The Would-Be Mommy

by Jacqueline Diamond

  Maybe.

  Jennifer’s stomach started churning the second she stepped into the cafeteria. Heads swiveled her way, and then the employees averted their gazes. As a conversational buzz arose, she felt like the day she’d returned to high school, determined to finish senior year and earn her diploma. There’d been snide remarks, sneering expressions and utter isolation. Her only consolation had been that the other kids didn’t dare taunt her openly. Too intimidated to antagonize a girl who ran around with gun-toting criminals, she’d gathered.

  After purchasing a sandwich, Jennifer made her way between the tables. Conversations fell silent as she passed, then resumed in a blur of voices behind her.

  Ahead, through the opening to the patio, she spotted Samantha and Lori at a table. Jennifer quailed. She’d never forgotten the moment when she sat down at the table with her best friends in high school, girls she’d shared sleepovers and shopping trips with, and they picked up their trays and moved away.

  The two women looked toward her. Gazing at them, Jennifer remembered her first impressions when she’d arrived six months ago. She’d immediately liked Lori’s open, kind face. Samantha’s features were more pointed and her natural expression sharper, but she’d shown nothing but kindness.

  Until now?

  Both of them picked up their plates. After a heart-stopping moment, Jennifer realized they were simply clearing space for her.

  She started breathing again. This really wasn’t high school.

  As she reached the table, Lori spoke up. “You have got to hear this!”

  Jennifer slid into a seat. “Hear what?”

  “Tony insists we hold the reception at his house even if Esther’s not there,” she crowed. “He says she’s created enough of a mess and he doesn’t want it to affect my wedding. Isn’t that sweet?”

  “He’s a great guy,” Jennifer responded. Thank goodness we’re talking about something, anything, other than me. “That woman’s an idiot to risk losing him.”

  “If they really love each other, things will come together for them,” Samantha commented.

  Lori didn’t look convinced. “I’m out of patience with Esther. Like I said, I understand that my wedding isn’t the big issue here, but she’s acting as if it doesn’t even matter.”

  “Well, it matters to us.” Jennifer caught her breath. Was she presuming too much? She wouldn’t blame Lori for not wanting the hospital’s scarlet woman to march down the aisle ahead of her.

  “You’re not bailing out on me, are you?” Lori asked. “I’m counting on you and Samantha to be my comaids of honor.”

  To Jennifer’s embarrassment, her eyes burned. “I might cry.”

  Both of her friends reached over, each cupping one of her hands. “We’re on your side,” Lori said.

  “You were seventeen, and the jerk put a gun to your head,” Samantha added. “How dare people blame you for that?”

  “And I lost my…” She hadn’t meant to reveal that. Oh, why not? “I was five months pregnant. The crash killed my baby.”

  Neither of them spoke for a moment. Then Lori said, “I’m so sorry.”

  “Do those people—the McCoys—know about it?” Samantha asked.

  Jennifer shook her head. “Mrs. McCoy’s still suffering the aftermath of that crash. I wouldn’t feel right making a play for her sympathy.”

  “Don’t be a martyr,” the pediatrician responded.

  “It’s not that bad,” she assured them. “Now, let’s discuss giving Lori a shower. Isn’t that what maids of honor are supposed to do?”

  They were nearly finished eating when her cell rang. It was Mark, asking her to come upstairs immediately.

  “That doesn’t sound good,” Samantha commented when Jennifer relayed the information. “I’m coming with you.”

  “I’d go, too, but we’ve got patients scheduled. I hope he’s not going to get sidetracked.” Lori had to pick up the slack when Mark’s duties as administrator delayed his obstetrical appointments.

  Jennifer didn’t answer. She had a bad feeling about this.

  Samantha patted her hand again. “Let’s go.”

  They cleared their dishes and headed back. This time, other staff members kept their staring to a minimum. Perhaps they’d already satisfied their curiosity, or more likely they didn’t want to risk a glare from the fiery pediatrician.

  At the administrative offices, they found Mark pacing. He seemed startled to see Samantha, but ushered them both into his office without comment.

  Usually, Jennifer took a moment to enjoy the view through the glass walls of the harbor and, beyond, the vast blue brilliance of the ocean. On a clear day like this, the vista included Catalina Island in the distance.

  Today she’d have been satisfied to stare at a blank wall if only she could keep her job.

  “Well?” Samantha demanded.

  The administrator grimaced. “I just had a difficult conversation with Chandra Yashimoto. Apparently, the corporation’s receiving a lot of flak from around the country. She’s had angry phone calls and e-mails.”

  All the warmth flushed out of the room. “She wants me fired?” Jennifer asked.

  “If she goes, I’m going, too,” Samantha declared.

  Stunned at the intensity of her friend’s loyalty, Jennifer barely managed to respond. “You can’t do that. What about your patients?”

  “Nobody’s firing anybody if I can help it,” Mark said. “However, she ordered me—us—to clean up this mess. She said publicists aren’t supposed to create negative publicity, and I have to admit, this could hurt the hospital. You’re the public relations expert. Any suggestions?”

  The answer that came to Jennifer was almost as bad as getting fired. “I think it’s best if I hand in my resignation.”

  She hadn’t counted on Samantha. “Don’t be an idiot!”

  “Diplomatic as always,” Mark muttered.

  “You’re going to hold a press conference and tell the public about your miscarriage,” her friend said.

  “No…”

  “It might work,” conceded the administrator, to whom she’d relayed the whole story. “I hate to put you in such a position, Jennifer, but it does show that you suffered, too. Plus it will give you a chance to respond to some of the more irresponsible claims floating about in cyberspace.”

  She folded her arms. “If it were just a matter of my privacy, I’d sacrifice that for the hospital’s good. After all, it’s my job to enhance our reputation, not harm it.”

  “You can’t be worried about protecting the McCoys!” Samantha burst out. “For heaven’s sake, you have a right to tell the truth. If that takes some of the wind out of their sails, tough.”

  “It’s more than that.” Jennifer instinctively recoiled from using a hospital press conference as a personal appeal for vindication, no matter what the cost to her. “A media event like this would turn the situation into a circus. What do my problems have to do with Safe Harbor as an institution? If I quit, the hospital’s protected from any further damage. That would be the honorable thing for me to do.”

  In Mark’s face, she read admiration and a trace of surprise. In Samantha’s, she saw only stubbornness.

  “What if we held a press conference that enhanced the hospital’s image?” the pediatrician asked. “I have an idea how we can leverage this to do some actual good.”

  “Why do I suspect I’m about to be buffaloed into something?” Mark didn’t seem to expect an answer.

  “I’m listening,” Jennifer said.

  And tried not to hope too much. Because even Samantha couldn’t work miracles.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Nothing brought you down to earth like a baby, Jennifer mused as she drove home, listening to Rosalie’s happy cooing from the rear seat. She’d spent all afternoon setting up the press conference for tomorrow while fending off the media’s inquiries about what she planned to announce.

  Already, stories had begun circulating on the Web that she intende
d to resign. Thank goodness that wasn’t the case—not yet, anyway. A lot depended on how this presentation went over.

  Pulling into the driveway to her condo’s parking area, she scanned the street for news vans or anyone loitering about who might be a member of the press. Then she glimpsed one—Ian.

  He sat on her porch, tapping away at a netbook perched on his knees. When he spotted her and grinned, her spirits lifted.

  After Jennifer parked around back, they met in the central courtyard, where he relieved her of the baby carrier, and they headed toward her unit. “How’s my girl?” he asked the baby. “And how’s her mom holding up?”

  “Surviving.” Her stomach rumbled. From the delicious smell, one of the neighbors must be frying chicken.

  “I hear you called a press conference.”

  So that’s what brought him here. “You’re expecting a preview?”

  Ian paused before a row of mailboxes. “Jennifer, I didn’t drive to Safe Harbor to ask for favors. I came to see you.” There was genuine hurt in his eyes.

  “I’m sorry.” She sighed. “It’s been a rough day.”

  “Yes, and in large part because of me.” He resumed walking. “I’m the guy who put you in the spotlight in the first place.”

  “I put myself in the spotlight. Nobody forced me to become a publicist.”

  “Well, that’s true.”

  When she’d begun studying communications, she hadn’t thought about the potential implications, Jennifer conceded. Thrilled to discover she had a knack for handling publicity, she’d pursued her classes with enthusiasm. Never had she expected the glare to turn on her.

  “I figured it was other people I’d make famous. Or notorious, as the case may be.”

  “You still have your job?” Ian waited while she unlocked her door.

  “For now.” Inside, as they carried Rosalie upstairs, she explained about the decision to reveal her miscarriage. “I realize you already have the information, but please don’t release it ahead of time.”

  “I promised to keep it confidential, and I will, until you release it. But that doesn’t preclude me from working on my story in advance. I’ll update it with whatever you say tomorrow.”

  “So you may still beat your competition by a few minutes,” she observed.

  “That’s the idea.”

  “Always competitive.”

  “Which is why they pay me the big bucks,” he said wryly. “Note the Rolls-Royce and the designer suit.”

  “If you get the new position…”

  “They’ll bump my pay a notch or two. I might even open a savings account.” He watched as she tucked the yawning infant into the crib. “Isn’t it a little early for bedtime?”

  “The day-care lady said she refused to nap.” Perhaps the baby had picked up Jennifer’s uneasy mood. “I hope she’ll catch a few winks while I fix dinner.”

  “Brought some.” He indicated his shoulder bag. “Can’t you smell the fried chicken?”

  That explained the delicious aroma. “I’ve been drooling since I ran into you.”

  “Women tell me that all the time.”

  She laughed. “Competitive and modest.”

  “I decided I’ve mooched more than enough of your food.” He peered out the window. “Gorgeous sunset.”

  Jennifer moved closer and followed his line of sight. “Oh, it’s lovely. I’d like to bring some of those colors inside the room—repaint the walls. This beige is way too bland.”

  “The walls are a little bare,” he agreed.

  “And I’ll order blowups of the photos we had taken.” The photographer had captured adorable shots of Rosalie alone and in Jennifer’s arms. “As she grows, I’d like to create a memory wall.”

  “I wish I could be here.” Ian’s voice sounded hoarse. “Damn it, I hate having to leave.”

  “I hate it, too.”

  For an instant, neither of them moved, and then they reached for each other. Ian’s mouth explored hers lovingly, not seeking anything, not urging her to the bedroom, simply connecting them.

  With a vast sense of rightness, Jennifer melted into the man she loved. Yes, loved. Without realizing it and without her consent, she’d fallen for this fellow. So what if he wasn’t going to figure into her future or be around to pick up the pieces if the press conference tomorrow failed? He was here now.

  At last he released her. “I hate to admit it, but I’m starving.”

  “Me, too.” Pleased to see that the baby had drifted off, she took Ian’s hand and led him downstairs to dinner.

  THE LAST TIME IAN had visited this wood-paneled auditorium with its comfortably tiered seats, he’d been looking for a story. Today, he wished this story would go away.

  The people jamming the room, filling the seats and cramming the aisles with their minicams and laptops and cell phones at the ready, seemed like intruders. They skimmed the surface, jumping from sound bite to sound bite.

  Like I used to do. And might have to again, if he didn’t land the column.

  Last night, after he and Jennifer made love, they’d lain awake for hours, talking. He’d told her about being summoned to New York and his doubts about whether he had landed the promotion. She’d insisted that Flash News/Global would be crazy to give it to anyone else.

  As soon as he filed his story today, he’d grab his few possessions and catch a flight to New York. From there, he’d likely head for his next base of operations, wherever that might be.

  It might be many months, or longer, before he’d return. Months during which Rosalie would learn to crawl and babble, walk and talk. Months during which Jennifer would move on, perhaps meet someone new.

  But no matter how much Ian yearned to be with her, he couldn’t live a half life. He would never be satisfied with an ordinary job, with a career that failed to make a difference in the world.

  Pierre, who lingered close to the stage preparing to video the proceedings, seemed happy enough hanging around Los Angeles, capturing whatever news broke locally. Sometimes it was big news, Ian conceded, but mostly little stuff. Celebrity gossip, criminal proceedings—much like what he’d pursued these past few weeks.

  Rewarding at times. Stultifying at others.

  All that remained today was to listen to these now-familiar people who were strolling onto the stage—Dr. Rayburn, Dr. Forrest and Jennifer—confirm what he already knew about her past. A few updates to his prepared story and…Wait a minute. What was Samantha’s role in today’s announcement?

  Ian took a deep breath as Jennifer stepped to the microphone. Across the auditorium the murmur of voices hushed.

  “Thanks for coming,” she told the press. As if you could have kept them away with a shotgun. “We have two reasons for calling this press conference. The first is personal, and the second is because my employers at Safe Harbor Medical Center believe that some good ought to come out of tragedy.”

  She proceeded to outline the facts of the robbery, including Frank’s coercion. When she revealed that she’d been pregnant and described awakening to discover she’d lost the baby, she didn’t even try to stem her tears.

  “I’m not telling you this so you can choose sides about who to feel sorry for. The McCoy family suffered terribly, and I want to apologize to them. If I’d exercised better judgment about who I dated, if I’d tried to escape instead of following his commands, maybe I could have prevented what happened,” she said. “It’s too late to go back, but it isn’t too late to change the future.”

  Rising, Samantha moved to a second microphone. Ian leaned forward, curious.

  “At Safe Harbor we’ve seen a lot of confused, hurting young women in the past few weeks, as you all know,” the pediatrician said. “I’m delighted to announce plans for a counseling clinic to help women deal with issues of fertility, pregnancy and early child care. This press conference marks the start of a fundraising campaign so that we can offer services to anyone who needs them. We’re going to call it the Edward Serra Memorial Clinic, after t
he baby who died in the accident.”

  Jennifer’s mouth fell open. “You’re what?”

  This wasn’t part of the script, Ian realized with a lump in his throat.

  Dr. Rayburn joined the women to express the administration’s support for the new endeavor, and then members of the press began throwing out questions. In their voices Ian heard sympathy and interest in place of hostility. Things had worked out better than he could have anticipated.

  Then, as he turned to slip out, he observed two people at the back, staring toward the stage. With a jolt, he recognized Andrea and John McCoy.

  What on earth were they doing here?

  UNTIL THE LATEST UPROAR, Medical Center Management would have instantly rejected Samantha’s proposal to open a charitable clinic, Jennifer had no doubt. Even so, it had taken all of Mark’s powers to persuade Chandra and her superiors that this announcement offered the hospital a much-needed goodwill boost in the public’s eye.

  They’d pulled it off. Blunted the criticism of Jennifer personally, and restored Safe Harbor’s good name.

  The decision to name the clinic after her lost son was a complete surprise. The recognition that he hadn’t died in vain filled Jennifer with bittersweet elation.

  She allowed her gaze to drift to Ian in the back of the auditorium. Who was that middle-aged couple standing near him? There was something familiar about the woman leaning on a cane and the stoop-shouldered man.…

  The reporters’ questions and Mark’s and Samantha’s answers faded from Jennifer’s awareness. Oh, heavens. She hadn’t seen these people in twelve years. And now…had they come to tell her off personally, in public?

  She supposed she should wrap up this session fast, before they summoned the courage to speak out. Ian had claimed the pair weren’t intent on revenge, but suppose they’d changed their minds? If they turned the press conference into a forum for their personal vendetta, they could cause immense damage. Not only to her, but also to the fundraising efforts for the new clinic.

  Too late. They’d begun making their way up the center aisle, drawing every eye. Cameras swung their way, and in the buzz from the floor, Jennifer caught the name McCoy. Everyone, it seemed, had identified them as the wronged couple.