by Linda Warren
“If your thesis is so important, why are you talking to us?” Zora asked.
“I’m taking a break.”
The doorbell rang. “Who could that be at eight o’clock on a Friday night?” Zora dismissed her own question when she added, “Maybe a friend of Karen’s.” Karen, whose longtime friends occasionally dropped by unannounced, was attending a play at South Coast Repertory with Melissa.
“I’ll get it.” Lucky pushed back his chair.
But Anya had a pretty good idea who it might be. “Stay there,” she commanded and hurried to the front hall.
When she opened the door, there towered Jack, dark hair mussed and green eyes as hard as emeralds.
The first time she’d seen him, she’d had to catch her breath. Then she’d found out she’d been chosen to assist this brilliant surgeon with movie-star looks, and a tremor had gone through Anya’s knees. In the year since then, he’d grown more handsome, more confident and more terrifying, especially when he was angry, like now.
The impulse to apologize nearly wrenched a “sorry” from her lips. She bit down so hard her teeth hurt. Okay, he had good reason to be mad, but ultimately, there was no debate. He had to sign the waiver.
She ought to warn him that they had an audience within earshot. But Anya couldn’t force out the words. Guilty twinges about sending Edmond in her stead, and about taking St. John’s wort, quivered through her. Or possibly that was morning-and-evening sickness.
He was waiting for her to speak first. Finally, she managed to say, “I gather you met Edmond.”
“I can’t believe you did that.” When Jack glared, his body seemed to grow to mammoth size, like a genie released from a bottle. “How do you think I felt when a lawyer informed me I was going to be a father? Oh, and here, sign away your rights on the dotted line while we’re at it.”
“You don’t have any rights. It’s a legal dodge dreamed up by male legislators to oppress women.” Anya had no idea if that was true—it might have been a court ruling. But the point was the same.
“You think I’d dismiss having a child that lightly?” he demanded.
“Think about the alternative,” she retorted. “Have you ever raised a baby? I helped raise three of them. They stole my adolescence. That was enough.”
“I didn’t realize it was such a burden.” Her anecdotes about her sisters, which she’d shared in bits and pieces during their operating room discussions, had often been humorous.
“They’re sweethearts,” Anya conceded. “But when they were little, I used to cry myself to sleep thinking about the stacks of diapers and the endless chores around the house.”
Jack’s manner softened slightly. “I can imagine that colored your assumptions rather darkly. But you’re not an adolescent and we aren’t discussing your sisters.”
“To me, adoption is the only reasonable choice,” she told him.
“We’re having a child,” he replied quietly. “This is not something you just throw away.”
Providing a child with an adoring family hardly constituted throwing it away. But that wasn’t the point. “What’s your assumption—that I’ll raise it because you say so?” Anya asked. “That I’ll be a robot you can order around for the next twenty years?” She’d lived through that experience already. Once was enough.
“Of course not.” Jack shifted uncomfortably. “How about inviting me in?”
Because there was nothing to be gained by rudeness, she moved aside. As he entered, Jack peered around and gravitated to the now-empty living room. Good. All the same, their voices could carry.
“I should warn you...” she began.
He took up a stance in front of the curio cabinet. “I won’t sign the waiver until I’m sure the baby is mine.”
His statement drove all other considerations from Anya’s mind. “You think I sleep around?”
“I didn’t mean that.” Jack stuck his hands in his pockets. “But I’d like confirmation.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“It’s a simple blood test,” he said.
“You have incredible nerve!” Her earlier hesitation evaporated in the face of this insult.
“Then my consent will have to wait until after the baby’s born so we can test it on its own.” His level tone proved just as maddening as his outrageous demand.
“I can’t wait that long. I need to choose an adoptive family who’ll pay my bills.” The attorney had explained that it was customary for the adopting parents to pay expenses related to the pregnancy, such as medical care, maternity clothing and other necessities.
“I’ll pay your bills,” Jack told her.
“I don’t want your money!” Accepting his support would put her completely at his mercy.
Even though his hands were in his pockets, she could see them form into fists. “Why do you refuse to acknowledge that I have a stake in this pregnancy?”
“Because any stake you have is nothing compared to...” Anya broke off because her stomach was in full rebellion. Please don’t let me throw up in Karen’s living room. Losing her balance, she grabbed an end table, an unfortunate choice. The thing wobbled and then tipped, sending her and a lamp crashing to the floor.
“Anya!” Jack rushed to catch her, too late to prevent a painful bump on her hip. Still, his strong arms prevented any further tumbling.
Had she broken Karen’s lamp? Mercifully, it appeared intact on the carpet.
Footsteps thudded. Around the corner rushed Zora and Lucky, colliding by the stairs. “Back off, you big oaf!” Darting under his arm, Zora hurried forward.
Lucky stayed in place, surveying the scene. “I guess this answers the question of who the dad is.”
Jack’s lip curled. “You told them you were pregnant before you told me?”
“It slipped out.” Anya wiggled free from his grasp. Her stomach had subsided, thank goodness, but her temper hadn’t. “You see what I have to go through? My tummy hurts, my feet hurt and I can’t imagine how I’ll feel when I’m as big as this house.”
Zora helped her up, with Jack taking the other side and assisting her to the couch. “Men have it easy,” her friend added.
“He wants me to take a DNA test,” Anya said.
“She hired a lawyer to break the news to me,” Jack defended himself to their audience of two.
“Pretty cold,” Lucky agreed from across the room. “Seriously, Anya, a lawyer?”
“I can’t believe you’re taking his side.” Zora straightened the table while Jack gingerly lifted the lamp. “Or maybe I should expect that. After all, guys stick together, don’t they?”
“There are no sides,” Jack said. “I’m here to help Anya, not hurt her. But getting back to our topic, how else can I declare legally that I’m the father? I’m not her husband or even her steady boyfriend. If I sign those papers without proof that I’m the father, I could be guilty of defrauding the adoptive parents. If some other guy shows up later and claims paternity, it would be a painful mess.”
Judging by Lucky’s nods, that argument must make sense from a male perspective. Anya was insulted all over again. However, much as she resented Jack’s attitude, the alternative—waiting until she gave birth before choosing adoptive parents—was unacceptable. “If I take a DNA test, you’ll relinquish your rights?”
That stopped him briefly. “I’ll consider it.”
“Not good enough.”
“Once the baby’s born, he can get a court order for the test,” Lucky reminded her.
“What kind of judge would let him stick a needle in a helpless baby?” Zora flared.
“All newborns have a few drops taken from their heels to screen for serious medical conditions,” Jack informed her. “It’s no big deal.”
The discussion swirled around Anya as if she weren’t there or weren’t the primary person carrying this baby. It reminded her unhappily of her family’s behavior at Christmas as they discussed why she ought to move back to Colorado.
Suddenly q
ueasy again, she gripped the arm of the couch. No one had bothered to ask if she’d like a cup of tea or anything else.
That gave her an idea.
* * *
FRUSTRATED, JACK wondered how to penetrate the guard Anya had raised around herself. He’d stated his case, including his willingness to support her. Now he had to deal with her roommate fluttering around, raising objections. Thank goodness the male nurse had grasped his point. The guy was improving on closer acquaintance.
Jack’s request was perfectly rational, and Anya would realize that if she weren’t so—well, not irrational but far from completely objective. Pregnancy hormones were well known to affect moods.
Stop thinking like a doctor, and pay attention. What was it that lawyer had recommended? Oh, yes, communicating, listening and weighing all aspects.
Focusing on Anya, Jack saw that she’d gone pale again and was hanging on to the arm of the couch. “You obviously feel lousy,” he said. “Should I get a basin?”
Her chin came up. Although he wished she were less stubborn, he admired her spirit.
“Ice cream,” she told him. “Lucky ate the last of it earlier.”
“There was only one scoop,” protested her housemate from his post by the stairs.
“Two scoops. The one in your bowl and the one you ate standing over the sink,” Zora corrected. “Lucky should go out for more.”
“Jack can do it.” Resolve strengthened Anya’s words. “If I have to go through this, you shouldn’t get off scot-free. It’s only fair that you share some of the burden.”
“You mean earn the right to a DNA test?” he asked drily.
“I wouldn’t exactly put it that way,” Anya said, “but you should be willing to help out.”
“I can make grocery runs.” He nodded. “What else?”
“Foot massages would be nice.” She regarded him as if testing the waters.
That might be fun. “I’m happy to.” And after the stories she’d told him about the work she’d done for her sisters and mother, Jack supposed it was about time someone—namely, him—did the same for her. “Sure, bring it on. Whatever you need.”
“My favorite flavor is butterscotch,” Lucky said.
“Chocolate,” Zora put in.
“Take a hike,” Anya told them both. “It’s vanilla with caramel ripples.”
“Hold on.” Jack had no intention of becoming the household puppet. “I’m helping Anya and only Anya. But how long before you take the blood test?”
“You’re the doctor,” she said. “How soon is it feasible?”
That would be at about nine weeks. “Rough estimate, two weeks from now. Do we have a deal?”
“Maybe.” To the others, she said, “This is between Jack and me, guys.”
With a shrug, Lucky retreated. Zora wrinkled her nose, but she, too, departed.
Sitting beside Anya and taking her hands in his, Jack found them unexpectedly warm. Blood volume increased during pregnancy by as much as 50 percent, but mostly in the later stages.
You’re thinking like a doctor again.
“Let’s agree on terms,” he said.
“Terms?”
No sense risking a misunderstanding. “If I do as you ask, do you promise to take the test as soon as your OB approves?”
“Yes. And then you promise to sign the paper,” she countered.
Jack’s chest squeezed. He remembered Tiffany and Amber as toddlers, running to him with hugs and butterfly kisses, playing horse by climbing onto his back and tumbling off with shrieks of glee.
But that wasn’t the same as being a single father. Parenthood was a commitment that should take priority over everything else. How could Jack meet the child’s emotional and practical needs while building his medical practice and paying off educational loans? It would be different if Anya were willing to participate, but alone, how could he provide the kind of loving, attentive home this little one deserved? As much as it hurt, he couldn’t.
“If you’re still absolutely determined to seek adoption at that time, I’ll sign.”
“Define absolutely.”
Her response startled a chuckle from him. “You missed your calling. You should have been a lawyer.”
“Don’t change the subject.” She left her hands in his.
“You have to be willing to discuss the issue frankly,” Jack said. “No avoidance.”
“That’s my survival strategy,” she protested. “Duck and run.”
“Like hiring an attorney to break the news to me.”
She flushed. “Sorry about that.”
“So you agree to be straight with me about adoption? If your feelings change, I have a right to know.”
Slowly, Anya nodded. “Okay, after we get the results of the DNA test, I’ll think it over carefully. But if you fail your part and don’t take care of me to my satisfaction, you’ll sign after two weeks without a DNA test. Because if you won’t even inconvenience yourself that much, you have no business insisting I raise a child.”
“Help raise a child.”
“Mothers do two-thirds of the work even under the best of circumstances.”
“It depends on the father, but let’s stay on topic.” Although tempted to demand an objective standard for judging his cooperation, Jack had to admit that would be difficult. And he didn’t believe Anya intended to cheat him. He’d already insulted her enough by requiring a DNA test to confirm his paternity. However, he still had to be clear about this bargain they were striking. “I’ll let you decide whether I’ve kept my part of the bargain, but your demands have to be reasonable.”
“Define...”
“...reasonable,” he finished for her. “No jerking me around.”
“Such as?” she demanded.
“No phoning in the middle of the night for something minor like rubbing your feet, unless you allow me to move in with you.” Jack hadn’t been angling for any such thing, but now that he thought about it...
“That won’t be necessary,” she said quickly. “What else?”
“No interrupting my work unless it’s an emergency.”
“Of course not.” Anya regarded him indignantly. “I’d never interfere with patient care. Even if I keel over during surgery, you keep at it. Somebody else can cart me off.”
“We’ll see.” Jack hoped nothing like that would happen. “Have we covered everything?”
“I guess so.” Anya released a long breath.
He transferred her right hand into his and shook it. “Done. Jack Ryder agrees to approximately two weeks of catering to Anya Meeks’s pregnancy-related needs. In return for which she agrees to take a DNA test.”
“And then he agrees to sign the relinquishment.”
“If she’s still set on adoption,” he concluded. “Can we stop referring to ourselves in the third person now?”
She chuckled. “This is a funny bargain.”
It felt strange to Jack, too—but rather pleasant. “As long as we’re both satisfied, I deem these negotiations successful.”
“You actually listened to me,” she said with a touch of wonder.
“That surprises you?” He hadn’t meant to ride roughshod over her in the past.
“It’s not what I’m used to.” She tilted her head. “What now?”
“Vanilla,” he said, rising.
“With caramel ripples. Better get extra,” she warned. “My roommates are a hungry lot.”
“Anything else you need at the store?” Jack asked. “Fresh vegetables? Yogurt? Milk?”
A few minutes later, shopping list in hand, he decamped. Darkness had fallen over the marsh, punctuated by chirps and whirring noises above the thrum of the ocean. A sea breeze had eased the rotten egg smell, and a pale winter moon hung low in the sky.
Jack’s instincts warned that by agreeing to sign the waiver, he was embarking on a path that would affect him for the rest of his life. Until now, in many ways, he’d been in control of his destiny, or he’d imagined he was.
The idea of losing his child, knowing those special moments and precious photos would belong to another family, nearly made him rush inside to retract his offer. Yet these days, birth parents weren’t necessarily kept in total ignorance of their child’s well-being. The right parents could notify him and Anya about the baby’s health and progress. He’d know for certain that his child was loved and happy.
A lump formed in Jack’s throat. He’d never expected to face such a difficult situation. And not only in regard to the baby.
The sight of Anya stumbling, flailing in vain for a grip and falling, had wrenched at him. She was in this vulnerable state partly because of his actions.
Fortunately, there was an upside to their pact. Although he couldn’t be here every minute to catch her, their agreement meant he didn’t have to keep his distance either.
His spirits rising, Jack set out for the market.
Chapter Eight
“I should never have let you go to that house alone.” Rod, his gray-laced brown hair sticking out wildly, stalked around the apartment living room. “You’ve been railroaded.”
“Brush your hair,” Jack told him.
“What?” Patting the top of his head, the older man stopped pacing. Earlier, he’d taken Danica out for brunch while wearing his fedora. Now, he smoothed his disheveled mop, though it was a lost cause. “Don’t change the subject.”
“I wasn’t trying to.” Stretched out on the sofa, Jack used his phone to order underwear and socks from his favorite online retailer. The old stuff had become frayed, and you never knew who might see it.
“You made this unholy concession Friday night and you’re only breaking the news to me on Sunday afternoon—that means you’re embarrassed about it,” Rod declared. “Didn’t you learn anything from my mistakes?”
“I have enough trouble learning from my own mistakes,” Jack replied. “As for why I’m just telling you now, I was working Saturday and by the time you got back from feeding the animals”—his uncle volunteered at the Oahu Lane Shelter—“I wasn’t in the mood to discuss it.”
“Because you knew I’d hit the roof.”