Intensive Caring

by Bobby Hutchinson

  For the next hour, Nelson answered the excited questions that Charlie shot at him, everything from how to keep books for a small business to advice on advertising. Nelson was no expert at small-business management, but he had contacts who were, and he put Charlie in touch with them.

  Charlie finally tore herself away and went out to buy groceries, and Nelson sat at the computer, trying to concentrate on his own business, tracking spreadsheets and market predictions, but he felt restless and impatient with the slow progress of his healing, and the restrictions it put on his life.

  He needed something active, something physical, something that occupied his attention the way racing had while he waited for his body to heal. He’d made a list once of things he’d wanted to accomplish before—

  Before.

  He called the list up on his laptop, and there, number seven, was the perfect solution.

  Flying. He’d always wanted to learn how to fly a small craft, and there was no reason he couldn’t begin now. His arms were stronger than they’d ever been. And as long as he could struggle into the plane, his hip wouldn’t be too much of an impediment.

  He grabbed the Yellow Pages and looked up flight schools, and within half an hour, he’d made arrangements for his first lesson.

  He hung up the phone with a familiar feeling of anticipation and excitement. He couldn’t wait to start.

  He couldn’t wait to tell Portia.

  “I LIKE MY CAR FINE, but I do miss driving the limo,” Portia said.

  They were in her Datsun, heading for Juliet’s. Now that Nelson didn’t need the wheelchair, getting around was much easier, but Portia had become used to handling the sleek, big car when she and Nelson went out. There was something so decadent about piloting the vehicle through Vancouver traffic. No one messed with a limousine, and Portia enjoyed the feeling of power.

  “Maybe Charlie’ll let us borrow it now and then.” Nelson then explained about the business Charlie was determined to start.

  “What a great idea. She should put an ad for the service on the bulletin board at St. Joe’s.” Portia turned and smiled at him, thinking that he was more handsome than ever now that his energy and strength were improving. “Sounds like you two had a productive afternoon.”

  “Must have been something in the phase of the moon, because I also figured out what I want to do with my spare hours until I’m fully mobile again. Besides making love with you, that is.” And then he told her about registering for flying lessons.

  She swallowed hard and made an effort to look receptive, but she felt horrified.

  “Isn’t that a pretty dangerous hobby?”

  “No more so than anything else I’ve done.”

  “I suppose not.” Confusing emotions tumbled through her. She felt disappointed, let down, vaguely angry with him. She tried to figure out exactly why as she maneuvered through traffic. It had something to do with confirming her fears about him.

  “I’ll take you up as soon as I’ve got my license.”

  “I don’t think so.” She shook her head. “I’m a nervous passenger. I don’t like flying in commercial planes. I sure as heck wouldn’t be comfortable in a small one.”

  “Even with me as pilot?” His tone was teasing, but she had the feeling something more serious was behind it.

  “Well, your track record as a pilot isn’t exactly reassuring, if we factor in race cars.” She kept her tone light, too, but she felt he was pressuring her, and she didn’t like it.

  “You don’t trust me. You’re breaking my heart.” He made his voice sound comically pathetic, but again she knew that he wasn’t entirely joking. Not that his heart was breaking. But she intuitively saw that he wanted her to trust him.

  “Better your heart broken than your body.” Yet what about her heart? Wasn’t that what these feelings were all about? She’d never allowed herself to admit it, but on some level, she’d been hoping she and Nelson had a future together.

  Trust went both ways. She’d wanted him to trust her intuition about the Huntington’s, give up his fears, move on and stop risking life and limb by pursuing dangerous sports. Obviously, it had been too much to want.

  He started talking about Charlie again, and how they’d come up with the name for the company, and by the time he was done, they were at the group home.

  Portia pulled up at the curb, but Juliet didn’t come tearing out the way she normally did.

  “Wait here a minute. I’ll go get her.”

  Portia ran up the walk and knocked.

  “Hello, Dr. Bailey.”

  “Hello, Mrs. Cousins.” Portia had long ago given up trying to get on a more casual basis with the portly woman. She exchanged the usual comments on the weather and then said, “Is Juliet ready?”

  “She was down here fifteen minutes ago, but she’s disappeared again. Why don’t you go up to her room and see what’s keeping her. She’s been complaining of a touch of stomach flu this past week. Did she tell you?”

  Juliet hadn’t said anything on the phone, which wasn’t like her. Portia climbed the stairs and walked along the hallway to her sister’s door, which was closed. She tapped and called and then tried the handle. It released, and she went in.

  “Jules? You ready to go to dinner?” She hadn’t seen Juliet for a week, but they’d talked on the phone every other day.

  Stuart had left for Seattle ten days ago, and Portia was relieved that Juliet seemed to be adjusting to his absence. She still spoke about him all the time, but she’d stopped crying when she mentioned him.

  The door to the bathroom was shut, and Portia could hear water running. She waited a few minutes and then knocked.

  “Jules? You okay?”

  “I’m brushing my teeth. I’m okay now. I’m coming, Portia.” The door opened at last and Juliet came out, drying her mouth on the corner of a blue towel. The acrid smell of vomit surrounded her. “I had to throw up. I threw up three times already today.”

  “Ah, Jules, you’re sick, honey. Why didn’t you call me? What’s—”

  And suddenly Portia knew. She saw it in the aura around her sister, in the transparency of her skin, the fragility of her expression, and wondered with a sinking feeling how she could have missed it a week ago. But she hadn’t been looking; she’d thought it was no longer a possibility. And she was trying so hard these days not to look at people that way anymore.

  She groaned, “Oh, God, Jules.” A sense of absolute horror swept over her. “When did you last have a period?”

  “It’s late. It should have come two weeks ago, but it didn’t.”

  “Juliet, you’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

  “Can you see the baby?” Juliet’s skin was pale, and she appeared drawn and tired, but her ecstatic smile stretched from ear to ear. “You can see it, in my colors, can’t you, Portia? When I missed my period, I didn’t know for sure. I was gonna ask you, but now I don’t need to, right? Can you see if it’s a boy or a girl? I so much want a girl, but I think when Stuart knows he’ll want a boy. Oh, Portia, I’m so excited,” she crowed. “It’s making me throw up all the time, and I’m very, very, very dizzy. And very, very, very sleepy. But that’s okay, isn’t it, Portia? That’s just the baby growing, isn’t it, Portia?”

  Speechless, Portia collapsed on a chair beside Juliet’s bed as a whole new set of confusing emotions tumbled through her—anger, frustration, dismay. And resentment, loud and clear.

  Like it or not, Juliet’s pregnancy would drastically affect her own life. The baby would be her niece or nephew, and there was no way she could refuse to be involved in its life, no way she’d want to refuse. She loved her sister; she’d love the child. But with Juliet as a mother, the baby would need so much support, demand so much time—time she didn’t have to give.

  Portia tried to control her voice, but she didn’t succeed. “I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t do this, Juliet. I thought you understood it would be a mistake to get pregnant.”

  “You’re mad at me.” Juliet s
tood in the center of her bedroom, agitated, waving clasped hands.

  Portia looked from her sister to the row of dolls on the window seat, dolls that Juliet still played with. Had her sister begun to understand how different babies were from dolls? “Jules? I thought you promised me.”

  Juliet gave her head a prolonged and vigorous shake. “Uh-uh, I didn’t. Nope, that’s not how it was. You said it was a mistake, but I didn’t say okay. I never said I wouldn’t. Remember how I never said? I didn’t promise you, and I have to use my own judgment about my body. Remember you told me that lots of times. And I did. I used my own judgment, and I’m glad, so there.” Her face crumpled. “I don’t want you to be mad at me, though. Don’t be mad at me, okay, Portia? Okay?” Her chin wobbled and her arms moved faster and faster.

  Portia was beyond anger. She felt like bursting into tears. She felt like walking out, abandoning Juliet, dealing only with her own life for once, instead of constantly rescuing and caring for her sister. The ramifications of Juliet’s pregnancy ran through her mind, each one far-reaching, each one affecting her own life in ways even she couldn’t totally imagine.

  “Oh boy oh boy. You’re really mad at me. Don’t be mad, Portia. You’ll like it when I get the baby. I know you will. You like babies, right?”

  Portia felt aged and weary and defeated.

  “Get your coat on, Jules. Nelson’s waiting for us in the car.” If there was one thing she’d learned from Juliet, it was that regrets were useless. Her only real option was to deal with the situation here and now, without dwelling on regrets.

  “But you’re mad at me. It makes me feel bad when you’re mad at me.”

  Portia sighed and forced a strained smile. “I’m not mad, honey. I’m concerned about you. I’m in shock. But I’m not mad, okay?”

  Juliet leaned close and studied her sister’s face for a moment, and, apparently reassured by what she saw, nodded. “Okay. Where are we going for supper, Portia? I don’t want to go for Chinese. The smell makes me feel sick. Even when I walk past that place near the bakery, you know the one with the big dragon, it makes me feel like I’m going to throw up.”

  “No Chinese. We’re going to Hamburger Heaven, downtown.”

  “I love burgers, but will they have fries? Because I really want fries, with gravy. Not ketchup, gravy, okay?”

  Portia helped her into her coat. Juliet held her hand as they went down the stairs. Mrs. Cousins was still in the downstairs hall, and she asked Juliet if she was feeling better.

  “I had to throw up, but I’m okay now. We’re going to eat at Hamburger Heaven downtown, where they have fries and gravy,” Juliet told her.

  “Enjoy yourselves.” Mrs. Cousins smiled.

  “We will, won’t we, Portia?”

  Portia forced another smile and agreed, wondering if Mrs. Cousins had any suspicions about what was making Juliet sick. She probably did; the housemother was far more perceptive than she seemed, and of course Juliet would blurt out the news soon. It was a wonder she hadn’t already.

  Harmony House was a small privately owned facility, one of the best in the city. There was a long waiting list to get in, and the rules were strict. Babies weren’t allowed, so Juliet would have to move out.

  Move where? Her sister wasn’t capable of living alone.

  With a weary sigh, Portia decided she’d think about it all later. It had been a long day, and she was hungry.

  Nelson was waiting, not so patiently. “Hi, Juliet.” He grinned at her as she climbed into the back seat. “Don’t brain yourself on my crutches. What took you two so long? I’m dying of starvation here.”

  Juliet slammed the car door and concentrated on fastening her seat belt before she answered. “I had to vomit and then I cleaned my teeth, and then Portia looked at my colors, and guess what?”

  Portia started the car and pulled into the rush-hour traffic, then snapped, “Juliet, that whole subject is private, okay?” She felt like clamping a hand over her sister’s mouth. Not that she didn’t want Nelson to know; she’d tell him herself, but just not here and not now. She really didn’t want to go through the conversation all over again. She needed time to digest it, to come to terms with it, whatever terms were possible.

  “You are so mad at me, Portia. You said you weren’t, but you are.” Juliet burst into noisy tears. “I want to stay home. I don’t want to go to Hamburger Heaven. Not with you, Portia. You’re mean to me.”

  “Juliet, for God’s sake, shut up. I’m not mad, okay?” Portia’s store of patience was gone. She knew she sounded exasperated. She certainly felt that way. “And I’m not taking you home. We’re already halfway there. I can’t turn around here, anyway. We’re in the wrong lane.” She wasn’t making things any better, but for once she just didn’t care.

  Nelson did his best to smooth the situation. “Hey, sweetheart, don’t cry,” he cajoled Juliet. “You have to come to dinner. I’ve made the reservations. We can’t cancel at this late date, can we? Hamburger Heaven knows you’re coming. I told them to have a good supply of fries and gravy.”

  Nelson pulled a handful of tissues from the box Portia kept handy and gave them to Juliet. When Portia glanced over at him, he raised an eyebrow and spread his hands questioningly.

  “Don’t ask,” she muttered, maneuvering through downtown traffic and then driving around the block three times before she found a parking spot.

  By the time she’d calmed Juliet and they were finally seated in the popular eating place, Portia was the one who wanted nothing more than to go home. Juliet looked woebegone, but she also looked ill. There was a faint greenish tinge to her skin, and her hands trembled when she studied the menu, which had colorful pictures of all the selections.

  They ordered, and when the beverages came, Juliet drank two glasses of water and then her tall soda, barely pausing for breath.

  “I’m thirsty all the time, and I have to pee lots,” she stage-whispered to Portia, leaning over the table and using her hand to block her words from Nelson. “Is that because the baby’s inside water?”

  Of course Nelson heard her. Portia saw the surprise and shock on his face as recognition dawned. The look he shot Portia was sympathetic.

  “When are you going to tell Stuart you’re pregnant, Jules?” Portia gave up. There was no point now attempting to direct the conversation elsewhere.

  “When he phones me. He goes to a pay phone on a corner by a gas station and he phones me collect, but he can’t always. I can’t call him because his sister won’t let him talk to me. His mother says I’m a bad influ—infru—”

  “Influence,” Portia supplied with a sigh.

  “Influence, yeah.” Juliet clapped a hand over her mouth. “O-o-o-oh, you forgot. You said me being pregnant was private, and now you told Nelson.”

  “I think he guessed.”

  Juliet smiled at him. “You’re really smart, aren’t you, Nelson?”

  “We’re all smart in some ways and not so smart in others,” he replied.

  The waiter came with their food, but Portia’s appetite had disappeared. She toyed with her salad and tried not to think about all the serious problems Juliet’s pregnancy would create. She was sitting beside Nelson, and he reached under the table and gave her leg a squeeze. When she looked at him, he winked and smiled. She should have felt reassured, but she didn’t.

  Juliet wasn’t his sister. He might sympathize, but in the end Juliet’s issues weren’t his to deal with. He had his own demons to face. But at least he could make decisions about his life without considering anyone except himself. He did make decisions that way. She remembered the flying lessons, and her spirits sank even lower.

  Juliet’s appetite had resurfaced, and she ate hungrily and chattered between mouthfuls about her baby and the clothes she planned to get for it and the names she liked. Nelson listened and answered her questions and didn’t ask any.

  After what seemed an eternity to Portia, they finished the meal and drove Juliet home. She gave them each a h
ug before she got out of the car.

  “I’ll call you on the phone tomorrow, Portia, okay?”

  “Yeah. I’ll be at work, but I’ll leave my cell phone open.”

  “Don’t forget, okay? Remember that time you promised and then you forgot.”

  Portia assured her she wouldn’t. “I’m going to get you an appointment with a friend of mine, a special lady doctor who knows everything about babies. Okay, Jules?”

  Juliet hated seeing doctors, a result of her early childhood when Lydia had hauled her from one to the other, searching for a miracle.

  “Do I have to? Will you come with me, Portia?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Okay, but only if you come with me.”

  Portia waited until Juliet was in the house before she drove away.

  Nelson sat quietly beside her for several blocks, and then he said, “That must have been a hell of a shock for you.”

  “Yeah, it was.” Portia concentrated on her driving. “I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind.”

  The atmosphere between them was strained. Portia knew it was her doing, and again she didn’t care. When they reached his building, she pulled up in front instead of heading into the garage.

  “You’re not coming up?” His disappointment was evident.

  She shook her head. “Not tonight.” She didn’t make any excuses and he didn’t ask for any.

  He leaned over and tried to take her in his arms, but the small space made it difficult. He cupped her head in his palms and drew her close enough to kiss, and for a moment she regretted not going up with him.

  The sexual attraction between them was intense, as always. Making love would drive everything out of her mind, at least for a while. She almost said she’d stay, but she couldn’t get the words out. She needed to be alone.

  “’Night, sweetheart.” Nelson stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. “If you want to talk, call. Any hour at all, I’m here.”

  She thanked him, helped him out of the car, then drove away, but she didn’t go home. She had to keep moving, to put off the time when she’d have to think rationally.