Once Upon a Pregnancy

by Judy Duarte

  “I wish I could believe you, Mike. But I’m damaged goods.”

  He cupped her cheek. “You’ll never be able to convince me of that. It’s simply not true. I’m in love with you, Simone. And that’s not going to change.”

  She wanted to believe him—she really did. But she couldn’t take the chance.

  What if he was wrong? What if she couldn’t bond with the baby she was carrying?

  Simone sat in the Walnut River OB/GYN waiting room, thumbing through a magazine and listening for her name to be called. She’d had blood drawn earlier, as ordered, and had already discussed insurance and financial obligations.

  Now she was waiting for her first exam.

  Last night, Mike had stayed at her house until she’d chased him off, telling him not to be late to his father’s birthday party. She could tell he was reluctant to leave her alone, but she’d insisted she was fine.

  And she was. She’d been dealing with her mom and the past for years.

  Several times over the course of his visit, she’d been tempted to tell him about the baby. But she’d decided to wait until after seeing Dr. Kipper. After all, other than a little morning sickness and an occasional bout of light-headedness, she still didn’t feel pregnant. Shouldn’t she wait for some kind of confirmation?

  As she sat in the cheerful waiting room, with its cream-colored walls and the lavender- and green-stenciled border, she couldn’t seem to focus on any of the colorful ads or articles in her magazine.

  Instead, she checked out the other patients, most of whom were visibly pregnant.

  A blonde with a belly the size of a watermelon sat across from her, and she imagined herself big with child, her hands resting on her womb. Maybe she’d feel a little bump move by—a hand or a foot.

  The dark-haired new mother to her left held a sleeping newborn in her arms. And, for a moment, Simone envisioned herself bringing the baby to an after-delivery checkup.

  The door swung open, and someone else—a redhead—entered. She was about six months along and had a toddler with her. An older woman was only steps behind, and Simone suspected it was the grandmother.

  Pregnant women should have the love and support of their mothers, which was another reason why Simone couldn’t imagine keeping her baby. The only person she had to rely on was herself. But that was her reality, and she’d learned to accept it.

  She wished she could say that her revelation to Mike about the details surrounding her conception and her childhood had been therapeutic. In a way, she supposed it had been. At least it was out in the open now.

  When the nurse, a fifty-something blonde with a warm smile, called Simone’s name from the doorway, she stood, leaving the magazine on the table next to her, and let the matronly woman lead her toward the exam rooms.

  They stopped by the scale, then went through the usual routine of taking her blood pressure and checking her pulse. After being given a plastic cup and pointed in the direction of the restroom, she provided them with a urine sample.

  It was an interesting twist to be a patient rather than a medical professional for a change. And she wasn’t sure that she liked it.

  Next, she undressed and donned the backless hospital-style gown that everyone hated, then climbed up on the exam table. Fortunately, she didn’t have to wait long for Dr. Kipper to come in, accompanied by the nurse.

  “I’ve gone over the lab work,” the tall, slender obstetrician said. “Everything looks good.”

  The following pelvic exam was also normal.

  “Since you’re over thirty-five,” Dr. Kipper said as he reached for her hand and helped her to a sitting position on the table, “I’m going to suggest an amniocentesis at sixteen weeks.”

  He went on to explain the procedure and the risks, then answered all her questions.

  She mentioned being light-headed a time or two and actually fainting once, although she hadn’t eaten since the night before. He told her that it wasn’t uncommon and suggested that she keep her blood sugar level steady by having more frequent and smaller meals. He also told her that a sudden change in blood pressure could also be the cause. And that she should change positions slowly.

  “Let me know if the fainting or dizziness becomes frequent,” he said.

  “All right. I will.”

  He wrote something in her chart, then glanced up. “Are you taking any vitamins?”

  “Just the generic variety I normally take.”

  He dug through the cupboard and found a couple of packets. “I’ve got a sample of the prenatal vitamins I’d like you to start taking instead. I’ve got them in either pink or blue. Do you have a preference?”

  “No, it doesn’t matter.” Yet thoughts of pink had her thinking about sugar and spice and everything nice, while blue brought on a reminder of frogs, snails and puppy-dog tails.

  Would Mike have a preference?

  No, she snapped at herself. Don’t even go there.

  “I’d like to see you back in three weeks,” Dr. Kipper said.

  She nodded, feeling a bit robotic.

  When the doctor and his nurse left her alone in the room, she removed the drafty gown and got dressed. Next, she stopped at the checkout window, where she made a payment.

  On the way out of the office, she spotted Millie seated in the waiting room, near a potted palm.

  Millie looked up from the magazine she was reading, her gaze landing on Simone. “Hey! Fancy meeting you here.”

  Simone had thought the exact thing. And for a moment, she hoped that Millie was here for the same reason, that God had listened to her prayers, and she’d somehow become pregnant.

  “How about that,” Simone said.

  Millie set the magazine in her lap. “I’m here for my yearly Pap smear. How about you?”

  Simone didn’t have the heart to tell her she was pregnant. And for more reasons than one.

  If she miscarried, which was a possibility, especially in the first three months, and Millie was expecting to adopt the baby, it would be an unnecessary disappointment and heartbreak for her friend.

  And secondly, she wasn’t ready to let the cat out of the bag.

  Or is it more than that? a small inner voice asked. Are you trying to hold on to the baby, as well as the news?

  Simone quickly shook off the stray thought.

  “Pap smears aren’t something I look forward to, but they’re very important,” she told her friend, tottering on the truth and a lie of omission.

  “I know.” Millie scanned the room and zeroed in on a petite brunette who looked to be about nine months pregnant and ready to pop. When her gaze returned to Simone, her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

  Simone’s heart went out to the woman who would make a wonderful mother. Again she thought about giving her baby to Millie and Fred. If she were to do that, the child would undoubtedly grow up happy and loved.

  Yet a sudden sense of uneasiness settled over her when she thought about handing over her child, a selfish response that left her with a nagging sense of guilt.

  Simone didn’t have any business even thinking about keeping the baby.

  So what had caused the momentary change of heart?

  Chapter Nine

  Last week, Mike had invited Simone out to dinner to Rafael’s, a classy restaurant in downtown Walnut River, complete with candles, white linen tablecloths and the best chef and service for miles around.

  For a woman who’d never had a romantic bone in her body, she was sorely tempted to don that only-worn-once black dress she owned—or maybe buy a new one—and let him sweep her off to a dreamy dinner for two. She could almost imagine herself sitting across a candlelit table from the most handsome man in all of Walnut River, a young, dark-haired hunk who clearly had eyes for her.

  Little by little, Mike had been whittling away at her resolve to remain single and unattached, which had protected her well over the years. And at times, she found herself leaning toward sentiment rather than wisdom.

  So, she’d
declined—with more reluctance than she cared to admit.

  Then, on Tuesday, he’d suggested they each take some vacation time and go to Martha’s Vineyard for a few days. He’d said he wanted to take her to the Cape before the tourist season kicked in.

  She’d found the idea strangely appealing and the thought of the possible sleeping arrangements…intriguing.

  But again she’d refused.

  She didn’t think it would be wise to leave the hospital when it looked as though the allegations of insurance fraud were being investigated. Nor did she know how long she could fight her attraction to a man whose perseverance was both frustrating and flattering.

  And now, Mike stood on her front porch with a bouquet of roses in one hand and two white bags in the other. Apparently, he was at it again—trying to make more of their relationship than it really was.

  Still, as much as she hated to admit it, she’d begun to enjoy Mike’s company, so she invited him in.

  The first thing he did, after handing her the flowers, was to kick off his shoes by the door. “If you’ll put those roses in some water, I’ll get everything set up.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He tossed her a boyish grin that knocked her heart on end. “I’m setting the mood. Our food will taste better this way. We’re going to sit on the floor and use chopsticks instead of forks.”

  She watched as he placed the bags that boasted the red pagoda logo of the Tokyo Palace on the coffee table. Then he removed two cushions from the couch and set them on the floor.

  Too cute, she thought, heading for the kitchen. And far too charming for his own good.

  Hers, too, she realized. Sometimes, in spite of their opposing goals and dreams, she found herself weakening toward him and wondering, What if…

  And not just sexually speaking.

  While she stood at the sink and filled a vase with water, she glanced out into the yard, where Woofer and Wags lay in the shade of an elm tree. The dogs had grown comfortable with each other in the past week or so.

  The same could be said for Simone and Mike, she supposed.

  She had to admit that she admired his spirit, as well as his thoughtfulness, and a solid friendship was clearly developing.

  Would that make telling him about the baby easier or more difficult?

  She couldn’t be sure.

  Maybe she ought to just get it over with while they ate dinner—a game plan which seemed wise, especially after the dream she’d had last night. She’d awakened in the midst of it and found the image so unsettling that she’d climbed out of bed at 4:00 a.m. and put on a pot of water for a cup of tea.

  In her dream, she’d held a baby girl, a sweet bundle of flannel and lace who’d had Mike’s black hair and green eyes. The smiling cherub had settled comfortably in Simone’s arm and turned a new mommy’s heart inside out—until the helpless babe began to cry.

  A sense of panic had settled in, waking Simone from her sleep.

  She feared that dreams like that might start hounding her subconscious until she finally told Mike she was pregnant and was able to put it all behind her.

  Mike might have taken her past in stride, but he couldn’t convince her that she hadn’t come away from it unscathed.

  And although he wasn’t worried about how she’d handle marriage and a family, she wasn’t ready to gamble with a child’s psyche.

  Before the water threatened to spill out of the vase, she shut off the spigot. Next she cut off about an inch or so from the stems of the roses and arranged them carefully. When she carried the red buds back into the living room, Mike appeared to have everything planned just so.

  “Do you care where I put these?” she asked.

  “Not at all.”

  In that case, she placed them in the center of her antique china hutch, then took a seat on one of the sofa cushions Mike had placed on the floor and studied the Japanese feast he’d spread out on the coffee table. He’d picked up wontons, California roll, a variety of sashimi, miso soup, steamed rice and chicken teriyaki.

  “It looks good,” she said.

  “Thanks. Why don’t you take a seat while I get us something to drink.”

  “All right.”

  “What would you like?”

  “Water sounds good to me.”

  When he returned from the kitchen with both glasses, he placed one in front of her and the other on his side of the table. Then he took his seat.

  “How about some sashimi?” he asked. “I’ve got ahi and salmon.”

  “I’ll pass.” She wasn’t sure what the rules were on eating raw fish when a woman was pregnant, so until she had a chance to read up on it, she thought it was best to decline.

  He took a sip of his ice water. “I stocked some beer and wine in the fridge last time I was here. But I decided not to offer you any. I didn’t want you to think I was trying to ply you with alcohol.”

  “Why would I think that?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Because I’ve offered you wine a couple of times. Of course, to be honest, I wouldn’t mind seeing you loosen up some.”

  She bristled, sensing what he was about to say.

  “You hold yourself back,” he went on to explain. “And I understand why you do. But there was a warm glow about you on the night we attended Dr. Wilder’s party, and you had a happy glimmer in your eyes.”

  “That’s because I was tipsy.” And she’d be darned if she’d let that happen again.

  “No, I noticed it when you reached for your first glass of champagne. I’m not sure you’d even taken a sip, but either way, I saw a side of you I hadn’t seen before, and it was nice.”

  “That side of me doesn’t really exist.”

  “I disagree. I think you let that woman out of her cage every now and again.”

  For a moment, Simone was transported back to her college days. Back to when Tom broke up with her, saying pretty much the same thing. You need to loosen up, Simone. You’re strung too tight. You’ve built walls around yourself. And whenever anyone tries to get too close, you shut them out and turn on the deep freeze.

  Tom’s words had stunned her to silence, and she’d felt herself recoil into an emotional fetal position, her heart frosting over and preparing for the worst.

  Dammit. He’d slammed the palm of his hand down on the console of his car. There you go again, Simone, shutting me out. You’re an ice queen.

  Mike hadn’t said those exact words, but his meaning was clear. And his thoughts had undoubtedly drifted in the same direction as Tom’s had that long-ago day on the way home from the shore.

  “Is something wrong?” Mike asked.

  Yes, something was wrong. They’d created a child. A baby she couldn’t keep. And she was going to have to level with him—now. While he was reminded of the woman she really was.

  And who she wasn’t.

  Oh, God, she pleaded, hoping The Man Upstairs cared enough to listen to her these days, that he cared enough to help her get the words out and set things to rights. I’ve got to tell him. And then I need to stand firm.

  She raked a hand through the strands of her hair, then blew out a ragged breath. “There’s something you need to know.”

  Mike, who was fiddling with his chopsticks, placed them on his paper plate and gazed at her. “What’s that?”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  His brow twitched, and his jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”

  “Believe me, I may not have the best sense of humor in the world, but there’s no way I’d joke about something like that.”

  “Is it mine?” His expression went from disbelief to well-duh in less than a millisecond. “Sorry. Of course it’s mine. I didn’t mean to… Wow.”

  Yeah. Wow.

  “That’s actually…cool,” he finally said, his initial shock morphing into an easy grin. “It’s a bit of a surprise, but I’m perfectly okay with it.”

  Simone wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting him to say. Exactly that, she supposed.
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  But apparently, he hadn’t been listening to her. Didn’t he get it?

  “Well, I’m not okay with it,” she admitted. “And I think it’s best for everyone involved if I give the baby up for adoption.”

  As Simone’s cold hard solution hung in the air like the courthouse sentence of a convicted felon, Mike wanted to lash back, to argue. Yet he knew her well enough to keep his mouth shut and try to make some sense of this. To try to wrap his mind around it and form another game plan.

  Damn.

  Simone was pregnant.

  With his baby.

  For some crazy reason, he couldn’t stop a goofy smile from curling the edges of his mouth.

  Their lovemaking had created a child.

  Mike adored his nieces and nephews—seven of them and still counting. How he’d like to see his own son or daughter join its cousins in a game of hide-and-seek or freeze tag.

  His grin broadened—until the realization that she’d wanted to give up their kid shoved it aside.

  Was she just trying to feel him out? To test his reaction?

  Women did that sometimes.

  “You know,” he said, “I’ve never made any secret about my feelings for you. And while I wasn’t in a big rush to get married or have kids, that’s not something we ought to put off.”

  “And I’ve made no secret about my fears,” she countered. “I’m not mommy material. Haven’t you been listening to me?”

  Yes, but he’d hoped to change her mind.

  In fact, he still did. He just hadn’t counted on something like this happening—at least not this soon. But just because the timing might make a pregnancy a bit inconvenient didn’t mean the baby would be a complication.

  Hell, Mike could see himself getting used to the idea in no time at all.

  He picked up his chopsticks and began to eat, even though his appetite had fizzled in the pit of his stomach and he was merely poking at his chicken.

  Hers must have done the same thing, because she picked at her food, too.

  They ate in silence until he felt compelled to argue his case one more time. “You can’t convince me that you don’t have feelings for me, too.”