Nine-Month Surprise

Chapter Two

Will snapped his cell phone shut. He felt relieved that she hadn’t answered, because he didn’t know what he could have offered. An apology, at best.

His edginess had started building earlier in the week, when his ex-wife had accused him in an e-mail of being a rigid workaholic. Then yesterday, when he drove the twins to his parents’ ranch for a visit, emotions had rushed back from a boyhood spent feeling like the odd man out among his three rough-hewn brothers.

When he’d returned to Austin, Will had been seized by a restless longing for something he couldn’t name. Leah had showed him what it was. Flirting with her in the bar had made him feel like a man again, and the sex had been mind-blowing.

But he’d taken stupid risks. Forgetting the condom at first, for one thing. Getting involved with a transient, for another. A woman living in a motel was likely to be desperately seeking someone to latch on to. And Will had no illusions about what a superficially attractive package he offered, if she’d gotten close enough to see the MD decal on his car.

Two other doctors came into the lounge. In no mood for chitchat, he turned away to pour a cup of coffee from the decanter. He would require more than a few cups this morning to make up for the lack of sleep.

The delivery room had paged him at 3:00 a.m. He’d been grateful the beeper hadn’t woken Leah.

After dressing, he’d stood by the bed, admiring the way her dark hair spilled across the pillow. Remembering the glow in her blue eyes, Will had been tempted to rouse her and explain why he had to leave. With uncharacteristic impulsiveness, he’d considered confessing who he was and giving her his phone number.

Then what? He remembered all too well the experience of a colleague who’d had an ill-considered affair with a waitress. Of course, the man had been cheating on his wife, so he’d had even more to lose, but the subsequent stalking and suicide threats had lasted over a year, and the whole incident had wrecked his marriage.

Leah hadn’t seemed unstable. If Will had met her under other circumstances, he would have considered her delightfully sweet. But innocent women didn’t go around picking up men in bars. She had to be playing some game.

He’d already made the mistake of marrying the wrong woman. Allison hadn’t been a nutcase, but in his book, she came close. No matter how frustrated a woman might be, that didn’t justify dumping her husband and children for a rich playboy. The husband, maybe, but definitely not the kids.

A smile touched Will’s face at the thought of his six-year-olds, outgoing Diane and reserved India. They deserved a dad who shared his spare evenings with them, not a strange woman. And one who cut back his schedule so he could enjoy more time with them before they grew up. For heaven’s sake, they were already about to start first grade.

That was why he’d decided to relocate to a town that offered them all a second chance. His announcement that they were moving out of state had ticked off Allison, but since she’d visited the twins only sporadically in the two years since she’d run off with a guy who didn’t like children, she had to accept it.

Due to his commitments in Austin, they were moving less than a week before school started. Luckily, Will’s housekeeper had agreed to accompany them. Eileen McNulty was the answer to a single father’s prayer.

As his pager went off again, Will set down the cup and looked at the number. The delivery room. He had two patients in labor, so the summons didn’t surprise him.

His new position required working occasional evenings and weekends, but judging by his earlier visit, things were a lot quieter in Downhome, Tennessee. Moreover, Will’s office would lie only blocks from home.

True, the town lacked a hospital, so he’d have to perform surgery in a facility about twelve miles off. And he understood some candidates for the position had balked at the requirement that they handle occasional on-call duties for nonobstetric cases. Will figured he’d enjoy getting to know a range of townspeople, and he liked the idea of practicing old-fashioned community-based medicine.

No doubt about it, he mused as he left the doctors’ lounge. He was going to be much happier away from the stresses and temptations of Austin.

ALTHOUGH THE VISIT to Seattle proved a soothing relief after her experience in Texas, Leah returned without a firm job offer. She’d been impressed by the Rosewell Center, a private school for children with mild handicaps, special talents and emotional problems that made it hard for them to fit into regular classes. Given a nurturing environment and challenges tailored to their temperaments and abilities, the kids flourished.

“The staff at Rosewell said they might have an opening next semester,” she explained to her principal, Olivia Rockwell, who’d stopped by to catch up on the news. Eager to post the pictures and maps she’d gathered on her trip, Leah showed up six days before school started to work in the classroom.

“Can I be selfish and hope they don’t?” After finding a thumbtack, Olivia fixed a loose upper corner of a poster. The African-American woman was tall, with a commanding presence. In her mid-forties, Olivia had embraced maturity by letting her hair go dramatically white-on-black. “It does sound exciting, Leah, but we’d certainly miss you.”

“I have mixed feelings,” she admitted. A warm welcome home from her friends, including a swim party at the community center, had gone a long way toward reviving Leah’s spirits since her return three weeks earlier.

“How can you bear to leave all this excitement?” Olivia, who also served as principal of the adjacent high school, gave her a teasing grin. “They say our football team might beat Mill Valley’s for a change.”

“We’re known for our intellectual depth, not our brawn,” Leah replied, although she doubted most citizens, who placed great store in football victories, shared her opinion.

“Intellectual depth? Well, I do my best.” Olivia was being modest. Since moving here from Memphis fifteen years earlier, she’d made a tremendous difference in the town, as had her husband, Archie Rockwell, who owned the hardware and feed stores and currently served as mayor.

In addition to other civic activities, Olivia had organized a search committee—along with the police chief, Ethan Forrest, and Leah’s friend, Karen Lowell—to recruit physicians after the town’s two doctors, a married couple, had retired. Their first pick had been Jenni, who’d not only fit in beautifully but had fallen in love with Ethan.

“Have you been to Pepe’s Diner?” Olivia asked. “I heard they unveiled his new murals last night, but I haven’t had time to look.” The Italian restaurant had shed its old decor for the creations of a talented local artist.

“Oh! That reminds me. I’m meeting Karen there for lunch—” Leah glanced at her watch “—in ten minutes!”

“Better get a move on.” The principal stepped back to survey the room. “Those other cities do look beautiful, but remember, there’s no place like home.”

“I plan to come back for visits.” Leah would never give up her friends, or her aunt and cousin, who lived in town. Still, she had no siblings and her mother had died of cancer eight years earlier. Her father, who had remarried, lived in Denver.

“It won’t be the same. But I’m an old married lady with two kids. You couldn’t pry me loose from my roots for all the excitement in the world,” Olivia said. “Now you’d better ske-daddle or you might have trouble finding a table. The place will be crowded.”

“I don’t want to keep Karen waiting,” Leah agreed.

“Have fun!”

After collecting her purse, she hurried out, barely noticing the familiar August heat and humidity. The K-8 elementary school stood on a street with the funny name of Grandpa Johnson Way, after the town’s founder. Turning left, she passed the Snip ’N’ Curl salon, owned and operated by her aunt, Rosie O’Bannon. The windows featured blown-up photographs of town residents in stylish hairdos, which Leah preferred to the usual images of models.

On her right lay the old Johnson House, presently occupied by quarrelsome Beau Johnson, a member of the city council and the owner of the Tulip Tree Market. He’d never married, and had practically disowned his only relative in town, Yvonne Johnson, a nurse at the clinic who’d had a baby out of wedlock.

Farther down the street, Leah passed the weekly Gazette—edited and published by Karen’s brother, Barry—and the Café Montreal. She cut diagonally across The Green, a square park where the café’s owner, Gwen Martin, sponsored a monthly farmers’ market and craft fair.

On Tulip Tree Avenue, the town’s main thoroughfare, she blinked at the unusual sight of half a dozen people standing in line in front of Pepe’s Diner. That never happened.

“Is this because of the murals?” she asked her cousin Mark, a police lieutenant, who was waiting with Captain Ben Follows. Ben moonlighted as pastor of the Downhome Community Church.

Mark nodded. “Pepe won’t let anyone in to see the paintings unless they order lunch.”

“We’re in line for takeout,” Ben added. “I think Karen’s got a table for you.”

“Oh, good. Thanks!” It was a hot day to stand outside. Besides, Leah’s stomach had been bothering her all morning.

Slipping through the door, she found the interior cooled by ceiling fans, although noisier than usual from the capacity crowd. Scents of garlic and olive oil swirled around her, along with the unwelcome smell of fresh paint. The odors made Leah so dizzy she had to catch the back of a chair for balance.

As she adjusted, she scanned the murals that had replaced faded images of grapes and wine jugs. The artist, a talented young man named Arturo Mendez, had covered one wall with vibrantly colored images of proprietor Pepe Otero and his three grown children wearing baggy peasant-style clothes and picking grapes. On the opposite wall, the family was making wine in a vat while Pepe’s ex-wife, Connie, peered in through a painted window, her face a study in envy.

Pepe bustled over. “Karen is in the back,” he informed her with a trace of an accent from his native Argentina. “So, how do you like my pictures?”

“I love them,” Leah said. “You’re the talk of the town.”

“Not for long.” The compactly built, dark-haired man went on to explain. “Gwen is having the artist paint the walls of her café. The project is under wraps, just like mine was—you know Arturo’s artistic temperament.”

“I hope you’re not mad at her for stealing your thunder.” Pepe’s and Gwen’s establishments maintained a friendly rivalry.

“No, actually, we’re…going out.” He gave her a contented smile.

“Oh.” Leah hadn’t paid attention to town gossip this summer. Although pleased for the two restaurateurs, she felt sorry for her aunt Rosie, who had a longtime crush on Pepe. “Good for you.”

“Excuse me.” He hurried off to assist a waitress with an overburdened tray.

Leah’s stomach was nagging again, probably from hunger, so she was relieved to see breadsticks on Karen’s table in a back corner. “I hope I’m not late.” In addition to the bread, small bottles of vinegar and oil topped the red-and-white tablecloth, Leah noticed as she sat down.

Her friend regarded her over her menu. “I got here early.” Karen, who managed the Tulip Tree Nursing Home, had a passion for punctuality. Two years younger than Leah, she had a forthright manner and strong opinions.

“Can you believe this crowd?”

“It may get worse. Barry’s running shots of the murals in today’s Gazette, so if anybody didn’t know about the unveiling, they soon will.” The newspaper came out on Tuesdays.

“I’ll stay away for a few days till things quiet down.” Leah studied her menu. “What are you having?”

“I’m strongly tempted by the scampi. What do you think?” A reddish-brown curl fell across Karen’s cheek. She pushed it behind her ear.

Usually, Leah relished scampi, but today the prospect of garlic butter put her off. “I’m more in the mood for spaghetti Bolognese.”

“I thought you didn’t like that much meat.” In Pepe’s sauce, the ground beef nearly overwhelmed the tomato base.

“Can’t a girl change her mind?” A waitress brought ice water, which Leah sipped gratefully, then Karen and Leah both ordered.

She didn’t mention her indigestion to Karen. Leah had a natural reticence about discussing intimate matters, even with someone she’d been close to since grade school. She’d kept quiet about her plans to leave Downhome until shortly before her trip, and she hadn’t mentioned her insane one-night stand to anyone. Nor did she plan to.

Besides, they had other things to talk about, including Jenni and Ethan’s wedding in two weeks. After they’d exchanged a few tidbits about that, Karen gave an update on the physician-search committee.

They’d chosen an obstetrician from Texas named Dr. Rankin, who was due to arrive later this week. Leah recalled that he was the one who’d recommended the Wayward Drummer when Karen had asked on her behalf.

She hoped the subject never came up, because she found her memories both painful and confusing. What she needed to do was chalk the experience up to a life lesson and move on.

She returned her attention to her companion. Karen was describing a pediatrician who’d applied for the second opening at the clinic.

“Beryl’s from St. Louis, a single mom. She has a thirteen-year-old son that she wants to remove from bad influences.” Karen selected a breadstick from the basket. “I am so glad she applied.”

The previous candidates all fell short. A pediatrician from Wichita had barely retained his medical license after an arrest for smoking marijuana. Another applicant had turned out to be in questionable health.

That left Dr. Chris McRay. Unlike his competitors, he’d grown up in Downhome, where he wanted to return to be near his grandmother. Leah had liked Chris in high school, but she would never mention it to Karen.

Her friend couldn’t forgive Chris for testifying against her brother, Barry, in a manslaughter case when both men were eighteen. His word had sent Barry to prison for five years for a crime he swore he hadn’t committed, and for which he believed Chris had framed him.

It was a nasty business. Better by far to hire the lady from St. Louis.

Karen had used up most of her lunch hour by the time they had finished eating. Although she ran the nursing home more or less independently for distant corporate owners, she rarely cut herself any slack, not even to linger at lunch. In addition to putting in a full week, she escorted residents on outings during her free time. Several had become good friends, including Chris’s grandmother, Mae Anne.

“I guess we can’t have lunch again next week, can we?” Karen said. “You’ve got school starting Tuesday.”

Leah took out her personal organizer. “How about a week from Saturday?”

“Good! We can eat at the farmers’ market.” The monthly event was always fun.

They set a time and place to meet, and split the bill. The lunch crowd was thinning by the time Karen departed.

Still at the table, Leah glanced at her organizer. She kept getting the sense that she’d overlooked some key date in her preoccupation with traveling, preparing for school and arranging much-needed repairs to her roof. But she couldn’t imagine what it was.

As she scanned the dates, it hit her. She’d missed her period.

That couldn’t be right. Her periods had always been regular, and she kept track of them. Leah got a disoriented feeling, as in one of those dreams where she overslept an exam or paraded naked in public.

She remembered being glad that her period had started in early July, before she left for Austin, because it meant she didn’t have to worry about it while traveling. Checking her digitized calendar, she noted that the next one had been due nearly three weeks ago, the same day the roofers arrived. That must be why she’d forgotten.

She was three weeks late. Leah went cold.

Grateful that she sat in the rear of the restaurant, shielded from most diners, she reviewed what had happened that night at the motel. Although Will had used condoms both times they made love, he’d begun without one.

Still, it seemed unlikely she’d become pregnant from a single encounter. Leah had heard that most women tried for months before conceiving. Besides, traveling would throw a woman’s system out of whack.

She ought to ignore the whole thing. In a few days—perhaps a week, on its regular schedule—her period would show up.

A breadstick shredded in her hands. Annoyed at the evidence of her agitation, she dropped it on her plate.

Then she thought of an even scarier possibility.

Her mother had died of ovarian cancer, which often produced vague symptoms. Since not even regular checkups guaranteed an early diagnosis, Leah had vowed to seek help at the slightest sign of abdominal distress or general exhaustion. The first she definitely had, and she’d been sleeping more than usual, which she’d attributed to jet lag.

She didn’t dare put this off. For privacy’s sake, perhaps she should contact a doctor in Mill Valley, but she’d started seeing Jenni as a patient and liked her. Also, the new doctor could be trusted to keep confidences.

Suddenly, Leah couldn’t bear to wait another day. If Jenni wasn’t completely booked, maybe she could work in another patient this afternoon.

One way or another, Leah had to learn the truth.

The Home Boulevard Medical Clinic was a few blocks away. The one-story brick building had always seemed inviting, but today she had to force herself up the steps.

In the waiting room, she said hello to one of her former students and the boy’s mother. “You aren’t sick, I hope?” the woman said.

“No, no. Just a routine…visit.” She could hardly claim to have a checkup when she lacked an appointment, Leah realized.

She felt more and more uncomfortable. Maybe she ought to leave and call a doctor in Mill Valley after all. Otherwise, she risked becoming the subject of speculation.

Before she could retreat, the young receptionist spotted her. “Hi, Miss Morris!” Patsy Fellows said brightly. “Did you want Dr. Vine to work you in? She’s in the lunchroom, but she might have some time later.”

Leah gestured toward the waiting patients. “She’s obviously busy.”

“Oh, no, they’re here to see my mother.” Estelle Fellows, Ben’s wife and Patsy’s mom, worked as a nurse practitioner as well as the clinic’s business manager. “Hold on. Here’s Yvonne.”

Yvonne Johnson, Jenni’s nurse, regarded Leah questioningly. Despite her exotic looks—long silver hair and violet eyes—she had a no-nonsense quality that Leah liked.

“I’m, uh, if Jenni has a few minutes she could spare…” Remembering the inquisitive woman behind her, Leah finished lamely. “I have a couple of questions.”

“Let me ask,” Yvonne responded, and bustled off.

Lingering at the counter, Leah realized she didn’t want to sit down and risk engaging in further conversation. Nor could she take an interest in any of the magazines. Especially not—she couldn’t help noticing—the large number that featured babies on the covers.

Yvonne reappeared a minute later. “She said to show you into her office. She’ll be right with you.”

The nurse led the way into the clinic’s interior. As Leah inhaled the medicinal odor that pervaded the facility, her stomach went into a tizzy, which reminded her all over again of her concern.

Probably just nerves, she thought sternly. Or the meat in the spaghetti sauce.

Yvonne ushered her into Jenni’s corner office. Since the doctor had only arrived at the beginning of June, it remained rather bare except for a couple of framed degrees, a scattering of reference books and a large painting of a woodland scene.

Jenni entered a moment later. The blond doctor, whom Ethan had dismissed as a California surfer-girl type before he got to know her, greeted Leah warmly. She pulled her chair from behind the desk so they could sit face-to-face.

“I knew this had to be important or you’d have waited for an appointment,” she said. “Unless it’s a social visit?”

Leah shook her head. “No. I…” She hesitated, trying to figure out a discreet way to broach the subject.

“Spit it out,” Jenni suggested. “It’s easier that way.”

Gratefully, Leah let the words fly. “I might be pregnant. Otherwise, I was afraid it could be even more serious—you know my family history. I figured I should come right in.”

“What are your symptoms?” Jenni listened to a recounting of her late period and upset stomach, and, as an afterthought, sore breasts. Her comment was, “I assume you have reason to think you could be expecting.”

“Unfortunately, yes. I realize how stupid that makes me look, when you urged me to use contraception. Well, we did…mostly.” Without going into detail, Leah explained how they’d forgotten the condom at first. “But he put it on before…climaxing.”

Unaccustomed to discussing such intimate matters, she stumbled over the term. Thank goodness Jenni didn’t ask about the circumstances.

“There can be semen present before ejaculation.” Her calm, professional demeanor never wavered. “It’s possible you’re unusually fertile. Since there’s an easy test, let’s rule out pregnancy before we consider any other possibility.”

Unusually fertile. That would be just her luck. “Does Yvonne have to know?” Leah’s cheeks burned at the prospect of her situation becoming common knowledge.

Jenni tilted her head. “Yes, but don’t forget, she’s been through a similar situation.”

Remembering how the nurse had held her head high during her pregnancy—and refused to this day to disclose the name of the father—Leah conceded the point. Besides, she had to trust someone.

Following Jenni’s instructions, she went off to give a urine specimen for testing. Then Leah changed into a hospital gown and underwent a physical exam.

The results came back just as Jenni was finishing. “The result is positive,” she reported. “That confirms my observation that your body’s showing the kinds of changes we expect during early pregnancy.”

Stunned, Leah hugged her knees as she sat on the examining table. She was going to have a baby. Will’s baby.

Chapter Three

This altered everything about Leah’s life and plans. Will, on the other hand, would never find out about it. She had no way to reach him even if she wanted to.

Nevertheless, in spite of the difficulties ahead, she felt a spurt of excitement as she sat on the examining table, trying to absorb the news. What she’d regretted most about staying single was that it meant never giving birth to a child. Part of her longed for that experience, though she would never have attempted it on purpose.