“Are you sure about this, hon?” Sally laid her hand on Jenny’s arm. “Things have a way of changing once the baby’s born. When he holds the baby in his arms and sees a part of himself staring back.”
“It’ll be fine,” she said brightly, to convince herself as much as Sally. “Tru will be busy playing hockey. He may even be halfway across the country next season.” The trade rumors had grown rampant.
“You know him best.” Sally gave her a long look. “I don’t want you hurt.”
“I do. But thanks for your concern.” Jenny hoped she wouldn’t regret her confident words.
The door opened and Tru came out of the room. He looked relieved his part of the ordeal was over. For her, it was about to begin again.
“Everything okay?” Sally asked, as Tru sat next to Jenny.
“Fine,” Tru said gruffly, without meeting her gaze.
“Good. Then I’ll take you through what happens next. Jenny’s familiar with the process, but you should know what’s involved, too.”
Tru listened intently, asking occasional questions for clarification.
Jenny let Sally’s voice fade out as her emotions swung wildly between excitement and apprehension. Could she handle the emotional strain of another treatment cycle? Last time, she’d been naively optimistic, but those rose-colored glasses had been ripped off and stomped on.
This time, she was approaching the treatment with her eyes wide open. Part of her wanted to run away, to protect herself from the pain of another failure. Deep inside, her empty womb ached. But then she looked at the board behind Sally’s head, full of photos of infants in pastel caps. Wouldn’t it be worth the turmoil and angst to be able to add her child to that wall of success?
A loud crash made her jump.
Tru had fallen off his chair. He lay sprawled on the floor, eyes closed.
Sally jumped up and rushed around her desk to kneel beside him. She checked Tru’s pulse. “Get a glass of water.”
Jenny’s heart thumped painfully at the sight of Tru motionless. “What happened?” she asked, as she brought the water.
Tru moaned and began to stir.
“The bigger they are, the harder they fall.” Sally’s smile was wry. “My description of the egg-removal procedure did him in.”
“I can’t believe it. He once got ten stitches in his cheek without an anesthetic, between periods, and finished the game.”
“He’s conditioned to deal with pain in his body. This was about causing you pain.”
Jenny didn’t have time to wonder about the significance of that before Sally said, “Take it easy. Sit up slowly.”
Tru got back on the chair and cradled his head in his hands for several minutes before finally raising it to drink some water. “Oh, man. There wasn’t even any blood.”
Jenny smiled at his disgusted tone. “We could blame low blood sugar, if you like.”
“Don’t tell anyone about this. Ever.” He looked at Sally. “Are we done?”
“Sure. You can call if you have any questions.” Sally handed Jenny a bulging plastic bag. “Call me next week to confirm you’ve started the injections. Then we’ll schedule your ultrasounds.”
“Thanks.” Jenny clutched the bag tightly to her chest; its contents were so precious.
Tru shook hands with the nurse then headed for the door, as if he couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
“Positive thinking, Jenny,” Sally said.
“I’ll try.”
But as Jenny and Tru walked to his car, her thoughts were anything but positive. Was Sally right? Had Jenny done enough to protect herself and her baby? She glanced at Tru. When push came to shove, would he pick the baby over his promise to her?
Stop! Tru had accepted the terms and signed the documents. She had to trust his word. It was only fair, given what he was doing for her.
Still, the worry lingered.
“Sorry about passing out back there.” Tru rubbed the back of his head, looking chagrined, as he opened the car door for her.
“No need to apologize. You gave me a shock, though. You won the Stanley Cup with a broken bone in your foot,” she teased, getting into the car.
He shrugged. “That’s different.”
Jenny recalled Sally’s comment. She bit her lip to hold back a smile as pleasure bubbled through her.
Tru didn’t say anything more until they were halfway home. “I didn’t realize what you have to go through with IVF. It’s a hell of an ordeal.”
“Actually, the emotional side is the worst.” Jenny smiled sadly. “Especially the second time, when you know how fragile the line between success and failure is.”
Tru took her hand. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
Jenny savored the connection between them. “Every step?”
The pause told her he was reconsidering his bold promise.
“Whatever you need. Whatever makes this easier for you.” He glanced at her, humor in his green eyes. “I’ll try not to be such a wuss.”
“Injections, egg extractions, all of it?” She’d expected him to back off.
A muscle twitched in his jaw. “All of it. If you need me...”
“I won’t. I can handle this.” Realizing she sounded ungrateful, she softened her tone. “But it’s good to know you’ll be there for me.”
“Always.”
She knew it was the truth. He would be there for her. A recognition struck her. For the first time in far too long, she wasn’t alone.
As much as she wanted to bask in the moment and enjoy its warm glow, she didn’t dare. Just as she didn’t dare acknowledge the whisper of emotion stirring deep within.
A tiny voice of caution echoed in her head. She might hope things would be different this time, but she couldn’t afford to believe it. Nor put her faith in Tru 100 percent.
Not yet.
* * *
AFTER THREE DAYS, the goose egg on the back of Tru’s head had gone down, but the injury to his pride still stung like an SOB.
He grimaced as he walked toward the room where the memorial committee meeting was being held. Pathetic. At least he hadn’t given himself a concussion.
The whole “donation” experience had been humiliating. The windowless room with the dog-eared girlie magazines... At least his sample had tested okay. He’d half expected a call to say he’d been benched because his swimmers were too slow, which would have topped his humiliation with a freaking cherry.
Compared to what Jenny had to go through, it was nothing. He swore under his breath as he got light-headed at the thought of Jenny injecting herself.
Wiping that image from his head, he deliberately slowed his pace to delay reaching the meeting. Truth was, he’d jack off into a hundred sample pots if it meant Jenny got pregnant and he could finally clear the slate.
“Mr. Jelinek,” a strident voice called out.
He turned to see Mrs. Scartelli walking slowly toward him, leaning heavily on a mahogany cane. Great. Just what he needed. What if he said the wrong thing and jeopardized his position?
His contract still hadn’t arrived from the Ice Cats. Andy had shrugged it off as nothing to worry about, but until Tru signed up, he didn’t want anything to rock the boat. Especially as he suspected Hardshaw was stalling so he could work a trade.
“Mrs. Scartelli. It’s a pleasure.”
Dark eyes assessed him. “I’m glad you could join us.”
As if he’d had a choice. “Anything to support the Ice Cats.”
“I’d have thought you’d be honored to be involved in this memorial project. Your mama has worked hard to get it off the ground.”
This situation reminded him of some advice his old man had once given him. When whatever you say will be wrong, agree and say very li
ttle.
Tru resisted the urge to twist his lips at the irony of following his father’s advice.
“That goes without saying, ma’am.” He gave her a charming smile, hoping her maternal “spidey sense” only worked with her sons. “Keeping my mom happy is my top priority.”
She nodded. “You’re a good boy.” A smile flashed briefly before she hobbled past him into the conference room.
Tru blew out a relieved breath, then took a few moments to psyche himself up for the meeting ahead.
“Truman. There you are.” His mom hurried over as he walked in the door.
He bent down to hug her. “I said I’d be here.”
“I know, and you always keep your word.” She slipped her arm through his. “I’m as proud as a peanut.”
“Peacock, Ma.” He smiled. “Proud as a peacock.”
She waved a hand. “Peacock, peanut. It’s the same, no?”
“Not really, but if it makes you happy, peanut it is.”
She grinned briefly, then her expression turned serious. “I’m glad you’re here. A few people on this committee are trying to stop the project. They think it’s a waste of money and would rather we name a school after Pastor Boult instead.”
As his mom indicated her opposition, Tru’s guilt returned. He hated that he’d been forced into this position. The people she’d mentioned would be open about derailing the project, whereas Tru would be subtly undermining it.
His stomach rolled at the thought of the alternative proposal. Putting Boult’s name on a building that was supposed to be a safe place for children would be horrific.
“Let’s get started.” His mom called the meeting to order.
Once everyone was seated around the conference table, she welcomed them before introducing Mrs. Scartelli, who voiced her support for the venture. His mom then gave a slide presentation that began by reminding the group of Pastor Boult’s achievements.
Tru shut out the superlatives and the gushing praise, but it was hard to ignore the photographs, which contained the bastard’s smug, smiling face. The urge to leap out of his chair and set the committee straight grew with each slide.
He was sucker-punched by a picture of Jenny and Lizzie with their uncle. The photo remained on the screen while his mom explained how Boult had taken the sisters into “his home and his heart.” Tru’s gut wrenched as he noticed that Boult’s hand lay a little too possessively on Jenny’s shoulder.
He wished like hell he didn’t have to keep the truth a secret. As much as it would upset the women in this room, his mother included, surely it would be better for everyone to know how much evil that beatific expression hid.
Thankfully, the meeting moved on to the proposed plans for the memorial park. The discord began when the location was mentioned. A number of people objected to such valuable real estate being set aside for the park. The suggestion that renaming a school would be a better memorial was raised.
One particularly loud opponent was a large man with an equally large gut and a red, jowly face. Ron Sherman’s patronizing tone grated. Tru watched him carefully. If he disrespected Tru’s mom, Tru would take him out.
“Regenerating an area that’s currently lost to everyone but the gangs and turning it into an oasis we can all benefit from is a no-header,” his mom argued.
Tru bit back an indulgent smile at her mistake, but refrained from correcting her. He didn’t want to undermine her when she was doing such a great job.
“No-header.” Sherman laughed. “I think you mean no-brainer, little lady. Maybe you should go back to organizing the church flowers and leave the important stuff to the people who know what they’re doing.”
Tru leaned forward and speared Ron Sherman with a look that had been known to make many a big-name, fast-skating forward miss a step. Sherman was lucky Tru didn’t have a stick in his hand or the jackass would have his balls slap-shot into his throat.
“Maybe you should apologize to Mrs. Jelinek for your lack of manners. If you can’t be civil during this meeting, I’d be more than happy to escort you out of here.”
The room went silent. All eyes turned to Sherman.
He started to bluster, but subsided when Tru made as if to get to his feet. “Just a little business banter.” The man’s laugh was overly hearty. “Forgot we had the delicate sex here.”
When Tru would have retorted, Mrs. Scartelli caught his eye and shook her head. Her expression was approving, but the message was clear; she’d take it from there.
Tru sat back. One more wrong step and the guy was worm food.
“I think you mean ‘the fairer sex,’ Mr. Sherman,” Mama Scartelli said coolly.
“Ha-ha. Yes.” Sherman’s face turned even redder.
“I think this is a good time for the meeting to take a natural break,” Tru’s mom said briskly. “When we return we’ll talk about fund-raising.”
As people moved, Tru’s phone vibrated. His heart thumped heavily when he saw he’d missed a call from Jenny. He went into the hallway to listen to her voice mail.
“I’m sure you’re busy, but I wanted to let you know I’ll be starting the injections tonight. I’ll confirm the time of the first ultrasound once I’ve spoken to Sally. Uh...so that’s it. Bye.”
Despite her businesslike tone, he could hear the nervous tension in her voice. He recalled their conversation about how tough this second round would be.
He felt like a total jerk for being in that committee meeting when she’d called. He was more determined than ever to do everything he could to make the project collapse. Until then, he hoped he could keep his involvement quiet.
In the meantime, he’d promised he wouldn’t let Jenny go through the procedure alone. That meant he would be with her while she stuck herself with a needle tonight. His earlier light-headedness returned.
His mom poked her head out of the room to call him back inside.
The second half of the meeting was tense, as Sherman and his cohorts raised objections and threw up stumbling blocks to the memorial park. On the other side, his mom and her supporters did the same to Sherman’s proposals. Tru acted like a facilitator, but was really subtly stirring them up. Frustration on both sides was close to boiling point when Tru suggested they all go away and work further on the various points raised. They needed facts and figures, not opinions, to make decisions.
Once the meeting finished, he didn’t linger. Mixed emotions filled him as he hurried across the parking lot. He was pleased there was so much discord on the committee and relieved he hadn’t had to be the instigator, but he felt bad for his mom. The disappointment in her face had been hard to see.
In his SUV, he switched the radio over to the NHL station. With the Stanley Cup Finals about to start, attention was focused on the two teams about to battle it out for hockey’s greatest prize.
Damn, but he’d like a shot at another Cup ring himself. Preferably, with the Cats. He’d done everything he could to give himself that chance. It was out of his hands now.
As he drove toward Jenny’s house, his body began to buzz with anticipation. Tru didn’t question his eagerness to see her—injection notwithstanding. He’d finally figured out that his reaction to Jenny was something deeply ingrained within him. It wasn’t going to change, regardless of what happened between them—or how she felt about him.
He sensed her feelings toward him had softened. Whether it was enough for them to have a chance at a proper future together, he didn’t know. But he intended to encourage those feelings to develop. The best way to do that was to continue with the current game plan—to help her, support her and...
He broke off the thought before it edged into dangerous territory. His head wasn’t ready to admit that he might still love her. No matter what his heart thought.
CHAPTER TEN
I CAN’T DO IT.
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The syringe was full. The auto-injector was primed. All Jenny had to do was position the device on her thigh and press the yellow button. Point and click. Simple.
Yet each time she tried, she was overcome by emotions. What if the IVF didn’t work? What if it did?
“Just do it.” Her words echoed around the silent living room.
She snatched the auto-injector off the coffee table and got the device as far as her thigh. Her fingers tightened around the barrel. “Stop being a wuss.”
She closed her eyes and began a downward count from five to one, determined that when she reached the end, she’d press the damn button.
The doorbell made her jump.
Saved by the bell. Literally.
Who could that be? She laid the auto-injector back on the coffee table and headed to the front hall. Her heart jolted when she saw Tru through the peephole. What was he doing here?
She drew in a steadying breath, then opened the door. “Hi— Oh.” Her bright greeting faltered.
In one hand, he held a bouquet of brightly colored gerbera daisies and in the other, a champagne bottle. “I thought I’d stop by and give you moral support.”
She was touched by his thoughtfulness. “Thank you.”
His concerned gaze scanned her face. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She forced a smile.
“Uh-huh,” he said, not sounding convinced. “Can I come in?”
“Sure.” She stood aside to let him enter, then led him to the living room.
Tru put the bottle on the coffee table, carefully avoiding the injection paraphernalia.
“Do you have something to put these in?” He thrust the flowers at her. “Otherwise, we’ll have to drink all the nonalcoholic champagne and use the bottle as a vase.”
“The daisies are lovely.” She took the bouquet from him and walked through to the kitchen. “I’m sure I have a vase, somewhere.”
He stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. “You always liked the red ones.”
Warmth filled her that he’d remembered. “They’re cheerful.”
“You’re still the only woman I know who doesn’t like red roses.”
A Perfect Trade (Harlequin Superromance) Page 16
