by Gina Wilkins
“She said she would.”
Sam nodded. “Yeah. But will she do it?”
“Yes,” Dallas said, suddenly certain. “She’ll do it. I think she’s glad to have an excuse to change her mind. She can blame it on us, if she wants, but deep down, it’s what she’s been looking for as her time drew closer.”
“Still trying to turn her into a latent Girl Scout?” Sam asked, his voice laced with amusement.
His indulgence annoyed her. Dallas pulled her chin out of his loose grasp and shook her head. “I know exactly what she is. But I like her, anyway. Her kid could end up with someone a hell of a lot worse.” From personal experience, she could have recited plenty of examples. She didn’t bother.
“Okay, so maybe you were right about her. Maybe she’ll make it.”
“Some do.”
“I know. Not very many, but a few.”
Dallas wiped her palms nervously against the legs of her jeans. “I’d better get out there. Polly will be getting restless.”
“Hold on a minute, okay? There’s something I wanted to tell you.”
She watched as he ran a finger around the open collar of his white oxford shirt, wondering why he suddenly looked rather nervous. Her stomach tightened beneath the harness. “What is it?” she asked, her voice sounding strained in her ears.
Sam was watching her as closely as she studied him, making her all the more certain that what he had to say was important to them on a personal level. “Brashear called me in this morning. Said he has some good news for me.”
When he paused, Dallas motioned impatiently. “What good news?” she prodded.
“I’ve been offered a promotion. Head of the homicide division in the Fifth Precinct. Brashear said it was a hell of a coup at my age. Said I should be proud.”
Dallas’s throat tightened to match her stomach. “He’s right,” she managed. “You should be very proud. What did you say to him?”
“Told him I’d think about it.”
She knotted her hands in the hem of her loose shirt. “And have you been thinking about it?”
He ran a hand through his hair and nodded. “Yeah. Sure. Of course, I’ve only had a few hours....”
“And?”
He shrugged.
Dallas heartily regretted Sam’s timing in bringing this up now, with Polly waiting impatiently for her. This was definitely something they needed to discuss in depth...but there just wasn’t time. Or maybe, she thought with a sudden, sinking feeling, Sam didn’t intend to discuss it with her. It was his decision to make, not hers. They certainly didn’t have any real commitment.
“When are you planning to give an answer?” she asked.
He shrugged again. “I don’t know. I told Brashear I want to get this case out of the way before I make any decisions.”
Again, no mention of discussing it with her first. So why had he told her about it now if he didn’t want her opinion? But then, she’d never been the type to wait for an invitation before expressing her opinion—especially not when it mattered this much. “It’s not what you want, Sam,” she couldn’t resist telling him.
He avoided her eyes. “Maybe it is,” he disagreed. “It would be a change of pace, a desk job, a significant pay raise.”
“It’s not what you want.”
He shot her an impatient look in response to her repetition. “You can’t know that. Even I don’t know what I want these days.”
“I do.” She gestured around the examining room in which they stood, indicating the exam table, the shelves of medical supplies, the complicated equipment that had so intrigued Sam when she and Polly had entered. “This is what you want. It’s what you’ve always wanted.”
The flash of old, painful hunger appeared and vanished so quickly from his eyes that Dallas almost missed it. There was no expression at all on his face when he answered. “We’ve already talked about that. It’s too late now. I’d be an idiot to chuck a good career, a guaranteed future, to go chasing after some dream I had when I was just a green kid.”
“You’d be an idiot to give up your dreams just because you’re scared to go after them,” Dallas retorted with her usual tact and delicacy.
Sam scowled, and Dallas wished she’d expressed herself a bit differently. But, damn it, it made her so mad when anyone just gave up on their dreams without a fight. Had she done so, she’d be right out there on those streets beside all those Pollys who hadn’t believed they had any other choices.
“I don’t remember asking for your advice,” Sam said coolly.
Even though she knew he was worried, knew he was dealing with his own insecurities, his own pain, his words still hurt her. She managed a curt nod. “You’re right, of course. This is none of my business.”
“Damn it.” He reached out to her, his expression a mixture of regret and annoyance. “Dallas—”
She evaded his touch by stepping back toward the door. “I’ve got to go. Polly won’t wait long, and she and I really should go back together.”
“Look, Dallas, I...”
Her hand was already on the doorknob. “We have a job to do, Sam,” she reminded him unnecessarily. “I have to get back to it.”
His hand fell to his side. “I know.”
She opened the door.
Sam caught her shoulder before she could step out into the hallway. “Take care of yourself,” he murmured. “Don’t do anything stupid, you hear?”
“Telling me how to do my job again, Perry?” she asked, her bruised ego still smarting.
He forced a smile. “Telling you that I care what happens to you,” he corrected.
There didn’t seem to be anything she could say to that. Her eyes burning, Dallas nodded, hitched the harness more comfortably against her stomach, and walked away from him.
12
TWO NIGHTS LATER, Dallas was brought out of a sound sleep by a heavy pounding on her apartment door. Disoriented, she groped for the light, swore when she knocked the clock to the floor, then swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The pounding grew louder.
“Dallas! Dallas, hurry up!”
The voice was Polly’s. Dallas snatched up the harness and stuffed it under her nightshirt, fastening only enough straps to keep it temporarily in place as she bolted for the door. Polly had been generally avoiding her for the past two days, still hurt and angry that Dallas had lied to her. There was only one reason Dallas could imagine that Polly was seeking her out now.
She jerked open the door. Polly stood in the hallway, gasping, her face pale without its usual coating of cosmetics, her dark hair limp around her shoulders. She was wearing an oversize satin nightgown. The front of it was soaked with a dark liquid.
“Your water broke?” Dallas asked, glancing down.
Polly nodded, one hand pressed against her stomach. “I’m in labor. God, it hurts.”
Dallas drew the woman inside the apartment. “How far apart are the pains?”
“I don’t know. Not—” Polly winced and nearly doubled over with the force of a contraction. “Not very far,” she said when she could speak again.
“I’ll get some clothes on. Have you called anyone? A cab? An ambulance?” She knew Polly didn’t have a telephone, either, but she had to ask. Maybe she’d used the pay phone down in the lobby.
Polly shook her head. “I got rattled,” she admitted. “I couldn’t think what to do. This wasn’t supposed to happen for another week or two.”
“I know. Hold on just a second, I’ll be right back.” Dallas sprinted for the bedroom. She threw on the blouse and jeans she’d worn earlier, slid her feet into a pair of loafers and ran her fingers through her hair, wishing she had a phone.
Less than five minutes had passed when she rejoined Polly. Dallas was appalled to find Polly writhing in the grip of another contraction. “Oh, hell,” she murmured. “They are close, aren’t they?”
Polly only nodded, her lips tightly compressed.
Dallas had been trained in first aid, knew the rudiments of delivering a b
aby if she had to. She very much hoped she wouldn’t have to. Her movements swift and efficient, voice brusque and bracing, she helped Polly remove the drenched nightgown and replace it with an oversize nightshirt of Dallas’s. The garment usually hung on Dallas; it barely stretched over Polly’s swollen stomach. Then Dallas wrapped her in a blanket from her bed and hustled her toward the door. “Okay, let’s go,” she said. “We’ll try to get a cab downstairs.”
She would have liked to call Sam to come after them, but regardless of the circumstances, she had to keep their cover in mind. To anyone watching, Dallas was no more than Polly’s pregnant friend, offering support and assistance in Polly’s time of need.
They made it to the hospital with little time to spare. A harried nurse announced that Polly was already fully dilated and the baby had dropped into position. “You the coach?” the nurse asked Dallas, glancing downward at Dallas’s bulging middle. “If so, you’re going to have to wash up and try to get into a scrub suit.”
“Oh, I’m not—”
“Yes!” Polly gasped, reaching out to clutch Dallas’s arm. She looked younger and more vulnerable without her armor of makeup and hairspray. And she looked scared. “She’s my coach,” she told the nurse. She looked up at Dallas from the wheelchair in which someone had stashed her. “Go in with me. You owe me this,” she added quietly.
Dallas nodded. “All right. I’ll wash up.”
* * *
POLLY’S DAUGHTER ARRIVED less than an hour later—a fast, startlingly smooth delivery. The baby was wrinkled, gooey and loud in her protests at her abrupt change in surroundings. Looking at the tiny, disgruntled face surrounded by a mop of wet, dark curls, Dallas thought she’d never seen anything more beautiful in her life.
A nurse with a smile in her eyes carefully deposited the minute bundle into Polly’s arms. Sweaty, exhausted and still dazed, Polly looked down at her daughter, and then up at Dallas. Her dark eyes were filled with tears, for the first time since Dallas had known her. “She really is pretty, isn’t she?” Polly asked, her voice hoarse.
Dallas had to swallow hard before she could answer. “She’s beautiful, Polly. She looks very much like you.”
“Yeah. She sort of does, doesn’t she?” Polly looked back down again, and laughed softly when the baby threw out a tiny hand and clipped her mother neatly across the chin.
* * *
IT WAS NEARLY THREE in the morning when Dallas dialed Sam’s number from an isolated telephone in a conveniently deserted waiting room. His voice was gruff when he answered after three rings. She could picture him so clearly—his eyes heavy with sleep, his hair tousled, his chest bare above the gym shorts he favored for sleeping. She closed her eyes and savored the image, which had kept her company for the past two lonely days—and nights. “It’s me,” she said.
He sounded instantly more alert. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to let you know that Polly had her baby. A girl. I was with her when it was born.”
“You delivered it?” he asked, sounding startled.
She smiled and shook her head, as though he could see her. “No. We made it to the hospital. I was her coach. She had it so quickly that there wasn’t time to give her any painkillers. She had to deliver naturally. She did great. Hardly even groaned, though I could tell it hurt like hell.”
“Polly’s tough,” Sam reminded her.
Dallas thought of the softness on Polly’s face when she’d looked down at her child. “In some ways,” she agreed.
“A girl, huh?”
“Yes, and she’s perfect. All her fingers and toes. A headful of hair. She’s beautiful.”
“Blivens will like that.”
Dallas almost shuddered at the unpleasant reminder. “Yeah.”
“You think Polly’s going to keep the kid? Once we have the brokers in custody, I mean.”
“I think so. I think she fell in love the minute they put the baby in her arms. I think it’s the first time she’s loved anyone in a very long time.”
“Might be better for her to give it up. Legally,” he added. “What kind of mother will she make, being a hooker?”
“A former hooker,” Dallas reminded him a bit defensively. “She wouldn’t be the first to successfully turn her life around.”
“She’d be one of a very few,” he countered.
Dallas shrugged. “There’s always a chance.”
Sam sighed heavily through the phone line. “Always the optimist.”
“And you’re always a pessimist. So maybe the truth lies somewhere in between.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” He paused a moment, then commented, “You sound dead on your feet. Tired?”
“Very,” she admitted, rubbing wearily at the back of her neck. “But I wanted to let you know what had happened before I head back to the apartment.”
“I’m glad you did.”
There was a brief silence before Sam spoke again. “I don’t like you being out alone at this hour. Want me to pick you up and give you a ride back to the apartment?”
Dallas shook her head, then remembered to verbalize the gesture. “No. Too risky.”
“But—”
“I’m used to being on the streets at all hours, Sam. I’m a cop, remember?” she asked pointedly.
“Yeah,” he said flatly. “I remember.”
She didn’t reply. She couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Be careful,” Sam said after a moment.
“I will,” she promised.
He detained her just as she was about to disconnect the call. “Uh, Dallas?”
“What?”
“This is something else I couldn’t plan—if I went back to school, I mean,” he said, stumbling a bit.
She frowned. “What are you talking about?”
He cleared his throat. “Babies. Family. It would be several years before I’d be in any position to—well, you know.”
Her cheeks warmed. “I—uh—didn’t know you were planning to start a family anytime soon,” she said, trying to sound offhand about it.
“I wasn’t,” he assured her hastily. “I just— It was just something that crossed my mind,” he added, sounding uncharacteristically awkward.
“Oh. Well, lots of people these days are waiting to have families,” she said, twisting the telephone cord around her finger. “Getting their careers established first. I’ve always figured I’ve got another fifteen years or so left for that sort of thing, myself. Not that we were talking about me, of course,” she added hastily, thoroughly relieved that he couldn’t see her flaming cheeks.
Sam didn’t seem to notice her embarrassment as he doggedly continued. “What I mean is, it’s ridiculous to even think about putting my life on hold to go back to school at this point.”
Dallas was beginning to wonder which of them he was working hardest to convince—her, or himself. “It’s ridiculous to throw your life away doing something you don’t want to be doing,” she argued.
He muttered something unintelligible. After another pause, he said, “This is a really stupid time to discuss this. The middle of the night, over the phone—I don’t know what made me bring it up again.”
Dallas suspected that the subject hadn’t been off his mind since he’d been offered the promotion. It was eating at him. He felt torn between taking that bold risk and pursuing his old dream, or staying on the more secure path of the career he’d already carved out.
She wasn’t without sympathy for him over his quandary, but she had seen the look in his eyes when he’d talked about his former plans. Sam would never be truly fulfilled, completely happy, as long as he stayed in a career he’d never wanted. His dissatisfaction was more than the usual burnout, more than a promotion and an increase in salary could remedy. His was a soul-deep disappointment that would always be there, would always haunt him with “what might have been.”
How long would it be before his discontentment and her impatience drove them apart?
“You’re ri
ght,” she said finally, one hand pressed to her aching back. “This is a lousy time to discuss this. You’re going to have to make your own decisions, Sam. You know what my opinion is.”
“It’s not that I don’t value your opinion, Dallas.”
She lifted her hand to her temple, which had started to ache along with her back and legs. She was tired and discouraged, painfully aware of a nagging little I-told-you-so voice inside her head—a voice that had warned her all along against becoming involved with Sam Perry. Hadn’t she always known that they were just too different? That they were ill-matched as partners, much less as lovers. “I’ve got to go, Sam. I’m really tired,” she murmured.
“Yeah. Get some rest. We’ll talk again soon.”
Dallas hung up with a heavy heart. She wasn’t looking forward to that next talk. What if she found herself unable to accept what he would say? Chances were that he would tell her he’d accepted the promotion.
She didn’t know whether he hoped to continue their relationship, and she no longer knew how she felt about it, herself. She loved Sam, and she respected the accomplishments he’d made in a career that he felt had been thrust upon him. But she’d worked so hard to pursue her own dreams, had refused to let anything stand in her way. Could she continue to respect Sam if she always secretly believed he’d been afraid to do the same for himself?
* * *
BLIVENS WAS JUST LEAVING Polly’s hospital room when Dallas returned that evening. Standing just outside Polly’s door, the hard-faced landlady glanced down at Dallas’s stomach. “When’s yours due?”
“Another couple of weeks,” Dallas replied. “How is Polly?”
Blivens shrugged. “Seems okay.”
“The baby’s beautiful, isn’t she?”
Blivens shot Dallas a sharp look. “I guess.”
“I’m sure Myra’s pleased.”
Scowling, Blivens looked quickly around. “Shut up,” she muttered. “Not here.”
Dallas looked suitably chastened. “Sorry. But tell Myra hello for me. I hope she can pay me a visit when my own baby gets here.” She stressed the word pay.
Blivens, hardly rocket-scientist material, got the hint. Her squinty eyes lighted up with an avaricious gleam and she smiled down at Dallas’s stomach. “I’ll tell her you said so.”