the sudden hostility radiating both from the woman and the man, Natalie put her hands in her lap and said evenly, "Actually I live downstairs in the apartment." She couldn't believe the nerve of the woman. In fact, it had never occurred to her that people would speculate about their relationship. But it was clear that these two had.
"It looks as though you are expecting any day." Linda was demanding information, not making a comment. Clearly these people were not close friends of Lisa and Jake's, or they would certainly have learned the circumstances of this pregnancy by now.
Natalie didn't know what else to do but answer the woman's rude questions as calmly as possible. "At the end of the month."
"So soon?" said Linda.
Natalie expected the next question to pertain to the identity of the father, but instead Linda turned to Jake. "You must be pleased. It's good to see that you were able to recover so quickly from Lisa's death. And with such a pretty companion, too."
It was one of those moments when all sound ceased around them.
Natalie looked up at Jake for the first time.
He was furious. A muscle jumped in his jaw, his eyes narrowed and his napkin was gripped in his tight fist. He maintained a fairly calm demeanor, but it was easy to see that it took an extraordinary effort. "Yes, we are pleased about the baby. Thank you for being concerned," he said very slowly, very deliberately. His voice was low and unmistakably dangerous. His broad shoulders loomed over the couple in a menacing stance they couldn't fail to miss. "But if you're going to interrupt our meal solely to be malicious, Linda, I recommend that you at least get your facts straight. There are any number of my good friends who could enlighten you. In the meantime, you are offending not only Natalie and myself, but you're also insulting the memory of my wife. Now our food is getting cold. If you'll excuse us—"
Deliberately he turned his back, sat down and picked up his fork, leaving the couple standing there slack-jawed.
Carl recovered first. He took his wife's arm and led her away, but Natalie heard the woman's parting shot. "I always thought a lot of Lisa. It doesn't look good."
Natalie kept her hands in her lap. She had completely lost her appetite. So had Jake evidently. After a moment, he threw his napkin down on the table. "Are you finished?" he asked.
She nodded, unable to answer for the obstruction in her throat.
"Let's go, then."
He got their coats while she paid the bill. When they were outside he held the coat for her, then shrugged into his jacket before taking her arm. They stepped away from the building. It was cold but not windy. She turned up the collar of her coat and slid her hands into her pockets to hold the coat together over her girth. She'd abandoned the belt a long time ago.
They had almost reached the town house before Jake finally commented on the scene. "It makes me mad as hell that anyone would speculate about our relationship."
She glanced at him. He was walking with his head bent, his hands shoved deeply into his pockets, still frowning ferociously. She wanted to say something, but she wasn't sure what it should be. "Some people are born malicious, Jake. Our friends at the birthing classes have never said anything out of line."
He shot her a look. "That's because they think we're married."
"Not all of them. The instructor, for one, knows we're not." Natalie was growing irritated; she thought he was overreacting to spiteful remarks from a couple of catty people. And he was walking too fast for her. "Besides, who left them with that impression?"
"I didn't want to go into a lot of explanations," he snarled. "The odd thing is that something like this happening never occurred to me," he went on, reflecting her earlier thoughts.
"Nor to me," she admitted. She really didn't want to argue with him. She quickened her steps to keep up with his long strides. "Maybe we should take out an ad in the newspaper to explain the situation," she suggested lightly, hoping to minimize the tension in the atmosphere.
His head zipped around; he pinned her with a steely gaze. "This isn't a joke, Natalie. Lisa was well liked, and gossips like that could tarnish her name."
There was nothing to add to that, she thought, her irritation returning. When they reached her door Natalie had the key ready. "Good night, Jake," she said.
Suddenly he became aware of her own anger. He caught her wrist. "Natalie, are you all right?"
"I'm fine."
He didn't release her. "Thanks for dinner," he said. His thumb stroked her skin absently. He was looking at her with an inscrutable expression.
"Please let go of me, Jake."
He drew her around until she was facing him and grasped her chin. "You are upset. Damn them."
"It's not them, it's you," she snapped. Then she bowed her head. "Oh, God, I wish I had gone back to Charleston. I don't know why I let you talk me into staying here." There was a catch in her voice.
His hands tightened and her stomach brushed against him, but for once he didn't seem to notice. "Because it was the practical thing to do."
She gritted her teeth. "Practical for me, maybe. Miserable for you. How do you think that makes me feel? Do you think I haven't noticed that you cannot bear to look below my neck?"
The accusation startled him. He didn't know she'd realized … well, what the hell did she expect? "That's only because—"
She closed her eyes and turned her head away. Dear God, I never thought I would envy my dearest friend after she was dead. "This isn't something that can be glossed over for the neighbors. You'd like to forget there's even a baby in here." She rested her hand on top of her stomach and felt comforting movement. "Well, it's a little hard for me to forget, Jake. You can barely stand to look at me, because this will always be Lisa's baby, not mine."
They looked at each other. They both saw the same thing. The suppressed feelings that each of them had experienced at different times. The guilt that accompanied those feelings.
Jake ran his hands through his hair. "What the hell do you want me to say, Natalie?" he nearly shouted. "Let's get married and give the baby a mother and a father? Then we can be a nice, cozy family group?"
Her answer was automatic. "No!" She stepped back, away from the force that gripped him. Her anger receded. She saw the bleak emptiness in his eyes and knew that hers held the same expression.
He dropped his hands and stood there looking at her. "Good, because I could never say that. I will never have another family. Ever." He spoke with finality.
Natalie took in a jerky breath. Horrified, she realized all of a sudden that her subconscious had been working on that very idea. Without her having been aware of it she'd been assembling mental pictures of the three of them as a family, together, warmed by memories of Joseph and Lisa.
Jake had put his feelings into stark, unabashed, emphatic words, shattering those pictures for all eternity. A family was one thing that they would never be. The barriers were too many and too high.
"No," she repeated the lie, averse to his seeing the effect of those words, to his being witness to her splintered dreams.
She shook her head, suddenly defeated. "But the Dillons were right, you know," she went on in a shaky voice. "It doesn't look good for me to be living here." Her small bark of laughter held a note of hysteria. "They were dying to ask if you were the father. There was bound to be speculation among people who don't know us."
"I don't give a damn what people like that think," said Jake angrily.
Natalie looked at him archly. She didn't have to say a word. He had already denied the truth of that statement with his actions in the restaurant. But his defense was for Lisa, not for him. Or her. And that was right; his loyalty should be to Lisa's memory. She felt guilty wanting even a small part for herself.
She was so mixed up! Lis, I really need to talk to you. I need to know if you hate me.
He'd once said that they were both adults, that they could work through any problems that arose by her staying here to have the baby. But this was a different matter. She hadn't anticipated this problem, and she knew instinctively that this was something they couldn't work through.
* * *
Natalie had no idea how long she'd been asleep when suddenly she sat straight up in bed, rubbing a band of tightness that had formed just beneath her breasts. She felt flushed; her breathing was short and quick. These contractions had been happening for a week or so; the doctor said they were a dress rehearsal for the main event. At least Mischief had decided to forego the nightly stretching exercises.
After a minute the tightness eased and she sighed, grateful that the episode was over. Pregnancy was such an assortment of aches and pains, urges and appetites. You never knew what was going to happen next.
She made a quick trip to the bathroom. She had made this same trip so many times that she didn't even have to turn on the light. She returned to bed, fell back on the pillows and closed her eyes in relief. In seconds she was asleep again, this time even more deeply.
The second time the tightness seized her, she gave a groggy moan and licked her dry lips. Her nightgown had bunched up around her hips, and she tugged and squirmed until it was smooth beneath her.
The third time, she awakened fully, aware of what was going on. Unless she was badly mistaken this was the main event. She stared wide-eyed into the darkness, suddenly afraid. Though the baby was not due for another ten days, it was clearly time to start counting the minutes. She rolled onto her side and reached for the lamp switch. In the subdued illumination, the first thing her gaze lit upon was the bassinet. Oh, God.
She wasn't ready. Her heart pounded with anxiety.
Don't be ridiculous, she chided herself. Hundreds, thousands, of women went through this every day. It was no big deal. She would survive as they had survived.
But it was a big deal. Suddenly she felt as if she had a direct line to those other women, a warm kinship with the ones who were experiencing the first pangs of birth at this very minute all over the world.
Nat, you're getting philosophical, she could almost hear Lisa's amused accusation.
She looked at the clock with some surprise. It was not midnight yet. She'd been asleep for less than two hours, yet she felt strangely refreshed. She got out of bed and made her way to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face. Maybe she should take a shower, shave her legs.
Another hour passed before she decided to call Dr. MacGregor. Even then she wasn't certain she was doing the right thing. She reminded him that it was ten days too early. She had expected more discomfort and told him that, too. "All I have is a slight backache," she added with a nervous laugh.
He chuckled at her comment. "Ten days is not uncommon. And don't worry, Natalie. I promise you'll have some discomfort before this is over. Now how long has it been since the last contraction?"
She told him.
"Then there's no hurry and it could be a false alarm, but I would prefer to be on the scene. If the contractions don't stop within the next hour, I want you to come to the hospital."
Natalie hung up the telephone and sat looking around the apartment, dark except for the soft pool of light from the lamp beside her. The silence of the night was absolute; even the normal creaking sounds of an old house were absent. It wasn't a false alarm; somehow she was certain of that.
She glanced toward the ceiling, reluctant to wake Jake. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to replay last night's unpleasantness with Carl and Linda Dillon.
Even though she'd been hurt by the scene, his concern had all been for Lisa's reputation. Natalie could sympathize, but she decided she couldn't bear to face him. Not right this minute, anyway.
She'd wait. There was plenty of time, she reminded herself.
She showered and dressed in the red dress with the black bow that she had liked so much. Now she hated it. She made up the bed, placed her small bag beside the front door and looked at her watch again. Another contraction began, tightening the band of muscle beneath her breasts. She eased her body into the rocking chair and rested her head against the back. With this episode, the ache in her back became slightly more acute, though it was still tolerable.
At last she went to the phone. With a cowardliness she despised, she telephoned for a taxi. While she waited for the cab to arrive, she walked through the apartment once more.
When she returned in some two or three days, when she saw these rooms again, she would not be alone. Another tiny person would be sharing her space, her life. The idea both exhilarated her and scared her to death.
She paused at the door to the office. Her computer on the desk was black. The double bed was neatly made. The long box containing the parts of the crib along with the mattress were propped against the wall. The bassinet would serve for now, but eventually someone would have to put the crib together. Maybe that could wait until she was back in Charleston.
All this furniture would now have a purpose, not just be something to avoid stubbing her toe on. The bathing table—the idea of holding and washing a wet, squirming baby left her knees weak. She thought of the clothes in the chest, the things she'd bought. Tiny little tucks and ruffles, tiny little buttons. Were those little buttons actually supposed to be fitted into the little buttonholes?
By what elfin hands?
No, I'm not ready! she thought again, her panic very real. She wasn't capable of caring for a helpless human being.
Suddenly her eyes flooded with tears. Again she felt fear, a tight, unrelenting fear. The precious independence that she'd always cherished seemed to be a burden. If she only had someone to be with, someone who cared deeply about her, about the baby…
She straightened and swept the tears away with her fingers. This was going to be a long night. There were mountains of things—new things, scary things—to be endured. She couldn't fall apart now.
She was on the sidewalk before the taxi could blow his horn. The driver's eyes widened as she opened the back door of the cab, tossed her small bag on the seat and clumsily climbed in after it.
"Oh, my God," he said, frozen into immobility as he stared at her stomach.
"Don't worry, we have plenty of time," she said, smiling reassuringly. She gave the man the name of the hospital and settled back on the seat.
"Are you sure?" he said shakily. He made no move to leave the curb.
She lifted a brow. "Unless you plan to sit here all night."
He recovered himself, put the car into gear and his foot on the gas. The tires spun, then caught, squealing as the cab moved with a jerk. He immediately slammed on the brakes.
Natalie caught herself by digging her heels into the floor mat.
"Sorry," said the driver.
She smiled weakly. "It's okay."
* * *
Jake reached the window in time to see Natalie climb into the taxi. She had to be going to the hospital. Dammit, why the hell hadn't she called him? He knew the answer to that.
The thought of her going to the hospital alone sent a pang of humiliation through him. He was a blockhead; he should have dismissed the incident at the restaurant last night as unimportant, which it was. But his reaction to the Dillons' insinuation was in direct proportion to his guilt.
He couldn't admit to himself or to Natalie that he was attracted to her—not a matter of months after his wife's death. And he couldn't, wouldn't, ever make promises again.
The scene at her door was as muc
h his fault as hers, no matter what he'd said. When he thought of the despair in her eyes…
All at once he realized his hands were shaking. He brought his fist down hard on the sill; rattling the window. His curses were prolonged and extravagant as he raced back to his bedroom and dressed hurriedly.
Had the tension provoked by the quarrel brought on early labor? Would she be all right? Oh, hell.
He was almost to the car before he remembered his keys and had to go back for them.
* * *
A drizzle had wet the streets by the time the taxi got to the hospital. The driver pulled up to the entrance. "Let me get someone to help you."
"Nonsense. I can walk." Natalie opened the door, got out and reached back for her bag.
By then the driver was beside her. He took her arm. "Please, ma'am," he pleaded nervously. "I'll come back for that. Let's just get you inside first."
Finally she gave up and did as he'd asked. But she was smiling to herself as she went through the process of admissions. Poor man had been scared to death that he'd have to deliver the baby in the back seat of the cab.
Dr. MacGregor was waiting for her. He looked past her shoulder with a frown. "Where's Jake?"
"You said there was no hurry, so I decided to wait and call him when the pains are closer together. There's no reason for both of us to lose sleep if it isn't necessary," she told him lightly.
"Get her settled," he instructed the nurse who was standing by. "I have to make a telephone call."
She touched his arm. "No, please. Not right now." She smiled appealingly—she hoped. "We can make the call later, okay?"
"If you're talking about me, it won't be necessary to call," said a voice from behind them.
Natalie spun around. Her hand flew to her breast to still the thunder of her heart.
Dr. MacGregor turned more slowly. "I'm glad you're here, Jake."
"Yeah, me, too," said Jake, not taking his eyes off of Natalie. "Why didn't you wake me?" he asked.
She maintained eye contact and her chin came up. "I wasn't sure it was necessary. Dr. MacGregor said that it might be a false alarm."
BABY MAGIC Page 13