Baby: MacAllister-Made

by Joan Elliott Pickart

  Richard jerked his head, averting his gaze, and broke the sensual spell that was beginning to weave around them.

  “No, it isn’t going to happen again,” he said gruffly, staring at the far wall of the bedroom. “Not ever.” He paused and looked at Brenda again. “Brenda, listen, okay? We’ve known for a long time that we’re too different, poles apart on so many things, that we could never have a relationship. It just wouldn’t work between us. Right?”

  “Right,” she said. “Wouldn’t work. Nope.”

  “We sure make fantastic love together, though. I have never in my life experienced…” he said wistfully, then cleared his throat in the next instant. “Erase that. The issue here is our friendship, how much it means to us. Right?”

  “Right,” Brenda said, pressing one hand to her forehead. “Our friendship.”

  “Now we need to agree never to discuss what happened last night,” he said slowly. “I’m thinking this through as I speak, so pay attention. Yes, that’s the ticket. We won’t ever talk about it.

  “What we shared was awesome, it really was, but it’s over, behind us, and we’re going to forget it took place. We are, at this point in time, renewing our vows as best friends.”

  “Oh. Well,” Brenda said, “that sounds reasonably reasonable… I guess. We’ll just…forget it…the lovemaking…that was so incredibly sensual, so wonderful that it defies description and—”

  “Damn it, Bren, put a cork in it,” Richard said.

  “Sorry, sorry,” she said quickly. “I got a bit carried away there. I understand what you said, Richard. I don’t know how we’re going to…renew vows that I don’t remember vowing in the first place but—”

  “It was a figure of speech,” he said, glowering. “We’re agreeing to continue as best friends, buddies, pals, the whole nine yards. Are you with me here?”

  “Absolutely,” she said decisively. “It’s an excellent plan, Richard, and I am grateful to you that you worked it all out, because my brain is mush. I hereby declare that you, Richard MacAllister, are my best friend and always will be.”

  “Very good,” he said, nodding. “I hereby declare that you, Brenda Henderson, are my best friend and always will be. And that settles that.”

  “It certainly does.” Brenda paused. “Would you please go into the living room and get my robe so I can put it on and go to my own apartment?”

  “Why can’t you go get the pea-soup yourself?”

  “Because I don’t have any clothes on, Richard,” she said, her eyes widening. “I’m not about to parade in front of you naked as the day I was born.”

  “But you want me to stroll buck naked in front of you?” Richard shook his head. “This is ridiculous. Our behavior is so far removed from being mature adults, it’s a crime. Enough of this.”

  Richard flipped back the blankets, left the bed and strode across the room.

  “Oh, good heavens,” Brenda whispered, squeezing her eyes closed. In the next instant she opened one eye to catch a glimpse of Richard. “My, my, my.”

  “You’re peeking, Henderson,” Richard said over his shoulder as he left the bedroom.

  “You’d better believe it, MacAllister,” Brenda said under her breath, then closed her eyes again.

  A few moments later, the heavy, pea-soup robe landed on her head. Brenda didn’t move. She heard the opening, then closing, of a dresser drawer, next the closet, then the click of the bathroom door.

  When the water started to run in the shower, she slipped off the bed, shrugged into the robe, checked to see that the key to her apartment was still tucked safely in the deep pocket, then started across the room.

  At the doorway to the bedroom she stopped and turned to gaze at the bed.

  Richard’s plan was a sound one, she thought. Neither of them wanted to do anything to jeopardize their special and rare friendship, so never discussing again what had taken place here last night was a very good idea. They would never talk about it, just go about their business as though it had never happened.

  Brenda sighed and left Richard’s apartment.

  But she had a sneaky feeling, she thought, as she entered her own apartment a few minutes later, that it would be a very long time, if ever, before the memories of the lovemaking shared with Richard were erased from her memory.

  During the next hour Brenda showered, washed and blow-dried her hair, and dressed in jeans and a red sport top. Her nearly empty cupboards and refrigerator offered little in the way of breakfast, so she consumed a bowl of cereal, sans milk, a glass of orange juice and a slice of bologna.

  She was on the mend from her sinus infection, she realized, as she sat at the kitchen table. The antibiotics had apparently kicked in and done their job. She was a new woman.

  She plunked one elbow on the table, rested her chin in her hand and stared into space.

  Well, she thought, she was a different woman from the one who had sat at this table yesterday morning, which seemed like an eternity ago. She could now be counted among those who had experienced lovemaking as it—she just somehow knew—was really meant to be.

  How terribly sad, she thought with a sigh to echo that sentiment, that she might very well never experience that kind of ecstasy again in her entire life.

  She certainly wasn’t going to make love with Richard again, and the chances of being intimate with another man sometime in the future were extremely remote.

  “That rotten bum,” she said aloud. “Now no one will ever be able to measure up to what I shared with Richard, and it’s all his fault.”

  Stop it, Brenda, she ordered herself as she got to her feet. She carried her bowl and glass to the dishwasher and put them inside. She was flunking mature adult again.

  None of what had transpired last night was just Richard’s fault. They shared equal responsibility for what they had done, and had mutually agreed how to handle their actions’ aftermath in the light of the new day.

  Richard would continue with his mission to find the woman of his dreams, his soul mate, the mother of his future children. And she, she supposed, would keep going out with somebody’s cousin’s friend—excluding dentists—in the hope of falling in love with Mr. Right and living happily ever after.

  “Right?” she said, wandering into the living room. “Right.”

  Brenda sank onto the sofa and propped her bare feet on the coffee table in front of it.

  Why, she wondered, frowning, was the image of Richard in bed with a faceless woman causing a knot to tighten painfully in her stomach and a chill to course through her?

  She didn’t know, but it certainly didn’t make sense. Richard would go on with his life just as it had been before they’d made love. He planned to forget what had transpired between them, never to talk about it.

  And that was how it should be.

  He would do his thing, she would do hers, and they’d meet in the middle as best friends, just as they’d always been.

  So be it. Fine. But if that was so hunky-dory, why did she feel as if she was a breath away from bursting into tears?

  Maybe she wasn’t over her sinus infection, after all, she thought, pressing one hand to her cheek, her forehead, then her other cheek. She was in a weakened physical state that was rendering her emotionally wobbly.

  Now that made sense.

  “Very good,” she said, getting to her feet.

  She had a busy day ahead, she thought, planting one fingertip on her chin. She’d make a list and go to the grocery store. That chore completed, she’d gather her laundry and head for the basement to square off against the clothes-eating washing machines. Then later, once her clean laundry was put away, she would vacuum and dust the apartment.

  “Ohhh, blak,” she said, throwing up her hands. “What a gruesome way to spend a Sunday.”

  A brisk knock sounded at the door and Brenda crossed the room, opened the door and stared up at a frowning Richard, who was wearing jeans and a black knit shirt.

  “Tacky,” he said gruffly. He stro
de past her, then turned to face her in the middle of the room. “To leave my bed and disappear while I was in the shower was very tacky, Bren.”

  “Why?” she said, closing the door. “You knew I was coming over here as soon as I had my pea-soup.”

  “There’s certain etiquette involved in the morning after, Ms. Henderson,” he said, folding his arms over his chest. “Splitting the scene while I was in the shower would not cut it with Miss Manners.”

  “Miss Manners doesn’t deal with this stuff,” Brenda said, matching Richard’s pose. “Well, I don’t think she does. But the point is, we were beyond the morning after, Mr. MacAllister. We’d thoroughly discussed it and reached the agreement never to discuss it…or whatever. So as far as your grumpy mood goes—get over it.”

  Richard sighed and dragged a hand through his hair.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re right. The morning after was a done deal. I’m just bummed because I have to fly to Detroit in two hours. That would be fine if I was in the market for a new car, but I’m not, so I sure as hell don’t feel like going to Detroit.”

  “You’re leaving again? So soon?” Brenda said, sitting down on the sofa. “They usually give you at least a few days to recuperate and tend to your personal business between assignments.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he said, slouching onto a chair opposite the sofa. “This is an emergency that’s more of an emergency than usual, and no one else is available.”

  “But what about your sister’s wedding, Richard?” Brenda said. “She and Andrew are getting married next weekend. You can’t miss Kara’s wedding. What if the job in Detroit isn’t finished by then?”

  “I’ll keep in touch with Kara if the job runs that long,” he said, “and see if they’re going to have to postpone the ceremony again. If it’s going to take place this weekend, I’ll fly in for the wedding, then go back to Detroit if it comes to that. They’ve pushed the date back twice already so…” He shrugged.

  “That wasn’t their fault,” Brenda said. “Kara and Andrew have their hearts set on getting married in the living room of their new home that’s being built. The unseasonable rains we had kept creating delays in the construction. Now there’s some kind of snafu with the delivery of the carpeting they ordered. I really don’t know if they’ll be able to get married next weekend or not.”

  “Yeah, well, like I said, I’ll call Kara from Detroit.” Richard paused. “Do you…um…have a date lined up to go to the wedding with you?”

  “No,” Brenda said, shaking her head. “The wedding is for family only, and I’m very honored to think I’m considered among that number. I wouldn’t dream of inviting anyone else to go with me.”

  Richard nodded. “So, why don’t we go together when they finally do the deed?”

  “Sure. That’s fine. Besides, we pooled our money to buy them the propane barbecue that’s wrapped and ready in your spare bedroom. We really should accompany our mutual gift.”

  “Good,” Richard said, getting to his feet. “That’s settled then. I’ve got to pack and get to the airport. How are you feeling? You know, your sinus infection?”

  Brenda stood. “I think I’m cured. Maybe.” She laughed. “I might convince myself that I’ll have a relapse if I go to the grocery store, then do my laundry and clean the apartment, though. That’s what’s on my exciting agenda for today.”

  “Beats flying to Detroit. Well, I’ve got to shove off.” Richard didn’t move. “Yep, gotta go.”

  “Okay. ’Bye. Have a nice flight. I’ll see you when you get back. ’Bye, Richard.”

  “Goodbye, Bren,” Richard said, still not moving.

  Their eyes met, held, and hearts began to increase their tempo. Richard took one step toward Brenda at the exact same moment that she took one step toward him. Richard blinked, cleared his throat to break the sensual spell, then strode toward the door.

  “See ya,” he said, then left the apartment, closing the door behind him with more force than was necessary.

  “See ya,” Brenda whispered to the empty room, then sniffled as unwelcomed and unexplainable tears filled her eyes.

  Three

  “Well, Brenda, you are most definitely…pregnant.”

  Dr. Kara MacAllister folded her hands on top of a medical file and looked intently at Brenda, who was sitting in a chair opposite the desk in Kara’s office.

  “Brenda?” Kara said, raising her eyebrows.

  “Oh,” Brenda said. “I was waiting for you to finish the joke, Kara. Actually you didn’t start it quite right. You’re supposed to say, ‘Mrs. Henderson, I have good news for you,’ then I say, ‘It’s Miss Henderson,’ then you deliver the punch line by ending with, ‘Miss Henderson, I have bad news for you.”’

  Brenda shrugged. “That’s okay. I’m lousy at telling jokes, too.” She paused. “So! What’s wrong with me? Why have I been feeling so tired and having so many upset tummies lately?

  “Oh, before I forget, thank you for seeing me today. I booked a cruise for the doctor I’ve had since I was born and he’s off to…wherever it is that I sent him. I can’t keep all of my client’s destinations straight in my mind.”

  “Brenda,” Kara said, leaning back in her chair, “I wasn’t attempting to tell a joke. You…really…are…pregnant. You’re about four weeks along, and that is why you’ve been tired and suffering from morning sickness, which in your case is apparently lasting most of the day.”

  Brenda opened her mouth, closed it, then leaned forward in her chair.

  “Pardon me?” she said. “I’m four weeks…what?”

  “Pregnant,” Kara said. “With child. Have a bun in the oven.” She threw up her hands. “How many ways do you want me to say this?”

  Brenda jumped to her feet. “That’s impossible. I certainly am not pregnant, Kara MacAllister. How can you suggest such a thing? You’ve made a mistake. I realize that you and Andrew are finally getting married tomorrow after a zillion delays, but you really must keep your mind on your work while you’re in your doctor mode. You goofed, Kara, but I forgive you.”

  “Brenda, please, sit down.”

  Brenda sank back onto the chair. “I’m on the Pill, remember? One does not get pregnant when one is on the Pill, Dr. MacAllister.”

  “Yes, one does, Ms. Henderson,” Kara said, “when one takes antibiotics that override the effect of birth control pills. You told me that you were on antibiotics for a sinus infection a month ago, and, putting that information together with your cycle…plus the test I ran and the examination I did… How much more evidence do you need? You’re going to have a baby.”

  “Don’t be silly.” Brenda’s eyes widened in the next instant and her stomach dropped. “I’m going to have a baby?”

  “Finally,” Kara said, her shoulders slumping with relief. “I got through to you. Yes, my sweet friend, you’re going to have a baby.”

  Kara got to her feet and rounded the desk. She turned a second chair toward Brenda, sat down, then grasped both of Brenda’s hands in hers.

  “You obviously didn’t entertain the thought that you might be pregnant, did you?” Kara said gently.

  “No,” Brenda said, her widened eyes riveted on Kara. “I don’t believe this. Well, I mean, I believe it, but… I don’t believe this!”

  Kara released Brenda’s hands, patted her on the knee, then leaned back in the chair.

  “Well, it’s true, Brenda,” she said. “You don’t have to make any decisions today regarding this pregnancy, but you are certainly aware, I’m sure, that there are several options open to you. Of course, there’s also the opinion of the baby’s father to be considered, should you choose to tell him about this.”

  “The…baby’s…father?” Brenda whispered. Richard. Oh, dear heaven, she was pregnant with Richard MacAllister’s baby. “I don’t believe this.”

  Kara laughed. “You’re starting to sound like a broken record.” She became serious again in the next moment. “Bren, please don’t take offense at this questi
on, but I have to ask it. Do you know who the father is?”

  “Oh, yes, I know who he is,” Brenda said. “I don’t exactly have a long string of lovers beating down my door, Kara.” She sighed. “Good grief, what a mess, what a disaster, what a catastrophe, what a—”

  “Cut,” Kara said, slicing one hand through the air. “I get the point. You’re not thrilled down to your toes that you’re going to have a baby.”

  Brenda splayed both hands on her flat stomach. A soft smile formed on her lips.

  “A baby,” she said, awe ringing in her voice. “A miracle. Nestled within me. Growing, being nurtured, even as we speak. Isn’t that incredible? I wonder if it’s a girl or a boy. Oh, my stars, it’s a teeny-tiny person. Kara, I’m a mother-to-be. I’m going to have a baby.”

  “Really?” Kara said, laughing again. “Well, I guess that settles the question of whether or not you’re planning to keep this child. Yes?”

  “Oh, yes. Yes, of course I am,” Brenda said. “I’m so excited. No, actually, I’m terrified.” She waved one hand in the air. “Ignore all that. I just need time to get used to the idea, that’s all, then I can cancel the terrified… I hope.”

  “Those mixed emotions are very understandable.” Kara paused. “Let’s move back to the subject of the father, shall we?”

  “Oh, let’s not,” Brenda said, shaking her head. It’s your big brother, Richard, Kara. How about that for a newsflash? “I don’t want to discuss him.”

  “Why not? Don’t you think he’ll be supportive?”

  “He’d like to be, but not to me,” Brenda said. “It’s very complicated, Kara, and I just don’t want to get into it.”

  “All right…for now, but the subject of his paternity isn’t going to disappear because it’s…uncomfortable for you in some way. Do know that I’m here if you want to talk it through. Shall I have the test results sent over to your regular doctor’s office?”

  “No, I’d rather have you be my doctor from now on,” Brenda said. “I know you’re not taking on any new patients, because you cut back on your doctoring hours so you can have more mommying hours with Andy but, please, Kara, say you’ll be my physician through this pregnancy.”