by Gina Wilkins
Geoff swallowed a bite of apple. “Actually, I thought it was an idea with potential, myself. If my grandmother wants to take that on, I’d say more power to her. She’s still healthy and vibrant and sharp as a tack, and I’ve always believed that staying active goes a long way toward keeping her that way.”
“So what’s your father’s objection?”
“I’m not sure, exactly. Lillith just seems to rub him the wrong way.”
“Odd. Do you want a cup of tea?”
“Do you have any juice?”
“In the fridge. Help yourself.”
Geoff opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of grape juice. As he poured it into a glass, he said, “You know, I was thinking….”
“Always a frightening prospect,” Cecilia murmured, dunking a tea bag into a mug of boiling water.
He grinned. “Smart alec. Anyway, what do you thinking about joining my family for dinner tomorrow night? Grandmother’s having us at her house.”
Her hand froze in the process of stirring her tea. Dinner with Geoff’s family? “Thank you, but I think I’d better pass.”
Leaning against the counter, he lowered his glass to look at her. “Why?”
“I just think it would be…awkward. You haven’t told anyone what we’re trying to do, have you?”
“No, of course not. That’s strictly between us, for now. I just thought you might enjoy spending an evening with my family. I know they would enjoy your company.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d rather not this time. I actually have a couple of things to do tomorrow evening at the clinic. I’m helping out with a Lamaze class, and there’s always a ton of paperwork to catch up on.”
He didn’t look particularly satisfied by her decision, but he didn’t push. Probably because he knew it wouldn’t have done any good. “All right. Maybe some other time before I leave town.”
She didn’t want to think about him leaving town. Or about spending an evening with his father, sister and grandmother, who would be bound to wonder what was going on between the midwife and their fair-haired boy.
Thoughts of Geoff didn’t actually interfere with Cecilia’s work on Wednesday. But they stayed very close to the front of her mind all day as she saw patient after patient in her regular, busy appointment schedule.
She’d had such a wonderful day with Geoff on Tuesday. Who would have thought she could have so much fun painting a room?
“You’ve dilated to two centimeters, Angie. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if we see that baby by the end of the day tomorrow.”
“I sure hope so. My back is killin’ me.”
Geoff had hung around for the remainder of Tuesday evening, and they had indulged in the pizza-and-television quiet time he claimed to have been craving. She liked veggie pizzas and he preferred pepperoni, so they’d ordered a half-and-half. She liked watching the home and garden channel and he preferred the news channels, but it turned out they both liked the history channel, so they’d found an interesting documentary there that they had both enjoyed.
Funny how well they had gotten along from the beginning, she mused. There seemed to be no silent competition between them, no need for them to have their own ways or prove they were right. That was more than she had ever accomplished with her ex-husband, who saw every disagreement as a challenge he had to win.
“I’m very proud of you for giving up cigarettes for your baby’s sake, Jolene. I know it’s been hard for you, but your daughter will appreciate it.”
“It has been hard, but when you told me all the bad things cigarette smoke could do to my baby, I knew I had to quit. Low birth weight, developmental disorders, asthma and other respiratory complications—I couldn’t live with any of those possibilities. I’ve known for a long time that I should quit, but my baby gave me the best reason to finally do it.”
“The important thing is, you made your health and that of your unborn child’s a priority, and I commend you for that. Stay strong, okay?”
“For my baby’s sake, I will.”
Parenthood involved sacrifice, and Cecilia was as prepared to make them as any of the eager mothers under her care. She sometimes had trouble identifying with the women who weren’t willing to give up—or at least make the effort to give up—the bad habits that were detrimental to their unborn children.
This Orcadol crisis, for example. It simply broke her heart every time she came into contact with someone so deeply addicted that the drugs became more important than anything else.
Which was why she had mixed feelings about the impending confrontation that seemed to be building between the clinic director and the perhaps-over-zealous detective assigned to the Orcadol case. As much as Cecilia admired Mari Bingham, she hoped Mari’s old, hard feelings toward Bryce Collins were not blinding her to the importance of his work. Cecilia knew how protective and defensive Mari was about the medical facilities she had devoted her entire life to, but if anyone here was involved with the black-market drug ring, the truth must be exposed.
It wasn’t as if Bryce was accusing Mari of protecting drug pushers, after all. More likely their old wounds were preventing them from communicating effectively.
“So it’s okay if I keep getting my hair dyed while I’m pregnant? I sure would hate to have to be half blond and half brunette for the next few months.”
“Yes, Lacey, you may keep dying your hair as long as you let your hairdresser know to take reasonable precautions with ventilation. There’s no medical evidence that hair dye causes any problems in pregnancy.”
“Man, I’m glad to hear that. It was hard enough having to give up drinking a beer at the bowling alley on Friday nights. But I’d have really hated to give up my hair dye.”
It had been a pretty good day so far, Cecilia mused as she moved on with a smile to the next patient. Busy, but not particularly difficult. As long as she concentrated on her work and not on her relationship—or whatever it could be called—with Geoff, she could function quite normally.
When she did steal a few moments to think of Geoff between tasks, she ended up staring into space, reliving a few special moments and dreaming of what might come….
She checked on a patient in a birthing room, still at least an hour away from delivery. There was a real party going on in that room, with the father, two grandmothers, a maternal aunt and an eager big sister all awaiting the birth. Comparing that scene to her first delivery that morning—a fourteen-year-old girl accompanied only by a rather detached foster mother—Cecilia thought about how the presence of a supportive and welcoming family made the whole process so much more joyous.
For the first time, it occurred to her that Geoff might want to be present when their child was born. He had made it clear enough that he intended to take an active role in his child’s life. He was approaching parenthood the same way Cecilia was, which she could understand, but she couldn’t help wondering how much more complicated his participation would make things for her. Especially when it came to his family….
She was still surprised that he had invited her to join him this evening at his grandmother’s house for a family dinner. That was taking their partnership into sticky territory, as far as she was concerned. It would be much better to make explanations later, after they had accomplished their goal, than during the process. Not that they would tell anyone they were trying to have a baby, of course, but everyone would assume she was dating Geoff with another purpose in mind—maybe even marriage—and she didn’t want to deal with that misconception.
Oddly enough, it seemed easier to explain a pregnancy resulting from a passing affair than to face speculation about why Geoff Bingham was spending so much of his rare time in town with her.
But it really had been nice of him to invite her, she reflected with a slight smile. Nice to think that he hadn’t yet grown tired of her company.
“Cecilia, you’re wanted in birthing room two. Looks like things are started to get underway in there.”
“Thank you, Crystal.” Trying t
o put her own concerns out of her mind for a while longer, Cecilia smiled at the younger woman and made an effort to penetrate the cloud of melancholy that seemed to surround Crystal these days. “How is Ryan, Crystal? Is he going to play T-ball this year?”
Usually, questions about her six-year-old son were guaranteed to bring a smile to Crystal’s face. This time, her eyes looked instantly stricken, instead. She recovered quickly, masking her emotions behind the rather sullen expression she had been wearing lately, to the concern of many of her co-workers. “Ryan’s with his father right now,” she mumbled.
“Still? Oh, I thought…”
Cecilia could have sworn she saw a sheen of tears in the younger woman’s eyes as Crystal turned abruptly away. “You’d better hurry to room two. Mrs. Vargas is anxious to see you.”
Watching Crystal hurry away, her shoulders hunched, her posture unmistakably defensive, Cecilia decided that her associates had good reason to be concerned about the woman. Something was very definitely wrong there. Maybe she should talk to Vanessa, who had such a knack of dealing with the younger employees. Maybe Vanessa would have better luck with Crystal.
Pushing away the ever-present paperwork that would still be waiting for her after this much-anticipated baby made its debut, Cecilia also mentally pushed away her personal concerns. She had a job to do.
Cecilia had only been home for a few minutes that evening when her doorbell rang. It couldn’t be Geoff, she thought with a puzzled frown. Tonight was his family dinner, and she thought she had made it clear that he couldn’t change her mind about accompanying him.
Setting down the chicken breast she had been preparing to broil for her dinner, she hurried into the living room to answer the door.
A delivery truck sat in her driveway, and the driver stood at the door, a pleasant smile gracing his florid face. “Cecilia Mendoza?”
“Yes?”
“I have a delivery for you. Would you sign here, please?”
“Yes, of course.” She used the stylus he offered her to awkwardly sign her name on the electronic screen—a skill she had never quite mastered in her usual handwriting. She couldn’t imagine what this delivery could be. It wasn’t a flower truck, she thought, watching as the delivery driver opened the back of the vehicle.
The box was big enough to require a wheeled dolly. She watched in wide-eyed curiosity as the driver guided it onto her porch and through her front door. “Where would you like it? It’s not particularly heavy, just awkward.”
“Just leave it here in the living room. You’re sure this is for me?”
He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am. Has your name and address written right here on this tag. Have a good evening, Ms. Mendoza.”
“Thank you.” Closing the door behind him, she turned to study the box for a moment. And then she ran to find a knife with which to slice through the wrapping tape.
Her heart jumped right into her throat when she saw the contents of the box. There was no card, but then, none was needed. She knew exactly who had sent this gift.
Fighting back a quick rush of tears, she ran an unsteady hand across the back of the small, beautiful maple rocker. The seat was covered with a gingham cushion in the exact shade of green she and Geoff had applied to the walls of the room she hoped would become a nursery. This rocker was absolutely perfect for holding a baby. And it was even made of the very wood she had said she wanted to use.
He really shouldn’t have done this, she thought, unable to resist sinking into the cushioned seat and rocking a little. It was such an extravagant, unexpected gesture. One that could make her fall entirely too hard for him. The kind that could endanger the carefully objective perspective she was trying to maintain during their temporary affair.
They didn’t even know that their efforts would be successful. Though there was no medical reason that she knew of preventing her from conceiving, there was still a very strong chance that these three weeks of effort would be fruitless, and who knew when—or if—they would try again. The disappointment of that would be bad enough, but it was going to be even worse if she was foolish enough to let her heart get broken in the process.
Chapter Ten
Geoff had tried not to mind when Cecilia turned down his dinner-with-the-family invitation. She’d been afraid it would be awkward, but he really didn’t agree with that fear.
She already knew his family, at least in passing. Because of the clinic, they had plenty of topics for conversation. It wasn’t completely unprecedented for him to bring a date to dinner, though admittedly it had been a while. No one would have wondered why he’d be interested in spending time with an attractive, interesting woman while he was in town.
It certainly would have saved him the ordeal of having his grandmother fixing him up with a lovely young woman who was the granddaughter of one of Myrtle’s ladies-who-lunch friends. Although Myrtle had enthusiastically described the twenty-six-year-old attorney as a paragon of modern young womanhood—beautiful, intelligent, ambitious and personable—Geoff had no interest in meeting her, much to his grandmother’s exasperation.
“I’m not going to be in town much longer, anyway,” he had reminded her. “I leave for Boston in less than a month.”
“But you’ll be back. And as you take over more of your father’s responsibilities, you’ll be staying in town more.” She was as quick with a retort as always. “It is time for you to think about starting your family while you’re young enough to enjoy them, Geoffrey. And while your father and I are around to enjoy them, too,” she had added with a shake of her finger.
Geoff had chuckled and kissed his grandmother’s softly lined cheek. “Emotional blackmail doesn’t work with me, you should know that. And besides, you’re going to be around for a long time yet.”
The truth was, he thought as he drove his car into Cecilia’s driveway Thursday evening, he simply wasn’t interested in meeting his grandmother’s friend’s granddaughter. For the usual reasons, yes. No inclination to get caught up in a matchmaking scheme that would only lead to bruised feelings all around when he failed to cooperate. That same old reluctance to sacrifice any of his cherished freedom.
But there was another reason that he didn’t care about meeting the single lawyer. He was enjoying Cecilia’s company so much that he didn’t want anything to interfere with their time together.
Holding a small package in his hand, he climbed out of his car with a smile on his face that was becoming increasingly familiar whenever he was about to see Cecilia. The smile turned to a frown when he heard a rather disturbing commotion coming from the house next door.
He glanced instinctively that way, spotting the rusty pickup he’d seen before parked in front of the house. Though overgrown shrubbery prevented him from seeing anyone on the shadowy porch, the voices were coming from there.
They sounded young. A male who was obviously angry—irate, even. And a girl who seemed to be speaking in sobs. He remembered the redhead with the bruised face that he had seen with Cecilia. Brandy? The one Cecilia had explained was being raised by her grandparents next door.
Were the grandparents home now? Were they aware that their granddaughter’s boyfriend was throwing an obscenity-laced tantrum on their front porch?
A muffled thud might have been a blow, or a push followed by a fall. The sound was accompanied by a choked cry that made him toss the package he’d been holding onto the hood of his car and move purposefully toward the house next door.
Before he’d crossed Cecilia’s lawn, a door slammed, and the battered pickup peeled out of the driveway, gunned so violently that the tires smoked on the asphalt. Brandy ran down the porch steps into Geoff’s view, crying and calling after the departing truck. “Marlin, wait! Don’t go, please!”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Geoff asked her, raising his voice to be heard over her sobs.
She hadn’t seen him prior to his speaking. She jumped and whirled toward him.
Her face was red and tear streaked, her eyes wild
beneath her tumbled red hair. “What?”
“Is there anything I can do for you?”
“No.” She swiped at her streaming eyes with the back of one hand, calling his attention to the fading bruise on her cheek.
Softball injury? He seriously doubted it. “Look, Brandy, I heard that lot yelling at you—”
“It was my fault,” she said quickly, defensively. “I said some things that made him mad. He’s got a quick temper, but he’s not a bad guy.”
He suspected that he would accomplish nothing by verbally attacking her jerk of a boyfriend. “Are your grandparents home?”
“No.” Drawing a ragged breath, Brandy turned dispiritedly toward the door. “I’ll be okay. I’m going in to wait for Marlin to call. He’ll calm down pretty soon, and he’ll be sorry he yelled at me like that. He’s really a great guy. I love him a lot.”
He wished he could think of something profound to say. Some wise words to get through her infatuated defensiveness and bring her to her senses. But all he could think of was, “Brandy, no one has the right to curse at you like that. And he damned sure doesn’t have a right to put his hands on you in anger. If he has hit you, or shoved you—”
“You don’t even know him!” Brandy snapped, hunching her skinny shoulders in an unmistakably closed posture. “Just leave me alone, okay?”
Sighing, Geoff held up both hands and stepped back, signaling surrender. He watched as Brandy ran up the steps into her grandparents’ house.
Okay, he’d blown that big-time, he thought in disgust. Instead of convincing Brandy to give Marlin the boot, he had probably sent her right back into his abusive arms.
Maybe Cecilia would have a better idea of what to do. He turned back toward her house, remembering to retrieve the package from the hood of his car.
In response to his knock, Cecilia opened the door with a smile that went a long way toward restoring his good mood. And then she pulled him inside, tugged his head down to hers, and gave him a kiss that nearly fried his brain circuitry. There wasn’t an inch of him that wasn’t hard by the time they finally broke apart for oxygen.