On hearing her name, the receptionist said, “Oh, yes, Mrs. Martens, you’re right on time! Do you want us to wait for your husband?’’
She didn’t bother to tell the woman she had no husband. “No, thank you.”
“I’ll buzz the nurse, then.”
An efficient vision in white emerged a moment later, escorted Belle to a cubicle and handed her a hospital gown to wear. Alone behind a skimpy curtain, Belle removed her peasant blouse and full skirt. The elastic already felt tight around her expanding midsection.
The nurse came back a few minutes later. “The technician is ready for you, Mrs. Martens, and your husband is here.”
“I don’t think so.” Belle wondered if this was somebody’s idea of a joke. Had Janie dressed up in a man’s suit and put on a fake mustache?
“Oh, yes’ the woman said as they walked down a short hall. “He called yesterday and specifically asked to be here.”
Obviously, there had been a mistake; probably the doctor had two women patients with similar names. Belle braced herself for the inevitable embarrassment that such a mix-up would cause.
She was about to march into a tiny room, wearing nothing but sunglasses and a puny garment that could easily double as a cleaning rag, and find herself face-to-face with a startled and completely unfamiliar man.
She wondered if he was cute. She might let him watch.
The ultrasound room had its lights turned low, and a curtain surrounded the equipment. When she entered, Belle felt as if she were strolling into the haunted house at a Halloween party, except that she was the only one wearing a costume.
She prepared an apologetic smile as the nurse led her around the curtain. “Gee, I guess there’s been a mis…”
There was no point in finishing the sentence, because there had been no mistake. Or rather, there had been a huge, enormous, pigheaded one.
DARRYL COULDN‘T BELIEVE the woman was wearing sunglasses to an ultrasound. Who was she planning to fool?
Besides, the paraphernalia prevented him from getting a good look at her shocked expression, which spoiled a lot of the fun. He’d had a hard time falling asleep last night for all the chortling as he imagined Belle’s reaction today.
“Hi, honey,” he said.
The technician, indifferent to the vibes thrumming across the room, instructed her to lie on a padded table. Belle made quite a production of climbing onto the padded table and flopping down on her back.
“This might feel a little cool.” The technician parted the front of the gown and squirted some goo on Belle’s stomach, then took a device that resembled a computer mouse and moved it across her stomach.
Darryl’s gaze shifted to the ultrasound screen. All he could see was a gray blur. He might as well have been looking at a close-up look of Belle’s kidneys.
“Okay, I think we’re getting an arm here,” said the technician. “And there’s the heartbeat.” She pointed at something pulsating in the middle of the screen.
“It’s kind of rapid, isn’t it?” Darryl asked.
“Babies’ hearts beat faster than adults’,” said Belle, removing her sunglasses.
Did women know these things by instinct? He refused to believe it. “Did you read about that somewhere?”
“My doctor showed me,” she said. “We could hear the heartbeat on his stethoscope.”
To Darryl’s surprise, it bothered him that he’d missed that experience. By the time he’d even learned of the baby’s existence, a significant milestone in its life had already passed.
On the screen, the picture coalesced into a baby. A lump formed in Darryl’s throat. The kid was tiny, but it possessed a nose, feet, hands, even fingers. Incredible.
“He’s sucking his thumb.” The technician pointed. “See there?”
“‘He,’“ Darryl repeated. “It’s a boy?”
“Let’s see if we can tell.” The technician swooped her mouse over Belle’s stomach.
“What do you mean, ‘if?” he demanded.
“Sometimes you can tell, sometimes not,” the woman explained. “There, that looks like a penis—nope, just a shadow.”
“Try harder, will you?” Darryl had come here expecting to learn the child’s sex. What good was modern science if it couldn’t determine that?
“Who cares?” said Belle.
He shrugged. “You need to know what color to paint the nursery, don’t you?”
“I’m painting it purple,” she said.
The technician shook her head. “I’m afraid Baby’s not going to cooperate. Are you having an amniocentesis? You can find out that way.”
“Of course she is.” Darryl wanted answers and he didn’t want to wait six months for them.
“Only if you let them stick a needle in your abdomen while you’re wide-awake, too,” Belle snapped.
“They don’t really do that,” he said. “Do they?”
“All the time,” said the technician.
Darryl’s stomach gave a reflexive quiver at the thought of being jabbed with a needle. It probably felt different for women, though. Maybe they had fewer nerve endings in the abdomen, kind of a protective evolutionary development. Although he didn’t think amniocenteses had been around long enough to have spurred evolutionary changes.
“Your husband seems anxious about the sex,” observed the technician as she pressed a button and took a picture of the screen image.
“He wants a boy,” Belle said. “So he can flaunt it.” She emphasized the last two words.
“I do not!” The accusation stung, primarily because it was true. Or was it? Darryl had never considered what it would be like to have a daughter.
He studied the screen again as the technician moved her mouse, seeking another angle for the next picture. Someday that squiggly creature would be a beautiful bride, marching down the aisle. Or a big strong man, playing high school football as Darryl had done. Or, since Belle was the mother, it might turn out to be a short, feisty woman barreling down the football field, bowling men over left and right.
A girl would need a father to warn her about the tricks boys used to get what they wanted. And to reassure her about her own desirability. And to make it clear that not all members of the male sex were the enemy.
Fathers were important to their children of both sexes, he reflected. And surely the relationship began even before birth.
Darryl remembered his idea about writing an article on men’s biological instincts and their equal importance as parents. Better yet, in personal journalism, it sometimes paid to exaggerate for effect. Suppose he claimed to believe in the natural superiority of men as parents, even during pregnancy?
What a storm of controversy that would provoke! It would give the circulation of About Town a real boost, and it could force readers to rethink their assumptions. It might even influence a few judges, whom he suspected enjoyed the Flaunt It centerfolds as much as the next man.
Best of all, Darryl thought, he could do the research and help Belle at the same time. It was a perfect opportunity.
AS SHE CHANGED into her clothes, Belle gave her stomach another wipe with the tissue. That stuff wasn’t coming off; it would have to soak in. She didn’t mind the indignity of the procedure so much as the fact that Darryl had stood there watching the whole thing.
The nerve of that man, showing up today! What had been his point, anyway? He couldn’t expect her to believe he was actually interested in the child.
He’d come to gloat, that was it. He’d come to vaunt the fact that he still had his hard, sleek figure, while she was ballooning.
At least the ultrasound had proved that the pregnancy was normal, that the excess weight was the result of maybe a touch of overeating. The baby looked fine.
Belle glanced at the picture the technician had given her for the baby’s scrapbook. That tiny bundle had such a cute, curvy shape. Well, if Darryl expected her to thank him, he could wait until they made frozen daiquiris in hell.
When she emerged a few minu
tes later and didn’t see him, she told herself the worst was over. She would march through this pregnancy just fine without Mr. Fair-weather Friend.
Then she saw Darryl waiting in the outer office. She gritted her teeth as he exited the doctor’s office beside her, and hoped he would quickly be on his way.
Instead, as soon as they were alone, Darryl said, “I’ve got an idea.”
“Maybe we should discuss this some other time,” she said. “In private.” Suppose one of her colleagues saw them together and drew the obvious conclusion about the baby’s paternity?
“I have no problem with discussing it now.” His dark, rather saturnine face pressed close to hers. “I’ll whisper in your ear, if you like.”
She didn’t like. His nearness was having a disturbing effect on her nerve endings, raising bursts of static like an electrical storm.
“Maybe there’s an empty office around.” Hurrying away, Belle tried a couple of unmarked doors until one opened. Switching on a light, she stepped inside.
And found herself in a storage closet. Between the walls of shelving holding cleaning supplies and wrapped paper products, there was just enough room for two people to crowd inside, if they were on very, very good terms.
Which she and Darryl were not. But it was too late. He had followed her inside and closed the door. “Very nice,” he said.
With his broad shoulders looming over her and his hips only inches from hers and the tight space magnifying the scent of his after-shave, Belle kept flashing back to that morning when she’d awakened in his bed. What had it felt like when they’d made love?
“So what’s your idea?” she said.
“I feel responsible for this,” he began.
“You are responsible.”
“Half responsible,’’ he said.
She wanted to argue, but as a modern woman, she couldn’t. “You’re offering to contribute to my expenses?”
“Expenses?”
“Insurance doesn’t cover everything,” she responded.
This obviously wasn’t what he’d expected. Darryl’s jaw worked for a moment before he said, “Naturally I’ll help out. More than that, you shouldn’t be living alone.”
“I like living alone.” She wished he would hurry up and get to the point. Belle had never been claustrophobic, but she’d never been jammed into a storage closet with Dar-ryl before, either. The man was practically inside of her. It wouldn’t take more than a few quick moves…
What was she thinking of?
“I should move in with you,” he said. “In case you suffer a fall or something.”
She had felt a few twinges of worry these past weeks, especially when she’d had such a bad attack of nausea she’d been barely able to climb out of bed. But living with Darryl was unthinkable. “You must be crazy. We might as well take an ad in the newspaper and announce that you’re the father. Would you like that?”
“No,” he admitted. “But we could get around it.”
“How?”
“We’ll tell everybody I’m researching an article.” He gave her a self-satisfied smile. “About how ignorant men are regarding pregnancy. I do plan to write it, Belle. It would be a real eye-opener for my readers.”
“You can open their eyes in somebody else’s condo.” This was the worst idea she had heard in a long time. “’ll bet there are lots of pregnant single women who’d be thrilled to have you as their houseguest. But not me.”
“You need someone to wait on you,” he continued in a soothing voice. “To fetch pickles and ice cream in the middle of the night. To bring you crackers in bed. I could even drop you at work so you wouldn’t have to drive.”
She wished the offer weren’t so tempting. “There’s no way I’m going to let you use my name in your magazine.”
“I won’t,” he promised hastily. “I’ll give you a pseudonym.”
“As if everybody wouldn’t know—”
“I’ll interview other women and create a composite,” Darryl improvised. Why was he so determined to get her to agree to this?
She doubted he had been overwhelmed by paternal feelings when he’d seen the ultrasound. Her own reaction had been strong and deep. The instant she had seen the baby Belle had discovered that she would go to any lengths to protect it.
She would almost be willing to let Darryl hang around in case of emergency. Almost, but not quite. Besides, there wasn’t going to be an emergency.
“I’ll think about it,” she said.
“Think about it now.”
“I’ve got work to do,” she retorted. “I’m hungry, my feet hurt, my stomach feels like an oil slick…”
“It does, huh?” Without waiting for an invitation, he pulled up Belle’s blouse and ran his hand across her tummy. “That doesn’t feel oily, it feels soft.”
“Only because your hand is covered with calluses,” she protested.
“That’s from playing volleyball.” He didn’t take his hand away, though. In fact, Darryl seemed to be enjoying probing underneath her blouse.
“What are you doing?” Belle demanded.
“Seeing if I can feel the baby.”
“It’s too small. Even I can’t feel it yet,” she said. “Besides, the baby isn’t up there.”
His hands had found the sports bra she’d worn, due to the fact that she had outgrown her regular ones. Through the soft fabric, his fingers probed her nipples. “Pregnancy really does make you larger, doesn’t it?”
She tried to pull back, but there was no room to retreat. She grabbed Darryl’s wrists, only to find he was too strong to push away. Besides, his persistent kneading was sending heat waves through her body. It made a nice change from nausea.
“They say women get very sensual during pregnancy,” he murmured, sliding his hands beneath the elastic waistband and down her hips. His body pressed into hers, taut and hungry and hard. Definitely hard.
She wanted to object. Maybe in a few minutes…
Darryl curved over her, his mouth descending toward hers. Then he stopped.
“What?” said Belle.
“Are you going to bite me?”
“I might.”
With a groan, he moved away. At least, he lifted his hands and retreated an inch or two, which was the most the storeroom would allow. His breathing was abnormally loud, and she was grateful that the sound masked her own sharp breaths.
“I guess we can forget that idea,” she said. “If you move in, there’ll be nothing but trouble.”
Darryl blinked as if emerging from a daze. “Don’t be ridiculous. Think of the massages I could give you. And my article—Belle, you’d be educating not only me but men all over the country to be more sympathetic to women.”
“You really intend to write an educational article?” she asked.
He nodded.
“And not mention my name?”
He gave another, somewhat less vigorous nod.
Belle shook her head. “Nope. You couldn’t hack it.”
That brought his head up in defiance. “Excuse me?”
“Are you telling me you really want to know what pregnancy’s like?” she demanded. “Every minute of it? Well, you can’t. You might take time off work to go to the doctor’s appointments and you might even try swallowing those humongous vitamin pills. But you won’t wake up five times a night to go to the bathroom. And you certainly can’t experience labor.”
“I can cater to your every whim,” he offered.
Now, there was a fabulous idea. Her every whim. Well, not every whim. Belle had no intention of landing in bed with the man again.
Maybe that was what he had in mind. She couldn’t imagine why Darryl would be lusting after her, but it appeared to be the case. If so, he was in for a major disappointment.
He deserved it.
“You’ll rub my back?” she pressed.
“I will.”
“Whenever I like?”
“Within reason.”
That seemed fair enough. Besid
es, what if she did have some serious problem in the middle of the night? “We can give it a try,” she said. “Now will you let me out of the closet?”
“Certainly.” Darryl opened the door with a flourish and bowed as she swept outside.
As soon as she’d taken a few breaths of fresh air, Belle realized she’d made a very risky decision. But what was life without a few risks?
Already, she couldn’t wait until her first back rub.
6
ADJUSTING COPY to make it fit around ads was not Darryl’s favorite task, and today he’d had to do it with two stories that he particularly liked.
He couldn’t afford to cut the ads, so he had to trim the articles. One was the main piece on “New Sports and Old: How to Choose What’s Right for You.” The other was a wickedly funny item called “Which Babe Tonight? Coordinate Your Date with Your Activity.”
Belle would dislike it when it came out in February. But not as much as she would dislike the article Darryl planned to publish in March.
Remembering the warm feel of her body beneath his in the closet a few days ago, he hoped she wouldn’t hate it too much. Surely she could understand that men deserved a fair shake when it came to custody issues.
Besides, emphasizing men’s fitness for parenthood also highlighted their responsibilities. And as for his thesis that men were superior, Belle was enough of a journalist to recognize the shock value of overstatement.
Tapping his fingers on his mouse pad, Darryl contemplated the fact that he would be moving in with her tomorrow. He would have to make sure their relationship remained platonic. It was what they both wanted, after all.
He still couldn’t figure out why he’d responded the way he had in the storage closet. Belle wasn’t the easygoing type of woman toasted and celebrated in About Town. Moreover, her waistline was expanding rapidly.
That was the odd thing. Instead of finding her less attractive as she burgeoned, Darryl found himself more drawn to her.
She seemed to embody an essential life force that was, unexpectedly, proving more desirable to him than the glitzy sexuality displayed by centerfold models in skimpy swimsuits. But surely close proximity would soon dull the edge of her appeal.
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