Jake looked at her without comment for a long moment, but she knew what he was saying with his eyes, would say if they were alone. He was sorry for the scene last night. He had no intentions of denying that he'd meant what he said, but he was sorry to have hurt her.
She felt the dark, complex communication like a weight upon her shoulders. No one moved.
It was almost a relief when the next contraction interrupted the tension between them. She couldn't control an involuntary wince.
Instantly the scene, which seemed to have frozen in time, was moving again. Jake turned white and reached out to support her with an arm around her shoulders.
Dr. MacGregor gestured and the nurse hustled Natalie off down the hallway.
Although she couldn't understand the doctor's words when he said something to Jake, she heard the impatience in his voice. She resisted the temptation to look over her shoulder.
* * *
Jake wiped the perspiration from Natalie's brow during a brief respite, while she breathed deeply and gathered her strength for the next onslaught. The pains were coming almost constantly.
"Let go of that contraction, Natalie," Jake said in a soothing voice. "It's gone, history. Just concentrate on relaxing."
The damp terry cloth was pleasantly coarse against her lips when he moistened them. She felt like every nerve, every muscle in her body had been stretched to the limit. And it wasn't over yet.
Jake had been wonderful, she thought fleetingly. When the hospital admitting routine had been completed and they were established in the labor room, the strain between them had faded immediately under the realization of what was about to happen.
She wondered how she'd ever thought she could get through this without him. He'd told her over and over how brave she was, how strong, until she'd begun, at last, to believe him.
Dr. MacGregor sounded as if he was at the end of a tunnel. "It won't be long now," he said. She wanted to ask him how long, but she was seized by another spasm. The pain spread over her vision like a red haze.
Jake's hand was waiting and Natalie's fingers gripped hard. "Hang on to me, honey. Squeeze as hard as you want to. I'll be right here." He mopped at her brow with his other hand.
He felt her vigorous grip with something akin to relief. The physical effort demanded by labor had gradually grown more arduous as the hours had passed. During the last contraction, he realized that her strength was beginning to ebb. And no wonder, he thought as he glanced at his watch. They'd been at the hospital for almost ten hours.
Most of that time had been spent walking up and down the halls, until he and Natalie knew every crack in the floor, walls and ceiling of this place.
He glanced at Mac, wanting to voice his concern at the length of time that had passed, but he couldn't, not when she could hear. All he could do was give her his comfort and support.
And it wasn't enough, not by a hell of a long shot. A soft sound began deep down within her, crowded past her attempts to curb the sound and emerged from her lips as an extended groan.
Oh, God. The audacity of asking a woman to go through something like this. He knew it was supposed to be beautiful and natural and fulfilling. The sound of violins came in over the speakers—that was supposed to be soothing. Like hell.
Mac spoke. "Okay, Natalie. I can see the head now. We're ready to have a baby. It's time to push, honey. Give it all you've got."
Her hysterical laugh was choked off by a silent scream. Her shoulders came up off the bed as she clamped her lips together, squeezed her eyes shut and pushed. No sooner had he wiped her brow than perspiration popped out again.
A short time later, the room suddenly came alive. The waiting was over; one nurse rolled a cart containing some unrecognizable equipment toward the doctor. Another moved to a monitor. The doctor was issuing orders.
And Natalie, when she could breathe at all, bore down hard, panting through pursed lips as she'd been instructed.
Finally, under his arm, Jake felt her tension give way; she collapsed against him.
"Good, Natalie. Wonderful. It's a girl," crowed Dr. MacGregor. "A beautiful little girl."
"A girl?" said Natalie with a weak, wobbly smile. Her sky-blue eyes, wide with wonder, sought those of the man beside her. "Oh, Jake, a girl."
He suddenly felt taller and knew that a grin was spreading across his own face. Their gazes locked for a wondrous moment, held.
And he knew that from this time he would never see Natalie in the same way again. "You are one terrific lady," he murmured, shaking his head. Then he leaned forward and covered her lips with his. He didn't close his eyes and neither did she. He could see flecks of gold and emerald and sapphire within her irises. Finally he raised his head, but continued to stare at her.
They both became aware of the silence at the same time. Dr. MacGregor and two of the nurses were bent over the small form, their movements busy but undecipherable.
"Jake?" she whispered fearfully and gripped his hand with more force than before.
The baby hadn't cried! How long had it been? How long?
The arm around her shoulders caught her to him; he brought their entwined fingers to his chest. Her body was stiff in his arm. Over her head he, like she, watched the activity, holding his breath, his dread like a gigantic fist squeezing his heart.
Suddenly he heard a lusty cry. Natalie slumped against him. And he breathed again.
"Lazy little lass," said Dr. MacGregor.
"Is she all right?" they asked almost in unison. Natalie's voice was shaky and barely audible over the cries of the child.
In answer, a nurse placed the baby, loosely wrapped in a soft blanket and naked except for a tiny knitted cap, in Jake's arms.
Jake turned immediately to give her to Natalie. He remained bent, his shoulders hunched protectively over both of them. The nurse moved away.
He was hypnotized by the sight of his child. Natalie chuckled softly under her breath. She looked up at him and gave him a blinding smile before she returned her attention to the baby, whispering in a universal language of praise as she examined every inch of the diminutive body, while Jake watched. She counted the tiny toes, the surprisingly long fingers, traced the tiny ears.
The baby, soothed and quiet for the moment, stared at her through slitted, sleepy eyes. The violins played on, their music unbearably sweet.
Jake couldn't make himself look away. Slowly, tentatively, he touched a tiny hand. The skin was so soft, like nothing he'd ever touched. Not the satiny underside of a new kitten, not the sleek petal of a rose, not the silk of a woman's breast, nothing was as perfectly smooth as this new human being's skin. He traced the circle made by the tiny thumb and forefinger.
Suddenly the baby grasped his finger with a grip that was surprisingly strong. When he looked at her, she seemed to be staring directly at him. With Lisa's eyes. From Lisa's face.
Jake was seized with a terrible, overwhelming fear. He pulled his finger free of the hold and straightened. He felt the urge to run—as he had run the day of Lisa's funeral—and keep running until Natalie, the child and all memories associated with them were out of his life. Forever.
Mac appeared at the other side of the table. "She weighs seven pounds, eight ounces, and she is twenty inches long." He grinned at Natalie. "I hope you realize you can't keep calling this beauty Mischief. What are you planning to name her?" The last question was directed at Jake.
"Ask Natalie," he said, his tone raw. "This is her child."
The nurse's head turned slowly. She looked from Natalie, who was absorbed with the baby, to Jake, who met her curious gaze with indifference, to Dr. MacGregor, who studiously avoided meeting her eyes. She was too well-disciplined to actually voice her curiosity—and probably her outrage.
"Her name is Annabelle Lisa Armstrong," Natalie answered easily, smiling up at Dr. MacGregor.
Apparently she had not noticed Jake's sudden withdrawal, nor the severity of his reply.
* * *
Chapter 8
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^ »
When Natalie was finally brought into her room, the sight of a huge vase of magnificent yellow roses took her breath away. They were from Jake.
He had left the hospital soon after the baby was born. She knew that when the excitement had worn off he would be faced with a succession of sad emotions. One of them would be guilt. For his kiss at the moment at Annabelle's birth had not been the kiss of a brother-in-law, and her response hadn't been casual, either, no matter how much either of them might deny it.
His lips had moved over hers with a taste of hunger that had astonished her. His pride in her, in the baby, in his own fatherhood, had shone in his beautiful gray eyes. For that one glorious moment, he had put aside the sorrow and lived for the moment, happily. Natalie could hardly believe it. But the sorrow would return.
Perhaps it already had.
Natalie hadn't missed his reaction when Annabelle had clamped her hand around his finger as though to say, "I know you, you're my daddy." He had pulled away so quickly she'd felt the tug on the baby she held. And when the doctor had asked about the name, he'd immediately turned cool.
She understood Jake's automatic retreat. He didn't want to bond with this baby. Hadn't wanted to from the first. Here was this wonderful child, who was supposed to be his and Lisa's. The baby would always be a reminder of his loss.
She understood, and she would try to make the parting as easy for him as possible. She didn't want to compound his grief. But—oh, God—she couldn't help imagining what it would be like if they could both be a part of the baby's life. He had so much to give to a child—his strength, his character, his vigor and integrity. He had so much to teach a child.
They brought Annabelle to her room then and, as she held the child to her breast, all thoughts fled except the overwhelming love she felt for this small creature.
Annabelle was a beautiful baby, thought Natalie. And not just because she's mine. Her skin was smooth and pink. Her brows were light, almost invisible. Her eyes, when she deigned to open them, were deep dark blue, the lids fringed with delicate lashes of a darker color than her brows. Her tiny mouth was shaped like a bow, her little nose was slightly tilted up. The hair on her scalp—what hair she had—was dark and silky textured like Lisa's. Too soon to tell if it would curl like Jake's.
* * *
Jake pushed through the hospital door. Ignoring the lot where he had parked his car, he headed off down the street, his long strides eating up the pavement.
He urgently needed physical action, rigorous activity. His head was bent, his shoulders bowed under a great intangible weight. His hands were tight fists, thrust into the pockets of his windbreaker. What the hell was he going to do?
He moved quickly, desperately, as though he could outrace his churning emotions.
* * *
Jake didn't return to the hospital until the day Natalie and the baby were released, but he called several times, giving her excuses she hadn't asked for.
She knew he had been on the telephone with other people, too, because John Barnard arrived that evening, bringing a selection of current magazines, a stuffed koala bear that played "Waltzing Matilda" and a Scarlett O'Hara doll.
Nancy Hightower came the next day, bringing flowers and an exquisitely embroidered dress. She had been to the nursery first and said all the right things about the baby. "Did Jake tell you that I am buying Lisa's decorating business?" she asked.
Natalie was pleased. "No, he didn't. Nancy, that's wonderful. Lisa always said you were the one friend who would never need her services."
"I'm excited about it. Now if I could just corner Jake long enough to get him to sign the final papers."
"I thought he was anxious to sell."
"I did, too. Ah, well, I know he's been working hard."
"Yes," said Natalie, but she wondered.
Flowers arrived from Andrew and his wife. There were even flowers from the Reeds. When she read their names on the card, she couldn't help weeping a little bit. Someday, after she had moved back to Charleston, she hoped they would want to see their daughter's child.
On her last day in the hospital, the phone rang at 8:00 a.m. It was Jake. As usual his deep baritone struck a chord on her tightly strung nerves.
"Is that safe?" he asked, when she told him that Dr. MacGregor was dismissing them later that morning. "It's only been two days."
"I'm sure the hospital wouldn't release us if it wasn't safe."
He was quiet for a second. "What time will you be ready to leave?"
"Around ten o'clock."
"I'll be there."
Natalie wasn't going to protest this time. "Thank you."
Unsure what size she would be, she had packed a pair of gray wool slacks and an oversized sweater the color of ripe Georgia peaches. She pulled on the slacks. Even though they were generously cut, they wouldn't button. She pulled her stomach in as far as it would go, she held her breath, but they still gapped.
The clothes were pre-pregnancy so she had also packed her blue exercise suit. Now she held up the suit and looked at it with distaste. The elastic was stretched beyond belief. She tossed it into the suitcase and pulled the peach sweater over her head. It covered her hips—and the gaping zipper.
If she ever got her waistline back she was planning to burn a few things, and the exercise suit was one of them.
The nurse helped her dress the baby in a diaper and undershirt before she was called out of the room, leaving Natalie on her own. She managed to maneuver Annabelle's arms into the sleeves of a white batiste gown. It had impossibly tiny tucks down the front and miniscule embroidery around the collar. She'd been right about the buttons, too, but finally she managed to fit them into the buttonholes. White socks and booties came next, then a soft yellow sweater and cap.
Jake arrived as she was tying slippery yellow ribbons under the baby's chin. "Having trouble?" he asked, amusement strong in his tone.
Natalie glanced over her shoulder. "Oh, hi. We're almost ready."
By the time the baby was finally, completely dressed she had become fretful. And no wonder, thought Natalie sympathetically. She herself was rattled and nervous. Her fingers lingered on Annabelle's body when she straightened and turned to smile at Jake.
And became very still.
Jake himself couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Her beautiful hair was loose and the shining mass settled around her shoulders, a few fly-away strands caught on the weave of the sweater. Her smile was gently apologetic for not being ready; her face was becomingly flushed with the effort of dressing the baby. But the element that had brought his senses to a grinding halt was her silhouette—her slim legs, her high breasts and the vacant place where her stomach had been.
His eyes climbed back to meet hers. He opened his mouth, unsure of what he would say. "You look wonderful," he murmured. It was inadequate, but it was all he could manage.
"Thank you," she answered huskily.
Her features softened as she looked at him. He was unhinged by his reaction and wondered if she felt as much at a loss. "Natalie, I—" He crossed the room to stand face-to-face with her. He lifted one hand.
The nurse came back into the room. "All ready to go?" she asked cheerfully.
"Yes." Natalie gripped the footboard of the bed to support herself. Gratified as she was by the warmly appreciative look in Jake's eyes, her sudden, keen response to his eyes on her body had left her shaken.
The nurse checked the drawers, and visually scanned the room to make sure Natalie hadn't forgotten anything. Natalie seemed to be making all the proper responses when the woman questioned her, but she felt as though she were moving in a mist. Now and then her eyes would collide with Jake's heated gaze, unsettling her all over again.
At last they were ready to leave. The flowers would go to the children's ward, except for two of the yellow roses Jake had sent. Natalie had carefully pressed those between the pages of the current issue of Vogue, one of the magazines John had brought. Trust John to know what a new mother nee
ded.
Jake carried the bear, the doll and Natalie's suitcase. She said goodbye to the hospital personnel as the nurse wheeled her, and Annabelle in her arms, to the elevator.
"I'll bring the car around," said Jake when they reached the entrance. They were the first words he'd spoken since the nurse had entered her room. His tone was guarded.
Natalie waited at the glass doors, holding the baby, and watched Jake head off through the parking lot. His strides were long and determined.
Her optimism had faded along with his smile. Well, what did you expect? she asked herself. Despite his heated appraisal, he was clearly not thrilled.
He pulled into the circular driveway and left the engine running. He came around the car and opened both doors, front and back.
The nurse set the brake on the wheelchair and held Natalie's magazines and her purse, while Jake showed Natalie how to buckle Annabelle into the new car seat in the back.
Natalie got in the back seat beside the baby, and Jake stowed her suitcase in the trunk. She took in a deep breath. The scent of his after-shave lingered in the car, mingling with the smell of fine leather and effectively wiping away the smell of hospital disinfectant.
Jake started the car and moved into traffic. She waved goodbye to the nurse. Then she turned to check on the baby, almost lost in cap and sweater and blankets. Annabelle had closed her eyes. "Thank you for getting a car seat, Jake. I'm ashamed to admit I'd forgotten the law. She looks so small in it."
"At the store they assured me that she will soon outgrow it."
"Really? I can't imagine." She settled back and sighed. "I'm so glad to be out of there."
He smiled at her slightly in the rearview mirror. "Neither of us will ever be comfortable in hospitals."
"You're so right." She smiled back, hopefully. But that was the end of the conversation. What else was there to say? thought Natalie. In light of the circumstances.
When they reached the apartment, he parked in front, at the sidewalk, because the distance was less for her to walk. Before she was out of the car she got her first surprise.
BABY MAGIC Page 14