Anabel Unraveled

by Amanda Romine Lynch

Ugh, he knew. Still, I feigned innocence. “About what?” I had hoped to avoid this, but Jared wouldn’t let me off that easy.

  “About Kevin Miller.”

  “Sam pardoned him, if that’s what you mean,” I kept my voice as light as I could. “A bit controversial, really, but again, another reason why I ruined his political career.”

  “You know that’s not what I mean,” he said.

  “Well, what do you mean, then? I’m tired, Jared, I had a long day.” I avoided looking into his eyes.

  “Are you seeing him?” He was trying to sound nonchalant, but I knew better.

  “Well, he is my doctor,” I pointed out. “I see him a lot; he doesn’t have a whole bunch of patients at the moment.”

  Jared sighed in frustration, so I relented. “No, Jared. As much as my brother would like me to, I am not, nor will I ever be, dating Kevin. Sam agreed to take him on as my doctor since he was free to make house calls, and it gives him time to get re-established in his practice. There’s nothing going on with us. You’re the only person I’ve ever felt like that about. You were the only one with whom I‘ve even considered what it would be like to have a relationship. So much so that I cannot even countenance the idea of being with someone it actually makes sense to be with. Does that make you feel any better?”

  His face relaxed. “Yes.”

  “I’m glad one of us does.”

  Chapter 14—Jared

  The answering machine clicked on. “It’s Meghan. Call me back. You know why.”

  About two hours later: “I know you’re there. Call me, Jared.”

  And then another hour later: “Honey, it’s your mom. I saw the newspapers . . . thought you might want to talk . . .”

  And finally, Meghan called me again. “Look, if you don’t answer, I’m coming over there.”

  So I picked up. “What?”

  “Don’t you talk to me that way!” my sister hissed. “I wanted to make sure you hadn’t done anything stupid. Well, stupider than get a teenager pregnant.”

  “I take it you read the papers this morning.”

  “‘I take it you read the papers this morning,’” she mimicked. “Yes, Jared. I did. I read the papers, watched the news, and had several people at work ask me about what my opinion was of your little escapades with Sam Sallinger’s sister!”

  I rolled back over in my bed. I hadn’t gotten up yet. “I appreciate your concern, Meghan, but I am fine, aside from feeling like I just got hit by a truck.”

  “So you’re hung over?” I could hear her disapproval.

  “No,” I groaned. “I haven’t had a drink since that blasted island. That’s how this whole mess started.”

  “I want to see you,” she demanded. “Can you meet me tomorrow?”

  “In the afternoon, yes. I’m seeing Anabel in the morning.”

  “Oh, for the love of God,” she moaned. “Fine. Do whatever you want. Just call Mom back, she’s having a breakdown.”

  I hung up on her, and pulled a pillow over my eyes. After I left Blair House, I had come home and gotten in my bed and hadn’t moved since.

  Out of all the things to come out of Anabel’s mouth, the last thing in the world I expected her to say was, “You knocked me up, Jared.”

  Or, “Do you want to marry me?” The scorn that accompanied that question had bothered me. She didn’t need to get so defensive. Things were impossible with us, anyway. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder . . .

  Did I want to marry Anabel?

  I remembered a conversation I’d had with Sam, many years ago. He and I were at some function, and we were both watching my date, a gorgeous redhead, chat up the bartender. He grinned at me. “So what’s the deal with this one?”

  I had shrugged.

  “Are you ever going to settle down?”

  “Maybe if I find a girl who’s worth it.”

  “That is the problem,” he lamented. “There are girls you sleep with and then there are girls that you marry.”

  “You lucked out,” I said, clapping his shoulder. “You found one who is both. I doubt I will ever make enough effort to find one of those.”

  But Anabel, well, she was complicated.

  It could be worse, I reflected. Considering everything, it was shocking that I hadn’t gotten a girl pregnant before now. And the fact that it was her . . .

  I definitely liked Anabel. She was really funny and smart and endearing. She was also oblivious to the fact that she was gorgeous. I normally dated beautiful women—but they always knew how hot they were.

  On the other hand, she also antagonized me in a way that no other woman had ever done before—which was why she had made me so angry the first day of the hearings. It was also why half of our conversations on the island had resulted in one of us snapping at the other, which caused the other to fire back. My temper was as bad as hers; worst of all, she knew how to push me. Maybe our problem, I reasoned, is that none of our fights had ever resulted in make-up sex. If we could factor that in . . .

  “What is wrong with you?” I asked myself. “That’s more wrong than the rest of this combined.”

  At least life with Anabel would be a challenge. If she wanted me. And I knew, even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself, that I wanted her. More than anything.

  The moment she had told me she was pregnant, life made sense. There was no one for me but her.

  Screw it. I called Sam.

  He answered his phone with, “Why are you calling me?”

  “I need to talk to her.”

  “You can talk to her tomorrow.”

  “Is that Jared?” I heard her say in the background.

  “Put her on, Sam.”

  “Anabel, no, I’m not—”

  “Sam,” and Anabel sounded dangerous here, “give me the phone.”

  Sam sighed. “You have five minutes.”

  So then she came on. “Hi.”

  “You okay over there?”

  “I guess,” she said. Then she continued in a thunderous whisper, “But Sam and Alexis brought over all of these people to coach me on what to say to the press. I’ve been listening to all sorts of lectures on how inappropriate my behavior was yesterday.”

  “Did they at least give you a how-to manual on how to handle it next time?” Thinking about her show for the cameras made me smile.

  “No, but I was made to feel incredibly guilty for exposing my brother to such negativity.” She paused. “So what’s up?”

  “I need to ask you something. How long has Sam known?”

  “How long has Sam known what?”

  “You know what I mean. Don’t do that. How long has your brother known that you’re pregnant?”

  “Oh,” she stammered. “Well, let’s see. They took me from Caereon and brought me here, and I just laid around for a while, and after I had been here for about a month it dawned on me that I couldn’t remember the last time I had my period . . .” She paused. “I thought it was just from stress, you know? But then something didn’t seem right, and I started to get all nauseous and one day I threw up my breakfast.” She fell quiet again.

  “And then, Anabel?” I prompted her.

  “And then, Jared,” she continued, “two more weeks went by and I asked Alexis what I should do.”

  “How did she take that?”

  “Not well at all,” she admitted. “I came up to her and said, ‘Hey, Alexis. How do you know if you’re pregnant?’ But I didn’t have anyone else to go to, and she was mortified. So then I took like three pregnancy tests just to make sure. And then I had to tell my brother.” She laughed bitterly. “Our conversation started out the way most of our conversations go nowadays: ‘Sam, you’re not going to like this . . .’”

  “I see,” I digested this.

  “I hadn’t told them about us,” she confided. “Not at that point. I mean, Sam resigned pretty much right away, and we were dealing with all of that. So when I told him about us, he did not react well, as I’m sure you can recall.”

>   “I suspect you’re alluding to our phone conversation that night.”

  “I did eavesdrop, a little,” she admitted. “But I had implored him not to tell you about the baby, and he did that for me.” She sighed. “I just didn’t want to upset him, you know? But now all I do upsets him.”

  “Your brother loves you,” I barked. Why was it every time I tried to say something comforting to her it made me sound like more of a jerk?

  “I know,” she retorted. “Love doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

  “Anabel—”

  “Did you want something? My five minutes are almost up.”

  I sighed. “I was thinking about what you said yesterday.”

  “Which part?”

  “The part where you asked me if I love you.”

  “Oh,” she stammered. “Jared, I don’t expect you to—”

  “I have an answer for you.”

  “I oughtn’t—I shouldn’t have asked,” she sputtered.

  “What are you scared of?” I asked her.

  “I’m scared of what I might do, depending on your answer,” she admitted. “Why are you calling me on the phone to tell me this, anyway? Don’t I deserve a face to face?”

  She seriously made me mad. “Well, forget it then.”

  “No, wait, I—”

  “No, clearly you don’t care about what I have to say,” I reprimanded her.

  “Jared, I didn’t mean—”

  “Anabel, I don‘t have time to argue semantics with you.” And with that, I hung up on her.

  Then I threw my phone down. If there was one thing I’d learned about Anabel and me, it was that together, we could ruin any moment.

  Chapter 15—Jared

  The next morning I woke up mentally berating myself. I needed to cut her some slack; pregnant women weren’t known for their rationality. As I showered, I resolved to be nice to her, no matter what. Getting dressed, I told myself that this was the mother of my child and that I would show her some respect. It was with this mindset that I left my apartment with a spring in my step.

  I was mildly entertained when I showed up at Blair House and a scowling Alexis pushed past the Secret Service guy and glared at me. “Good morning, beautiful,” I greeted her. “You’re looking fantastic, as always. I can only assume that because you’re answering the door, you want some alone time with me, but sadly, you have a husband.” I made a show of looking over her head. “Where is Samuel, anyway?”

  “Nice to know you haven’t changed,” she spat. “But I don’t really understand what you’re doing here, Jared.” She ran her perfectly manicured fingers through her hair, and then crossed her arms. “Nobody wants you here, you know. Not even her.”

  I leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “Oh, maybe not her. But there’s always you.”

  “Shut up, you idiot,” she hissed. “Do you not realize there are people listening to our every conversation?”

  “Unlike you, I have nothing to hide.” Nothing like she did, at any rate.

  She stared at me, disgusted. “You aren’t going to be here long, are you?” She was a beautiful woman, especially when she was angry. Having made a career out of making Alexis angry, I was intimately acquainted with this side of her.

  “It depends on what Anabel wants.” I watched to see how she took that one.

  Her expression did not change. “Anabel wants nothing to do with you. She isn’t that dumb.”

  “Are you sure about that, Lexie?” I said slyly. “Or are you just saying that because you’re jealous?”

  She banged the door open. “Upstairs. Doctor Miller is with her.”

  As I walked up the stairs, I heard Anabel talking to Sam. “He should be here any minute,” I heard her say. “I didn’t expect Kevin to be here so early.”

  “I can’t believe you invited him,” he replied.

  “Well, I can’t change that now,” she retorted. “Besides, I need to see more of him so I can figure out what to do about—oh.” As I stood in the doorway, her blue eyes focused on me. “It’s no wonder Alexis doesn’t like you. You shouldn’t sneak up like that.”

  A greeting I probably deserved. “Good morning to you, too,” I replied. I looked at her brother. “Sam.”

  He grunted. “I have things to attend to. I will see you later, Anabel.” Ignoring me, he left the room, leaving the two of us to stare awkwardly at each other. She was still in her nightgown, her messy hair spread over the pillow. She indicated a chair close to her. “You can sit there if you like.”

  “Won’t the doctor need to sit there?” I asked.

  “No, he usually uses that little stool over there.” She pointed to the far corner of the room. Then she grinned. “Don’t worry. I know it doesn’t look it, but I did brush my teeth this morning.”

  I sat down next to her. “Hey, I’m sorry about yesterday.”

  “It’s okay. I didn’t behave any better than you did.” She looked away, and another uncomfortable silence ensued.

  “So,” I said, attempting to break the tension, “I was talking to my mom this morning.”

  She looked thoughtful. “I guess it never occurred to me that you might actually have parents. I just assumed you hatched somewhere.”

  “Ouch.” She was smiling, though. I supposed it was no different from most of the other accusatory epithets she flung at me.

  “Tell me about your parents,” she demanded.

  “They’re both retired and live in Cape Cod. My mom was an elementary school teacher and my father was an accountant who used to work for Sam‘s parents. They’re both very sweet people—despite having me for a son.”

  “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” She ignored the self-deprecation.

  “Two sisters, actually. They’re twins and are eight years younger than me. Crystal is in England right now. She’s a Rhoades scholar and is studying at Cambridge. Meghan actually lives in the District. She’s a public defender, and we usually get dinner every Wednesday night, during which she repeatedly tells me what a horrible excuse for a brother I am.”

  “They sound delightful,” came the reply. “Are they identical?”

  “Yes, but they don’t look that much alike. Crystal has long blonde hair that she keeps down to her waist, and she always dresses vaguely medieval. You know, long flowing skirts, etc. Meghan cut her hair short and dyed it red, and I can’t remember the last time I didn’t see her wearing a pantsuit.” I should probably call her and confirm for this afternoon. She had left me two more voicemails the night before, which I hadn’t answered as I was too preoccupied with the recent realization I was about to be a father. Also, I was looking forward to her perception of Anabel’s disclosure to the media, and I was sure she would lecture me on how irresponsible she thought I was.

  There was a tap at the door. “Anabel? May I come in?”

  “Hi Kevin!” she called. “Yes you may, I’m dressed.”

  So Kevin Miller walked in, and I took a moment to size up the competition.

  I’m taller than he is, but not by much. He was thin—gaunt, really—and his lab coat hung on him. My best guess was his time in prison did not treat him well.

  Anabel was cheerful. “Kevin, this is Jared, the unsuspecting father of the baby. Jared, this is Dr. Kevin Miller, my good friend.” We shook hands. Despite the lean appearance, he had a firm grip, and I could tell I was not welcome with him.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked her, tenderly. It was obvious he still had a thing for her.

  “Dandy,” she replied. “I haven’t thrown up yet this morning! I think we’re making some progress!”

  He laughed and then started checking her vitals. “How’s your stress level?”

  “Gross,” she said, making a face. “I lost it at the hearing yesterday.”

  “So I read,” he told her.

  Her eyes widened. “Oh no—where?”

  “In the Post,” he replied.

  “Really?” she asked, fascinated. “I’m that big of a
deal, huh?” She beamed. “Were there pictures?”

  “Oh yes,” he said, “of you and Mr. Sorensen here.”

  She let out a hysterical giggle. I didn’t like this at all. Her moods were all over the place, and it wasn’t just the pregnancy. I wanted to get her away from all of this. Maybe if the two of us could go somewhere, somewhere far from everything and just talk things over, then we could work out all of this insanity.

  “Jared?” she asked, and I looked at her. Her face was flushed. “Do you want to see the baby?”

  “Oh, uh, yeah, sure,” I said.

  Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t sound that sure,” she accused.

  I smiled, hoping to placate her. “I am sure. I just was thinking. I’m sorry.”

  She relaxed. “Ok, show us,” she told Kevin.

  He looked at me. “Can you turn out the lights?”

  I obliged, and he said to her, “You’ll feel a little cold. Let’s see what’s going on here.” The next thing I knew, there it was. On the screen. Our baby.

  “There’s the heart, nice and strong,” Kevin showed her. “And it looks like . . . it’s definitely a girl.”

  Anabel sent me a sideways smile. “I told you.”

  “I believed you,” I said. “This is amazing.” I took her hand.

  “Well, everything looks good.” Kevin began packing up his things. “Call me if you need anything, otherwise I’ll see you in two weeks.”

  “Thank you, Kevin,” she smiled. “You’re the best.”

  “I’m just glad you’re feeling better. I know it was really rough for you.”

  She nodded, and I frowned. “What does he mean by that?”

  “Oh, well . . .” Anabel paused. “Well, you see, I got really sick once I hit nine weeks along.”

  Kevin was packing up his things and he stopped to look at her. “That’s almost an understatement. She couldn’t keep anything down. She could barely get out of bed—”

  “—and,” Anabel cut in, “I went through a minor fit of depression. I spent most of my time, lying in bed, alternating between reading and watching reruns of The Golden Girls and old movies.” She sighed. “But I just didn’t feel like doing anything else. And once I realized how hard eating was, I lost my desire to do it.”