by Susan Gable
Tonight, however, she looked tired. Her eyes held no sparkle and weary lines marked her face. "Are you okay?"
She dropped the book bag, then crossed his office, sinking down into the leather recliner. "I'm wiped. I had no idea going to school full-time could be so tiring. Maybe I'm too old for this."
"Yes, you look positively decrepit."
"Well, I feel decrepit." Irving circled her ankles and she leaned forward to pet him. "I've got something else to tell you." She looked up, then quickly refocused on the cat.
"Oh?" He pushed his chair from his desk. "What?"
"I—I think I'm getting my period again." Her cheeks flushed pink and she stroked the cat more intently.
Damn. He turned back to his desk and opened the bottom drawer, pulling out her charts. "Harley, are you sure?"
"I'm spotting, and that's usually the start. Why?"
He ran his finger along the line of the graph. "Something's absolutely not right here. Your temperature has been almost exactly the same since we started charting two months ago. It should be lower in the first part of your cycle, and then go up for the second part. That hasn't happened."
Harley vacated the recliner to peer over his shoulder. "So?"
"So, that's not right."
She wrapped her hands around his shoulders and began to knead them.
Jake stifled a groan.
"Maybe we just need to relax, Jake. You've turned this into a science experiment."
"No, there's a problem with the ovulation predictor kit, too. Didn't you notice that the color has stayed the same each day we did it this month?"
"No, I haven't. I leave all that junk to you." She lowered her hands from his shoulders.
He grabbed her fingertips. "Don't stop. It feels really good." It did. Her touch, even on his shoulders, caused warmth to radiate down and lodge in his groin. The woman affected him like no other ever had. Being in her bed during the fertile part of her cycle and then trying to keep his hands off her the rest of the month made him crazy.
She resumed rubbing.
"I think we need to make another appointment with Dr. Hansen," he said. Her thumbs dug into a tender spot in his muscles. "Ow! Hey, take it easy."
"Sorry." This time, she lowered her hands and they didn't come back. "Why do I need to see Dr. Hansen again?"
"I just want to touch base with him." He held up the charts. "Something's off here and I want to figure it out now." He spun the chair in her direction.
The remaining bit of color faded from her face, and Jake slipped to the edge of his chair, ready to catch her, afraid she was about to keel over on him. Then she lifted her chin, avoiding direct eye contact. "Fine, make the appointment. Just be sure you keep my schedule in mind. I can't afford to miss even one class."
She offered him a dismissive smile, then turned and strode to the arch, where she leaned over to retrieve her backpack. "I've got some reading to do and after that I'm going to bed. ‘Night."
"’Night." He watched her go, puzzling over the expression in her eyes when he'd first turned around.
* * *
Jake slouched against the wall of the tiny exam room at Dr. Hansen's office. Harley, clad in a hospital gown with a sheet over her lap, sat on the end of the table on the opposite side. Her feet tapped an erratic beat against the step stool.
If he didn't know her any better, he'd have said she looked ready to cry. But that couldn't be the case. In the time he'd known her, he'd never seen her come close to shedding a tear.
Was she worried they'd find something wrong with her? Jake tensed at the thought. What if she was ill? What if she had some serious condition that threatened her health? Surely she didn't think he'd turn her out into the cold?
A quick rap on the door announced Dr. Hansen's arrival. The door swung open and the OB/GYN rushed into the room. "Sorry to keep you waiting. Back so soon, Harley? That didn't take very long, did it?" The gray-haired man scanned the file in his hand.
When she didn't answer, Jake did. "Actually, Doc, we're here because something seems … not right."
The physician set the chart on the counter and. turned to Jake, hand extended. "Mr. Emerson, it's a pleasure to meet you. It's always nice to see a husband here to support his wife."
"Um, that's Mr. Manning." Jake shook the doctor's hand.
"Oh, sorry." Dr. Hansen nodded over at Harley, who twisted her wedding band around her finger. "I can't get used to this newfangled idea of wives keeping their own name. I apologize."
"No problem." Jake shifted his feet. "We've been charting Harley's basal body temperature, and it's been almost the same since we started more than two months ago. She's had periods, but even the ovulation predictor kits don't seem to be working right." He handed the doctor his charts.
"Well organized, aren't you, son?" The older man chuckled. "I can see you two are very serious about getting pregnant."
After scanning the notes with some head-nodding and chin-stroking, Dr. Hansen sat down on the stool by the exam table and tapped Harley on her sheet-covered knee. "Don't you have anything to say?"
"Not really."
"How have you been feeling?"
"Fine."
"Really?" He peered intently at Harley. "You look kind of tired."
"Yeah, I am. Full-time college has turned out to be a little more than I expected." Harley picked at the paper covering underneath her thigh.
The doctor patted her knee once again, then folded his hands in his lap. "There's something you're not saying, Harley. Do you want your husband to leave the room?"
She shook her head.
Jake's pulse rate increased. What the hell was going on?
"Can you think of a reason your hormones might be out of whack, Harley? You're not taking any kind of medication, are you?"
She shook her head again, eyes cast down. "There's one thing I didn't tell you the last time I was here."
Jake and the doctor waited expectantly.
"I—I had an ovarian cyst."
"When was this?"
"I was sixteen."
"What symptoms did you have? Mid-cycle spotting? Sharp pains in your side?"
"No."
"Well, how did your doctor discover it?" She murmured something under her breath, fingers picking faster at the paper table-covering.
Jake leaned forward to hear better.
"What was that?" Dr. Hansen asked. "Did you say you were in the hospital?"
She nodded.
"Why were you in the hospital?"
If she lowered her head any farther, Jake thought, it was going to fall off her neck. She muttered another reply.
"What was that, Harley?"
Finally she lifted her head. "I said, I'd been beaten."
Jake leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. Beaten. That explained a lot of things, like the moved bed, and her distrust when they'd first met.
"What did the doctors say?" Dr. Hansen asked.
Jake's eyes shot open to watch her response.
"They said it shouldn't affect my future fertility."
Dr. Hansen gave her leg another reassuring pat. "And I'll bet they were right. But I'd like to run a few tests and examine you again, and we'll see if we can't solve the mystery, okay? And even if you have another cyst, that doesn't mean you can't have a baby, so just relax for now."
Harley nodded her head and followed the physician's instructions to scoot down on the table. Mind whirling at the implications of her revelation, Jake studied the floor at his feet while the doctor examined her.
"Mmm-hmm. Okay, Harley, you can sit back up. You brought in a urine sample?"
She nodded.
"I'll be back in a few minutes. Don't go anywhere." The doctor peeled off his latex gloves, tossed them in the trash, then proceeded to the sink and washed his hands. He gave Jake a light slap on the shoulder as he passed him on his way out the door.
Harley couldn't bear to look at Jake. Head down, she continued to pick at the edge of the paper
table-covering. What was he thinking? Did he hate her for keeping this secret?
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"It doesn't matter."
"It matters to me."
"I was afraid you wouldn't let me try to have your baby if the doctor's report wasn't perfect."
"Who beat you, Harley?"
She glanced over at him. His eyes were full of that tender compassion. How could she not tell him when he did his Mr. Nice Guy thing? "A foster father."
Jake cursed under his breath. "What happened?"
"He found out my older foster brother—his son—had seduced me. Of course, it wasn't his kid's fault, it was all mine, I was a no-good tramp who came from trash and wasn't worthy of … of sleeping with his son." The paper in her hand gave way with a loud tear, and she twisted it around her fingers. "I thought Jimmy loved me. But he just stood there while his father beat me." And that had been when she'd lost faith in the idea of love, and white knights who rescued damsels in distress. When she'd been forced to realize she wasn't good enough for certain types of other people. People like Jake.
"Who helped you?"
"Who else? Me. I got hold of a phone later that night and called 911. The first-aid squad and cops showed up and took me to the hospital. At least the Kesslers weren't allowed any more foster kids after that. But the charges against Steven Kessler were dropped on some technicality, some screw-up with his arrest."
He cursed more loudly and colorfully this time. He took a step in her direction.
"No." She held up a hand to stop him. Dammit, she didn't want to see pity in his eyes. But it was there. "Don't look at me like that!"
"Like what?"
"I don't want your pity. I don't need it. I got enough of that in the hospital afterward. Poor little orphan girl, knocked around by her foster father. Well, I learned one lesson quickly, Jake. Acting tough made one hell of a great cover for being scared."
No wonder she didn't like doctors. How long had she been in the hospital?
The foster care system had let her down, big time. Thank God Austin was out of the system, even if it wasn't the way Jake had intended.
He finished closing the distance between himself and Harley and gathered her into his arms. She was stiff and unyielding at first, so he stroked her hair and murmured soothing nonsense into her ear. "You don't have to act tough with me, Harley." He of all people should have recognized the signs of a battered stray. After a short while, she relaxed, allowing him to cuddle her. She'd turned to him in passion before, but never for comfort. She probably hadn't had anyone to comfort her since she'd adopted the whole tough-independent-woman persona.
Anger flared as he considered everything she'd been through. "That boy—Jimmy—took advantage of you."
"I let it happen. By then I was so starved for love in any form, I believed his pretty words and empty promises when he said he loved me. I was stupid."
"You were young and trusting." If Jake could get his hands on either guy, he'd show him a thing or two about how to treat women.
"I'll leave tomorrow," she mumbled into his chest.
"And go where? Don't be ridiculous."
"But if I can't give you a baby—"
"Shh. I'm not going to throw you out of the house. Hey, Benji's only got one ear, and I let him hang around."
"You didn't have a deal with Benji to provide you with puppies and find out he couldn't."
Jake chortled. "You're right. But let's not rush things, okay? It's going to work out."
The polite knock sounded at the door again, and Dr. Hansen returned. "All right, I need to run one more test to give you a diagnosis. Harley, pull the strings of that gown a little tighter, and Jake, you might want to walk behind your wife. We need to take a little stroll down the hallway. I want to do an ultrasound."
The doctor handed Harley a liter of water. "First, bottoms up. You need to drink all of this."
Harley accepted the bottle from him. "All of it?"
"All of it."
Harley unscrewed the cap and saluted them both with the bottle. "Bottoms up." She gulped down some of the cool liquid.
* * *
Any minute now, she'd certainly explode. "Have my eyes turned yellow yet?" Harley asked Jake.
He peered at her closely. "Nope, not yet. They're still that beautiful green."
"Where the heck is he? If he doesn't get in here soon, I'm leaving and going to the bathroom."
"I heard that." Dr. Hansen entered the ultrasound room, and Jake stepped out of the way. "Remember that when you call me with an urgent question you're sure won't wait."
Harley fidgeted on the exam table. "No question could possibly be as urgent as the fact that I really have to—"
The doctor's sharp laugh cut her off. "That's good news. It means your bladder's full enough for me to do the exam now."
"Then let's do it and get it over with, before I embarrass myself on your table." Harley lay back, and Dr. Hansen tugged the gown up over her stomach. A sheet covered her lower body, but self-consciousness engulfed her with Jake standing there. Strange. It wasn't like the man hadn't seen all of her, but something about this particular situation made her edgy. She wished the doctor would hurry up and explain what was going on.
"This might be a little cold," Dr. Hansen warned. Harley gasped as he applied a thick gel to her stomach. "Uh, yeah, you could say that."
The doctor smiled. "Now, let's take a peek inside." He rotated a round object across her lower abdomen, studying the small monitor before him.
Jake moved to stand behind Dr. Hansen's shoulder.
"Mmm-hmm. Yes, that's what I thought."
"What is it? Do I have another cyst?" Harley couldn't stand the waiting any longer. If the doctor didn't talk soon, she'd have to throttle him.
Dr. Hansen pointed to the static-filled black-and-white monitor and glanced over his shoulder at Jake. "Do you see this fluttering, son?"
Fluttering? Inside her? Cysts didn't flutter, did they?
Jake leaned closer to the screen, then reached out to place a finger near it. "Here?"
"Yes, right there. Know what that is?"
Jake shook his head.
"Hey, I can't see," Harley complained. "What's going on?"
"That, son, is your baby's heart, beating strong and perfect. Congratulations, you're pregnant."
Harley struggled to sit up. "Pregnant?" she squeaked. "But … but that's not possible. I had my period."
Dr. Hansen pushed her gently back onto the table. "And what were these periods like? Lighter than usual?"
"Yeah, I guess they were. The last one was just spotting." The reality of the situation hit her like a NASCAR crashing into the wall. Her body cradled a baby—the baby of the most wonderful man she'd ever met, a man she knew without a doubt would make a fantastic father. But she wouldn't be around to watch him be that father.
The truth of the situation made her nauseous—she'd sold her baby and her soul for a college degree. And it looked like her heart, not her body, would take a beating this time.
Harley watched Jake's face. His gaze was fixed on the monitor, eyes wide with wonder as he stared at the screen. The corners of his mouth turned up and he shook his head slightly. "A baby. We did it. We made a baby."
Dr. Hansen removed the device from her stomach, then picked up her file, tracing his fingers along Jake's temperature graph. He began to chuckle. "I'd say you made a baby very quickly. Judging from your chart and notes, I'd say you made this baby on the very first try."
Jake puffed out his chest with exaggerated pride. "No six months to a year for us."
"I'd say not. So, that makes your baby due in April. April 25. But remember, that's an estimated due date."
Harley pulled the gown back over her abdomen. "I don't feel pregnant. I haven't been sick or anything." At least, not until I just realized what I've done.
"But your tiredness may have less to do with college, and more to do with this baby," the doctor replied.
; Harley caressed the surface of her stomach. Two months pregnant. The clock already ticked downward on her time with Jake. Obviously the fates hadn't listened to her on that magical night. But then, when had they ever?
She carried his child within her, and in seven months, she'd deliver the baby and be expected to leave them both.
Harley swiped the small tear from the corner of her eye before anyone could see and lifted her chin. Defiant bravado in place, she muttered, "April 25. Our timing stinks. That ought to put me right around spring semester finals."
Jake frowned at her. "Harley! We're having a baby. Is school all you can think about?"
No, but she wasn't going to let him know that.
* * *
Chapter 9
«^»
A cloud formed as Jake's breath condensed in the cool October air. He rested on his rake for a moment, surveying the front yard of Melanie and Peter's old farmhouse. Scattered heaps of red-gold-and-brown leaves dotted the lawn. Most of his family was busy creating the piles. Kate sat on the weathered front steps with baby Matthew in her arms, swaddled in a blanket.
On the far side of the yard, beneath a tall thin poplar, Harley struggled to maintain the order of her pile. The twins helped her. Or so they thought, anyway. He couldn't resist a smile as the little girls used their small purple rakes to create havoc in the leaf mountain Harley had just finished.
His amusement fled quickly when she mopped her brow, then pressed her hand against her stomach. After propping his rake against the trunk of a white oak, he strode across the yard. "You're overdoing it," he murmured into her ear, gently disengaging the tool from her grip. "Are you all right?"
She nodded and glanced around at the others before answering him. "Just a little queasy. I think I'm hungry—again." Her eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips ruefully. "Nobody bothered to inform me that I'd be starving all the time."
Jake chuckled. "Nobody informed you because you didn't ask." He lowered his voice. "I think it's time we told them."
Her gaze darted across the yard again, lingering on his brother.
He placed his hand on her arm. "Harley, don't worry about him. The family's going to be thrilled, you'll see."