Twin Surprise

by Jacqueline Diamond

  For one day, Derek simply allowed himself to be happy.

  *

  If Marta had her way, a fairy godmother would whisk her and Derek to a desert island. Although she cherished her friends and acquaintances, did they have to keep interrupting?

  No sooner were the two of them seated at a table with Joel and Tracy than Connie’s mother arrived. She cooed over Marta’s Mexican peasant skirt and blouse while sizing up Derek.

  Looking much younger than her fifty-seven years, the wealthy divorcée exuded glamour. Marta thanked her aunt again for the makeover and new dress, and introduced the man who’d been the object.

  “Money well spent, obviously,” Anna responded. “So, are you young folks an item now?”

  Marta nearly choked on a bite of sweet potato. Thank goodness Skip chose that moment to accost his grandmother. “Gramma Anna! Mom says I can have pie if you help me cut it.”

  Silently, Marta blessed her cousin, whom she was certain had engineered Skip’s interruption. “Sorry about that,” she told Derek when Skip had tugged Anna out of earshot.

  “Hey, I’m flattered.” Usually he tensed when anyone fussed over him, but the food must have tempered his spirits.

  Marta took another bite of her food, the portions smaller than usual. Ironically, a full stomach seemed to soothe the indigestion that had bothered her for the past few weeks, as a result of which she’d overindulged in her favorite comfort foods and put on a couple of extra pounds.

  She’d finished her turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and green beans by the time Ben and Frank arrived with Nina Bernardi. The nurse, whose deeply lined skin reflected her heavy smoking, hugged her younger children and thanked Tom for watching them.

  The boy drew himself up straight and glanced at Derek as if hoping he’d heard. Derek smiled in approval, and, eager to show how helpful he could be, Tom hurried to fix iced tea for his mother.

  “Like I said, you’ve sure gotten through to Tom.” Marta smiled. “Having you as a mentor could make a huge difference to him.”

  She’d never met Tom’s dad or the subsequent boyfriend who’d fathered Kaylie and Boris. In fact, she’d first met the boy a mere six weeks ago, after his mother rented the remodeled apartment. The first day Yolanda brought him to the tutoring center, his hunched shoulders and averted gaze had testified to his low self-esteem.

  “Still see parallels to yourself?” Marta asked.

  “He’s more open about his needs than I used to be,” Derek admitted. “I never let anyone see my vulnerabilities.”

  “Even now?”

  “Confessions aren’t my style.” He regarded his nearly empty plate. “I’m ready for seconds. Can I fetch you anything?”

  Marta’s stomach had resumed churning. She decided to withdraw and take an antacid. “No, thanks. I’d better pop into the kitchen. I’m not sure if I remembered to switch off the oven.”

  “You’d better not start cleaning up, not after all the work you’ve done already,” Tracy objected.

  “There’s a designated crew, and I’m pleased to say I’m not on it. I’ll see you in a few minutes.” She hurried off, unsure why she didn’t simply tell them about her indigestion.

  Perhaps because that didn’t seem polite. And because Derek wasn’t the only person who preferred not to wear his weaknesses on his sleeve.

  Marta navigated between crowded tables. While children had resumed playing on the sidewalk, the adults lingered over their meals. Double and triple helpings of dessert paid tribute to the bountiful offerings of pies, cakes, brownies and cookies.

  In the kitchen, turkey carcasses lay on cutting boards, flanked by other remnants of meal preparation: a bowl rimmed with bits of stuffing, beaters encrusted with mashed potato and a pot in which leftover gravy congealed. Marta’s innards rebelled.

  The sight of Yolanda entering with an almost empty bowl of Brussels sprouts proved to be the last straw. Unable to stammer an excuse, she plunged through an inner doorway and beelined for the bathroom.

  How humiliating. She hadn’t lost a meal since a bout with flu years earlier.

  After throwing up, Marta rinsed her mouth. She scrabbled inside her purse for the roll of antacids she’d begun carrying.

  A slice of pumpkin pie ought to settle the sourness, she reflected as she emerged. To her surprise, Yolanda stood waiting in the hall.

  “We’d better talk.” The older woman watched her worriedly.

  Marta’s throat constricted. “What’s wrong?”

  “Let’s go find some privacy.”

  Marta trailed the older woman into a bedroom-turned-den. Yolanda gestured her to a love seat. “I’m aware that this qualifies as none of my business, but since you don’t have a mother and your two closest friends are busy with their new marriages, I’m appointing myself your confidante.”

  “About what?” Subliminally, though, Marta already suspected the answer. And dreaded it.

  “I’m not sitting in judgment on whatever happened between you and Sergeant Reed last month.” Yolanda brushed a shock of white-laced black hair from her forehead. “By the way, if you two behaved like a pair of saints, I’m completely off track and I apologize.”

  Marta laced her fingers in her lap. She couldn’t be pregnant. Not when she was finally getting her education on track after a decade-long interruption. And not by Derek who, despite his recent affability, remained the most unlikely husband prospect she knew.

  “We used precautions,” she mumbled, although aware that wasn’t entirely true.

  “The only one hundred percent precaution is abstinence.” Yolanda sounded like a sex-education video. “Let’s get practical. How late is your period?”

  “My periods aren’t regular.” The accident, surgeries and medications had wreaked havoc with Marta’s hormones. “I was afraid I might not be fertile.”

  Yolanda leaned forward from her chair. “Would giving birth put you in danger? Because of your injuries, I mean.”

  “No. Thank goodness.” Marta’s voice broke. She hated the hot surge of tears that slid down her cheeks.

  “Have you taken a pregnancy test?” Yolanda asked gently.

  “No.”

  “That’s your first step.” A sigh. “If it’s positive, what will you do?”

  “I couldn’t…” Couldn’t tell Derek? The pregnancy would begin to show soon enough. And even if it were possible, Marta refused to deceive him about such an important matter. “I don’t know.”

  “We’ll get through this.” Yolanda’s reassuring voice reminded her of her mother. If only her mom were alive—a thought that spurred more tears. “Lots of families are desperate to adopt, if you choose that route.”

  “I—” Marta broke off. No sense putting the cart before the horse, as Mom used to say. “Do you suppose there’s a drugstore open on Thanksgiving?”

  “I’m sure there is.” The older woman waited sympathetically.

  “I’ll say goodbye to my friends.” Yet Marta didn’t dare go outside with tearstains on her cheeks. Even if she managed to scrub away the worst of the evidence, her distress would be obvious. “No. I can’t face them. I parked in back. Will you forgive me if I sneak out?”

  “Of course. I’ll make some excuse. There’s the ever-popular crashing headache,” her hostess suggested. “For credibility, it beats an abduction by space aliens.”

  “Thanks.” Marta smiled wanly and collected her purse. “I’ve always been able to talk to my friends, but right now I don’t feel like confiding in anyone except you.”

  “I’m honored.” Yolanda accompanied her to the rear door. Her final advice was: “Don’t wait too long to level with the guy. I suspect your sergeant has more depth than you give him credit for.”

  Maybe too much depth, Marta thought as she fled to her car. Too many layers of repressed emotion.

  If this proved to be a false alarm, she’d learned her lesson, she resolved. No more tempting fate. Despite her craving for Derek’s arms, she would summon the strength t
o control herself in future.

  She drove to an open drugstore and bought a kit. Took it home and shakily followed the directions. The stick emerged bright pink.

  Pregnant. The test was more than ninety-nine percent accurate, according to the box.

  Marta strained to accept that a tiny person, part her and part Derek, had begun to grow. That had to be a miracle. If only the circumstances weren’t so overwhelming.

  She huddled on the couch, hugging a well-worn bear, and tried to sort out her feelings. Even her most optimistic visions didn’t present Derek as a doting dad. Furthermore, the situation risked humiliating him publicly. There’d be jokes about Sergeant Can’t-Keep-His-Pants-On and, in view of his position, embarrassment for the department.

  He would probably offer child support and promise to stand by her. But emotionally, just when she’d hoped he might risk caring, this was likely to drive him back behind his protective mask.

  Thanks to poor judgment and worse timing, Marta was going to lose the man she loved before she ever really had him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Who’d have figured there was so much to learn about teaching?

  Derek had arrived early at Villa Corazon on Saturday afternoon, hoping to catch Marta before she began her tutoring session, but no sooner had he signed in than Yolanda whisked him through the reception area and auditorium to an area set aside on the stage. There, she introduced him to Ginger Lindeman, a high-school teacher who trained volunteers.

  Naturally, Derek had expected to review Tom’s level of mathematics. He hadn’t considered, however, that he would have to absorb information about educational strategies. Students, according to Ginger, displayed a variety of learning styles. In addition, many youngsters harbored a fear of math, which created the need to establish a constructive psychological atmosphere. Fortunately, he’d already achieved that by following his instincts, she agreed when he related his discussions with the boy.

  The fun part came when Derek got to play a couple of math-oriented games on a new iPad, a gift to the center from a local corporation. Tom’s current tutor reserved such games as a reward, according to Ginger. She agreed when Derek proposed using them more extensively to help the boy understand concepts and to make the subject enjoyable.

  At the end of two hours, Ginger signaled that they were done for the day. “We’ve covered the basics. Another session to review the math and go over what we studied today, and you’ll be ready for one-on-one tutoring.”

  Derek would have preferred to plow ahead, even though his brain felt waterlogged. He hated to waste another week. “Are you available one evening after work? I’d like to start with Tom next Saturday.”

  “I’ll be happy to arrange it.” Thoughtfully, Ginger added, “I’m pleasantly surprised that you’re doing this. Dad always described you as a playboy.” Her father, Justin Lindeman, was the traffic lieutenant.

  “And I always described him as a crusty old bast…codger,” Derek returned jovially. He liked Justin, a longtime Vince loyalist who’d warmed to Will’s leadership in recent months.

  “You seem sincerely drawn to teaching,” Ginger went on. “From what Yolanda told me, you have a knack for appealing to the child on his level without condescending.”

  “I don’t believe in talking down to people,” Derek said.

  “Igniting that spark is an art.” She closed her notebook. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

  Even as he thanked her, he didn’t completely believe the compliment. Hitting the right note with Tom had been more luck than talent.

  After helping clear the materials away, Derek gazed over an auditorium full of students and tutors. Marta, who must have entered during his time with Ginger, flashed him a smile and settled at a desk with a student.

  Her abrupt departure on Thursday still disturbed him. A sudden headache might signal serious trouble, although she looked all right today. Since the shock of discovering he had Parkinson’s, Derek had become less willing to dismiss other people’s symptoms as minor.

  He’d considered calling her later to see how she was. However, he hadn’t wanted to risk waking her in case she’d dropped off to sleep. Instead, he’d stopped by the hospital yesterday at midmorning, to find her on duty but lacking her usual sparkle.

  “It’s just a bug,” she’d said wearily. “I’ve got a doctor’s appointment this afternoon, but I think I’m nearly over it.”

  He tried not to worry. Still, the sight of her healthy glow now was a relief.

  Derek hoped she’d be able to go out with him after her teaching session, as they’d discussed last week. Thursday’s abrupt end to their meal had left him feeling shortchanged.

  Sore after sitting for hours, he descended from the stage. The path to the exit took him past the table where Tom’s frustrated tutor labored to engage the squirming boy’s interest. “Hey,” Derek addressed him. “How’re you doing?”

  “How do you think?” Tom snapped.

  Startled by the sharp response, Derek paused. “What’s eating you?”

  Anger crackled in the boy’s voice. “You were supposed to tutor me.”

  Apparently no one had explained about the delay. “I am. Next Saturday. I had my first training session today and I’m coming back later this week to finish getting ready.”

  Out of the boy’s line of sight, the tutor’s mouth formed the words, “Thank you.”

  Tom shoved overlong bangs off his forehead. “You have to learn how to teach?”

  “That’s right.” Ignoring a pang in his hip, Derek picked up a math book from where it had fallen on the floor and placed it on the desk.

  “Didn’t you go to college?”

  He supposed that, at Tom’s age, he, too, had assumed graduates must know everything. “Sure, but acquiring advanced skills requires further study. For instance, to become an officer, I studied police science.”

  Tom brightened with interest. “What’s that?”

  “How to collar crooks. When to shoot and when not to. Interviewing a suspect. High-speed driving. And a lot more.”

  The boy actually smiled. “That sounds like fun.”

  “I’m interrupting your session. We’ll talk more next weekend.” Derek clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ve got a few minutes left. Put them to good use.”

  “Okay.” Reluctantly, the boy returned to his worksheet.

  When Derek sneaked another glance at Marta, he caught a glint of approval. Although she appeared absorbed in helping her student read, she’d obviously been observing.

  A short while later, a bell marked the end of the hour. Derek angled between tables to reach her and waited until her student departed. Then he raised the subject uppermost in his mind. “How’re you feeling?”

  Marta capped her pen. “Better.”

  “The doctor didn’t diagnose anything serious?”

  “No.” She tucked the pen and a notebook into her purse.

  She didn’t normally act so reticent. “Was it a migraine?” Derek prodded.

  “Not exactly.”

  Something seemed amiss. “We don’t need to discuss it here. I’m taking you out, remember?”

  Marta’s dubious expression dampened his spirits. “I’m not sure I’m up to socializing. Besides,” she added, “Elise and I promised Yolanda we’d sort through a pile of donated textbooks.”

  If she truly felt okay, her obligation posed only a temporary impediment. “No problem. I’ll return in an hour and buy you a cup of coffee. Okay?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Not coffee.”

  “Herbal tea?” Hearing no objection, Derek concluded, “Done.”

  “You’re irrepressible.”

  “I try.”

  He headed out of the auditorium. A couple of turns around the block ought to stretch his muscles and settle his mood.

  Most likely, Marta’s attitude stemmed from the hesitation she’d expressed previously about him, Derek supposed. He didn’t understand why sharing refreshments and a conversation
should be threatening, though.

  As he passed through the office wing, the sound of hammering drew his gaze to the playroom. Ben, sweat darkening his T-shirt, was installing cubbyholes along one wall.

  The cabinetry appeared well crafted. Will would be proud of his son if he knew, which he probably didn’t.

  Outside, beneath an overcast sky, Derek spotted a dark blue late-model sedan wedged between a red compact and a dented van. The chief’s car. It must be on loan to Ben—who, with youthful carelessness, had left a window lowered.

  Derek didn’t intend to nag the kid about respecting his father’s property. In any case, he hoped the loan marked the start of a more positive phase in the father and son’s relationship.

  *

  Marta tried to think of an excuse to cancel the date. She wasn’t prepared to talk to Derek.

  After half an hour of sorting, she lost her focus and sat staring blankly at the books spread on the storeroom table. Elise, who’d been muttering angrily since spotting Vince a few minutes earlier, took no notice.

  Yesterday’s appointment with the obstetrician, Dr. LaShandra Bennett, had confirmed Marta’s pregnancy. “You’re large for six weeks,” the physician had commented, using the date of Marta’s last menstrual cycle to mark the start of the pregnancy. “Otherwise, you’re fine. I’ll schedule an ultrasound to rule out any complications, especially considering your prior trauma.”

  “You think something’s wrong?” Marta had asked anxiously.

  “No. I just prefer to err on the side of caution.”

  Dr. Bennett, who often bought breath mints at the gift shop, was aware of Marta’s unwed status. “Regardless of circumstances, a baby is a blessing,” the older woman had said gently. “You should feel good about this.”

  “Before or after I upchuck?” Marta had joked.

  “Eat lots of small meals and the nausea should pass by the second trimester.” The doctor promised to have the nurse provide a prenatal packet that included sample vitamins. “How’s the father taking this?”