by Linda Warren
Only Zora remained at the table, sharing her box of cereal but saying very little. Anya had no idea where everyone else had disappeared to or why her friend was acting so subdued. Zora had been preoccupied since the party, and Anya realized with regret that she’d failed to ask why her friend was so downcast. Just because I have problems doesn’t mean I should ignore Zora’s.
“You going to tell me what’s the matter?” she asked.
Zora’s head jerked up. “Why do you assume anything’s wrong?”
It wasn’t like her to dodge a question. “First, you aren’t talking a mile a minute.” Usually, her friend’s chattiness provided a pleasant counterpoint to Anya’s reticence. “Second, if you pull on your hair any harder, you’ll yank it out by the roots.”
Zora stopped twisting a strand around her finger. “I thought I’d have heard from Andrew by now.”
“About what?” Don’t be dense. “You prodded him about signing the divorce papers?” Perhaps Betsy’s comment had borne fruit.
“I stopped by his house Monday.” Zora folded her arms defensively.
“And?” Anya prompted.
“That woman wasn’t there.” Her friend’s tight jaw emphasized the thin planes of her face. “She flew back to Hong Kong.”
What difference did that make? “That’s where her family lives, isn’t it? She might be preparing for her wedding.”
“She can’t be!” Zora exclaimed. “He doesn’t love her, not the way he loves me.”
As a rule, Anya allowed people to indulge their delusions, but Zora was in desperate need of a reality check. “And you believed him when he swore he never loved Stacy the way he loved you.”
“Maybe he didn’t.” Zora fiddled with her napkin. “Don’t forget, I knew him before she did. We were inseparable all through high school. I never understood why he dumped me.”
“That’s not exactly an indication of true love,” Anya noted dryly.
“He was young and confused,” her friend answered. “When he met Stacy in college, he had a crush on her for a while, that’s all.”
“Awhile?” The couple had been married for several years, from what Anya had heard.
“A couple of years. Then we ran into each other at our high school reunion and—well, you’ve heard the story.”
“He sold you a bill of goods and you fell for it.” Anya winced at the harshness of her analysis, but it was far kinder than Andrew was likely to be. “Zora, he cheated on Stacy and he cheated on you. That’s the kind of person he is. He’s not capable of loving anyone but himself.”
She stopped on seeing angry denial on her friend’s face. Anya had to admit, she only knew Andrew by reputation. No, that wasn’t true; she also knew him by the pain he’d caused Zora far too often this past year.
“You’re wrong!” Despite Zora’s defiance, a hint of uncertainty trembled in her voice.
A light tap from a nearby doorway reminded Anya that Lucky’s room lay on the far side of the wall. He poked his head out. “Sorry to intrude, but I couldn’t help overhearing.”
Zora slammed the table, rattling the dishes. Thankfully both cereal bowls were empty. “Don’t you start on me, too!”
He raised his hands in protest. Shirtless, Lucky was quite a sight. On his right shoulder, a cartoon woman in skimpy armor wielded a sword that extended along his arm. On his left side wriggled a colorful dragon. “Wouldn’t dream of it. I just wondered if you noticed the envelope Andrew dropped off for you last night.”
“What envelope?” Zora peered around.
In the den, Lucky scooped up a manila envelope from the coffee table. “I heard someone at the door, but by the time I got there, he was already pulling away from the curb. Maybe I should have left it at your place on the table, but I figured it might get soiled.” He handed it to Zora.
She swallowed hard, staring at her name handwritten on the front.
“You ought to know...” Lucky grimaced. “There was a woman in the car with him.”
Anya didn’t ask what the woman looked like. It scarcely mattered whether his fiancée had returned or whether he’d picked up someone new. “Thanks. Now go away,” she told Lucky.
“Yes, ma’am.” He ducked out. No argument. The guy was making impressive progress in adapting to his roommates.
Why was Zora staring at the packet as if it contained an order for her execution? “It’s the divorce papers,” Anya guessed.
“It can’t be.”
“Why not?”
Her friend shot a glance at Lucky’s door. Although he’d closed it, their voices carried, as they’d just learned. “Upstairs.”
After clearing the table, the women went to Zora’s room, which faced the street. Despite the foggy morning, the glare was intense due to the western exposure.
While Zora tilted the blinds, Anya perched on her friend’s floral bedspread. The room was about the same size as Anya’s but had more feminine décor, including a ruffled bed skirt and dainty pink throw pillows.
Breathing fast, Zora opened the envelope and drew out the papers. Despite having waited months for this, she stared at the signature white-faced.
“Sit,” Anya ordered.
Her friend collapsed onto a chair. “I can’t believe it.”
“Why not?” Anya repeated her earlier question.
“Because we...” Tears started down Zora’s cheeks.
Anya mentally cursed Andrew. “You had sex.”
“He said he’d made a mistake, leaving me.” Her friend’s hands clenched in her lap. Anya leaned forward and plucked the papers from her grasp. While she doubted a few wrinkles would invalidate them, the last thing Zora needed was to have to get them signed again. “He told me he missed me terribly.”
Anya laid the papers atop the bureau. “And you believed him.”
“I must be really stupid.” Zora’s gaze pleaded for understanding.
“He took advantage of you.” Again. “That’s the kind of jerk he is.” And speaking of stupidity... “You used contraception, right?”
Zora’s blank expression gave her the answer. “I never thought about it.”
“You’re an ultrasound technician,” Anya pointed out. “You spend all day showing people their unborn babies, and pregnancy never occurred to you? I’m not trying to be mean. I goofed, too, but...”
“But you were on birth control pills and I’m not,” Zora finished. “Well, that was Monday, so it’s too late for me to use a morning-after pill.”
“You’re not late already, are you?”
“No.” Zora blew her nose into a tissue. “I’m sure I’m not pregnant. We tried for a whole year to have a baby and it didn’t work.”
“There. You’re safe.” Anya was relieved for her friend.
Judging by the fact that Zora was shredding the tissue, though, she wasn’t relieved. “On the other hand, my stomach’s bothering me.”
Uh-oh. “Bothering you how?”
“Churning.” Her friend stared at her in dismay. “Not only in the mornings, though. That means it’s from tension, right?”
Their gazes met. “Or not.”
They shared a silent moment of dread. Then Zora asked, “How early do those pregnancy tests work?”
“We might be able to get results this soon.” Despite choosing not to test herself, Anya had read the label on one of the kits at a drugstore. “They work as early as seven days past ovulation.”
“I don’t track my ovulation.”
“When’s your period due?” Anya asked.
“Like, yesterday.” Wistfully, Zora said, “Betsy would love to have a grandchild.”
“You mean you’d keep it?” Anya couldn’t imagine that, not only because of her own feelings toward motherhood but even more because of her friend’s messy relationship with her ex-husband. “How do you suppose Andrew would react?”
A sodden tissue hit the wastebasket. Zora snatched another. “He won’t bring me ice cream and cute costumes, I can tell you that.”
A deep sigh. “I guess not.” Zora perked up a little. “If I keep the baby, he’ll have to pay support. That’s fair, right?”
“And you’ll be tied to that creep for life. He’ll keep you dangling, paying late and playing other games, just like he did with the divorce papers.” Hoping Zora would abandon this crazy line of thought, Anya added, “Not to mention how much the baby would remind you of him.”
Her friend wrapped her arms around herself. “Don’t tell me you haven’t imagined your baby resembling Jack. He is handsome.”
“We aren’t talking about me.”
“But he’d take care of you,” Zora persisted. “Jack’s like the prince in a fairy tale.”
“Get real!” Anya’s idea of happily-ever-after did not involve being locked in a castle, wearing glass slippers that hurt her feet and curtseying every time his Highness entered the throne room. “Back to you.”
“If I want to keep my baby, that’s my business,” her friend said.
Anya saw no sense in arguing. “Okay. Besides, your period will start, and that will be that.”
“I want to know now.” Determination transformed her friend from weepy to demanding.
“As in, this very instant?”
“Yes.”
Might as well get it over with. “I’ll drive you to the drugstore,” Anya said.
Less than an hour later, they were back in the bedroom, side by side on the bed, staring at a pink stick. Not faint pink either. Bold and definite.
“Oh, pickles,” Zora muttered.
“Pickles?” Anya would have chosen a stronger word.
“I can’t use bad language where the baby might hear.”
Anya started to laugh. Zora glared, and then she, too, dissolved into giggles. They fell into each other’s arms, laughing until they cried.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m kind of glad we’re in this together.” Her friend sniffled.
“Me, too.” From the day they’d met, they’d been in sync with each other—not that Anya had anticipated anything like this. “You have to tell Andrew.”
“I’ll send him an email.” A faint smile broke through. “And copy it to his mother.”
“We should warn his fiancée so she understands what kind of man he is,” Anya said.
Zora shrugged. “He’ll give her a snow job and she’ll buy it like I did. Besides, she’ll find out sooner or later.”
“Before the wedding would be helpful.”
“I’ll let Betsy break the news.”
Now that they knew for sure—or almost sure—that her friend was pregnant, Anya hoped Zora would think carefully what was involved in raising a child alone, with or without financial support. “Just to get the facts, you should talk to your attorney about adoption.”
Zora shook her head. “This may be the only baby I’ll ever have. I want a little person to love.”
Would Anya ever have another child? She hadn’t considered her pregnancy in that light.
Still, it was one thing to long for a baby, as Zora apparently did. For Anya to hang on to her child simply because this might be her only shot at motherhood would be far more selfish than relinquishing it.
Yet later, alone in her room, she wondered what it would be like to stay on in the house after the babies were born. She’d been picturing having fun with Zora the way they always had, dancing and catching the latest movies and sampling ethnic food at Orange County’s many street fairs.
Instead, there’d be a little person toddling about, cute and demanding and requiring all Zora’s attention. How was Anya going to handle watching another baby grow and flourish after giving up her own child?
Chapter Eleven
She wasn’t meeting his gaze. Shifting uncomfortably on the waiting room couch, Jack studied the tumble of dark hair that masked Anya’s face.
When he’d entered a few minutes ago, she’d already been sitting there, glaring at her phone. If she’d seen him out of her peripheral vision, she gave no sign. Surely she couldn’t be angry already; she hadn’t heard what he had to say. What was so infuriating?
The nurse had called in another patient ahead of them, leaving them alone. At 6:30 p.m. on a Tuesday, the medical building was nearly empty, and no one was at the reception desk.
Jack decided not to waste this chance to speak to Anya. He’d been anticipating her arguments for days, educating himself about childcare options, talking to staff members both single and married about their biggest parenting challenges and winning Rod’s support, however tentative. If they could get a running start on the issues, they might avoid a painful argument in front of Adrienne.
Not that Jack figured he had much chance of escaping Anya’s wrath. He had promised to sign the waiver.
Moving closer, he noticed that, at this angle, her little nose seemed to have wrinkled in disgust. “If it’s that bad, why are you reading it?”
“Excuse me?” Anya glanced up, eyes startled, full lips parted.
He restrained the urge to brush back the sweep of her hair. She hadn’t assisted him in the operating room for a week, which might have been good for his concentration but left him feeling hollow. “You look ready to smash that thing.”
“It’s not the phone. It’s my sister Ruth.” She held up the device, displaying a social media site. He couldn’t read the post, but the accompanying photo showed a woman slightly older than Anya with sterner features on a similar heart-shaped face.
“What’s this dragon done?” Jack asked.
Her faint answering smile faded quickly. “The whole family’s gathering in Colorado for my grandma’s 80th birthday in April. Ruth arbitrarily assigned me to supervise all the babies and children.”
Anya might be suited to the job, given her skill with youngsters, but it was unfair to drop such a big job on her without her consent. Another objection also occurred to Jack. “How does she expect you to arrange all that when you’re out of state?”
“Oh, she’s decided I should arrive a few days early.” Anya scowled at the screen. “And all my cousins have started weighing in with their head counts. So far there are four infants, six toddlers and I’ve lost count of the school-age kids.”
“Why can’t they watch their own children?”
“Because Ruth’s a control freak.” Anya heaved a frustrated sigh. “But if I get into a squabble with her, she’ll lay a guilt trip on me in front of everyone. Plus, my cousins will feel entitled to debate this, as if I were their property.”
Much as Jack would have liked to produce a simple solution, he didn’t have one. Besides, his job was to defend and protect Anya, not mediate a family dispute. “That’s too heavy a burden for you, especially in your condition.”
“They don’t know about my pregnancy and I’m not sure I’m going to tell them.” She closed down the website. “Ruth’s pregnant, too, with her fifth child. I can’t expect any sympathy from her.”
Jack took her hand. “Whatever you decide, let me know how I can help.”
“I’ll have to miss Grandma’s birthday party.” Sadness shaded her gaze. “It’s too stressful.”
“Don’t you want to be there? Turning eighty is a big deal.” Having lost his grandparents when he was young, Jack envied her chance to attend such an event and connect with relatives. But then, Anya couldn’t enjoy the occasion if she was buried in babies.
“I’ll plan a trip to see Grandma later, when we can spend more time together.” Unhappily, Anya added, “It’ll have to be after the baby’s born.”
“Won’t your sister raise a storm over your decision not to attend?”
“I won’t announce it for as long as possible.” Anya stuck the phone in her purse.
She’d mentioned that avoidance was her survival tact
ic. Jack was beginning to understand why. “That’ll give her even more ammunition to fire in your direction,” he warned.
“By now, Ruth ought to realize she can’t boss me around,” Anya replied. “If she’s surprised by the consequences, that’s her problem.”
The nurse, a short woman with thick glasses, opened the door to the inner sanctum. “Dr. Ryder? Miss Meeks?”
They both rose. Instead of an examining room, though, the nurse escorted them to a small office with Adrienne Cavill-Hunter, M.D. on the door. “The doctor will be right with you.”
“Thanks.” Jack held a chair for Anya.
As she slid into it, he noted that her snug T-shirt revealed a still-flat stomach and well-defined breasts enlarged by pregnancy hormones. His body sprang to alert, remembering the feel of them beneath his lips... Quit staring. And quit thinking about that.
While they waited, Anya studied a wall chart depicting the stages of embryonic growth. Jack didn’t need a reminder that, at ten weeks of development, their baby was about an inch and a half long. This week marked the end of the embryonic period, after which the term fetus was used.
It amazed him that the little creature was already becoming the distinctive individual who might live into the next century. He wished he knew exactly when personality manifested itself. Maybe genetics and epigenetics were already kicking in with whatever talents or traits would distinguish this wonderful child.
Jack wished Anya shared his sense of delight. From long habit, she’d schooled her expressive face into a mask. Anger stirred in him at the family members whose tactics had trained her to hide her emotions.
After a light tap, Adrienne breezed into the office, a white coat open over her tweed slacks and tailored blouse. She shook both their hands, then produced printouts. “These are for your files, but I’d suggest not reading them until we review a few details.”
Anya set the papers in her lap. “Such as what?”
“Let’s start with your reason for taking the DNA test. The probability that Jack—Dr. Ryder—is the father,” Adrienne said.
“Yes?” Although he’d more or less taken the answer for granted, Jack felt a tremor of suspense.
