There was no time to think about Josie’s legs now.
It wasn’t the most productive week of his life, that was for sure.
He did—with about a thousand dollars’ worth of phone calls—track down the jade shipment that he could have simply discovered on his own if he’d been in New York. He did get the cadre of Hong Kong businessmen, who had expected to see him next week, rescheduled for next month. He even got Mr. Rajchakit pacified with an agreement that they would meet in New York in two weeks’ time. Sam wasn’t sure he could make that meeting, either.
It depended on how quickly Josie came to her senses. Or how successful she was at driving him away.
He didn’t want to admit it, but she was doing a pretty good job.
It was clear as Waterford crystal that she didn’t want him here and was doing her best to make sure he left. There was continual noise and furore wherever he was, yet somehow she managed to keep a serene ambience for the guests.
While he was knee-deep in wallpaper, dust and fresh paint, everyone else seemed to be treated to a haven of tranquility. He didn’t understand how Josie could provide peace and calm for them and produce a tornado of activity wherever he was trying to get some work done—but she did.
It took him five days to find his first bit of respite. He thought it was because he’d fooled her, sneaking into the Captain’s Quarters to do some work.
He knew the room was rented that night, but he’d taken the call that said the guests—a honeymooning couple—wouldn’ t be arriving until late.
Great, he thought, and he barricaded himself in there without telling Josie.
He spent three hours in perfect solitude and caught up on the paperwork Elinor had faxed him. He even managed to make a few uninterrupted phone calls. No one put scaffolding over his head or painted around his chair or handed him a cat to hold.
At six, he felt as if he had conquered Everest. He swept the last piece of paper off his desk, then stood up and stretched mightily.
His back ached from having been bent over his desk so long. “You’re out of shape,” he chided himself. He picked up the papers, checked the room to make sure it was ready for the incoming guests, and then let himself out into the hall.
The whole house was quiet. In Mrs. Shields’ and Mr. Shields’ Rooms he could hear the soft murmur of already arrived guests. A couple were sitting in the Rose Parlor sipping sherry and reading the newspaper. Sam expected Josie to be there, pointing out church steeples and spouting off about local history. But she wasn’t there. Errol Flynn was curled up under the fern stand. In the curved window overlooking the porch and the city, he saw Wallace Beery peering out. The cat turned his head when Sam came in.
“Where’s Josie?” Sam asked him.
Wallace yawned.
The doorbell rang. Sam didn’t answer it.
He had been told in no uncertain terms that it wasn’t his job. It wasn’t necessary. So he scratched Wallace’s ears and was rewarded with a purr of contentment.
The doorbell rang again.
Sam waited, expecting to hear Josie’s footsteps coming from the kitchen. The couple in the Rose Parlor looked at him expectantly. He frowned and poked his head in the butler’s pantry. “Josie?”
He went on through the pantry to the kitchen. No one was there. He could see Cletus out back, watering flats of bedding plants. Josie wasn’t with him.
Sam started to go back to answer the door. Benjamin was there before him, ushering the guests in.
“—not as quick as I used to be,” he was apologizing to the two ladies who had been ringing the bell. “Shoulda been here to meet you. Live just down the way.” He jerked his head toward the little house down the bluff. “Let me take those suitcases for you. This here’s Sam,” he said with another jerk of his head as they passed. “That there’s Wallace Beery.”
Sam smiled. Wallace purred. Benjamin ushered the guests up the steps.
It was an improvement, Sam thought When Benjamin introduced him, he got top billing over the cat.
“Where’s Josie?”
“She asked me to see to the place for a while,” Benjamin said over his shoulder. “Right this way, ladies.”
Benjamin did host duties the rest of the evening. Josie didn’t show up for dinner, either. Sam wondered if she had gone out.
She hadn’t had a day off since he’d been here, and of course she had a right to one, but she could have told him, he thought, nettled.
He fixed a meal for himself and Benjamin, hoping that the normally loquacious Benjamin would tell him where Josie had gone.
But, as far as Josie went, Benjamin had nothing to say.
He told stories about when he and Walter had plied the boat up and down the Mississippi. It sounded idyllic to Sam. A Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn sort of life. Tempting.
Sam remembered when Walter had still been alive, and they’d gone out on the river in his small boat to one of the islands where they’d cooked over an open fire and told stories far into the night.
Josie had been there, that night, her eyes bright, her face smiling, eager to hear the next outrageous tale. He could remember watching her, amused at her avid expression and her enthusiasm. She’d wanted to try rafting herself after that, and she’d set to making one the next day.
Sam had thought she’d give up after a few hours. He’d been wrong. it had taken her three days to cut the wood and fit it together, working stubbornly all the while. He remembered when she’d taken it out for its maiden voyage—how radiant she’d looked, how supremely satisfied that she’d done it. She’d been dirty and mosquito-bitten and sunburned, and he didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone with a wider smile.
He thought he remembered catching a glimpse of that smile the night they’d made love.
After Benjamin left, Sam sat in the parlor by himself, looking out across the city and the river, and thought about those times—and that night—and Josie.
He’d rarely let himself think about her since the night he’d slept with her.
It had seemed smarter not to dwell on it. There had been no point—she was Kurt’s, not his.
But now?
She wasn’t Kurt’s any longer.
She wasn’t his, either.
Still, this woman he barely knew—except for her stubbornness and her kindness to strangers and her smile—was going to be the mother of his child.
And he didn’t have any idea where she was! Or who she was with. He raked his fingers through his hair and paced the length of the parlor. Damn her!
Nine turned to ten. Ten turned to eleven. No Josie.
He was wearing a hole in the rug with his prowling. Had she gone out with one of her friends? With Kurt?
The thought made him quicken his pace. He stopped by the phone, stared at it, then snatched up the phone book and looked for Kurt’s number. He punched it in, wondering what he’d say if she answered. No one answered. Only an answering machine.
“This is Kurt Masters. I’m out for the evening. Please leave a message at the tone.”
Sam slammed the phone down.
Out for the evening? With Josie?
Damn it, he wanted to know!
The doorbell rang.
He let the late arrivals in. It was the honeymooners who were going to stay in the Captain’s Quarters.
“Hope you weren’t waiting up just for us,” the bride said, smiling.
Sam shook his head. “No.” Despite his worry, the sight of them made him smile. The bride was still in her wedding dress, holding a layer of cake, and the groom in his tux had a pizza box in his hands.
“We didn’t get to eat at the reception,” the bride explained. “Hope you don’t mind.”
Bemused, Sam shook his head. He showed them to their room, gave them his best wishes and hoped that the traditional bottle of champagne Josie always left cooling in the ice bucket on the desk would go well with their pizza.
Then he noticed the champagne wasn’t there.
He frowned. I
t wasn’t like her to forget something like that. He’d expected she’d come in after he left Obviously she hadn’t. “I’ll be right back. Newlyweds are supposed to get a bottle of champagne.”
The bride, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, tearing off a slice of pepperoni pizza, beamed at him.
The groom said, “I don’t suppose you could make that a couple of beers?”
“Sure,” Sam said. “Whatever you want.”
He took the stairs two at a time down to the refrigerator, where he grabbed an entire six-pack and went back. “Here you go. Anything else you need, let us know.”
“We won’t need anything else,” the bride assured him. She smiled at her groom.
He smiled back.
They both looked at the whirlpool bath and then the bed.
“Right,” Sam said. He let himself out and shut the door.
Where the hell was Josie?
He knocked on her door. There was no response. But he saw a sliver of light beneath the door. Had she been here all the time?
“Josie?”
Nothing. He waited. “Josie.” He allowed his voice to sound firmer this time.
Finally he heard the soft sound of footsteps. The lock clicked. The door opened.
Sam stared at the sight of her. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing.”
It was clearly a lie. Josie looked as terrible as he’d ever seen her. Her face was ashen, her lips a dark smudge against the whiteness around them, her eyes like burnt holes.
He pushed open the door and brushed past her into her small sitting room. “What’s wrong?”
She was wearing a robe and nightgown, the same ones she’d worn the night he’d taken her to his room, and they barely seemed to cover her abdomen. She hugged her arms across her breasts and shrugged awkwardly. “It’s just...contracoions.”
“Contractions? Now? You’re having the baby now?”
“No. Of course not.” She shrugged. “At least...I hope not.” The last three words were not spoken so much as breathed. She started to shake.
Sam cursed and put his arm around her, urging her toward the bedroom. “You need to be in bed.”
“I was in bed.”
“Sorry. Why the hell didn’t you say?” He was practically shoving her now, trying to get her back there before she had the baby in the hall.
She didn’t answer. She tried to shrug him off, but he wasn’t being shrugged. He stayed right with her, pulling back the duvet and lifting her feet for her once she sat down, then tucking the duvet around her.
“Did you call the doctor?”
“Not this time.”
“What do you mean, not this time? How the hell often does it happen?”
“Don’t swear,” she said wearily. “The baby can hear you.”
“Babies react to tone of voice, not words.” He didn’t know if that was true, but it sounded plausible. “Call the doctor.”
“There’s no point He’ll just tell me to lie down. I’ve been lying down.” She looked as white as the sheet on which she lay.
“When did they start?”
“About lunchtime.”
“Lunchtime!”
“Not regularly,” she said quickly. “Well, not very regularly.” She turned her head away from him. Her fingers plucked at the duvet. “I just need to rest.” Her voice was reedy, not firm. He saw her swallow. She wouldn’t look at him.
“I’m calling the doctor.”
She started to sit up. “You don’t need—”
“I do need. I don’t even know your doctor! I’ve never met him. Or her,” he added after a moment, recalling their conversation about the wallpaperer.
“Him,” Josie admitted gruffly.
“What’s his name?”
For a minute he didn’t think she was going to tell him. He wondered if he’d have to resort to shaking it out of her.
“Dr. Bastrop,” she said reluctantly. “But you shouldn’t be bothering him. Really. It’s a Saturday night.”
“Do all babies come nine-to-five Monday through Friday in your world?” Sam found the number in the phone book and was punching it in as he spoke.
“He won’t be able to do anything! He’ll just say I should go to bed and rest.”
“We’ll see,” Sam said. Then, “This is Sam Fletcher. Get me Dr. Bastrop. At once.”
Five minutes, one answering service operator and a doctor later, they were on their way to the hospital.
Josie could see why Sam was a successful CEO. Without raising his voice, without leaning on anyone, he bent the entire medical establishment to his will.
If she had called Dr. Bastrop’s answering service, she’d have got a call-back. Then she would have been soothed, her fears would have been minimized, her desperation treated lightly. And that would have been the end of it.
Sam got action.
“Let’s go,” he said as he hung up and pulled the duvet off her. “We’re going to the hospital.”
Josie didn’t move. She huddled in the bed, her arms wrapped around her. A contraction was squeezing her abdomen and she shook her head quickly. “No.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. The doctor’s on his way. He’s meeting us there.”
Still Josie didn’t move. She breathed lightly, shallowly, and tried to will it away. Something in her very stillness must have communicated itself to Sam. Suddenly he cursed again and hunkered down beside her.
“You’re having one now.” It wasn’t a question. “Bad?”
She gave a quick negative shake and sniffled. “I don’t think so. They don’t hurt really. It’s just—just—” She tried to sound calm. She didn’t manage it. By the last few words, she reached a wail. “I don’t know! What if it’s coming? It’s too early!”
“Which is why we have to get you to the hospital.” He was so close she could feel his breath against her arm, his gaze intent on her. “Is it easing up? Can you sit up?”
She nodded shakily.
“Come on, then.” Next thing she knew he had an arm around her and was raising her to a sitting position. Then he slipped his other arm beneath her knees. “I’ll carry you.”
Josie sat bolt-upright. “You won’t carry me!” She dragged her robe around herself tightly. “Get out of here.”
“You’ve got to go to the hospital, Josie.”
“Then I’ll go to the hospital. But I’m walking in under my own power. And I’m getting dressed first, so just get out of here so I can!”
He hesitated. She thought he might fling some comment at her about having seen all she had to offer already. But finally he nodded. “I’ll wait right outside the door.”
He went out and shut it behind him. His footsteps didn’t move away, so she imagined he was being as good as his word.
As soon as the door was firmly shut, she got shakily to her feet and began to dress. A contraction stopped her in the middle of pulling on a sweater. It was stronger than the others, and she bent over, scared to death.
It would solve a lot of her problems, she knew, if she lost this baby. But she didn’t want to lose it! That was the one thing she’d known from the moment she’d learned she was pregnant. She stayed huddled and bent until the contraction passed.
“Josie?” Sam’s voice was quiet, but persistent on the far side of the door.
“Wait.” She finished pulling on the sweater.
“Ready?” Sam said just as she sat down to put on her sandals. And whether she was or not didn’t seem to matter. He opened the door.
“Here. I’ll do that.” And before she realized it, he was kneeling in front of her, slipping her feet into her shoes.
His short sun-bleached hair brushed against her denim-clad knees as he bent to his task. She could feel his fingers as they fumbled with the buckles. But he was much better at it than she was at the moment
“It’s a luxury,” she couldn’t help saying, “having someone else put on my shoes.”
He looked up at her, past h
er enormous belly. Their eyes met. She ventured a tiny smile. He smiled back.
It was the first time she could remember them smiling at each other since he’d walked in the door a week ago. It was a silly thing to smile about. It made her want to cry. Furiously she blinked back tears.
“Come on.” Sam slipped an arm around her and drew her to her feel. “Let’s go.”
“I have to call Benjamin. Someone has to cover the house and the phones.”
“I already called him.”
When they got to the door, Benjamin was coming up the steps. He looked as if he’d been sleeping. He hadn’t combed his hair and his shirt was untucked as he burst in the door.
“You all right?” he asked Josie. Without even waiting for an answer, he fixed his gaze on Sam. “You don’t let anything happen to her, hear?”
Sam nodded. “Loud and clear.”
The doctor had beaten them to the hospital. He was waiting in the emergency room when they got there. A big man, with salt-and-pepper hair and a walrus mustache, he had an easy-going, bluff manner that Josie found comforting.
He smiled now. “Had to brighten up my Saturday night, didn’t you?”
“I’m sorry,” Josie babbled. “I’m sure it’s nothing. It’s just that he—he—” her gaze went to Sam, who still hadn’t let go of her elbow “—he wanted to be sure.”
Dr. Bastrop’s gaze met Sam’s. He knew Josie hadn’t wanted to drag her baby’s father into her pregnancy. He didn’t approve, but he didn’t say so. Now he seemed to be taking Sam’s measure, looking him over, assessing him. Unblinking, Sam stared back.
Finally Dr. Bastrop nodded. “Well, let’s just have a look then, shall we?”
Sam started to follow them into the examining room but Dr. Bastrop glanced over his shoulder. “You can’t help with this part. Go pace in the corridor. I’ll call you when I know where we stand.”
For a minute Josie thought Sam might argue. But then he nodded and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I’ll wait here.”
It wasn’t comfortable, but then little that went along with having a baby—besides the initial act—was, in Josie’s opinion.
When he’d finished his examination and she was dressed again, she sat on the edge of the table and watched Dr. Bastrop’s face, trying to read his expression.
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