Do You Take This Child?

by Marie Ferrarella

  Lisa did her best to remember the order of the questions. “Yes, yes, yes, and he didn’t smile.” Not that she hadn’t wanted him to, Lisa thought.

  “Lucky you,” Sheila murmured more to herself than to the nurse.

  It was his smile more than anything else that had caused her to throw common sense and caution to the winds and do what she’d done, becoming Cathy to his Heathcliff, Katharine Hepburn to his Spencer Tracy.

  She should have had her head examined.

  And yet, she wouldn’t have changed a damn thing even if she could. She was always going to remember that night, and cherish the child who had been created even though it had been completely by accident, despite precautions taken.

  Lisa studied her face, wondering if Sheila was going into labor. “Doctor, are you all right? You look a little pale.”

  “I always look pale when I’m entertaining the Ghost of Christmas Past,” she answered, distracted.

  She never thought she was going to see him again, and now he was here, in her waiting room. What was she going to do?

  Sheila stopped. There was no reason to feel this panicky sensation scrambling through her like a spider sliding off a slick mirror. She had made a mature decision after her world had suddenly been upended and she found herself pregnant.

  Up until the moment she read the result of the pregnancy test, she had never dreamed of having a child of her own. Her own childhood had convinced her that a successful career did not leave any room for having a family. At least, not one that would receive the kind of attention she always believed a family merited.

  But finding herself on the other side of the examining table had evoked such maternal feelings within her that she couldn’t just ignore them or erase them. Suddenly sprouting full grown within her breast, they clamored for release. She wanted this baby.

  She was having this baby, she had thought fiercely. And she was having it alone, without benefit of spouse or “significant other.”

  The significant other in this case was a man she considered to be her star-crossed lover. The evening had been far too perfect to ruin with a second encounter, much less adding the news of a “dividend” resulting from the night of lovemaking to that encounter. She knew that would have put everything into a different perspective, dulling the sparkle by introducing reality.

  During that night, Sheila felt that she had gotten to know Slade as well as any woman could know a man. He was as fiercely independent as she was, and as content with his life-style as she was with hers. Neither of them wanted commitment, much less children, in the picture.

  Knowing this had convinced Sheila not to attempt to locate Slade to let him know that he was going to be a father.

  There would have been no point to it. She didn’t need him to make the picture complete. She had herself to rely on. And in times of need, there were also her parents to turn to. They had taken the news surprisingly well, acting every bit as sophisticated about it as they did about everything else.

  Theodore and Susan Pollack might not have given her a fairy-tale childhood, or even a traditional one, but they were making up for it by being there for her now. Because of them and her own outlook, Sheila had quickly adjusted to the situation. The road was a little bumpy at times, but she always handled it.

  And now he was out there, in her waiting room. Waiting.

  And here she was, almost nine months’ pregnant with his baby. Talk about throwing a monkey wrench into the works.

  Sheila pressed her lips together. She had a patient still waiting on the table in the room behind her, shivering under a yellow-and-white-checkered sheet. Not to mention two more patients she hadn’t even seen yet in examining rooms two and three, plus a full schedule for the remainder of the afternoon. This was no time for personal complications.

  She curved her hand around her protruding belly. She had enough of those to deal with as it was. All she wanted to do right now was see her patients and wait out these new twinges she was experiencing.

  Lisa touched her arm. “Maybe I should tell him to come back later?”

  Yes, like the Twelfth of Never. Right along with Johnny Mathis.

  “No, just tell him that if this isn’t about one of my patients going into labor, he’s going to have to wait until I’m finished seeing the rest of my patients.”

  And maybe by then, he’d go away on his own. And then they could both go on living with their keepsake fantasies of that magical night.

  Lisa nodded uncertainly and slipped out of the room. “All right, I’ll tell him.”

  Mallory Flannigan turned around at the sound of the door opening again. The paper cover rustled beneath her. “Problem?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle,” Sheila answered cheerfully. Or so I’d like to think.

  Mallory wasn’t altogether convinced. There was something in her doctor’s voice that made her think something was rattling her normally unflappable physician. Their association went beyond that of doctor and patient. Among other things, Mallory, a real estate agent, had sold Sheila the house she was living in. And Sheila had provided her with a shoulder to lean on when Mallory had gone through her own difficult time. She would have liked to return the favor.

  Pulling the thin cloth back, she waited as Sheila’s long, cool fingers lightly skimmed her breasts and checked her over.

  Sheila nodded to herself, satisfied with the result. There appeared to be nothing to worry about. “You’re fine, Mallory. The tenderness you’re experiencing is common.” She took Mallory’s chart out and wrote a few notes down on a fresh piece of paper. “It should pass soon.”

  Mallory sat up. She’d thought as much, but it never hurt to check. She pulled the robe up around her. Yellow-and-white checkers were definitely not her style, she mused. Biting her lip, she debated intruding. The debate lasted less than a second. She liked Sheila too much to stand on formality.

  “You know, when I was so upset about Jackson leaving and then coming back into my life, you practically had a stranglehold on me to get me to talk.”

  Sheila made another note, then put down the pen. She smiled. That had turned out well. She doubted her own situation would follow suit. In this case, she had no idea what “well” constituted.

  “Yes, and as I remember, you didn’t. You wanted to work things out on your own.”

  Sheila’s manner, light and friendly, still warned Mallory not to interfere. Mallory rarely paid attention to warnings, especially not where friends were concerned. “That was what I was going to tell you. Things do work out on their own if you just give them their head.”

  Sheila picked up the chart and rested it against her belly. She was going to miss her little shelf once this was over.

  “I’ll remember that.” In this case, it doesn’t apply, but I’ll remember, anyway.

  Mallory was far from convinced, but for now, she let the subject drop. She knew by her own example that you couldn’t coerce these things from people, it had to come voluntarily.

  She slid off the table, her toes curled as they touched the cold floor. “Well, if you need to talk, or want a sounding board, I’D be more than happy to volunteer. And even if you don’t, I’d still like to invite you to my wedding.”

  Sheila paused by the door, surprised. And pleased. “Wedding?”

  “Yes, Jackson and I are getting married in three weeks or so.” She knew her voice was filled with pride, and she didn’t care how chauvinistic that sounded. “Joshua is going to be best man.”

  “Won’t be the first time the best man wasn’t able to stand up at the wedding.” Sheila laughed. She had helped bring Mallory’s son Joshua into the world only last month. In her experience it had been one of the fastest deliveries she had ever had the pleasure to be present at.

  “In this case, Marlene’s housekeeper will be holding him,” Mallory said, mentioning another one of Sheila’s patients, a woman she had gotten close to during their enforced stay in the waiting room. “I’ll send you an invitation to make it official
,” she promised. “As soon as I have a fixed date myself.”

  “I’ll be looking for it,” Sheila assured her.

  She closed the door behind her as she entered the hall. A wedding, she thought, allowing herself a touch of envy. Well, a wedding wasn’t in her future, but she was really happy for Mallory. She’d seen Jackson at the delivery, and he looked as if he was capable of making Mallory very happy.

  It was nice to know that some people were experiencing happy endings.

  Sheila glanced at Lisa. The nurse was bent over the appointment book, doing some juggling. She had already informed Lisa that she was going to have to switch some of her patients over to her partner, Dr. Kelly, for the time being. Having resisted it all along, she was finally slowing down.

  The frosted glass window was still closed. Sheila knew Lisa did it in order to concentrate on her work, but she wished it was open just this once.

  No, she didn’t.

  Squaring her shoulders, Sheila went on to her next examining room. A small, sharp pain rippled down her spine. She ignored it. If she had begun to wonder about every little pain she had, she would have remained flat on her back the entire nine months. Work was far more therapeutic.

  Three hours later, Sheila found herself out of patients. The waiting room, save for Slade, Lisa had informed her, was empty.

  “Are you sure?” Sheila asked.

  Lisa nodded. “No one. Just him and a lot of magazines with tired pages.”

  “No calls from the hospital?” A hopeful note entered her voice.

  “No calls,” Lisa confirmed. What was there between the doctor and the man out in the waiting room? Lisa exchanged looks with one of the other nurses as the thought hit her. This was the baby’s father. It had to be. She’d never seen Dr. Pollack so uneasy.

  Feeling suddenly protective, Lisa placed her hand over Sheila’s. “I can tell him that you were called away.”

  She was tempted, but then Sheila shook her head. It would only be postponing the inevitable. He had to find out sometime, she supposed. But she had been thinking more along the lines of during the baby’s college graduation, just before he or she delivered the valedictorian speech.

  “No, show him into the office.” Sighing, she turned toward the room at the rear of the short hall. “I might as well get this over with.”

  Feeling more tired than she had in a long time, Sheila walked into her office and sat down behind her desk. She wished that it was higher, or her seat was lower. Or, for the first time since she had conducted her own pregnancy test in this very office, that the result had been something different than it was.

  She really wasn’t looking forward to having to tell Slade Garrett that she was carrying his child.

  The man she had made love with had taken on almost superhuman qualities, qualities only enhanced by the passage of time. It wasn’t anything he could live up to in person. She didn’t expect him to, but neither did she want to give up the magical essence of that night. Having it exposed to the reality of day-to-day life would take away the unique qualities it now possessed.

  She sighed again, waiting for Slade to enter.

  He had run out of things to read half an hour ago and given up editing the articles in his head long before then. During the last three hours, he had endured the curious glances of a parade of patients who had disappeared behind a door he wasn’t allowed to open. Now the room was finally empty. At a quarter past five, he didn’t expect anyone else to come in for an appointment.

  Slade heard the inner door opening and rose, towering over the nurse who entered. The one who had taken his message in to Sheila. He glanced at her name tag.

  “My turn, Lisa?” he asked gamely.

  There was something about the man’s brown eyes that made Lisa have to remind herself to breathe. After a beat, she nodded. “Yes. The doctor will see you now.”

  “Very sporting of her,” Slade said cryptically.

  He had no idea why he hadn’t walked out an hour ago. His job called for patience, but he had never grown accustomed to exercising it. Waiting made him irritable. But curiosity had bound him to the chair.

  He’d had three hours to dwell on the image in his mind and wonder if she could live up to it. He doubted it, but he had to see for himself. He figured he owed it to both of them.

  There had been one instance, months ago, when a sniper had killed his guide and narrowly missed killing him, during which his life had passed before his eyes. He’d seen Sheila then, just the way she’d been on the beach, bathed in moonlight and his gaze, nothing more. The image had burned itself into his mind even after he’d reached sanctuary.

  No other woman had ever had such a profound, lasting impression on him. He had to find out if it had been just the intensity of the situation, or if there was more between them than an incredibly passionate night.

  He followed the nurse to the last room in the back. “Ah, the inner sanctum.”

  The nurse murmured something as she stepped back, but he didn’t catch it. He wondered about the strange look in her eyes and the way the other two nurses had looked at him as he passed by. He couldn’t be the first man to walk in here, Slade thought.

  He ran his hand along the back of his neck. It felt itchy, the way it always did just before he walked into an unexpected situation. Turning the doorknob, he entered her office.

  She was there, sitting behind her desk. The darkening blue sky seemed to intensify her blondness and the white of her smock. Her hands were folded primly before her as if she was a student in some private school classroom, waiting for the teacher to enter.

  Fantasies began taking hold again. She was just as beautiful as he remembered.

  More.

  Damn her.

  “I like your waiting room.” He nodded behind him, his eyes on hers. Something was different about her. There was something in her eyes, he realized. Fear? Defiance? He couldn’t quite identify it. “You don’t believe in furniture that swallows you up.”

  She smiled as nerves clenched and unclenched in her stomach. He was more tanned than he’d been before, and his hair was a little longer than it had been that night. But her memory hadn’t lied. If anything, it had faded. He was even better-looking than she remembered. She hadn’t thought that was possible.

  She pressed her hands closer together. “It makes it difficult for the pregnant women if they have to dig themselves out of chairs that absorb them like huge melted marshmallows.” Her tone matched his. Glib, yet with a thread of tension. “So, how have you been?”

  Before he had a chance to answer, very deliberately, she unfolded her hands and leaned back in the chair.

  She saw his jaw slacken as his eyes rested on the swell of her belly.

  Whatever answer he had for her was lost as he stared at her. God, this was one cool lady. He masked his reaction as best he could. “Fine, when I wasn’t being shot at.”

  No surprise. Nothing. She felt a little disappointed, she realized. “Remind me to play poker with you the next time you get up a game.”

  He laughed shorty. “Sorry, you just took me by surprise. I tend to numb out then.”

  Something tightened, hot and painful, in his gut. Automatically, Slade glanced at her hand. There was no ring on it, but maybe the rock her husband had given her was too large for her to wear during working hours. It would undoubtedly get stuck in the rubber gloves she had to pull on.

  “I guess congratulations are in order.” That made the joke on him; he thought. He’d been having fantasies about a married, pregnant woman.

  His voice sounded strange, hollow. “You mean because of the baby?”

  It seemed to be a part-and-parcel deal. “I mean the wedding.”

  She stared at him, uncomprehending. “What wedding?”

  Why was she playing it so coy? She looked large enough to burst. Maybe he was being unreasonable, but he felt a little cheated. “Yours.”

  Sheila blinked, confused. What was he talking about? She raised her brow, a smile
playing on her lips. “Am I getting married?”

  This was the nineties, he reminded himself. Old-fashioned, traditional views existed right beside comfortable, newly forged ones. But he would have thought, since she was a doctor with a position on the staff of one of the most respected hospitals in the country, that she would have gotten married, either before or after the fact.

  He drew closer. “Then you’re not—?”

  “Married?” He nodded. Sheila rose, feeling just the slightest bit hemmed in. “No.”

  It didn’t make sense to him. She hadn’t struck him as the type to thumb her nose at society. “Then how—?”

  He was putting her on, wasn’t he? “I would think a man in your position and with your expertise would know how.”

  Slade studied her face. He reached for his pocket before he silently cursed himself and tobacco leaves in general for ever having existed.

  Suddenly, his brain swiftly began sliding down an entirely different path. “How far along are you?” he asked quietly.

  So, it was beginning to dawn on him, was it? She didn’t know if he was being incredibly slow, or just in denial.

  “About as far as I can go,” she answered briskly. She wanted out of this conversation and wished the telephone would ring. Where were emergency deliveries when you needed them? “Nine months.”

  Nine months. Wow. He perched on the side of the desk, because right now he wasn’t completely certain if his legs could support him. “Then that would make the baby—”

  “Yours,” she completed for him. That wasn’t panic in his eyes, but what was it? “Yes.”

  “Wow.” He ran his hand over his neck. The itching had stopped. “What a welcome-home present.”

  She couldn’t help laughing. He looked utterly stunned. “You’re turning pale.”

  A baby. She was having a baby. He was having a baby. Sort of. Slade blew out a breath and fervently wished for a cigarette. Just one. “Just a little overwhelmed, that’s all.”

  Yes, she would have expected that. “You don’t have to be.”

  He waved her into silence. He’d deal with what he did have to be and didn’t have to be later. There was a more important question crowding his mind. “Why didn’t you tell me?”