Yes, she was in love with her husband. Whether it was a mistake that she’d let herself fall, she didn’t yet know.
There was a knock on the door, and Dr. Foster, the nice obstetrician who had been assigned to her, came in. “Just wanted to check up on you while I’m here. How are you feeling?”
Jean pushed the button on her bed that allowed her to sit up a little more. “So much better than I was last night. I think I’m ready to go home.”
Dr. Foster just smiled. “You’ll be ready to go home when you’re fully hydrated by drinking, and when you’re able to keep food down. Have they brought you your breakfast yet?”
“No, not yet.”
“They should be here with it soon. You’re going to need to eat everything on your tray for three meals in a row before I’m letting you leave. So just concentrate on feeding the baby, and we’ll talk about sleeping in your own bed.”
Someone pushed the door open. “Breakfast!”
Dr. Foster moved out of the way as a young woman in green scrubs pushed Jean’s tray in front of her and put the covered plate down. “We’ve got you on a bland diet for now. You have to eat everything on the tray.”
Dr. Foster nodded. “I just finished telling her that.”
As soon as the cover was removed from the tray, Jean felt herself growing nauseated again. The smell was overwhelming. It was just eggs—one of her favorite things—and toast. How could that make her want to vomit?
The doctor immediately removed the plate from her tray table. “I think we’re doing just IV today. Leave the toast, no butter. Can we get her some crackers?” She frowned down at Jean. “I know you think you’re ready to go home, but you have to be able to eat and gain weight if that baby is going to survive. Crackers and toast for today. Maybe some clear broth if you think you can stomach it.”
“I’ve never thrown up this much. I’ve never been sick in my life. This is crazy!” Jean was getting so frustrated. She wanted to be home with Dillon, not wasting her life sitting in a hospital room.
“What you’ve done in the past has no bearing on this. Women’s bodies do strange things when they’re pregnant. We have to do everything we can to keep that baby inside you.” Dr. Foster patted her hand. “I’ll be by this afternoon when I do rounds again.”
“Okay, thank you.” Jean was definitely frustrated, but there wasn’t much she could do if she didn’t want to lose her baby. Now that she knew it was coming, she wouldn’t risk it for anything.
Dr. Foster handed her the remote for the television. “I have a feeling you know nothing about daytime television. You’re about to become a fan, whether you like it or not.”
Jean groaned. “Don’t make me. I beg of you!”
The doctor laughed and waved on her way out the door. “I’ll be back to check on you.”
Jean wrinkled her nose as she flipped on the television, wishing she had her Kindle. She should have asked Dillon to bring it to her. She could see her phone on the table beside the bed, but couldn’t quite reach it. She leaned toward it, immediately feeling queasy again. Her stomach was really revolting.
She leaned back, groaning with her discomfort, just as the door opened. The nurse came in. “Were you trying to get up?”
“I just wanted to get my phone.”
The nurse handed it to her. “Don’t try that again. You’re not going to be able to get up at all for a little while.”
“But I need to use the restroom.”
“That’s your catheter. It makes you feel like you need to go, but you don’t need to, because you have a catheter. Isn’t that fun?”
Jean glared at the peppy woman. “I just want to go home.” She was never crabby, and even if she was, she never took it out on others. She didn’t know what had gotten into her.
“I know you do. But you can’t, because you could hurt your baby. What can I do to make you more comfortable?”
Jean shrugged. “I have no idea.” The nurse smiled and propped her pillows behind her, easing some of the pressure on her back. “That helps. Thank you.”
“Anything else?”
“Not at the moment. I need to call work and let them know I won’t be in for a while, and I want to tell my husband to bring my Kindle up here. I need to read to entertain myself, not stare mindlessly at the television.”
“I’ve got your Kindle.” Dillon walked over to her, handing her the bag he’d brought. “You look better this morning.” He leaned down, quickly kissing her cheek. “How do you feel?”
“Like a science experiment.” She gestured to her toast. “That’s all I’m allowed to eat. They’re worried I’m going to lose weight, and they won’t let me eat!”
“I see you’ve got some spunk in you. That thrills me after how you were feeling last night.” Dillon watched as the nurse left the room.
“Spunk? Vim and vinegar is more like it. I want to bite someone’s head off.” She pouted up at him. “They brought me eggs for breakfast, and just the smell had me ready to toss the cookies that I don’t have in me, so the doctor had them take away everything but dry toast. Crackers, broth, and dry toast is the extent of the food I get today. I was hoping I’d wake up, and it would have all passed, and I could go home. I hate hospitals.”
He hovered over her, unsure how to help. “I called Erin and told her what was going on, and she said to tell you to call her, and she’s thrilled her baby will have two cousins to play with.”
At his words, Jean immediately burst into tears. “That’s so sweet!”
Dillon felt more lost than ever. “But it wasn’t supposed to make you cry!”
“They took my breakfast away, and they won’t let me go potty, and now Erin said something nice! Of course, I’m crying!” She knew she made no sense even as she said it, but it didn’t matter. “I want to go home!”
Dillon leaned over her hugging her tightly. He sure hoped those were pregnancy hormones messing with her moods, and there wasn’t a new side to her he was just now seeing. “I’d take you home if I could.”
She clung to him. “Thanks for bringing my things. I’m sorry I’m cranky!”
“You have a right to be cranky. You’re in a hospital bed. What can I do to help you?”
She shrugged. “Nothing really. You being here helps.”
He smiled. “Eat your toast. I want you to get it down if at all possible.” He pushed the plate closer to her, but also set the little plastic bowl that seemed to live in hospital rooms on her tray. “If you think you’re going to throw up, let me know, and I’ll run for a nurse.”
She laughed a little. “You just can’t handle the sight of me getting sick.”
“No, I really can’t!”
“At least you admit it.”
The nurse came back into the room then. “I need to put more medicine in your IV.” She efficiently did her job. “Wait a minute or two before eating the toast, please. We want there to be a chance it’ll stay down.”
Jean nodded. The cold toast didn’t look particularly appetizing anyway. “Thanks.”
Dillon sat down in the chair beside the bed. “I’d shoot chocolate into your IV if I thought it would help,” he told her, his face totally serious.
She laughed. “That would be wonderful, but then I couldn’t taste it. Why don’t you go to the gift shop and buy me a huge chocolate bar, and smuggle it in here? I know I won’t throw up chocolate. I’d never waste it that way!”
“Let me go ask the nurse if that would be all right.” He handed her the Kindle before leaving.
Jean found the book she was reading and started to read it when she realized she hadn’t called work yet. She tapped the screen on her phone to call her boss. “This is Gordon.”
“Gordon, this is Jean. I’m in the hospital, and I won’t be in to work for at least a few days.” She waited for him to explode. She’d seen him get angry every time someone had called in sick for the past four years.
“What’s wrong?” His voice was more bark than anything else,
but she didn’t care. Dillon wanted her to quit, and she most likely wouldn’t be able to work throughout her pregnancy.
“I have hyperemesis gravidarum.” She knew he wouldn’t know what it was.
“And that is?”
“Severe morning sickness.”
There was a heavy sigh. “You’re pregnant? If you’re not going to come in while you’re pregnant, I don’t think there’s any reason for you to come back at all.”
She blinked a few times. “You’re firing me?”
“I would never fire someone over being hospitalized,” he said. “I want you to come in as soon as you can.”
“I will.” But probably only to clean out her desk and give formal notice. Dillon was right. She didn’t need to be working a job she hated, and especially not if she was going to be treated poorly while hospitalized. “I’ll be here for a few days yet.”
“Well, you sound perfectly fine to me.”
“I’ll bring a doctor’s note. Goodbye, Gordon.” She poked the end on her phone much harder than she needed to and hurt her finger in the process. All those years of working her butt off, and there was no way he’d let her be promoted now. What was the point in going back?
Dillon was still gone, so she started reading the book she’d been working on, one that Erin had recommended. When she’d first started reading romances, she’d felt it was a waste of time, but now she loved them. Erin had corrupted her in more ways than she could count.
Dillon came back ten minutes later. He held something behind his back. “The nurse said no chocolate, not even in an IV, so…I brought this.” He pulled a tiny little teddy bear from behind his back. The bear was wearing a mint green shirt that said, “My First Teddy Bear”.
When he handed it to her, Jean immediately teared up again. “I needed that.”
Dillon kissed her cheek, sinking into the chair beside her. He hoped she didn’t cry when the daffodils were delivered.
Chapter Eight
Jean was in the hospital for a total of six days before the doctor considered her able to eat well enough to be discharged. It would have been sooner if she’d had any excess weight to start with, but she’d always been very slender.
Dillon drove her home the day she finally got out. “Are you hungry for anything in particular? We can stop somewhere on the way home.”
After thinking about it for a moment, she nodded. “I want chocolate. I’d be happy with a huge bag of Kisses. I’d rather have Frank’s Fudge, of course, but I know that’s not happening.”
“Why isn’t it?” he asked, frowning.
“It’s made in Wyoming, and I haven’t been able to find anyone around here who sells it. I only get it when Erin comes down.”
“It’s that the chocolate her husband makes?”
“Yes. Erin and I were addicted to it in college, and then she married the guy who made it. That was a match made right in the chocolate factory. I swear, Erin would have married an Oompa Loompa to get her hands on the chocolate he made.”
“I’ll find you some Frank’s Fudge.”
Jean knew the correct thing to say was, “Don’t bother,” but she couldn’t make the words come out. She wanted that chocolate more than she wanted her next breath at that moment. “Do you think you can?”
He sighed. “We haven’t talked about money much, because I wanted you to like me for me, but I could hire a private jet to fly some here, and it wouldn’t strain the budget. When we get home, I’ll make some phone calls. You’ll get your fudge.”
“Have I told you that you’re the best husband in the whole wide world yet?”
“Not today.” He pulled into the garage and parked the car. “I’m worried about you climbing the stairs. I had Mrs. Stevens move us into the guest room on the first floor.”
She sighed. “I hate disrupting our lives so much. Why can’t I be normal and have morning sickness a few hours per day?”
He smiled, stroking her arm. “Because you’re unique.” He got out and grabbed her bag from the back. She’d lost weight, and she was starting to look unhealthy to him. He just hoped she’d be able to keep enough food in her for the baby to grow.
When they got inside, the housekeeper, Mrs. Stevens, was there. Jean hadn’t been home during her working hours before, and she was a little surprised to see her there, which was odd. She knew the older woman worked there every day, but never having seen her made Jean almost feel like the housekeeper was a figment of Dillon’s imagination.
“Mrs. Stevens, this is my wife, Jean. Jean, this is Mrs. Stevens. She started here as my nanny a million years ago.”
“Don’t make me older than I already am, Dillon! It’s nice to meet you, Jean. How are you feeling? I got your things moved into the downstairs bedroom like Dillon requested.”
Jean smiled. She knew she was moving slowly but she’d found that moving quickly increased the nausea. “I’m all right. Glad to be home.”
“I’ll bet you are! I made some gingersnaps and some ginger tea. Would you like them now?”
“Ginger?”
“It helps with nausea. It’s the only way I made it through my four pregnancies.” Mrs. Stevens looked to be at least sixty.
“I’ll try anything to help with nausea. My stomach hasn’t stopped doing flips in a week.”
“Go ahead and sit down in the living room. I’ll bring it to you on a tray.”
Jean started to protest that she didn’t need anyone to take care of her, but she did. For the baby’s sake, she had to let people do everything they could to keep her sitting down. She walked into the living room, well aware that Dillon was beside her every step of the way. His hand always outstretched, as if to catch her when she fell.
“I haven’t passed out in a week.”
“You haven’t been walking this much in a week. And you didn’t walk at all without someone right beside you.” Dillon walked with her to the couch and sank down beside her. “I’m going to keep an eye on you for a few days.”
“I need to go to work tomorrow—” she started, only to be cut off immediately.
“You are not going to work. Have you lost your mind? You need to stay home and keep my baby safe!”
She smiled. “I have to go into work tomorrow to give them my doctor’s note, resign, and clean out my desk.”
“I’m going with you then.” Dillon crossed his arms and glared at her. It was non-negotiable.
“I will need you to drive me and walk beside me, ready to catch me when I fall.” She leaned toward him and brushed his lips with hers. “Thank you for spending so much time with me this past week. I’d have gone insane if you hadn’t been up there every day.”
He squeezed her hand. “As soon as the doctor okays it, I’m taking you to the coast. I think the sea air will do you good.”
She rested her head on his shoulder. “I have an appointment the day after tomorrow. They’re going to do a sonogram.” They’d done a couple at the hospital, but they’d always just missed him, and she hadn’t told him. She didn’t want him to feel like he was missing out on anything.
“We won’t know the sex of the baby yet, will we?”
She shook her head. “There’s some testing we can have done that will tell us that if you really want to know right away though.”
“What kind of testing?” he asked, obviously worried for her and the baby. “I don’t want to do anything that will hurt you.”
“Just some blood work. I’m sure we can talk to the doctor about it on Thursday when we go in.”
“I’ll think about it. I want you to be safe.”
Jean rested her head on his shoulder for a moment. “Have you thought at all about names?”
“I really think I want to name a baby after my father, if that wouldn’t bother you.” Dillon shrugged. “I never got to know him, but I wish I could have.”
“Depends on what his name was. I’m not naming my child Archibald or Maynard.”
“His name was David. Would that bother you?”
Jean shook her head. “David I can live with. Any ideas for a girl?”
He shrugged. “What was your mom’s name?”
She smiled. “Lisa.”
“I like it. So David for a boy and Lisa for a girl?”
“Unless we come up with something else, I’m fine with those. That was easy.”
He stood up. “I need to make a couple of phone calls. I’ll be right back.”
She watched him go, wondering what she was supposed to do now. Mrs. Stevens came in, handing her a cup of tea on a saucer and a plate of gingersnaps. “I’m going to stay with you while Dillon makes his calls. I’m afraid you’re going to have someone with you all the time for a few days until we know for certain you’ll be all right.”
“Thank you.” Jean accepted the tea and took a sip. “The ginger is strong.”
“It needs to be for it to work. I wish I could give you milk, but we’re going to wait on that for a couple of days. I want to make sure you’re holding things in your stomach before we add dairy.”
Jean took a bite of one of the cookies. “These are good. You need to teach me to make gingersnaps. I’ve tried a couple of times and failed miserably, so I usually just buy them from the store.”
“As soon as you’re well enough to be on your feet for a while, I’ll teach you anything you want to know.”
“I’m going to go stir crazy if I’m not working and not allowed to do anything.”
Mrs. Stevens smiled. “Why don’t I teach you to knit? You can make baby booties.”
Jean wrinkled her nose. “That doesn’t sound like fun to me.”
“We’ll think of something. I won’t let you lose your mind with boredom, even after Dillon starts working again.”
“Maybe I could help him!”
“No, you cannot help him,” Mrs. Stevens said. “His work is back-breaking. That’s not something for a pregnant woman to be doing.”
Jean sighed. “It’s going to be an interesting few months, isn’t it?”
“It is at that. But think of the healthy baby you’ll be able to hold in your arms.”
“That’s all that’s keeping me going at the moment.”
Anxious in Atlanta: At the Altar Book 12 (A Magnolias and Moonshine Novella 11) Page 6