He started out by saying that a few weeks ago, he'd learned that he was going to be a father. He'd gone to Wyoming with the intention of marrying the mother of his child.
"The baby, a little girl, was born Friday, the second," he explained. "And Lacey and I were married just this past Saturday."
He paused, to give the other two doctors a chance to say something.
Dan spoke up first, announcing way too cheerfully, "Well, this is certainly exciting news!"
Helen, who was in her mid-fifties but looked at least a decade younger, took a judicious sip of merlot. "Yes, Logan. Congratulations."
"Thank you."
Dan asked, "A daughter, you said?"
"Yes. Margaret Rose. We call her Rosie."
Helen said, "That's lovely. And your wife? Lacey…?"
"Bravo. Her last name was Bravo." He gave out that information fully expecting it to ring some bells.
It did. "Bravo?" Dan's right eyebrow shot toward his receding hairline. "I wonder. Is Lacey any relation to—?"
Logan let him have it. "As a matter of fact, Lacey is Jenna's younger sister."
Dan's jaw dropped. "Oh," he said. "Well, isn't that…" He didn't seem to know how to finish, so he coughed into his hand instead.
Both Dan and Helen had met Jenna on a number of occasions. They had each said they liked her immensely. Dan's wife had seemed very fond of her, too. As a matter of fact, Fiona had thrown a big engagement bash for Jenna and Logan. It had been a great party—and then three weeks later, Jenna had run off with Mack McGarrity.
Dan lurched to life and tried again. "This is just … such a surprise," he said.
A painful silence followed, during which Helen took on the task of buttering a kaiser roll and Dan evinced great interest in his rack of lamb.
Logan could almost hear their thoughts.
Hmm. Jenna left him. And that's when the sister came on the scene. An affair on the rebound. And the woman became pregnant. Now he's married her. I suppose he's made the best of a bad situation. But how long can it be expected to last?
Helen set her butter knife on the corner of her bread plate. "I'm sure you're going to be very happy." She bit into her kaiser roll.
Logan did not flinch and he did not allow his eyes to shift away. "Yes. Lacey and I are very happy. And of course, we have the most beautiful baby in the world."
Helen finished chewing and swallowed. "I can't wait to meet both your wife and your daughter."
"And you will, I'm sure. Very soon."
Dan had recovered his equilibrium enough by then to exclaim, "I'm just stunned." He reached for the bottle in the center of the table and began topping off their glasses. "This calls for a toast." He set the bottle aside and raised his glass high. "Ahem. Here's to you, Logan. And to your bride. And your new daughter."
Logan thought of the long series of toasts at the Bravo table during his wedding dinner. He had liked those toasts better than Dan's. They'd seemed a lot more sincere.
Still, he had to admit that his partners were taking this pretty well.
And then again, why shouldn't they? The situation was something of an embarrassment, but nothing that couldn't be easily handled with the judicious application of proper damage control.
Helen raised her own glass and chimed in, "Yes, Logan. To your new family." She knocked back a big gulp of merlot.
Dan braced an elbow on the table and rubbed his chin. "I have an idea. Why doesn't Fiona give you and your bride a little party?"
Helen sat up straighter. "That's an excellent suggestion." She swung her sharp gaze Logan's way, then looked at Dan again. "But not a small party. A big one. A big party in honor of Logan's new family. Get Gabriella Rousseau to cater it. She's the best."
The corners of Dan's mouth drew down. His wife and her hostessing skills were a big asset to him, and he was always protective of her territory. "That's Fiona's department. She'll choose the caterer."
Helen dipped her perfectly groomed blond head. "Of course. It was just a thought."
"And I'll pass it right on to her."
"Great."
Dan was smiling, way too pleasantly. "You're quiet, Logan. Is a party a problem for you?"
A party, with most of the local medical community invited, no doubt, was probably not Lacey's idea of a great time. But he could talk her into it.
He'd have to warn her to be on her best behavior. She did have that wild side—the side his partners would most likely be hearing about once the gossip mill kicked in.
But for this, she'd tread the straight and narrow. For his sake. Because she did love him.
He had seen it in her eyes.
And heard it from her lips on the day that their daughter was born.
"Logan?" Dan was waiting for an answer.
"I think a party is an excellent idea, Dan. Thank you."
"No problem. Now, tell us some more about your new wife."
Logan set down his wineglass, thinking, she's reckless and a little wild and absolutely captivating. He said, "Well, she's … a very adventurous woman. She's not afraid to take chances. She goes after what she wants."
"And what does she want?" Helen asked. The question was a particularly irritating mix of sly interest and condescension.
"She's lived in Los Angeles the last few years, pursuing a very promising career as an artist."
"An artist. How fascinating…"
Logan wished he were anywhere else right then but here at this restaurant discussing his private life with his professional colleagues.
He wished he were home. With Lacey.
Lacey.
All at once, he found himself holding back a fool's deep sigh as a swift series of images flashed on the screen of his mind.
Her incredible face, mottled and slick with sweat, grinning at him between the V of her spread legs on the night that their daughter was born.
What had she said right then?
It came to him: "I feel so utterly demure…"
And then later, not long after the birth, laying her palm against his cheek, confessing that she loved him.
And the night she finally said yes, giving him that grin of hers again across the rough pine table in that tiny, dark cabin, declaring, "I have something of a reputation myself in Meadow Valley…"
Right then, he could almost wish himself back there with her, in that cramped little cabin, just the two of them and Rosie.
"Logan?" Helen was frowning at him. "Are you with us here?"
"Of course."
"We have to make some decisions. When should Fiona have that party?"
Logan pushed his tender thoughts aside and ordered his mind to focus on the all-important subject of damage control. "Let's give Lacey until her six week check-up, how about that? Say, any time from mid-August on."
Dan asked, "Then Fiona can start making plans?"
"Absolutely."
Helen brought out her Palm Pilot and began punching buttons.
Logan glanced surreptitiously at his watch. Nine-fifteen.
What was she doing now? Nursing Rosie? He loved to watch that, her breast so white and full, traced with sweet blue veins, pressed against his daughter's plump cheek.
Or maybe she was lying in his bed, waiting for him? She might even be sleeping.
Since the baby, she seemed to have given up her passion for staying up until all hours. She'd learned to steal a nap whenever the opportunity presented itself.
Helen glanced up from the electronic device in her hand. "How does Saturday, the fourteenth, sound? Is that still too early?"
Dan was consulting his Day Runner. "For me, the fourteenth would probably be a go. Of course, I'll have to firm it up with Fiona."
Logan shrugged. "The fourteenth sounds fine to me."
* * *
Lacey had saved the master bedroom for last. She'd been in there to unload her suitcases, before Logan left. But after that, she hadn't crossed that particular threshold again. She'd waited until nine-thirty at night
to return to it, first lingering over her solitary dinner, then hanging out in the family room for a while, watching a movie on HBO.
When she finally did enter the master suite, she went straight to the bath.
She showered in the enormous shower stall, glancing more than once at her soft, just-had-a-baby stomach and frowning, thinking that she'd have to put herself on some sort of exercise plan. Once she'd showered, she treated herself to a long, luxurious soak in the big spa tub.
After a while, resting her head back and closing her eyes, she let herself remember a few choice details of the five glorious days that had ended up creating Rosie and thus bringing her back here.
Unreality check.
Yes.
But what a beautiful time that had been.
Lacey heard Rosie crying just as she was drying herself off. She went and got her daughter and returned to the master suite to sit on Logan's wide bed with her.
Lifting her breast free of her robe, Lacey brushed the side of Rosie's tiny mouth with the nipple. Unerringly, that mouth found what it sought. Rosie latched on.
It didn't even hurt anymore, as it had the first few days. Now, there was only a pleasant tugging sensation and a sweet feeling of warmth and fullness as her milk came down and began to flow. Lacey smiled and whispered to her daughter, stroking the soft, bumpy head, which already seemed to have lost its pointiness and smoothed out into the shape of a very average-looking baby's head.
As Rosie settled in to the rhythm of feeding, Lacey scooted back up against the headboard. She stared around her at the rich, deep textures of the bed linens, at the burled walnut bureau and bedside tables, at the royal blue walls and creamy white ceiling.
It was a very masculine room. Not a ruffle or a frill in sight. It didn't look like Jenna.
It looked like Logan.
And the rest of the house?
"You know what?" Lacey said aloud, stroking her daughter's head some more. "During this day of unreality checks, it has slowly become clear to me that I like it here. And I could live here quite comfortably."
The only rooms she'd want to change were Rosie's room and the room she'd choose for her studio.
Yes, the house bore Jenna's touch. But it was a very light, very loving touch. And really, Lacey was finding that seeing her sister's touch everywhere bothered her less and less with each hour that passed.
Perhaps, Lacey thought with a grin, it was because she had made her own mark here. A much more elemental mark than Jenna's.
Lacey had raided that big Sub-Zero refrigerator downstairs, in the middle of a warm September night, after she and Logan had spent hours making love. He'd hoisted her up on the cool green marble counter and made love to her again.
And here, in this bedroom—she had absolutely wonderful memories of what had happened here. If she closed her eyes and let her imagination take her, she could almost hear their sighs, their moans, their low, lazy laughter.
It had been a good time, those brief days in September. A beautiful time. A perfect, magical time. And at the end of it, she'd discovered that she'd found her love.
And now she was back here. In her hometown. Logan's wife.
Unreality check?
Maybe.
A big change, definitely. Major adjustments to be made, no doubt about that.
But she had her love. And her little girl.
A roof over their heads, food on the table. A room to work in, when she was ready to paint again.
It was a lot. And she was grateful for it.
"We're going to do fine, Rosie," she whispered to her daughter. "We are going to do just fine."
* * *
After they discussed the party, there were a number of other issues the partners decided they might as well deal with as long as they had each other's attention. Logan didn't sign for the check until after eleven.
And he didn't pull into his driveway until half an hour after that. The light in the master suite, which faced the street, was still on, a golden glow in the velvety darkness of the summer night. Logan stopped in the driveway as the garage door was rolling open. He stared up at the spill of warmth and brightness and felt something painfully sweet wash through him.
Urgency followed.
To be in there, where she was. To crawl into bed with her and turn off the light and…
He dragged in a breath. It didn't really matter what happened next. They might just drop off to sleep until Rosie woke them. Or Lacey might decide to show him how helpful she could be.
Then again, maybe she was angry with him by now.
He frowned. It had been—he glanced at his Rolex—almost ten hours since he'd dropped her off and headed for the office. He hadn't planned to be gone quite this long. Not on their first day home.
He'd also kept meaning to call her, just to check on her, to see how she and Rosie were doing. But every time he reached for the phone, something always cropped up that had to be dealt with right then. Somehow, he'd never gotten around to calling home.
Home.
Strange. He'd never thought of the house that way before.
It had always been just that. The house. His house. A place to live. An expensive, attractive possession of which he was justifiably proud.
But now…
Now, it had Lacey in it. And Rosie.
Now it had his family in it.
And somehow, that made all the difference.
Logan blinked and realized he was sitting in the driveway, the Cadillac's big engine purring softly in his ear. The garage door was all the way up and had been for over a minute now.
He hit the gas and shot into the garage so fast that he had to slam on the brakes to keep from hitting the far wall. The tires squealed and the car bounced on its cushion of shocks. He punched the button hooked to his visor and the garage door went rumbling down. Jumping from the car and slamming the door behind him, he entered the house through the laundry room door and jogged through the dark family room and breakfast room, headed straight for the front foyer and the stairs to the upper floor.
* * *
Lacey had put Rosie back in her crib at a little after eleven. She'd found a novel in a hall bookcase and settled back into bed to read.
Not too long after that, faintly, she heard a car pull up outside.
Logan.
She set her book aside, heard a low rumble—the garage door going up. After a minute or two, she heard a faint squealing sound—as if he'd hit the gas too hard and had to stop too fast. The garage door rumbled down again.
She sat forward, straining to hear. There it was. The door to the laundry room closing.
And then, seconds later, footsteps moving fast up the stairs. There was a certain urgency to them. As if he couldn't wait.
Couldn't wait to get to her…
He appeared in the doorway, hesitated there, seeking, then finding her, hope and tenderness and a kind of dark joy suffusing his features, burning in his eyes.
She thought, Why, Jenna was right.
He loves me.
He loves me in his actions. And he also loves me deep in his most secret heart.
And that, the love deep in his heart, he doesn't even know about.
"I'm sorry I'm so late." His voice was low, a little rough.
It's all right, she thought. But her throat felt so tight, the words wouldn't quite come.
So she smiled to show him he didn't need to worry. It was a shy, quivery sort of smile. Her heart was beating very fast, as if she'd run a long, hard race, one she'd known that she would lose—and reached the finish line to find herself victorious.
"You're not angry," he whispered. It seemed to mean the world to him.
She shook her head and felt her smile bloom wider on her mouth.
He swore, a passionate oath. And then he came to her.
* * *
Chapter 10
« ^ »
Four weeks and two days later, at ten in the morning on the thirteenth of August, Lacey got a clean bill of
health from Dr. Enright, the obstetrician Logan had recommended.
The doctor fitted her for a new diaphragm and told her to feel free to resume sexual relations with her husband. Lacey smiled to herself. She and Logan had been having "sexual relations" all along, thank you. They'd made love in just about every way but one.
Now they could do that, too.
Lacey winked at the doctor. "Well, Doc. Looks like Friday, the Thirteenth is my lucky day."
"Get that diaphragm first," Dr. Enright advised. "Give your body a little rest before the next baby."
From her carrier in the corner of the examining room, Rosie let out a happy gurgle. Lacey smiled at the sound. She did love her baby. And she wanted another. And another. And another after that. And so did Logan. But the doctor was right. No need to rush it.
She stopped in at the pharmacy on her way home to fill the prescription for her new diaphragm. After that, she visited a little deli she and Logan liked. She got dark bread and roast beef sliced paper-thin, and pastrami and a loaf of rye. And horseradish and fat dill pickles, too.
The twins were coming for lunch. She had talked to both Mira and Maud by phone since she'd moved back to town, but she hadn't invited them over until now. They had been thoroughly stunned when she'd told them that she'd married Logan Severance—and, as Lacey had expected, neither of them had approved of the match.
"You married him?" Mira had cried. "I can't believe it. You and Dr. Do-Right? Uh-uh. I mean, I know it was hot and heavy with you two back in September. And I can see why you might want to keep the baby. But marriage. To him? Did you have to go that far?"
Lacey had tried not to let Mira's reaction upset her. She'd explained calmly that she loved Logan and she believed he cared deeply for her in return. She was happy. Things were working out fine.
Mira had scoffed. "Ex-squeeze me. What is this? Bizarre." She warbled out a few bars of something that sounded like the theme from The Twilight Zone. "It's straight out of The Stepford Wives, if you ask me."
Lacey gritted her teeth. "Oh. Now I'm something out of a horror movie, a soulless clone of my former self? Thanks a bunch, Mir."
Mira backed off. A little. "Look. I'm sorry. It's just … whoa. I'm blown away. I haven't heard from you in months and then—"
THE M.D. SHE HAD TO MARRY Page 10
