The Captain's Baby Bargain

by Merline Lovelace

“You might want to have the doc run a few tests,” Mike commented. “You may have sucked in some fumes.”

  She hadn’t exhibited any of the classic symptoms, like irritation of the eyes or nose, coughing or blood in her sputum. But she couldn’t deny feeling a little out of breath at times. Especially in this heat. And she was too smart to brush off the possibility that she had sucked in some toxic fumes. Back at the office, she made an appointment with her primary care manager at the base hospital.

  * * *

  When she walked up to the entrance of 56th Medical Group’s sand-colored two-story facility the following morning, the sun burned in another blistering blue sky. The fat, prickly pear cactus that stood sentinel beside the hospital’s front door was taking the heat better than Swish was.

  “I don’t understand it,” she told Dr. Bhutti. “I pulled two deployments to Iraq, one to Afghanistan. The heat didn’t bother me half as much at either place.”

  The dark-eyed physician looped her stethoscope around her neck. She and Swish had formed a tight bond at their first meeting, having both served in combat zones.

  “Are you hydrating adequately?”

  “Forty-eight to sixty-four ounces every day, although lately I seem to be more thirsty than usual.”

  “Alcohol intake?”

  “Minimal. I haven’t even felt like a beer after work.”

  “How much time do you spend in the sun?”

  “Three or four hours a day when we have construction or environmental projects underway. Other times, not so much.”

  “Any chance you could be pregnant? A woman’s basal temperature elevates during pregnancy, which makes her more prone to dehydration, heat exhaustion and heat cramps.”

  “No, I...”

  Swish stopped, her breath blocking her throat. An image of Gabe digging a crumpled foil package out of his wallet leaped into her head. How long did he say he’d been carrying the damned thing around? A year? And she’d been so tickled by the fact he hadn’t used it with Miss Priss.

  “I guess I could be.”

  The doc rolled back her stool. “Well, we’ll know soon enough. I’ll write an order for a lab test. You may want to cut back on your exposure to the heat until we get the results. And keep drinking plenty of water.”

  Shock eddied into the first wavelets of panic. “Can’t I pee on a stick or something? Find out now?”

  “Hang loose. I’ll get a kit.”

  Swish edged off the exam table, her boots thudding on the floor. Too agitated to sit, she paced the tiny room. She couldn’t be pregnant. The odds couldn’t be that stacked against her and Gabe!

  A chance meeting at a traffic light. One hot and heavy session between the sheets. Okay, two. Three? No, just two. She’d climaxed first. She was sure she had. Then she’d straddled Gabe’s hips and pumped him for all she was worth.

  She’d been so eager, so impatient. He hadn’t been exactly gentle, either. The condom could’ve popped anytime during their straining and rocking and thrusting. Ha! Who was she kidding? The roof could’ve fallen in on them and they wouldn’t have noticed.

  Dammit all to hell!

  She was standing with her arms crossed, boots planted wide, glaring at a chart depicting the pulmonary system, when Dr. Bhutti returned.

  “Here’s a home pregnancy kit and the lab slips for your blood and urine tests. But be advised that the results from these kits are unofficial as they’re not always reliable,” she cautioned. “There’s a restroom next to the lab. Pee in one of the cups and leave the sample to be analyzed. The home kit is yours to use whenever.”

  No way Swish was going to wait for the Air Force to do its thing. Clutching the lab slip and the home kit, she threaded her way through a large area crowded with uniformed personnel, retirees and their families, some waiting for prescriptions to be filled, others waiting to called in to see a doc. With almost twenty-six thousand folks eligible for care at the Luke Hospital, it was always a busy place.

  She handed the tech at the lab desk the doc’s order. “Urine sample first, Captain, then we’ll take your blood. You’ll find the necessary supplies and instructions in the restroom next door.”

  It wasn’t her first time having to pee in a cup. Every active-duty member had to do a random urinalysis at least once a year. Once every two years for Guard and Reserve members. There were all kinds of safeguards built into the process. An observer had to be present. The donor had to write his or her name on the plastic bottle in the presence of that witness, making it, in essence, a legal document. A rigorous chain-of-custody record was completed by every person at every step of the process. Consequently, Swish had filled her share of little plastic cups. And for at least the tenth or twelfth or twentieth time, she wondered why the hell someone hadn’t invented a better way for women to hit the target.

  She finally got the cup half full, set it on the edge of the sink and ripped open the home kit. Her palms got clammy as she extracted an eyedropper and a test strip encased in plastic wrap. She closed her eyes for a moment, the dropper gripped between thumb and forefinger. What if the test was positive? What if she was carrying the child Gabe had always wanted? What would she do? What would he do?

  They’d work it out, she decided fiercely. One way or another. Jaw set, she suctioned up a small sample of pale gold urine and dropped it on the test strip.

  She no idea how long she stood staring at the bright purple splotch that blossomed on the strip. Long enough for someone to rattle the door handle once, then rattle a few moments later. A third, distinctly impatient shake tore her gaze from the lavender bloom.

  “Hey! Anyone in there?”

  “I’ll be out in a sec.”

  She collected the home kit elements and stuffed them back in their box, then tossed it in the trash. Capping the urine cup, she used the Sharpie provided by the lab to write her last name on a label, slapped it on the cup and placed the sample on the shelf as instructed. A brief twirl sent the sample into the lab. She emerged and yielded the restroom to a beefy, irritated lieutenant colonel.

  “All yours, sir.”

  Not until she’d rolled up her sleeve and stretched out her arm for the blood test the doc had ordered did the possible ramifications hit her. If she had breathed in toxic fumes... If her blood had contained residual gases when the egg fertilized by Gabe’s squiggly little sperm had worked its way to her uterus... If those gases had impacted the baby’s subsequent cell formation...

  “Captain!”

  She turned a wild, unseeing stare on the lab tech who’d just stuck a needle in her vein.

  “Don’t faint on me, Captain! Look up at the ceiling. Breath deep. Slow. There, we’re done.”

  Chapter Four

  When Swish drove to work early the next morning she carried the effects of a long, worried night. Her eyes ached, her skin felt drum tight and her thoughts continually skidded off track. Not even putting the top down on her T-bird and cruising along with the sparse early traffic could blow out the cobwebs. Her stomach stayed knotted until Dr. Bhutti’s call at zero-eight-forty.

  “Congratulations, Captain. It’s official. You’re pregnant.”

  “What about the blood tests?”

  “They came back clean. No evidence of any damage to your respiratory system. Your heart and lung functions are normal.”

  “How about the baby? Could it have been affected by toxic fumes even if nothing showed up in the tests?”

  “Unlikely, in my professional opinion, but why don’t we talk about that when you come in to discuss your pregnancy profile. Does this afternoon at sixteen hundred work for you?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Swish hung up, careening wildly between relief and the knowledge her life had just veered off in an unplanned and totally scary direction. Somewhere in the dark reaches of the night she’d eliminated any thought of an abortion. Even with the fear hanging over her like a double-bladed ax that the fetus might’ve been affected by fumes, she knew she’d see the pregnancy
through.

  Her mother was a deacon in their church, her dad a retired county assessor. They never talked politics or religion outside the house, but they’d raised their daughter with a very traditional set of values. They’d also been broken-hearted when Swish and Gabe divorced. Aside from losing a son-in-law they both adored, they had to at least temporarily shelve their hope for a brood of noisy, boisterous grandchildren.

  They’d be surprised but supportive at the news that Swish was pregnant. In the meantime, she’d have to make major changes in her personal life and her career. A pregnancy profile dictated limits on physical training, body weight requirements and environmental exposures. It also disqualified her for worldwide duty and took her off mobility status during her pregnancy and for at least six weeks afterward.

  Damn! She’d worked so hard to achieve command of her rapid response engineering team. If the team had to deploy now, it would go without her. Cringing at the thought, Swish went down the hall and rapped on the door of her boss’s office.

  Lieutenant Colonel Spence Hawthorne had commanded the 56th Civil Engineering Squadron for less than a month. Hawthorne had barely had time to get to know his people—or they him—but what Swish had seen so far impressed her. She had no idea how he’d take the news that the leader of his Prime BEEF team was about to come off mobility status for the next year, though.

  He reacted pretty much the way she anticipated, given that he knew she was divorced. Very cautiously. “You’re pregnant?”

  “That’s what the tests say.”

  “Are, uh, congratulations in order?”

  For the first time since Dr. Bhutti suggested she might be pregnant, Swish felt her lips curve in a grin. “Yeah, they are.”

  “Okay, then.” Stretching out a bear-sized paw, he came around from behind his desk and pumped her hand. “Congratulations, Captain. Now, who do you recommend to take over for you as Prime BEEF commander?”

  Wham! Just like that she was displaced. Although she’d come in prepared for exactly that question, it still hit hard. “Captain Donaldson’s my designated alternate. And Lieutenant Harbaugh would be a good backfill for him.”

  “I’ll take a look at their records. What’s happening with the spill?”

  “We’re on track with the cleanup. EPA’s promised to sign off on it this week.”

  “Good job, Swish.”

  “Thanks. There’s one more thing.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I’d like to take some leave.” She drew in a breath, let it out. “I need to go home and tell my ex-husband that the weekend we spent together last month has produced some unexpected consequences.”

  “That should be an interesting conversation.”

  “No kidding.”

  “How long do you need?”

  “I’ve racked up so much leave that I’m in use-or-lose status. So I’m thinking two weeks, starting after my prenatal check.”

  “Go.” He approved her request with only one caveat. “Just be sure you come back.”

  * * *

  Dr. Bhutti had told her that most initial prenatal appointments weren’t scheduled until after the eighth week. Swish was just hitting her seventh, but the doc understood her concerns and got her in with Dr. Evans the following Monday.

  The visit was a long one, with more urine and blood samples; checks of blood pressure, height and weight; a pelvic exam and pap smear; and an ultrasound that confirmed a due date based on Swish’s encounter with Gabe. The doc took a detailed family and genetic history and went over her deployment record in some detail. He also assured her the blood test would verify the RH factor, hemoglobin and hematocrit, as well as check for hepatitis B, HIV, rubella and syphilis and do another screen for any toxic blood gases.

  “Given your concerns, Captain, I suggest we do another, noninvasive blood test at about ten weeks to check for genetic abnormalities like Down syndrome or other chromosomal problems.”

  Gulping, she agreed.

  * * *

  With the prenatal visit behind her, Swish debated whether to fly or drive back to Oklahoma. It was only a little over fourteen hours by car. Easily doable in a day.

  Or she could break it up with an overnight stop in Albuquerque to visit with Cowboy and his very pregnant wife. Just as Gabe had been planning to do when he’d spotted his ex idling at a red light across an intersection.

  The irony wasn’t lost on her, but she figured Alex might have some good advice on what to expect in the coming months. More to the point, two easy days on the road would give Swish time to figure out what long-distance parenting arrangements she should propose to Gabe. She didn’t doubt for a moment he’d want to be involved in their child’s life. They’d just have to work out how much and how often.

  A call to Alex that evening resulted in a warm invitation and a rueful explanation. “Ben’s not here. He got hit with one of those short notice, I’ll-have-to-kill-you-if-I-tell-you-where training exercises. So Maria and I would love some company.”

  “Great. I should be there by five tomorrow afternoon, if that works for you.”

  “Works perfectly. See you then.”

  * * *

  She left her condo just as dawn was coloring the sky and hit I-10 well before it turned into a one long stop-and-go. The rising sun was in her face this time, instead of the rearview mirror, and the glorious red-and-gold sunrise gave her spirits a decided lift.

  Her good mood took a temporary dive when she saw the sign for Exit 134. The same exit she’d pulled off on that fateful morning to hit the ladies’ room. As the McDonald’s sign flashed by, she couldn’t help thinking how different her life would be right now if she’d crossed her legs and held it. Or, once off the interstate and stopped at the traffic light, if she’d waited for the light to turn green, zipped through the intersection, waved to ex and continued on her merry way.

  Right. Like life gave anyone do-overs. Shrugging off the useless shouldda, wouldda, coulddas, she put the exit behind her. Twenty minutes later she turned onto I-17 and headed for the mountains.

  She stopped for coffee in New River and lunch in Flagstaff. As always, the majestic San Francisco peaks painted a palette of colors that ranged from hazy green at their base to stone-cold granite near the jagged peaks. Even this late in June she could see a trace of white on the distant Humphrey’s Peak.

  By the time she’d cruised past Gallup and hit Albuquerque’s outskirts, she was ready to take a break. And pee! It was probably purely psychological, but now that she knew she was pregnant the need came even more urgently. Refusing to think about how Gabe would tease her about her bladder battles now, she tracked Mapquest to Alex and Cowboy’s address.

  Their casita looked like an earth-toned adobe box on the outside but Swish detected an artist’s flair in the chilis dangling from raffia ropes and the cactus branching fat arms strung with twinkling white lights and a cloud of colorful, fluttering butterflies.

  Alex met her at the door with a hug that she made her angle sideways to accommodate her now bulging belly. Swish battled an instant stab of envy for the mom-to-be’s cotton tunic sporting an arch of colorful spangles.

  “You look like a giant rainbow.”

  “I’m certainly a giant something,” Alex returned, laughing.

  The casita’s lush interior was another celebration of Alex’s artistic talents. The desert-toned walls, the sofas and chairs covered in green cactus and red chili patterns, the Native American prints and baskets on the walls all delighted Swish. But it was the magnificent Eagle Dancer occupying a place of honor on the mantel above the fireplace that drew her like a magnet. She’d only been assigned to Luke for four months, but she’d spent enough time in and out of other bases in the Southwest to recognize the exquisite workmanship that had produced this carved wooden kachina with its feathers and intricate turquoise beading.

  “This is gorgeous!”

  “I think so, too.”

  With a misty smile, Alex rested her arms on the tummy Dingo
had described as an overripe watermelon. A slight understatement, Swish decided.

  “It was my wedding present to Ben.”

  Her use of Cowboy’s given name was a little jolt. A small but subtle reminder that she was, if not an outsider, at least not lodged at the epicenter of that tight, inner military circle. With her thriving business, Alex maintained a life and an individuality independent of her tangential connection to the military.

  Gabe had cut even that tangential connection. He lived a life apart from her and the Air Force now. Was it fair of Swish to pull him back into the periphery of that circle? She was still wrestling with that question.

  “Maria’s over at her friend Dinah’s house,” Alex announced as she led the way into the kitchen. “So I made two pitchers of margaritas. High-test for you, virgin for me.”

  She picked up a frosted green pitcher and was ready to pour when Swish shook her head. “Better make that virgin for both of us.”

  “Why? You’re staying the night, aren’t you? Not driving anywhere until... Oh!”

  Alex’s dark brows shot up, and Swish nodded in response to the unspoken question.

  “Yep, me, too.”

  “Since when?” Plunking the pitcher back onto the tiled counter, she answered her own question. “Wait! You were drinking at the Bash last month so you must’ve just found out.”

  “I did.”

  Alex glanced down the counter, looked up. Swish guessed immediately what was coming. Cowboy’s wife was as fiercely loyal to her friends as any of the Badger’s protégées were to theirs.

  “Chelsea told me Blake Andrews stopped by Phoenix to visit you,” Alex said, her voice several degrees cooler than before.

  “We met for lunch. Just lunch.”

  The other woman held her gaze for a moment longer, then nodded. “Good to know.”

  “But what’s with Chelsea’s new gig at Treasure Island? Dingo says she swings across the lagoon on a rope every hour on the hour.”

  Her loyalty to her former roommate satisfied, Alex laughed. “Not anymore. All it took was one dunk. She’s unemployed again.”

  Not for long, Swish bet. If those mile-long legs and generous boobs didn’t wow some other producer, the dancer’s infectious laugh and sparkling personality would. Wishing Dingo the best of luck with his on-again, off-again girlfriend, she turned to more immediate concerns.