by Rita Delude
When we pick up Dolly, she’s eager to see Emily, and Mrs. Demgard seems happy that we’ve relieved her of her duties.
“I’m bushed,” she says. “Dolly’s got more energy than I have. But I enjoyed every minute of it. Thanks for letting me spend time with her.”
“Thanks for giving me the day off,” Emily says.
Emily introduces her to me and explains that I took her skydiving and to Hampton.
“It sounds like you had even a busier day than I did. But you should. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” she says as she smiles and shuts the door.
“Are you sure she’s okay?” I ask Emily as we trot down Mrs. Demgard’s steps with Dolly leading the way on her leash and me carrying the duffel of Dolly supplies.
“Yes, she’s fine. It’s late. Old people don’t stay up so late. That’s why the fireworks wouldn’t have been such a good idea. But you’re welcome to stop in at my place for a nightcap if you like,” she says.
“I’d love that,” I answer and smile the biggest grin I’ve had all day, I’m sure.
Chapter Fifteen
Emily
While I unpack Dolly’s things and put them away, Chance plays with Dolly. It’s love at first sight. I’m glad because if you can’t love Dolly and she can’t love you, you can’t love me. Love? Is that what this is? I think so.
Dolly’s asleep on her bed before I’ve gotten cheese cut and a plate with cheese and crackers and fruit put out with glasses and a bottle of wine. Chance grins when I come into the livingroom. I think I’ll never get tired of that strong, dark face and his one dimple.
“Dolly’s a beauty,” he says.
“I know. I love her. She’s great company. She greets me at the door every day like I’m a long-lost relative. She’s wonderful to come home to.”
“I love dogs. Cats, not so much. They don’t seem to warm up to you like dogs do.”
“I agree. Cats are so independent. It’s like they cohabitate, but don’t really need you. It’s like little kids who do parallel play. Plus I’m allergic.”
“What’s parallel play?”
“When you have toddlers in a room, they often like being together, but they choose toys and play with them without playing with each other. They are both or all playing, but not together. It’s not until they get older that they really interact.”
“You really know kids.”
“Yes, I guess I do.”
He sips his wine and I watch his Adam’s apple as he swallows. This man is so sexy. When he puts his glass down, I do something I’ve never done before, not even with Paul, my last serious attraction. I pull him into me and give him a long, deep kiss. It starts out slow and soft like a whisper, but I can’t get enough of him and drill my tongue into his mouth. He’s more than eager to accept me. Before I actually have a chance to think about what I’m doing, I pull away and grab the bottom of his T-shirt and lift it over his head. I want to see his chest again with its curly hairs and its solid six-pack as I did on the beach. He moans and returns the favor by lifting my T-shirt from me.
Between kisses and stroking, he’s unhooked my baby blue, lace bra and is kissing my nipples. I groan with satisfaction.
“Are you sure you want this?” he asks.
“I’m sure,” I say. I’ve never been more sure.
He lifts me into his arms and carries me to my bedroom.
The sun is shining through the open blinds when I hear Dolly barking to be let out for her morning walk. There beside me is Chance, looking more handsome than the night before when we explored each other over and over again because we wanted to and because we could.
He’s groggy because we haven’t had much sleep. So am I, but Dolly’s nature calls. I rush to the bathroom, slip on some clothes, and exit the room.
“Where are you going?” he calls. “Come back. I’m not finished yet.”
“Dolly needs a walk,” I say.
I plan on a short walk, but we meet Mrs. Demgard along the way, and stop to chat. Dolly’s all over her with love. They really did have a great time together.
“Your gentleman seems nice.”
“He is,” I say. “He’s a paramedic and a veteran. A very nice guy.”
“Someone sounds hooked,” she teases.
“Maybe I am. Maybe I am.”
“Good for you, girl.”
I excuse myself after a few more minutes and return to the house. There standing in the kitchen at the stove is Chance. He’s making eggs and bacon for me and has Dolly’s water and food dish filled to the brim, much fuller than she could eat in two days, but the thought is there.
“I thought you’d like some breakfast. I hope you don’t mind I was poking around.”
“I’d love some breakfast. Don’t mind at all.”
“I was surprised you had bacon.”
“I’m careful what I eat, but I’m not a vegetarian. I splurge on a bit of bacon now and then.”
“Good. Me too.” He grins and kisses me on the forehead. It feels so right.
I pull out plates, utensils, glasses, juice, and milk. By the time I’m done, he’s serving up the most delicious breakfast I’ve had in a long time. Food always tastes better when someone else cooks.
***
Not only could Chance cook a mean breakfast, but he does as well as I do at our Thai cooking classes throughout the summer. The summer flies by. Literally and figuratively. Chance takes me hang gliding, off-roading, and snorkeling. He wants me to take scuba diving lessons this winter, so we can vacation in the Grand Cayman Islands and explore the corals. He introduces me to a world I’ve never dreamed of, and I love it. I love him.
We’re so busy seeing each other every opportunity we get, that I hardly have time to set up for my fall classes. But he does have to work, of course, and I use those nights to cram in the preparations that I would have strung out over the whole summer any other year. It’s a hectic pace, but I enjoy every minute of it and can’t wait to experience the next adventure with the love of my life.
Chapter Sixteen
Chance
Every minute I spend with Emily makes me love her more. She’s what I’ve wished for. She’s worth settling down for, yet I won’t have to settle. She’s embraced my lifestyle of risk-taking and challenges. And I’m actually appreciating the things like cooking classes that she’s introduced me to. We’re starting dancing classes next week. That will be a stretch for me with my two left feet, but I’m willing to give anything a try for my lady.
Our friends and families have met. Allen and Laurie and, of course, Izzy and her twin brothers are delightful. I feel like I’ve known them forever. Her parents seem nice. They are easy to talk to, and they treat each other well. It’s odd; they fuss more over their grandchildren than they do over their daughters, Allen, or me. I don’t know how Laurie treats them, but Emily couldn’t be sweeter to them. She lavishes them with special surprises. Her father loves beer bread, and she makes him a loaf every time she goes to see him. Her mom enjoys a good mani/pedi, and she sends her a note with a gift card to her favorite salon once a month, not as a birthday gift, but just because. There must be a story there, but Emily hasn’t shared. I know she will when she’s ready.
We have our annual station picnic, and Emily is a huge success, fitting in with both the guys and their wives and girlfriends. She is crowned queen of horseshoes and Dennis McGrady king. I’m abysmal, always shooting far left or right.
Things can’t be any better as the summer heat subsides in New Hampshire and gives way to the crisp coolness of fall with the glorious colors of orange, red, yellow, green, and maroon of the plentiful trees that keep leaf peepers flocking to the state each year for another look at the splendid sight mother nature provides.
Several weeks into the school year, Emily invites my partner, Tom, and me to visit her class to talk about the work that paramedics do and to give the children tips on how they should behave in case there’s an emergency at home. I’m delighted.
I c
oncoct a plan, check with the principal and several of her teacher friends I’ve met, and get their approval.
We arrive a few minutes early when the kids are still out on the playground enjoying recess, so we can unpack our gear. Tom’s looking forward to this as much as I am. We’ve done these “dog and pony shows” before and feel comfortable. Today, however, I’m a bit nervous, so I’m glad it’s Tom who is with me.
When the kids rush back in, Emily has them use hand sanitizer, sit on brightly colored carpet squares, and she introduces us.
“Class, these two gentlemen are paramedics from Lifeline Paramedic Service. Who can tell me what a paramedic does?”
Several of the kiddos raise their hands, and Emily calls on the small dark girl with the corn rolled hair.
“Latissa,” she says.
“Those are the guys who saved my grandma when she was having a heart attack.”
“That’s right, Latissa. They come to the rescue when people are sick or hurt and help them to get to the hospital. These men are Mr. Manning and Mr. Lund,” she says pointing at each of us in turn. “Could we give a great big Room 3 welcome, please?”
They break out into a resounding round of applause and shout “Welcome” so loud it makes me laugh.
“Well, that makes my day,” I say. “Thank you.”
“Thank you,” says Tom.
We show them some of the equipment kids are most interested in. Oxygen tanks and masks and let several of them try them, we bandage a few arms and legs, answer questions as we go, and then talk seriously about what they should do if they have to dial 911 for help. As all of this is happening, Jean Dumont, the school’s principal, the school librarian, and several other teachers slip into the back of the classroom while Emily’s eyes are glued on us as the kids’ are.
As we finish up the last of the kids’ questions, I announce, “Well, I have one question myself to ask.”
“What is it?” the little red-headed boy in the back asks.
It’s then that I kneel on one knee and take Emily’s hand. “Miss Emily Pace, will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
The kids gasp. Emily gasps. Tears stream down her face, and for a split second I fear she will turn me down.
“Yes, oh, yes. I’ll be your wife forever,” she says. Then I slip the two-carat solitaire onto her tiny, trembling finger. When I lift myself up from my kneeling position, I pull her into me for a much too short kiss.
The children, their principal, Tom, and everyone break out into uproarious applause. Emily is blushing red, but smiling, and my heart is about to need the defibrillator.
Chapter Seventeen
Emily
I’m thrilled Chance asks me. Mrs. Emily Manning. It has a nice ring to it. After I say “yes,” Jean brings in a huge cake with “Congratulations Emily and Chance” scrolled across it. They are in on this together. I’m glad. She likes him too, and her opinion I respect. But what’s not to like? Everyone he meets warms to my Chance the moment they come into his orbit. I certainly did.
Neither of us wants to wait long for our big day, so Laurie, my mom, and I go into overdrive making wedding plans as soon as the word is spread. With both families, my co-workers and his, we’ll have about 200 guests at our reception. It’s more than I’d like, but neither of us can agree to leave anyone out, and my dad has graciously agreed to pay for the whole affair as he did Laurie’s.
I’m so excited about dress shopping, cake tasting, reception venue options, and pre-Cana classes, that I’m wearing myself out. Chance has moved into my house. We decide there’s no need for him to waste money renewing his lease when we’ll be living here together soon anyway. The place is a bit cramped even though he kept only a few of his things. There’s the leather recliner that he swears he can’t part with. He moved his television into our bedroom. We don’t use it much. His clothes hang in the guest bedroom. Much of his furniture and household items we donate to charity.
We talk a lot about finding a bigger place after the wedding, but don’t want to pile that project onto what I’m already juggling. We don’t have time for cooking classes anymore. But we do keep up with our dance classes. Chance was awful at first, but he improves with every lesson, and by the wedding, he’ll look fabulous in his tux when he escorts me onto the dance floor for our first dance as a married couple and wows everyone with his polished moves. I can’t wait.
I find myself slipping into bed earlier and earlier each night and still waking up feeling drugged and oozy like I haven’t slept at all. Laurie promises that after all the big wedding decisions are made, things will quiet down until just about two weeks before the big event. Then, she says, it starts up again. I’m hoping that lull comes soon. She’s my maid-of-honor, of course, and I’m not having bridesmaids. I feel too old to be having a flock of ladies in matchy-matchy dresses and don’t want to deal with their individual dramas anyway. There’s drama enough with what’s going on inside my stomach. Nerves, I guess. But if it doesn’t stop soon, I’ll make an appointment with Dr. Mitchell. She’ll know what’s up with me.
Chance takes full ownership of the honeymoon. The wedding takes place a week after school lets out for the summer. He’s handling the reservations, airline, and all details. I’ll only have to pack my things. We’ll be spending two weeks in Hawaii, a destination I’ve been longing to see. He’s been there before and swears there are so many adventurous opportunities there with incredible views. I can’t wait. A year ago, I would have been petrified; now because he’s gotten me to spread my wings, I relish every opportunity for new exploits. And I’ll have this with him forever.
***
Two weeks later, I walk out of Dr. Mitchell’s office fearing everything I have with Chance and anything I could have had is over. How can I tell him? This can’t be. It wasn’t supposed to happen. Not to me. Not to us.
Chapter Eighteen
Chance
When I arrive home after a twelve-hour shift, Dolly greets me at the door with a wagging tail. After I pick her up, she’s all kisses. Emily, however, is already in bed. She used to wait up for me, but lately the stress of the wedding and teaching have taken a toll on her. We should have eloped. I hate seeing her so worn out. Maybe we should call the whole “big wedding” off. Maybe it’s not too late to fly to Vegas and just be done with it. When she wakes up, I’ll ask.
“Chance, is that you?” she calls from the bedroom.
“It’s me, hon,” I answer.
“I’ll be right out.”
“No. I’ll grab some leftovers and come right in. Relax,” I say.
Just then, she shuffles out of the bedroom in her pink, fluffy robe that I love with her slippers that make a scuffing sound as she crosses the hardwood floor of the livingroom into the kitchen where I am. She yawns as if to wake herself.
“You should have stayed in bed. You’ve got school tomorrow.”
“I called out sick.”
“You’re sick?” I put my hand to her forehead, but don’t feel a fever. I touch her arms and open the bathrobe to see the skimpy negligee underneath and feel around for something that might hurt.
“‘Dr. Manning,’ I’m not hurt or broken. We need to talk.”
I drop to a seat at the kitchen island.
“This sounds serious. What’s up?”
She stares at me. She may not be sick, but sweat is suddenly pouring off my face.
“I saw Dr. Mitchell today because I’ve been feeling so lousy.” My heart stops. Cancer? A tumor? MS? MD? What?
“I’m pregnant.”
Oh my God, that’s the best news I ever heard in this lifetime. How could she scare me so? I pick her up and twirl her around and around. She’s light as a sack of ace bandages.
“That is the happiest news I’ve ever heard,” I shout. “Thank you. Thank you.” I kiss her from her forehead to her belly. I stop there. “Hey, baby, it’s Daddy here saying ‘hello,’ I’ll get to meet you soon,” I tell her stomach.
“Chance, stop tha
t. We can’t keep it. Dr. Mitchell gave me the name of a clinic. I’ve got an appointment for next week, but I thought you’d want to know.”
“What? Are you talking abortion?”
“Yes.”
My pleasure, my delight has instantly turned to revulsion. In the military, I saw enough waste of life to last forever. Every life is sacred to me. Abortion of my kid is not an option.
“You can’t do that. That’s my kid you’re carrying.”
“I can. Maybe I should have just done it without saying anything. But if we’re to be married, I want to be honest. To let you know.” She’s crying now, but so am I.
“But you love kids. You treat every one as though he or she is your own. I saw you in class. I see you with Izzy, Jayson, and Jordan. Why? Tell me why you wouldn’t want a child that came from our love for each other. Please, Emily. You can’t do this.”
She’s sobbing now, and I lead her to the couch and pull her close. This is our baby. I have to save it, and I have to fix whatever is wrong with the woman I love, but if I fail, it’s over.
“My parents had me and then Laurie, just one year apart. Then fourteen years after Laurie was born, they had an “oops baby,” and Susan was born. A perfect baby girl…” She’s crying so hard now that I can barely understand her. I run into the bathroom and grab a box of tissues for her. She blows her nose and tries again. “Laurie and I were crazy about her. We mothered her as much as Mom did. One afternoon, I took her to the neighborhood playground, and she spent an hour playing with kids she knew and calling, ‘Emily, watch, watch,’ as she did tricks on the monkey bars and slid down the slides.”
