"Sure. Yes. Don't worry, Ms. Jacqueline. You rest now. This baby is soon, yes?" The young woman's dark brown eyes met mine, then looked shyly away.
"Thank you," I smiled. "I still have a month or so yet. But my step-daughters are coming for a visit tomorrow and I must stop by the grocery store and set up the beds and clean bathrooms, and..."
"I can send my sister Nora to help you."
I smiled at Josephina's offer, an offer she'd repeated ten times in the past month. "No, I can manage," I assured her, feeling protective over my home. Besides, I was fully capable of housekeeping — not that I enjoyed it so very much — but Carl's preliminary divorce settlement had eaten up all of his savings, along with a substantial chunk of his earnings for the present. We weren't exactly struggling, but paying a housemaid was not in my preferred budget. Carl would undoubtedly have a different opinion, but he wasn't there to voice it, so the decision was mine.
On the drive home that afternoon I stopped at the small grocery store at the bottom of the canyon. Carl's daughters had not visited since the previous Thanksgiving. Carl had seen them on his weekend jaunts to Sausalito over the past months, but I hadn't accompanied him. Although the situation with the girls' mother was still awkward — I was called both concubine and harlot on various occasions when Victoria's screeching voice leaked through the phone pressed to Carl's ear — I liked Hannah and Eloise. I wanted to pick up some of the fruit snacks they enjoyed and a few boxes of their favorite cereal to have on hand.
We hadn't yet told the girls I was pregnant. Carl thought it better to do in person while the children were with us so they could get used to the idea without their mother twisting the news into something vile. But the months had slipped by, and now I was quite obviously pregnant, so there would be no hiding it. I hoped the girls would take it in stride and there would be no drama with Victoria when she found out. Because eventually she would. We would not ask the girls to keep a secret from their mother. Unfortunately, if history were any indication, her dramatic responses could and would color the final divorce settlement and custody proceedings.
With his strong feelings about marriage, Carl very much wanted us to be married before our child was born. It was an old-fashioned sentiment that, in the long term, wouldn't matter to anyone except him, but I loved him for wanting to do things right for the daughter in my womb. The ultrasound tech had told us she looked like a she, so for girl's names we picked Jenna and Chloe. We'd know which one was right when we saw her. If the ultrasound tech was wrong, he'd be either a Joseph or a Kirk. Absolutely no Carl Jr.; I didn't want my child to be named after a restaurant chain.
With fruit and milk and cereal in the basket over my arm, I approached the checkout stand. I hadn't bothered to change out of the oversize men's shirt I wore as a painter's smock. With the belly growing, I'd found voluminous clothing more comfortable — especially for work. Our Glen Canyon neighbors knew I was a painter; I didn't need to pretend to be anything else for them. Today I was happily speckled in shades of green with a tad of sapphire sky blue, my hair clipped precariously on the top of my head.
"Hi, James. Beautiful day," I smiled at the long-haired clerk as I hefted my basket onto the counter.
"Hard to be indoors when it's so nice out," the young man agreed, scanning my items with practiced ease. The front door to the grocery chimed open, admitting a blonde woman in sunglasses and two young girls. "Already off work for the day?" James asked.
"Yes," I nodded, "and looking forward to a dip in the pool." I dug my wallet out of my purse.
"Sounds heavenly." The clerk bagged my groceries. "That'll be twenty-eight, fifty seven." Behind me, the mother and daughters arrived at the check stand, the children squabbling over popsicle flavors.
"Orange is the best," insisted the smaller child, her hands tugging her mother's purse.
"No way. Lime is the best," said the elder, her voice lording her years of expertise over her little sister.
I knew that voice. Turning, I faced the children. "Hello Hannah. Hello Eloise." I smiled, taking great care to sound as casual as possible.
"Jacks!" Both girls screamed at once and flew to my side, leaving their well-dressed mother baffled and frowning.
I placed my arms around the children, who found themselves face to face with my pregnant belly.
"What's this?" said Eloise, her hand touching my round abdomen.
"It's a baby," said the older and wiser Hannah. "Or it will be, ninny. We didn't know you were having a baby!"
"Yes, a baby," I confirmed, then met Victoria's eyes. "Jacqueline Carmichael." I politely proffered my hand. "I expected the girls this evening, rather than this afternoon, but no worries."
Victoria stared at my hand as if it were a snake, her mouth in an unattractive frown.
Ignoring the woman's slight, I turned my attention to the girls. "I'm so glad you guys are here. We are going to have such fun this week — "
"Can we do painting?" Eloise interrupted, her small hand tracing the patterns of green on my shirt.
"Can we go swimming?" Hannah jiggled up and down on her toes with excitement.
"Yes, absolutely. We can do both! Your dad —"
"— is a moronic imbecile." Victoria finished my sentence and stared at me. "Go back to the car, girls. I'll be out in a minute."
"But Mom —" Hannah's protest fell on deaf ears.
"Just go, Hannah. Take your sister." The woman's voice rose threateningly and the girl rushed to comply.
"Come on, Eloise," Hannah whispered through clenched teeth, then roughly yanked her younger sister's hand. "We have to go."
Watching the situation unraveling before me, I stuttered a protest. "I could take them up to the house with me now —"
"Not until I've had my say," Victoria hissed, her eyes turning dark. "I can't believe Carl is continuing this ridiculous farce. Subjecting my daughters to such —" she flapped her hand in my direction. "Do you have any idea what you look like?"
Absently I looked down at my work clothes and shrugged. "A painter. I look like a painter."
"You look like a cheap pregnant whore who dug a shirt out of the trash."
"I am not a whore," I growled under my breath. "And I don't appreciate you calling me one at every turn. I suggest you get that through your thick peroxide head."
Victoria laughed at me. The sound cut like a knife. "Oh, but everyone knows you are, dear. All Carl's friends —his partners and colleagues, even his clients." The woman shrugged, her painted lips in a smirk. "Carl Jacobs Martin went slumming and found himself a voluptuous tramp willing to tease and please his precious cock. Many husbands seek the same type of dalliance — those who can afford it anyway. Until they realize how ridiculous they look and return to their wives. He'll leave you sooner than you think. Put it on your calendar. Carl is out of your league, honey. I think you know that already. That bastard you're carrying is probably not even his. I'm willing to bet —"
Dumbstruck by her vehemence and crass assessment, I simply stared at Victoria. Before I could formulate a response, the grocery store clerk's authoritative voice interrupted.
"That's enough, lady." James tossed his stubbly chin to the side. "Get the fuck out of here."
Stunned, Victoria turned to look at the young man behind the cash register. "Are you talking to me?" Her shrill voice began rising. "How dare you speak to me like that?"
"I'll speak to you any way I want," he said, shrugging. "Now, get the fuck out of here."
"I want to see the manager and lodge a complaint," Victoria demanded. "Nobody's check-out boy can be that disrespectful and not expect to get fired."
"I am the manager. Your complaint is noted. Now, for the third time, get the fuck out of my store." The young man pointed toward the door. "And leave the popsicles."
Dropping the frozen juice snacks onto the linoleum floor, Victoria stomped away. I stared at her back as the door closed behind her.
"I'm sorry you had to put up with that, Ms. Carmichael. The
re's just no excuse for someone to be that rude."
Mutely, I nodded, frustrated tears forming in my eyes. I dared not speak for fear of dissolving into sobs. Did everyone really think that about Carl and me? That I was nothing but a whore. A dalliance, soon to be dumped by the wayside?
"Twenty-eight, fifty seven." The clerk repeated the amount as Victoria drove away.
"Of course," I managed, handing him the cash. "Thank you." I grabbed my three bags and made for the door. I simply wanted to go home and sit by the pool and drink a glass of wine. No, it couldn't be wine. Sparkling cranberry juice, then. And I wanted Carl to tell me that everything Victoria said was vicious lie.
Later that evening, Carl found me in the bedroom, curled into a ball. I'd never made it to the pool. Or the cranberry juice. Instead, I'd crawled into bed and cried myself to sleep, the grocery bags abandoned in the foyer.
"Are you awake, darling?" Carl opened the curtains to let the dusky evening light into the room.
"Yes," I sniffed.
"Victoria called and told me about your grocery store meeting. She'd wanted to drop the girls off early, but instead I put them in a hotel in Santa Cruz. By the ocean."
"Why?" I sat up and blew my nose.
"Because after she told me about your... encounter... I thought it best you and I have the evening alone." Carl sat down on the bed beside me and took my hand.
"Did she tell you what she said to me?" I steeled myself, prepared to get to the bottom of her allegations. If there was any truth to it, I wanted to know. Now.
"Somewhat. I told her she owed my future wife an apology, and that I expected it tomorrow without excuse." Carl firmed his lips. " Seeing you pregnant was apparently quite upsetting. I know she was vile to you, Jacqueline. I think even she would admit it."
I looked over at him, believing his words, but still wanting to know. I didn't want to need reassurance, but apparently I did after Victoria's claims. "Does everyone think I'm a hooker you found slumming and decided to keep? A sexual dalliance you keep around for fun? Someone you'll dump eventually and go back to your wife?" I kept my voice hard, not wanting to believe Victoria, but unable to stop the poisonous thoughts running through my mind. Best to speak them and exorcise them once and for all.
Carl looked in my eyes. "I'm sorry you need to ask me those questions...that she shook your belief in me — in us — so deeply you distrust what we've built here together." He squeezed my hand. "But I'll answer you. And I'll be transparently honest.
"Number one. I found you in a most unlikely place, Jacqueline. At a street fair. Many people know this because they've learned our story. It's no secret. Whether some would call that slumming is up for debate. I don't care and either should you." He held up his free hand to keep my comments at bay, two fingers pointed toward the ceiling. "Number two. As for sex, that's something that is between a couple, yes? But anyone who sees us together can easily see my undisguised and absolute attraction to you. When you are in the room, I cannot look at anyone else. There is no other woman I have ever desired as much as you — I told you this the first night we had dinner together in Sonoma. Whether that constitutes a dalliance, I'd say yes, and it is a most pleasant one. And if others think about us in that light, well then their minds are in the gutter and would be better applied to their own problems. Do I keep you around for fun? Oh, dear God, yes. And last time I checked, I believe the feeling was mutual. But I think you know our relationship is so much more than that. You are a remarkable talented woman, and I am the luckiest man on earth to have you in my life." I couldn't help grinning as Carl held three fingers in the air. "As for number three, your final question, it's doubtful I'll grow tired of you anytime soon. If even in this lifetime. In fact, beyond impregnating you with our love child, I have been doing my damnedest to finalize my divorce so I can finally marry you." He leaned toward me and kissed me on the lips.
"You are the love of my life Jacqueline. Please do not let a bitter woman's hurtful words come between us."
Chapter Eleven
"Breathe, Jacks." Rita encouraged me from the driver's seat, her manicured hands placed at two and ten on the wheel. The Glen Canyon turns had tipped my right shoulder against the passenger window where I stayed, eyes closed.
"Slow down," I growled through gritted teeth. My cousin had always driven well above the speed limit and I didn't think today would be any exception — although she perhaps had a valid reason. My back had begun aching that morning and when my water broke, the contractions started. Unsurprising. I was due in a few days. I'd expected the birthing pains to begin slowly, but instead Rita had clocked me at two minutes apart. The doctor's office insisted I get to the hospital ASAP.
"Where is Carl?" I panted between contractions.
"His office said he was out for meetings, so all I've been able to do is leave messages." Rita kept her eyes on the road.
The question of Carl's whereabouts was confusing and frustrating. He knew I was due any day and had wanted to be present at the birth. Assured me he wouldn't miss it for the world. And now he was AWOL? What the hell?
"Jackass," I muttered, "this is all his fault. God damn it, here comes another one." I shifted myself on the seat, suddenly aware that my stomach was threatening to vomit up my breakfast. "Pull over, Rita! Quick. I'm gonna hurl."
Without batting an eye, my cousin stopped in the driveway of a small mansion and handed me a plastic tub from the BMW back seat. "Go right ahead," she said, as if she'd expected it all along.
When we arrived at the hospital, things moved quickly. I was spirited up to the maternity ward in a wheelchair driven by a huge male orderly. I sat very still, panting like a runner trying to stay ahead of the waves of pain, so I didn't scream. Rita followed, my bag on her shoulder, then she helped me undress between contractions. I felt like I had no control over what was happening and I was getting madder by the minute.
"Where is Carl? I asked Rita for the hundredth time.
"I don't know," my cousin said, her eyes troubled, "but it doesn't look like this baby is going to wait for her daddy. "
"Jackass," I muttered again, as the gray-haired maternity nurse checked my progress, her fingers probing inside me.
"We all say something like that at this point, honey. You're almost at seven. The head is down. This baby is well on the way."
Women began moving equipment on rollers into the room. My doctor peeked in and waved, then disappeared before I could ask the man any questions.
As the contractions began to crescendo, I grabbed for Rita's hand at my left. "I can't do this, Reets I'm going to opt for pain medication." Grimacing, I clenched my teeth, steeling myself for the next wave.
"Look at me, Jacks," Rita said, her voice insistent. "Focus. Now relax your body and breathe with me for this next contraction. Then we'll see about medication."
My bulging belly began to contract and my cousin gripped my hand harder. I stared into her eyes and began breathing with her, our whew-whew sounds the only important thing in the room. With my feet in the stirrups and my bare bottom leaking fluid, I tried not to think about anything else except the cadence of my breath.
"Good," Rita said when the contraction passed. "Now chew these ice chips and get ready for the next one."
"I want medication," I insisted.
"Too late for that," Dr. Pollack said, entering the room and rolling a stool to sit by my feet. "You're just about done now, Jackie. Let me check here."
The next contraction came before I could scream at him. Rita began breathing loudly in the Lamaze cadence I'd been taught and I followed her, hanging on to her hand for dear life. If I ever saw Carl Jacobs Martin again, I vowed to slap him.
"Good job. We can see the head now. Almost time to push." The doctor motioned to the nursing staff, who rolled a tray containing a scalpel and sutures beside him.
"What's that?" I asked between breathing sprints.
"It's for just in case it looks like you'll tear. Easier to have a clean cut to repair.
OK, now listen carefully. For the next few contractions, you need to push and then stop when I tell you."
"Okay," I agreed, as Rita wiped my forehead with a cool cloth. I closed my eyes to focus. And then we were breathing again and I was pushing and trying not to scream.
At a sudden commotion at the door, I opened my eyes to see my mildly disheveled lover stumble to my side.
"Jacqueline, I —"
"Not now, Carl," Rita interrupted, "she's a bit busy."
I gripped Rita's hand tighter as the contractions rippled through me, the doctor's voice tethering me to consciousness. There was no time to berate Carl, no time to ask questions, no time to do anything except follow the demands of my body and the doctor's instructions. I closed my eyes again to concentrate, reaching blindly with my right hand to find Carl's warm palm. He held my hand, his grip a reservoir of strength I badly needed.
"She's almost here," the doctor said, his encouraging voice suddenly loud in my ears. "One more, Jackie. One more push now."
There was a movement through my torso that felt like it wasn't mine at all. A flexing and a tearing that made me feel like I was being ripped apart. I began crying then, the strain of it all too much, tears flowing uncontrollably down my cheeks, mixing with the sweat.
"It's a girl," Dr. Pollock said.
Then I heard her voice, garbled at first, then louder. My little girl.
Her cry was like a song I'd waited my entire life to hear.
The staff was speaking, moving about with clean linen, rolling a bassinette in through the open door. Carl was patting my hand, his voice a low mumble in my ears. But I didn't hear any of his words. I released the hands at my sides and held my arms out, leaning my torso forward.
"Give her to me," I demanded, my voice cracked and gritty, but strong.
A nurse brought the baby to me, her tiny form wrapped in a white blanket. I settled her in the crook of my arm and laid back on the bed, gazing at the beautiful being who was my daughter. "Hello Jenna." I smiled down at the little girl. "Look at you, baby. Look at you."
Never Say No to Love (Sonoma Summers Book 2) Page 6
