by Melissa Hill
‘Well, I’m sure you’ll have lots to choose from,’ Emer said shortly, and again she noticed a disapproving edge to her friend’s tone, as if having a designer wardrobe was yet another example of Jess’s trivial priorities.
When had this happened? Jess wondered. When had the things in life she’d enjoyed, things like nice clothes and staying in good hotels change from being rewards of her hard work, to symbols of her superficiality?
Eventually, she got up from the table and hugged both of her friends goodbye. ‘Talk soon, and you guys should bring the kids up to see to us sometime,’ she said, even though she knew there wasn’t much of a chance of that happening.
‘Will do. Good luck with everything,’ Deirdre said, ‘and who knows, tonight could be the night.’
Jess looked at her blankly. ‘Tonight?’
‘That it happens of course,’ her friend laughed and Jess smiled tightly.
‘Oh yes, absolutely. Fingers crossed.’
Back in Dublin, she pulled to a stop in front of the townhouse. She scanned the street for Brian’s car but it looked like he wasn’t home from his golf outing yet.
She went inside the house and started up the stairs towards the bedroom.
Opening her wardrobe, she flicked through the various dresses she owned until she found the one she was going to wear this evening.
It really was beautiful; and OK so it had cost an arm and a leg but she would have it forever. Well, she would if she stayed a size ten forever and if she did end up getting pregnant chances were that might not happen.
Emer had put on a lot of weight with Amy and had since lost most of it, although she guessed the last thing on her friend’s mind these days was worrying about fitting into designer labels. But perhaps that was why she’d seemed so sniffy during their conversation earlier? If so, Jess couldn’t truly understand why. If she had a little angel like Amy, fancy labels and keeping up appearances would no doubt fade into insignificance.
Hanging the dress outside the wardrobe, she got undressed and padded barefoot into the ensuite. A few minutes later, she got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her, listening for signs of her husband’s arrival. Nope, still nothing – he must be running late.
Jess sat down in front of the vanity unit to start on her makeup. Opening the drawer where she kept her everyday cosmetics, something immediately jumped out at her; her birth control pills.
She hadn’t yet taken it today, had she? She opened the little blue case up and sure enough, the pill marked ‘Saturday’ was still in its protective plastic. She popped it out and was about to put it in her mouth when something made her pause.
She froze and pulled her hand back, looking at the little tablet. If she was so sure she wanted to get pregnant, why was she continuing to take these pills? Because Brian’s not on board yet, the little voice answered. Still, as she’d pointed out to him before, it could take up to a year for her body to get back to normal, and ready for conception.
Jess studied her reflection in the mirror, realising that she couldn’t wait that long. A whole year before they could even begin? No, there was no point in waiting until Brian gave the go ahead; that would delay things even further. As it was he was so easygoing he would probably come round soon, so she might as well get the ball rolling now.
Jess dropped the case back into the drawer and hid it beneath a pile of Lancôme creams and eye shadows.
Maybe, just maybe the answer would present itself, and nature would work it all out.
Chapter 15
Ruth paced back and forth in the bathroom of her parents’ house. She thought that her heart was going to jump out of her chest it was pounding so hard. Frankly, she wouldn’t be surprised if she had a heart attack and died right there and then, the way her luck was going lately. She couldn’t believe just how horrible everything was at the moment. For someone who’d always believed she’d been born under a lucky star and that fate that had directed her up to this point, it certainly had been a long few weeks of bad luck. Or was it bad karma?
She sat down on the corner of the bed and placed her head in her hands. How much longer damnit? She looked at her watch, amazed. Was it really possible that only a minute had passed?
Ruth groaned. The thing sat on top of the en-suite washbasin, beckoning her, taunting her.
It was now well over a month since that ill-fated encounter with Troy and the day of reckoning had arrived. She knew she shouldn’t have been so surprised when her period didn’t start last week like it was supposed to, but she was. She was not only surprised; but completely frantic that the morning after pill might not have worked.
But by day three of ‘the missed period’ she knew she could no longer put off the inevitable. That morning, she’d fished out the pregnancy test that Chloe had given her, read the directions and peed on the stick. Which was why she was sitting here like an idiot, waiting for some little piece of white plastic to decide her fate.
She checked her watch again; two minutes had passed.
Ruth stood up and started to pace again. To say that her trip home had so far not gone as planned was an understatement. Right from the beginning, from that upsetting arrival at the airport to that horrible TV interview, to hiding in a closet at her own goddamn party! Then as if that wasn’t enough, there was that mortifying confrontation with Charlie outside the café. At this stage, Ruth didn’t know whether she just should pack up and head straight back to Los Angeles.
Still however mortifying being in Lakeview was, at least she wasn’t alone here. Her parents had been wonderful and the locals (especially Trish and Nina) had gone out of their way to be kind, well Nina had at least, Ruth still wasn’t sure about Trish.
At Trish’s pleading, she’d met with her for the interview for the paper, and while the questions seemed innocuous enough, Ruth hadn’t known what to expect from the finished article. Who knew what way her words could be twisted? She’d been careful not to mention anything about Troy or their ‘relationship’ and had tried her best to come across as the ‘local girl done good’, speaking at length about her Beverly Hills home and glamorous LA lifestyle.
It was due to appear in the paper today but Ruth didn’t have the stomach to go out and get it, especially if it turned out to be yet another hatchet job. She tried her utmost to make it all sound fairytale-like, conscious of the fact that Charlie Mellon would undoubtedly read it.
Thinking again about Charlie, Ruth’s stomach twisted at what had happened when she’d bumped into him. She really hadn’t expected him to still be so bitter. Granted what she’d done had been pretty hurtful, but she was sure he’d be over that by now. It was five years after all. Yet Charlie had never been one to take rejection easily, and given the circumstances…
Ruth thought back to how it been when they were together. She’d known him for as long as she could remember, and their families lived on the same road. They’d attended the same school and had always got reasonably well, albeit they moved in very different circles. Ruth ran with the popular gang while Charlie was quieter, more studious.
Late in their teens, he’d disappeared to Dublin for a few years to attend university, but after graduation, came back with a view to taking over his dad’s business. When Ruth bumped into him one day, she couldn’t believe that this was the same guy who used to heckle her as a child. The skinny, silly adolescent who’d left four years earlier had come back full-on man.
Their romance started slowly, they’d flirted casually whenever they ran in to one another, which oddly enough, happened quite a lot.
Then one night, Charlie gave her a lift home, even though her house was only walking distance from the village centre. She’d known that something was going to happen and in truth, couldn’t wait. At that point, she was so ready for Charlie to kiss her that before they travelled the short distance to her house she asked him to pull down a side street. Her dad usually kept an eye out for her to return so she didn’t want an audience. He stopped the car and looked at h
er and saying nothing, Ruth used her now-classic ‘come hither’ expression. Charlie immediately leaned across the centre console and pulled her close, his lips gentle, warm, and tender. Ruth kissed him back with a fervent passion, and quickly began pulling his shirt from the waistband of his pants.
Charlie stopped. ‘No, no, not like this,’ he said in low growl.
‘What? What are you talking about?’ Ruth was persistent, continuing to kiss his neck, his mouth, his ears until finally, he grabbed both sides of her face.
‘No, I don’t want to ruin this,’ he said. ‘I think you and I might have something here – something good, and I want to give it a chance. If there is an us, I want to give it time to develop, and if it does happen, I want it to be special.’
She remembered worrying that she had been too pushy, coming onto him like that, but her worries had been unfounded, because Charlie’s next move was to ask her out on an official date. His sweet, almost old-fashioned approached was surprising, and merely served to make Ruth want him all the more. Hell, they’d been together for months before they finally slept together.
She remembered that first time, how he had told her he loved her, how tender and sweet he had been. It was like something from a movie, and she recalled at the time how she’d felt she was in fact playing a part. Charlie knew all about her dreams of an acting career, knew how much she wanted to move on from the TV soap, how she ached to go right to the top.
Then one night, after filming on the soap had wrapped for the day, Charlie had come up to Dublin and arranged a special night out for them. He’d booked a room in the Shelbourne hotel, they had dinner, dancing, and champagne and when later that night they went back to their room, there was one more surprise. A diamond engagement ring.
Ruth froze, the ring signifying all the things she didn’t want. If she married Charlie, she would end up stuck in Lakeview, in Ireland. There would be no Hollywood, no glamour, no film premieres. She was born to be a star, not an Irish jobbing actor and just the wife of small-town local boy.
However much she cared about that local boy.
When Charlie got down on one knee, Ruth cut him off; not wanting to hear what she knew he was going to say.
‘Don’t do this, you know I don’t want this.’
He stared at her, hurt and confused, and she remembered telling herself that she was an idiot, that she loved Charlie and would never find anyone better than him. Still for both their sakes, she had to do it, had to make sure he didn’t get the words out.
It was too late anyway; Charlie fled the room and didn’t return and Ruth wondered if he ever really took her seriously when she told him she would be a star. Did he think, like the rest of the Irish acting world, that she was deluding herself, that Hollywood was only a pipe dream? If so, why on earth would he stop that dream in its tracks by proposing? There was no question of him going along with her to LA; he had all his responsibilities in Lakeview, and she’d always thought there was this unspoken agreement that their time together would inevitably come to an end.
That night in Dublin was the last time she had seen him, and a week later Ruth bought a plane ticket to LA and decided to never look back.
Out of sight, out of mind.
Glancing at her watch again, she noted that almost five minutes had passed. Right, that stick should surely be done by now.
She walked tentatively into the bathroom, peeking around the corner first as if the test had suddenly grown teeth and would snap at her if she got too close. When she was about two feet away, she closed her eyes and covered the remaining space by rote. Ruth placed her hands on the cool ceramic and took a deep breath, hoping to try and calm herself. She repeated her yoga mantra over and over in her head. Positive or negative, life would go on … positive or negative….
Slowly she opened her eyes, and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Finally she allowed her gaze move to the surface of the counter and the white plastic stick that lay on top of it. Focusing in on the display window, she sucked in her breath.
There was a tiny pink cross.
She was pregnant.
Minutes later, Ruth grabbed a towel and wiped her mouth. So much for her yoga chant. Almost as soon as she’d seen the positive sign and realised its significance, her stomach had recoiled and she’d lost her breakfast. Thankfully she’d been in close enough proximity to the toilet.
She grabbed the test and wrapped it in a plastic bag, before burying it deep at the back of her wardrobe; she couldn’t run the risk of her mother finding it. Then, collapsing onto her bed, she crawled under the covers and felt the tears come.
How the hell had she got herself into this mess?
She’d give anything to go back and do that stupid party all over again. If she could turn back time she would have refused the champagne and the compliments, would have kept her wits about her, would have never have fallen for Troy’s romantic claptrap.
Troy.
Ruth groaned, thinking of the upcoming Glamazons shoot when she’d have no choice but to see him again. Thinking about the series brought everything sharply into focus. Oh no, she couldn’t have this baby, her career would be over, her body would be ruined, everything that she had worked for flushed down the toilet, all because of one stupid drunken night!
How had she been such an idiot? How was she going to tell Troy, or the producers…
Then again, Ruth thought quickly, maybe Troy didn’t even have to know, nobody might have to know.
No no, she had to tell him, there was no way that she could get through this without him knowing what had happened. Regardless of the fact that she owed him nothing and they weren’t a couple, weren’t even dating, she still knew that telling him would be the right thing to do.
Then they would be in it together, and who knew, maybe the show’s writers might be able to work it into the plot, and come up with an even better storyline as a result? Actually Ruth thought, her mind racing, it could be the making of them. Not of her and Troy as a couple, surely there was no question of that, but imagine the publicity!
She grabbed her cell-phone and scrolled through her contacts. When she came to his name she paused for a moment thinking of that night, the way he felt, the things he said to her. Her hands subconsciously moved to her stomach. Wow, to think that they’d created a life that night.
Then Ruth shook her head; she couldn’t think about that just now, couldn’t waste time wondering about it. It was the implications that mattered at the moment.
She pressed a button on her phone and waited for their call to be connected across thousands of miles. It rang four or five times and she was sure it was about to go to voicemail when:
‘Hello….?’ Troy said groggily, and at the sound of his voice, Ruth felt her stomach twist involuntarily. Then she checked the time. Uh-oh, she’d forgotten it was the middle of the night in L.A.
‘Troy?’
‘Yeah, who is it?’
‘Um …did I wake you?’
A low groan. ‘Yeah…who is this?’
‘It’s Ruth. I’m so sorry – I can call you back …’
‘No, it’s fine, I’m awake.’
‘Lookit, it’s grand, it wasn’t that important, and I suppose it can wait –’
‘Wow, your accent is really strong!’
Ruth too realised that her Irish accent had come out in full force. Nerves, she supposed. ‘Well, after a few weeks here, I suppose it does come back a bit.’
‘So hey, how are you babes? Did you get my message from before? That morning – you just took off.’
She realised he was talking about the last time they saw each other. ‘I got your message, thanks and yes, I’m sorry about that.’
‘Why?’
She frowned. ‘You mean why am I sorry, or why did I run off?’
There was a laugh on the other end. ‘Maybe both. I would have really liked to kiss you good morning.’
Was he flirting with her? ‘Oh.’
‘So what’s up Ruth? Wh
y are you calling now? Did you miss me? Just had to hear the sound of my voice, huh?’
Bloody hell. Ruth had almost forgotten about the size of the guy’s ego but of course it was almost in direct proportion to… Shocked by her own train of thought, she shook the idea out of her head.
‘Well I’m calling for a reason actually,’
‘I knew it. You do miss me. So when are you coming back?’
‘No. I mean … well, I’m actually not sure.’
‘You want me to catch a plane over there to you, babe? Finish what we started?’
Ruth felt annoyed, wishing he would just shut up for a minute so she could get this out.
‘Troy, please, I need to talk to you. This is serious.’
It seemed he finally got the message. ‘Hey, are you okay?’
‘Yes, yes, I’m fine. Well, actually, I’m not fine, I’m sort of shocked and really confused and well…’
‘What is it? Whatever it is, I’ll help you get through it.’
Ruth raised an eyebrow, liking the way he said that. Maybe she would actually be able to count on his support? Maybe his notorious playboy image was just that – an image, and by the flirty way he was talking to her, maybe there might be a future for them?
‘Really? It’s good to hear that Troy, because …you see, well actually …it’s just that … I’m pregnant.’
For a long moment, there was complete silence on the other end of the line.
‘What the hell?’ he spluttered eventually, his velvet tone turning to venomous. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Ruth’s heart raced. ‘It means… that I’m pregnant Troy, I just took a test.’
‘And you’re telling me because…?’
It was as if he’d slapped her. She wasn’t sure exactly what kind of a response she’d been expecting from him, but it certainly wasn’t this. ‘Why do you think?’
‘Ah come on Ruth. You’re not thinking it could be mine?’