The Family They Chose

by Nancy Robards Thompson

  All sorts of questions raced through his mind: Why was he calling her now? Was this the man who, last night, she’d sounded so anxious to see?

  Feeling threatened on a number of levels, when he got to the front door, Jamison pulled Olivia into a tight embrace—and again he kissed her as if he really meant it.

  So what if he was being territorial. He had good reason. He loved her and he couldn’t stand the thought of her keeping secrets from him or worse yet, turning to another man when she should be confiding in him. He’d given her too much space. Been too busy. Too wrapped up in work, his thoughts focused firmly on the future presidential election. Even so, he still hoped she’d turn to him before she ran to someone else. Even if the man was her doctor.

  It was a shame it took something like this to remind him that they belonged together.

  His lips found her earlobe, her jaw, her neck and he trailed possessive kisses down to her collarbone. He knew he had to stop. The driver was waiting and if he didn’t stop now, he’d sweep his wife up in his arms and take her upstairs to their bed and prove exactly how much he loved her, like he should’ve done the minute he got home on Christmas Eve.

  “Jamison, you’d better go,” she said breathlessly, breaking the contact.

  She slid her hands from his shoulders down his arms and took his hands in hers.

  There they stood, face-to-face, eye-to-eye—and the words just slipped out.

  “Who was on the phone?”

  Just like that, her face shuttered again, closing him out. Her eyes held the mysterious darkness of kept secrets.

  “No one.” She stepped away from him, opened the front door. The cold winter wind blew in, cutting him down to the core of his body.

  “Well, I heard the phone ring and it wasn’t the driver. Was it a wrong number? Your sister? The Salvation Army?”

  She looked at him as if he was crazy. For a desperate, furious moment he felt he was stark, raving mad.

  “None of the above,” she insisted. “You’re going to miss your flight if you don’t go.”

  He looked at her closely. “You’re keeping something from me.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  The protest came a little too quickly and fervently. The shuttered look on her face made it difficult for him to read her. That’s why he was so taken aback when she reached up and cupped his jaw in her hand.

  “I love you, Jamison. You just have to trust me, okay?”

  Trust her? When she’s obviously keeping something from me? Even so—

  “I love you, too. Please don’t ever forget it, okay?”

  He gave her one last hug before he walked down the red brick steps and got into the car. As soon as the vehicle pulled away, he took out his BlackBerry and dialed Cameron McInerney, his aide.

  “Good morning, Cameron. I need you to do a background check on a Dr. Chance Demetrios of Boston. Hire a P.I. if you need to. I want to know everything about this guy, every move he makes.”

  Jamison hung up the phone and slid it into the breast pocket of his coat. He stared out the window at the tall buildings of downtown Boston. It was his home, but this morning it felt so strange.

  Soon enough he’d know if Dr. Demetrios was, indeed, no one, as Liv claimed…or if he was someone that Jamison needed to be concerned about.

  Either way, he intended to discover exactly what his wife was keeping from him.

  Chapter Five

  The next day Olivia arrived at the institute early so that she could thank Paul for arranging her appointment with Chance Demetrios. True to form, he was back at work even though the institute was closed for the holidays for the rest of the week.

  She rapped on his door. When he looked up, she wriggled her fingers at him.

  “Hello, stranger,” he said, rising from his desk and walking to meet her. He pulled her into a rib-crushing bear hug. When he let her go, he asked, “Where’s Jamison?”

  Olivia donned her best happy wife smile.

  “He had to go back to D.C. yesterday.” She shrugged. “I was disappointed, but I understand that duty calls. He hated to disrupt our plans. He’s coming back next week, though.”

  When Paul started nodding, she realized she was babbling and stopped.

  “So how are you?” he asked.

  “I’m doing fine. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help getting me an appointment with Dr. Demetrios today.”

  He waved it off. “Oh, it was nothing. Both Chance and I are here this week. So I figured it would be a good opportunity to get you in. Otherwise, he’s pretty booked. Business is booming.”

  Paul smiled proudly as he motioned her to sit down. Her brother was the consummate workaholic. Even so, he used to be worse before his fiancée, Ramona Tate, came into his life. Before they met, he rarely took a day off. Ramona had been good for him in that respect, and it was wonderful to see him so happy. Not only that, her brother’s love story was encouraging. His and Ramona’s relationship had grown out of the worst sort of adversity when Paul’s twin, Derek, had hired her without consulting either Paul or their sister, Lisa. Plus, Derek did not do a thorough background check. If he had, he would have discovered that Ramona was an investigative reporter intent on going undercover to write an unflattering exposé on the institute. Olivia was the only one of Gerald Armstrong’s kids who had opted out of the family business. She just wasn’t wired for business the way her brothers and sister were.

  It was times like this that she was glad she’d followed her own path.

  Olivia and her siblings had made their father proud by graduating from Harvard. But that’s where the similarities ended. Instead of studying business and medicine, Olivia had majored in literature and minored in ballet. In fact, in her sophomore year she’d had the great honor of being tapped as one of Harvard Ballet’s youngest assistant artistic directors. She’d spent her entire stint at Harvard performing with the company in which she’d taken such pride.

  Even so, as her relationship with Jamison had become more serious, it had eventually eclipsed her love of dance and she’d given it up for marriage and a family of her own.

  Despite her traditional values, she’d always danced to her own tune. Perhaps that was why she was having such a hard time letting Jamison dictate when they’d have children.

  The situation with Ramona had caused a lot of family strain, and Olivia took heart in this perfect example of love conquering all. If her brother’s relationship could come up against such strife and survive, surely Jamison could forgive her extreme measures of starting their family. Because despite her husband’s belief otherwise, there was never a perfect time to have a baby. She was sure Jamison would understand that, once he held his child in his arms.

  When Olivia got to Dr. Demetrios’s office, she was surprised when he asked her to come in and sit down rather than having her change into a gown and wait for him in one of the examination rooms.

  She sat in a leather-upholstered chair across from his desk, clenching her hands, nervous and giddy at the same time.

  “I’m glad you decided to come in, Mrs. Mallory.”

  He was a handsome man, and Olivia was surprised that a woman hadn’t snatched him up by now. Her mind did a quick inventory of single friends who might a good match for him. The single list grew shorter every year. Not surprising, since Olivia and most of her friends were now happily married.

  Happily married.

  The thought made Olivia shift in her seat as she ignored the nagging voice that asked what she was doing here alone if she was happily married.

  “Please call me Olivia.”

  He smiled at her and pushed a wisp of dark hair off his forehead. “Certainly, Olivia.”

  He cleared his throat and for the flash of a second, she noticed a hint of something in his chocolate brown eyes that didn’t bode well.

  She tightened the grip on her hands, digging her fingernails into her palms.

  “I don’t quite know how to say this other than to come right out a
nd say it, but your symptoms indicate that you might be having trouble conceiving because it’s possible your body is going through early onset menopause.”

  His words rang in her ears.

  “Menopause?” she heard herself utter. “But I’m only twenty-nine years old, Doctor. How can that be possible?”

  He raked a hand across his handsome face as if this wasn’t easy for him. “It’s rare, but it does happen. The blood tests I did last time showed low levels of estradiol, which indicates your ovaries are starting to fail.”

  “You’ve known this for two months and you didn’t tell me?” she asked as a burning salty sting in the back of her throat brought tears to her eyes and nearly choked her.

  “I’m deeply sorry,” he said. “I did try to contact you. My nurse even sent you a letter asking you to follow up with me, but you didn’t respond. Because of patient confidentiality laws, I couldn’t leave a more detailed message.”

  She’d received the vague letter that had asked her to set a follow-up appointment to discuss her test results. She’d thought it meant that he wanted to discuss which procedure they’d try next time and she hadn’t followed through because of the trial separation.

  How foolish she’d been thinking she had all the time in the world, that she could let nearly three months go by without making any effort to conceive. At least this further justified her being here today—her not mentioning to Jamison the meeting with Dr. Demetrios and making the decision to move ahead—all on her own.

  “Do my brothers and sister know about this?” she asked. If they knew and hadn’t told her she might never be able to forgive them.

  “No, they don’t know. Again, that’s because of confidentiality laws.”

  Olivia swiped at a tear and Chance nudged a box of tissue toward her.

  “But before, you said there was a slim chance that I could conceive.”

  “I’m sorry. That was before I received the test results.”

  Olivia swiped at the tears streaming down her face. It certainly wasn’t the news she wanted to hear, especially with Jamison being so far away…She had to be strong and hear him out. One step at a time. She’d do everything he said she had to do to reverse this condition and then maybe that would be the answer to Jamison’s and her fertility problems.

  “As I’m sure you can understand, this comes as a total and complete shock, but I’m willing to do whatever needs to be done to reverse the situation. Please tell me, what’s caused this and most importantly, what can we do to correct it?”

  Chance shifted in his chair, his handsome face looking pained.

  “It’s hard to pin down the exact reason this has occurred, especially since there isn’t a family history of it. But I do have to speculate that your low body weight may have been a contributor. Have you always been this thin, Olivia?”

  Her weight had always been a sensitive subject. A war she’d battled in much the same way as some people battled excess weight. She’d always been naturally thin, but as a ballerina she was encouraged to be even thinner. The thinner the better. But even though ballet had been a big part of her life before she’d met Jamison, she would’ve given it up and gotten downright plump if she’d known her low weight was causing such harm.

  Again, she choked back a rush of tears. “But my other question, Dr. Demetrios, is what do I have to do to reverse this condition?”

  He looked stricken and Olivia knew what he was going to say before he said it. Even so, as the words, “I’m sorry, early onset menopause isn’t reversible,” spilled out of his mouth, Olivia’s vision went white-hot and fuzzy around the edges. The walls were closing in—she had to get out of that office.

  The next thing she knew, she found herself in the parking lot, huddled against the biting cold December wind, sobbing uncontrollably and fumbling in her purse for her keys.

  As she pulled them out, Chance was standing beside her saying something about not letting her drive when she was so upset, but the words were so jumbled she couldn’t quite be sure.

  When he touched her arm, she nearly crumpled and fell into a heap of sobs and tears right there in the parking lot. Dr. Demetrios caught her in the nick of time and held her as she sobbed. But the feel of his strong arms around her made her long for Jamison. She jerked away from him, clicked the car door remote and tried to slide her slight frame into the driver’s seat. Chance caught her arm and kept her from doing so.

  “Olivia, you’re too upset to drive.” He’d chased after her without a jacket and he shivered against the cold. “Please come back inside until you can get a hold of yourself. It’s cold out here and you really have no business driving right now.”

  Get a hold of myself?

  She glared at him. He had just shattered her world with a single revelation. How was she supposed to get a hold of herself when she no longer had a foundation to stand on?

  “I can’t go back in there,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’m not ready to tell my family about…” She took a deep breath. “About my condition. Not until I’ve had a chance to process it myself and discuss it with my husband.”

  Chance nodded.

  “I understand. But I still can’t let you drive right now. Let’s walk over to the Coach House Diner just up the street. Then I’ll take you home. We could get some coffee at the diner—”

  “I don’t drink coffee,” she snapped, and immediately regretted it. Especially since he didn’t bristle back at her. He remained calm, unfazed. His dark eyes were patient and kind.

  “I’m sorry, Dr. Demetrios. It’s just that…” Instinctively, almost protectively, she laced her hands over her belly.

  He smiled his patient smile and nodded to let her know he understood.

  “No apology necessary. You’ve received shattering news. What kind of a doctor would I be if I didn’t cut you some slack? But as I said, I’d still like to discuss your options.”

  “I have options? The prognosis sounded pretty final.”

  “There are possibilities. I don’t want to falsely raise your hopes, but this isn’t the end of the line. If you’d prefer not to come back inside, let’s go to the diner.”

  Olivia sucked in a breath. She was feeling markedly stronger now.

  “I suppose I could go back to your office.”

  “Good, I’d put on a fresh pot of coffee just before you arrived and I’m dying for a cup. I’ll steep you a cup of herbal tea and we’ll talk.”

  Her options were slim.

  Chance drew more blood and said he’d have to send it out to be analyzed to see if her ovaries were still producing eggs. If they were, he advised that they harvest as many as possible for future in vitro procedures because, according to the files, they’d used up the rest of her harvested eggs in the last procedure. There was still plenty of Jamison’s frozen sperm—and more where that came from—but for a future procedure to be possible, they’d need more from her.

  If not, their best chance at a family was adoption.

  The thought made her feel queasy. Not so much the thought of giving someone else’s child a home as much as the implications that it meant she would be barren.

  Either way, Chance promised to put a rush on the lab and set an appointment for her at nine o’clock in the morning on December 31.

  New Years Eve.

  On the last night of the year she would learn her fate. The last night. Her last chance.

  Olivia left Chance’s office with a heavy heart, but a firm resolve to think positive. Chance had told her to discuss the options with Jamison—as if that was going to happen—at least not in the near future, and that made things all the worse.

  As she started to tear up again, she reminded herself firmly that it wasn’t over until it was over. Right now, she just had to believe the best would happen.

  She didn’t want to see anyone as she was leaving. When she left Chance’s office, she’d mustered every ounce of calm self-control she possessed so that he wouldn’t commit her to the psych ward or make
her go to the Coach House Diner. Not that there was anything wrong with the diner. She’d been there on several occasions, but today it was the last place she wanted to be. Rather than sobbing her heart out in public, she wanted to be in her own house, surrounded by familiarity and the things she loved. Maybe she’d bake some bread today. She could take it to the Children’s Home tomorrow. She was on the board of directors and was due for a visit.

  Her shoes echoed loudly on the cold, barren hallway floors of the institute, and there was no hiding when she rounded the corner and came face-to-face with her brother Derek.

  “Olivia? What are you doing here?” Derek was Paul’s twin, but the two couldn’t be more different if they came from different mothers. Where Paul was warm and personable, Derek was steely and calculating.

  Olivia’s shaking hand fluttered to her face and she swiped at her eyes. She must look a mess.

  She opened her mouth to answer him, but instead, she choked on a sob.

  “Livie, what’s wrong?” Derek demanded. The change in him was instant. One second he was the cold professional sporting his “work face,” the next he was big brother to the rescue. When he switched into that mode, Olivia automatically regressed into the role of little sister.

  The next thing she new, Derek had whisked her down the hall and into his office. Behind closed doors, she found herself blubbering and confiding in him, sister to brother, divulging the bleak prognosis Chance had just leveled and confessing her marital woes.

  Even though she wasn’t particularly close to Derek, he always managed to get her to open up whether she wanted to or not. He had a way of getting her to confess things she didn’t even share with her closest friends. Maybe it was because they were a bit removed from each other, therefore there was no risk of disappointing him or being judged.

  “Jamison doesn’t even know I’m here today.”

  Derek regarded her with a frown from across the desk, his eagle eyes sharp and piercing.

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Liv. Based on what you’ve told me, his not knowing might be the best thing. He wants you to wait to get pregnant, but obviously waiting might not be an option and if he won’t even discuss it…well, that gives you free rein to take matters into your own hands. Who is he to dictate what you can and can’t do with your body?”