She grinned. “Well, if this doctor thing doesn’t work out, Marco’s always looking for dancers.” She’d buy the bank out of dollars.
“Something to think about, I guess.”
350 Days earlier
Seven damned days. Seven long nights. She’d tried the tequila trick and he’d left in the middle of her licking salt from the inside of his thigh. She’d shut his phone off—only for a little while, well until he discovered it anyway—and one of the little old ladies showed up at the door. If the doctor couldn’t come to them in the middle of the night…These determined old ladies weren’t about to be put off by something as simple to overcome as Jacob not answering the phone. If they couldn’t get Mohammed to the mountain, after all.
And now, twelve-twenty-one—AM for God’s sake—and another desperate old lady on the phone. Couldn’t they ever have an emergency during his normal office hours?
Nat didn’t have to lean in to hear the woman shrieking. “Dr. Henry? Dr. Henry? I can’t hear you. I can’t hear anything. I think I must be having a stroke.” This was the go-to self-diagnosis that drew Jacob out of the house every night. “Please come immediately. Please come immediately. Please come immediately.”
She had news for the old woman. She’d been trying to make that very thing happen before this damned interruption. Her lips, her hands, her breath had all been on the job, but as soon as the phone rang, he pushed her away as if God himself was on the line.
He was already zipping up. “Come on, Jacob. This is getting silly, now.”
“I have to go, Nat. What if she really is having a stroke?”
“Then wouldn’t 911 be the better call?” Not only that, but…”And if she really is having a stroke, what help can you be in her living room?” Her heart lurched. “Are you cheating on me?”
He stepped back as if she’d slapped him. “No!”
“Do you not want me?” Was this some plan he’d cooked up with all those old bats to wriggle off the hook? “If you don’t, just say it, because I’m damned tired of getting my motor running only to have you rush off in the night for some ungodly emergency that isn’t really an emergency.” Cleaning glasses, dispensing dental floss and anti-itch cream, a deadly spider bite that was nothing more than the welt of a hungry mosquito. And those were just a few. There’d been a sudden attack of flatulence that absolutely, no matter what the patient insisted, was not colon cancer. A hot flash that wasn’t a heart attack. And more than one “stroke.” Talk about crying wolf. And he’d rushed out for every single false alarm.
He glanced from the bed to the door and back. “I promise you, sweetheart, there is nothing more I want in life than to finish…you, but they need me. They’re my patients.”
“I’m your wife.” She didn’t add horny. Didn’t feel like it would be any more than a redundancy neither one of them needed confirmed. She shook her head, trembling with anger. “But you know what? Fine. Since I apparently don’t need you as bad as your harem of biddies, I’ll just sleep on the couch.” She snatched the pillow from behind her head, the pillow they usually shared. “And I’m taking my damned pillow.”
Jacob’s mouth twitched. If he was actually laughing at her… “That’s my pillow.”
“Well, maybe you can get one of your grandma friends to sew you a new one.” She flung open the door, stomped down the hallway, and flopped on the sofa. All she had left was her petulance. Her pride, her hope, even her desire had all deserted her as soon as he’d answered the phone and pulled on his shirt.
She wrapped herself in the throw blanket one of the crones had gifted them and huffed and puffed until hyperventilation became a very real possibility. Damn him. Damn them. Damn this whole blasted town.
At the door, he stopped. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, Nat.”
She didn’t give two fat shits that he sounded defeated, that this likely bothered him as much as her. It didn’t stop him from walking out the door anyway. “Don’t bother. I don’t really need your pity sex. I have porn and a vibrator.” Although neither one would satisfy her the way she craved. And that was the only reason she hadn’t given up yet.
* * *
By morning, she had a plan and just enough sexual frustration pushing her to see it through. This was going to be a town planner’s meeting no one would forget.
NAT: I didn’t want Jacob to have to choose between his job and me. That wasn’t my plan. All I wanted was some time alone with him. When I told them we were trying to have a baby, I didn’t know the whole town was going to take up the cause. I think that was the first time I really felt how much they were rooting for us.
* * *
“You told them we’re trying to have a baby?” He had to be hearing wrong. A baby wasn’t in the contract. Or the deal. Or his future.
But she crossed her arms over her chest and glared. “I wanted them to stop calling. Would you rather I told them you had performance anxiety thanks to all their midnight interruptions? Because I thought about that one, too.”
“I don’t have performance anxiety. I can perform just fine, thank you very much.” Not that he expected her to believe it. But right now, there were more pressing issues to deal with. “Of all the things you could have told them, you picked that? What was wrong with informing them of my office hours? Or passing out some fliers for the urgent care in Redford? Now the whole town thinks we’re going at it like bunnies.”
“So what? We’re married. In real-life people who just got married go at it like bunnies.” She crossed her arms. “What’s the matter, Jacob? Are you afraid you’re gonna actually have to get your…” She broke off as if what she planned to say wasn’t TV appropriate, and Matt was jerking his camera back and forth like he was filming Wimbledon. “Look, I played to the crowd. None of those old women cared that I’m walking around ready to hump a hydrant, or that parts of you look like you stole them off a member of the Blue Man Group. I did what I had to do, and I will defend it all night long.” With a saucy grin, she added, “All night.”
That sounded promising, except…“Well, sweetheart, tonight while you were out having dinner with the girls, apparently enjoying a few glasses of wine to celebrate your big announcement, I have been the proud recipient of various performance enhancing presents. Nine so far.” He held up a box, flipped off the lid, and held up one of the “gifts” by its thin, yarn back. Now that he took a moment for some serious examination, it kind of resembled an elephant with a very large chin.
Nat tilted her head from one side to the other then circled him as if trying to examine it from every angle. “What the hell is that?”
Oh boy, did he have news for her. “Well, the card says these are special underwear for me that are tried and true to help my little swimmers. And, in case these little babies need some divine assistance, you know just in case them being blessed by two priests and a minister isn’t enough, there are prayers being said tonight for us in a special candlelight vigil for my virility. At the gazebo. In the middle of town.” His mind flashed on a picture of the town square and all his patients and their families and friends with their heads bowed in prayer for his sperm to hit the mark. “We’re invited. Or if we so choose to use the power of the Lord, we should make love at precisely seven PM when all the prayers and several penis-shaped balloons will be offered up as one.”
He’d read the card three times. Couldn’t believe what he was reading, but yeah. Three times. Maybe this was all some kind of joke. He didn’t recall any clauses referring to pranking in the contract, but maybe the network was improvising.
Nat stepped closer. “Are those…”
He nodded. “Yep. Crocheted. With these nifty side pockets so I can keep my hands warm. Women don’t like cold hands.” He held up the card so she could read it. “It says so right here on the diagram.”
She flipped the “trunk” extending off the front, and it flopped over the top. “You know, I get what this part is for.” She leaned down to investigate closer and bit her lip. “But what
is this all about?” She stretched out the sac at the bottom.
“Pretty sure it’s to keep the boulders from rubbing the bark off the tree while I walk.” He looked over the anatomically correct diagram once more. “Yep. See? Can’t have chafed boulders apparently.”
She coughed over a chuckle. “Look at this way. The blue will really bring out your eyes. And that thong back…it’ll help with…Oh, God. I can’t do this.” Between giggles, she held up a second pair. “I’ll give you all the money I have if you model these.”
“There isn’t enough money in the world to get me to put these on.”
“Come on. Please?”
“If I even give a minute of serious consideration to putting these on, all my equipment is going to crawl back inside my body.” He shook them in the air. “They are crocheted.”
“Oh, it’s baby soft yarn. Don’t be so…just put them on. I won’t judge you.”
“Nat…” But he smiled, then laughed. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. A little weird, but not so bad.
Even poor Matt had given up on trying to remain part of the background. Not that Jacob blamed him. He would have laughed, too, if this wasn’t so embarrassing.
“Oh come on. I think they’re kind of sexy.”
“Go ahead. Laugh it up, you two. There aren’t prayers being said to the Lord for your…parts to step up to the plate.” He tossed the box back onto the sofa with the rest as a new thought—oh Lord, it got worse—came to him. “And when you don’t get pregnant, what then? They’re gonna be thinking I couldn’t do my duty by you.”
“Your duty?”
Uh-oh. “You know what I mean.”
“It’s your duty to sleep with me?” Her eyes flashed with either hurt or anger. Anger he could deal with. Hurt, not so much. And certainly not both. Not after all this.
Oh, man. His entire night was circling the drain. “Nat, I didn’t mean it like that.” This married thing wasn’t turning out to be as easy as he thought. Maybe that was why his mother had failed at it so many times.
“So that’s why you’re so happy to run out of here every night?” She nodded as if she’d just solved a puzzle. “Now it all makes sense. And here I thought you might be gay, after all, but nope. You just don’t want me.”
“Can we not do this now?” Matt had the lens pointed right at him.
Nat looked from Jacob to what’s-his-name and back again. “You know what? You’re right. Let’s not do this now. Let’s just not do this…or anything else. Ever.” She picked up the jacket she’d tossed onto the chair and stalked toward the door.
“Nat, wait, please?” If he sounded desperate, it was because he was. Aside from not having the strength to fight, he just didn’t want to. Didn’t want to be the guy who put that look in her eyes either. “Please.”
After a moment, she turned, smile in place, plastic and fake as it was. “You’re right.” She nodded for at least forty-five ticks of the second hand on the clock, too long anyway while he waited with his breath held. “I think I need some air though. I’ll just be a few minutes.”
The camera girl who followed her around all night had gone back to the hotel, and Matt looked torn. Follow her or stay with Jacob? Jacob nodded to the door. “Go with her.”
Besides, Jacob needed a few minutes to get everything ready.
7
Maybe Nat should have read the whole contract. Maybe then she would have been better able to stick to business. But then again, where would the fun have been in that? Jacob tensed beside her. “Are you worried about what they’re going to show?”
He shook his head and grinned—the one that made her heart damn near stop in her chest. “No. But I wouldn’t mind a few videos of that night.”
“Perv.”
“I don’t just mean the sex.” He took her hand and traced the lines on back with a touch so soft she could have moaned. “There was a minute in the middle of the night when you were standing by the window, all wrapped in the sheet when I looked at you…I thought I saw forever right there.”
God she wanted that with him, But he’d never…and she couldn’t tell him, wouldn’t be able to take the rejection if he didn’t feel the same way. “Forever is a long time, Jacob.”
Not long enough. That was what she wanted him to say. Instead, he let go of her hand and turned back to the screen. “Yeah. I guess it is.”
But God. It was what she wanted. Forever with Jacob. Waking up with him every morning. Listening to him hum as he brushed his teeth. Watching him wrinkle his nose at whatever she cooked, but choking it down anyway. And that damned curl. Well, if they didn’t stay together, she would chop that curl off, use her two hundred fifty thousand dollars to buy those rolls of unedited film from the network and she would grow old watching those. She would…lose him anyway.
STANLEY GARTA: The prayer vigil was my idea, but everyone pitched in. Clara found the penis shaped balloons and in such a short time, too. I would have thought it would take a lot longer to come up with something like that, but bam. There they were, like she had them at home or something. And Lana and Mark hurried up and fashioned some penis hats for everyone to wear. Cecily Winterbottom collected donations for the baby and donated all the candles. That Brady girl made up some pregnant Natasha dolls to give out. I thought that was a little on the voodoo side, but of course, I was overruled because I haven’t paid my lawn mowing fines yet. Damned town council. Where was I? Oh yeah. We had the reverend and the rabbi from Redford both say prayers. We invited the bishop, but on such short notice…well, we relied on what we had available.
* * *
349 days earlier
Somehow she’d walked herself right to the middle of town. Everyone she’d met so far and a bunch of people she’d never seen before stood around the gazebo. Oh. The prayer vigil. She chuckled and stood behind a tree, hoping not to be seen, but the camera and its light didn’t do one damned thing to aid her inconspicuousness. First, Eloise Tafferty turned, then Angela Jacobi, and Sarah Webster. Harry Reasoner waved with both arms, calling her to the front, then as more people spun, rotated and swiveled to see what the fuss was about, a chant came up from across the lawn and spread like the wave.
Oh, Lord. There was nowhere to hide. No way she could run without causing at least half the town to chase her and probably have their hearts collapse from the exertion. Not that she was that fast, they were just that old.
Aside from the camera pointed at her, there were three or four more set up around the perimeter of the crowd and one more on the gazebo. Right now, they were all focused on her. “Shit.”
“Well, you can make a run or you can hang around and see where this goes.”
Yeah. Matt might have been the cool surfer dude type, but at this minute she didn’t appreciate the help. She knew all about fight or flight. God, if they’d just stop chanting, maybe she could get her head straight. Still, cool-guy surfer dudes had opinions and she wasn’t above listening to his. “What would you do?”
He chuckled. “I’d run, but I’m not the one going to be on TV sprinting away while a crowd of senior citizens wearing giant penises on their heads chases me.”
“Thanks, pal.”
“You asked.” He shrugged. “Won’t hurt to just see what’s going on right?”
“With these people, you never know.” She blew out a breath, called on her fake smile, and weaved her way through the crowd. As soon as she stepped foot on the steps of the gazebo, the crowd hushed as if they had made some sort of pact to hear whatever important thing she had to say.
God her mouth was dry. She would have sold her poor, pathetic soul for one shot of whiskey. But since she’d already forged her deal with the devil, she swallowed hard and lifted her hand in a wave. “Hi.” A few answered back, but the rest just looked up at her expectantly. “Um, Jacob and I—uh, that is Dr. Henry and I would like to thank you all for taking your time to come out tonight and wish us well.” Her skin burned as if the heat of a thousand suns was shining on her, but it was mor
e likely just her embarrassment and hatred for public speaking. Besides, what was one to say when an entire town stood in prayer for her fertility? “And thank you to those of you who sent the…um…helpful gifts tonight.” She grinned a little. Why not have some fun with this? “Jacob is at home right now putting them to use. He’s very excited about those.”
She nodded to Harry and was about to leave the stage when he pulled her back by her arm. “Maybe you would like to say the prayer and do the countdown for the balloon release?”
Oh Lord. How had she not noticed the neon penis balloons? “I would very much like to do that.” Now her smile came on real waves of mirth. Holy hell. She was glad there was going to be reels of this on film. No way anyone would believe it otherwise. She took the preprinted card and scanned the words. Oh my. She looked from the card to the crowd and back. She had to pull it together or she’d never get the words out.
She bowed her head more to hide her smile than to show her reverence. “Heavenly Father, we gathered together tonight to pray for your holy blessing on the coupling of Jacob and Natasha Henry who are trying to conceive their first child. Bless Jacob’s semen that they may find their way to fertilizing one of your holy eggs. Bless Natasha’s womb that it may present a welcoming environment for the child to grow and thrive.” She swallowed hard. She’d prayed a lot over the years, but never for a man’s semen or her own womb. “Finally, we ask for the help of the heavenly angels to instill with Jacob virility and in Natasha fertility.” She ended with a lip twitch and felt immediately guilty. These people really wanted them to succeed as if they had a stake in this themselves.
Beyond her spur-of-the-moment proclamation earlier that day, she hadn’t given much thought to the idea of a baby. A little version of Jacob with curly hair and those blue eyes. Or maybe a miniature Natasha with blonde hair and enough sass to drive both of her parents crazy. Someone to love and be loved by no matter what else happened in their relationship.
The Wedding Plan Page 6
