“Heavy?” She sat up as he deposited the cooler at her feet. “You looked like you had to stop for a breather there.”
“Just gawking at how far the tide came up in the few minutes I was gone.” He flipped the lid off the cooler, fished out two colas and handed one to her.
She glanced out at the water, which had advanced markedly. “Amazing, isn’t it?”
He grunted in agreement, unpacking their dinner of fried chicken, cold salads and crusty rolls which they’d bought at the supermarket. As he passed takeout containers to Grace, she opened them and arranged them on the rock beside her. When the cooler was empty, he boosted himself up to join her.
“Napkins?”
He patted his pocket. “I figured the wind would take them. Let me know when you’re ready for one.”
“Good thinking.” She bit into a piece of chicken, closing her eyes to savor the taste.
Ray dropped his gaze to the takeout box. Selecting a drumstick, he concentrated on picking it clean.
“Ummm, this is so good.”
He glanced up to see her licking her fingers, and his mouth went dry. The last bite of chicken he’d swallowed seemed to lodge in his throat. Reaching for his cola, he popped the tab and downed half of it in one swig. Better.
Grace went on to sample the pasta salad, the potato salad and the bean salad, pronouncing them all wonderful. She then ate another piece of chicken and polished off a roll. Ray watched her, taking pleasure in the gusto with which she attacked the meal. It must the fresh sea air, he decided. He managed three more pieces of chicken himself, not to mention a generous helping of the salads and two of the rolls.
By the time they finished their meal, they’d attracted a small legion of seagulls. For the next twenty minutes, they tossed foodstuffs for the gulls until the advancing tide stole the last of the beach.
They sat a while longer in silence, contemplating the water which now lapped at the rocks below them. Twice a day, the ocean ebbed, then rushed back. Forty-five feet, it rose, compared to a world average of two-and-a-half feet. That’s what the brochure at the motel said. Something like a hundred billion tons of salt water. A remarkable thing, yet it happened again and again, day in and day out. The constancy was somehow comforting.
Ray dragged a hand through his hair. They really should leave, he supposed, glancing at Grace. Her face was windburned and she must be tired. But it was so damned nice to be here with her, both of them relaxed, replete with food. How easy it would be to forget their shared nightmare and pretend that this was a real vacation, the one he hadn’t taken time for.
Which was precisely why they needed to leave. Now.
He levered himself up and off the rock and started gathering up their garbage.
Grace stirred. “Time to go?”
“’Fraid so.”
“Here, let me help you with the cleanup.”
She got to her feet, bending to pick up the empty soda cans from where he’d jammed them between the rocks to keep the wind from carrying them over the cliff. Afterward, Ray didn’t know what made his gaze follow her. As she stood up again, she wobbled. With no more warning than that, she pitched toward the water.
He didn’t think; he just lunged. Catching a handful of her sweater, he hauled her back. She fell into him and he lost his balance, going down on the rocks. He landed hard, using his arms to cushion Grace’s fall.
“Dammit, Grace! Do you have any idea how cold that water is? How strong the current? Christ, how would I have pulled you out of there if you’d fallen in?”
But she didn’t hear his angry outburst, nor did she feel the little shake he gave her. She’d fainted!
Chapter 9
GRACE GAZED UP INTO Ray’s anxious face, framed by a faint halo. The sun, she realized.
“What happened?”
“You fainted.”
She tried to sit up. He grasped her arms and eased her up, doing all the work for her.
“How do you feel now?”
She took a mental inventory. Her elbow hurt. She must have banged it going down. No need to mention that, though. Ray looked ready to blow a gasket. “Fine.”
His lips, already pressed together in a grim line, thinned and he stood. “We’re going to the hospital.”
Panic leapt. “The hospital? Are you crazy?”
“Crazy, all right. Crazy not to have thought of it before. The vomiting, and now the fainting....”
She blinked. “What do you mean?”
“Dr. Greenwood said these things can take a long time to resolve.”
Huh? “What things?”
“Your head injury. He called it a process, not an event, something that needs monitoring. With your symptoms, we need to check it out.”
“My head’s fine, Ray.”
“Great, then we won’t keep the doctor long.”
He turned to finish picking up the last of their garbage, stuffing it into the grocery-store bag.
The idea of going to the hospital terrified her, maybe because she feared Ray might be right.
“We can’t go to the hospital,” she argued. “We’re supposed to be hiding out. I can’t just whip out my Medicare card.”
“You won’t have to. We’ll tell them we’re American tourists. They won’t have any objection to taking our cash.”
“But there’s nothing wrong with me. The vomiting ... I was just hungry. I told you, I hadn’t eaten. My blood sugar was low, that’s all.”
“Well, it sure as hell wasn’t low blood sugar this time, after that meal.”
“I just got up too fast,” she said, ignoring his fiercely beetled eyebrows.
“We’re going to get you checked out and that’s that. Now wait here while I dump this stuff. I’ll come back for you.”
“I can walk!” she protested.
“Stay put, Grace. I mean it.”
She stayed put, fuming. She wasn’t an invalid, dammit. There was nothing wrong with her! And the last thing she wanted was for Ray to carry her.
Okay, letting him carry her was the second last thing she wanted to do. Making him any angrier was the last thing she should do.
Minutes later, he came back and gathered her into his arms and started picking his way back across the rocks. As they traversed the rocky beach, she held herself stiff, but midway, her pique gave way to concern. Was he limping?
“Ray, this is ridiculous. I’m too heavy, and I really can walk.”
“Forget it. The ground is too uneven.”
She chewed her lip. Yes, he was definitely limping. She could feel it. “Why are you limping?”
“Because somebody fell on me.”
Guilt lanced her. “I landed on you?”
“You would have landed in the Bay of Fundy if I hadn’t grabbed you. Now be quiet.”
Her heart rate took another leap. Had she really been in danger of falling into the frigid bay? She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to think about it. Instead, she focused on Ray. He must have sacrificed his own body to break her fall. Her throat tightened painfully. Time to think about something else.
She cleared her throat. “Wouldn’t piggyback be easier?”
He snorted. “I think I can manage.”
“Fireman’s lift?”
“Shut up, Grace. I need to save my breath.”
They spent the rest of their afternoon in the waiting room of the ER at the Saint John Regional Hospital. To Ray’s obvious disgust, the triage nurse didn’t rank Grace’s condition as terribly urgent. It was two hours later, therefore, before she got into an examining cubicle, and another half hour before the attending physician got around to her.
After asking her a few questions, the short, dark-eyed doctor said, “Before we order up any pictures, I’d like to do a full exam.” He handed her a blue Johnny shirt emblazoned with the hospital’s name and glanced at Ray. “Your husband is welcome to stay, or he can come back afterward.”
“I’ll wait outside,” Ray muttered, then beat a retreat.
> Great, she thought, as the doctor drew the privacy curtain to allow her to change into the gown. Ray brings her here against her objections, then leaves her to face the doctor with a pack of lies about being from Vermont.
“When was your last period, Mrs. Graham?”
Grace’s heart skipped a beat. She told herself it was the use of Ray’s mother’s maiden name that made it thump so hard, not the question.
“I’m not sure I remember, what with the concussion,” she said, fumbling to tie the gown at her neck. “The last one I can be really positive about was quite a while ago. A couple of months, maybe.”
“Is there any possibility you might be pregnant?”
This time, her heart jumped into overdrive. “Pregnant?”
“Yeah, pregnant. By the way, just climb onto that gurney when you’re ready and pull the drape over yourself.”
“I don’t....” Her voice cracked and she tried again. “I don’t think that’s very likely.”
“But not out of the question?”
Out of the question? She felt the sudden desire to laugh and clamped down hard on it. Nothing was out of the question as long as she had this humongous void in her memory.
“I take it that silence means it’s at least a possibility?”
“I guess.”
“Ready back there?”
“Sorry, yes.”
He completed the exam in a matter of minutes, his manner professional and proficient. Afterward, he snapped the latex gloves off, picked up his clipboard and made a quick notation.
“Well? What do you think?”
He glanced up, his brown eyes serious. “I think, Mrs. Graham, that you’re probably pregnant.”
At his words, her hands went to her abdomen. Ray’s baby? She was carrying Ray’s child? “Really?”
“The thickening of your uterus is certainly consistent with, say, a seven- or eight-week pregnancy, as are the changes in your breasts.”
Her mind struggled to process the information, but her body, her heart, knew the truth.
A baby, hers and Ray’s, in her womb right now. A tiny fetus drifting in a warm sea of amniotic fluid, dreaming. No, too young to dream yet. Probably no bigger than her thumbnail. But she could dream for it....
The doctor was speaking again, cutting into her thoughts.
“If you want to shell out for it, we can get a blood sample right now and give you an official result within an hour or two. Or you can go to the drug store and pick up an over-the-counter urine test kit. They’re very reliable these days, and you can do it at any time of the day. As an uninsured patient, it’s certainly the more economical option.”
“Yes, thanks, we’ll go the drug store route,” she said, thinking Ray wouldn’t want to hang around so public a place for too many more hours.
Ray. He was going to be a dad.
Or maybe not. The thought blasted through her mind like an Arctic wind. Maybe it’s not Ray’s. Anxiety squeezed her stomach, leaving her battling a sudden surge of nausea.
“Is this going to be a problem with Mr. Graham?”
She forced her attention back to the doctor. “Sorry?”
“Do you have any concerns about how your husband is going to take the news? You looked a little upset just now.”
Grace flushed as she realized how closely he’d been watching her reaction. “Oh, no, nothing like that.”
“Are you sure?” he probed. “He looks like he could be ... intimidating.”
“He’s not like that. He’d never hurt me,” she blurted, sure her face must match her hair by now.
“Then you think he’ll be pleased?”
Looking into this stranger’s concerned eyes, she wanted to spill it all. She wanted to tell him she couldn’t remember and that she was so tired. Instead, she uttered a husky, “Yes,” and averted her head.
“Would you like me to be there when you tell him?”
That brought her head up. “Oh, no! I mean, no, thank you, Doctor. I’d prefer to tell him in my own way, in my own time.”
“You know you have options?”
In the middle of her misery, the doctor’s kindness to a transient patient touched her. Bloody hormones. She had to redirect him before she started crying.
“I know,” she said, smiling. “It’s okay, really.”
He searched her face and nodded once. “Okay. Now, I know you’re on vacation, but I suggest you make an appointment with your family doctor when you get back to Vermont.”
She glanced at him sharply, a new anxiety flooding her system. “Is there any particular reason I should see my doctor? I mean, do you think there’s something wrong? The fainting....”
“Not at all. Dizziness and fainting are common in the first trimester. It’s your body’s reset switch when you have a drop in blood pressure. And no, it’s not harmful in and of itself, but you could injure yourself falling. Just use a little common sense. Eat regularly, don’t stand up too quickly, and avoid getting overheated. If you do get dizzy, lie down, put your feet up. Maybe even have a carbohydrate snack. Otherwise, there’s no need to alter your activities. Of course, sexual intercourse is perfectly safe.”
She tried to ignore the blush climbing her neck at his last piece of advice. “So the baby’s okay?”
“No reason to suspect otherwise.” He helped her sit up. “But your doctor will want to commence regular prenatal care, get you on a vitamin supplement....”
“Vitamin supplement?”
“Yes. Folic acid is especially important in the early stages.”
“Spina bifida.” She paled, laying a protective hand on her belly. She’d researched it once, for a feature article she’d wanted to write. “That’s why I need the folic acid, to prevent birth defects?”
“Don’t worry. The baby’ll be fine. Just check in with your doctor when you get home.”
“Okay.”
“Well, congratulations and good luck.”
“Thanks.”
He turned to leave the tiny examining room, his mind clearly already on the next patient in the overflowing ER.
“Doctor?”
He glanced back inquiringly.
“It could be a few weeks before we get back to the States.” She lowered her gaze. “Could you maybe recommend a supplement?”
“Of course.” He pulled a prescription pad from his pocket and scribbled something on it. Tearing the sheet off, he handed it to her, smiling. “This is non-prescription, but you’ll have to ask the pharmacist for it. They keep it behind the counter. Take care of yourself, now, Mrs. Graham.”
She smiled back. “I will.”
She dressed slowly, wishing there were some way to stave off the coming confrontation with Ray. Knowing she couldn’t, she made her way out to the waiting room where he sat slouched watching the local headline news spool across a silent TV screen. He glanced up at her approach.
“Finished already?”
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
“Scans and everything?” He stood.
She drew a deep breath. “They didn’t order any imaging.”
His brows drew together. “Why the hell not?”
Not here, Ray. “Because they were sure I didn’t need them.”
“Dammit, I knew I should have stayed. Didn’t you tell him anything? You fainted, for crying out loud. Not to mention woofing your cookies the other day....”
She held up the folded bit of paper the doctor had given her. He looked a little mollified to see the prescription.
“He gave you something to stop the fainting business?”
Grace shoved the paper into the pocket of her hip-hugging jeans. “I think there’s a pharmacy in the SuperStore we stopped at this morning. It’s on the way back to the motel.”
“The motel.” He grimaced. “We should move on to another one. We don’t want to hang around anywhere long enough to make too big an impression.”
“We could go there first,” she offered, seizing on the change of subject.
“Check out tonight, if you like.”
“No.” He rubbed his chin, producing a scratchy noise from the stubble darkening his jaw. “No more late-night check-ins. I’ll just pay for another night when we get back and we’ll check out in the morning.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. If we check out at peak hours, they won’t even look up at us. Come on, let’s get out of here.”
Grace was only too happy to oblige. When they reached the lobby, Ray instructed her to wait while he fetched the car. Which was all right with her. The less he asked her about the prescription she’d shoved into her pocket, the better.
He wasn’t going to react well. Better to have it out in the dubious privacy of their thin-walled motel room than to get into it here.
Of course, maybe the doctor was way off base. Maybe she wasn’t pregnant at all. If the test disproved that theory, there’d be no need to tell him anything.
But she was. She’d known it as soon as the doctor had mentioned the possibility. Now, alone in the vestibule between the inner and outer doors of the hospital entrance, she cupped her left breast experimentally. It was fuller, denser, and almost achingly tender to the touch.
But how had it happened? She was always so careful. After discovering early in their marriage that she tolerated oral contraceptives poorly, she’d switched to a diaphragm, which she used conscientiously. So how could she be pregnant? She’d used that damned thing every time.
Every time with Ray, she reminded herself. God knows what you did with....
With who?
Dammit, why couldn’t she retrieve a name, conjure the face of the man who’d dazzled her so completely that she’d left Ray for him?
Guess you can add that to the list of questions you never thought you’d ask yourself, Gracie girl. Who’s the father of my baby? Right up there with, Who planted a pipe bomb in my house?
The automatic doors slid open with a whoosh. She glanced up to see Ray striding toward her, his gait purposeful, arms loose, hands free, gaze sweeping the area. Despite the spiky, unnaturally yellow hair and the hip-hop clothes, he looked just like what he was—a cop exuding the command presence that had been drilled into him.
“There you are!” he said, stopping several feet away.
Saving Grace (Serve and Protect Series) Page 12
