Mother by Design

by Susan Mallery

  His eyes met hers. She slowed at the curb and stopped.

  “Hello,” he said, coming to the street and speaking when she rolled down the passenger-side window.

  “Hi.” After a brief silence, she added, “I happened to be in the neighborhood. I had lunch with Rachel.” The excuse sounded terribly lame.

  “Come in,” he invited. “I’ll give you the grand tour.”

  She turned off the key and got out when he came around and opened her door. They walked up the long drive made of pavers and lined with lush landscaping.

  “Did you have a professional do this?” She gestured toward the flower beds and the paths between them, all laid out for minimum water usage and maintenance.

  He opened the door so she could enter the house. “I used a computer program to lay it out, then had a friend who owns a nursery put in the plants.”

  The house was cool and completely silent once they were inside with the door closed. They were in a den with a large-screen TV and leather furniture at one end and a reading chair with a table and lamp beside it at the other. The wall was lined with bookshelves.

  “Do you read a lot?” she asked, peering at the many volumes on the shelves.

  “The decorator selected most of the books. I’ve read all of them,” he said, leading the way into a dream kitchen of light cherry cabinets and stainless steel appliances and tile floors in warm tones of slate.

  “This is lovely. Even I could probably cook a gourmet meal in here,” she joked.

  He took two tall glasses from a cabinet and filled them with ice from the refrigerator dispenser. After pouring tea in, he handed one to her. He watched her while he took a long, cool drink. “Come on,” he said.

  She followed him from room to room, each one perfectly furnished and immaculate. It reminded her of the model homes used by builders to showcase their work, beautiful but devoid of the little things that meant someone lived there.

  “This is my office,” he said, escorting her into a room in the back of the house. Unlike the rest of the home, the room was messy. The desk was littered with papers and files. A pair of jogging shoes had been pulled off and left in front of the French doors to the patio. “I’m cleaning out a bunch of old stuff, tax records and such.”

  “I see.” She walked to the double doors. There was a grassy backyard, just right for croquet or a game of badminton, or just tossing a ball back and forth. Beyond the lawn was a fenced area filled with grasses and wildflowers.

  “My wife planned on having a pony for the kids.”

  She nodded. Kids. Plural. They’d wanted more than one. For a second, her throat closed up. She nodded again while she fought for control. Using skills learned in her work, she forced air into her lungs, one breath, another, then another, until she was calm.

  “There’s a guest bedroom down here,” he continued, “and four upstairs, each with its own bath.” He laughed. “I grew up in a house with one bathroom for six people. My grandmother lived with us, and she metered the time each of us three kids spent in the shower. I learned to bathe in five minutes flat.”

  “Sounds like plenty of time to me,” she quipped, giving him a smile. She lifted the glass, saw it was empty and wondered when she’d drunk the tea. She had no memory of it.

  “Here, I’ll get you a refill.”

  Before she could protest, he took her glass and left the room. In the silence, she could hear a clock ticking.

  Glancing around, she spotted a grandfather clock against the wall behind the desk. Going to it, she examined the precision pendulum and weights that kept it going for a couple of weeks. Her father had a similar one. She’d always found its steady ticking a comfort in the days after her mother had passed away when she was alone in the house, doing homework and waiting for her father to come home.

  Turning from the clock, she smiled at the papers on the desk. Clearing out old stuff was a good sign, a step in the right direction, in her opinion.

  A letter caught her eye. A pen lay on the page as if the writer had stopped while in the middle of it.

  A shock rippled over her when she recognized the name at the top. Unable to refrain, she leaned over the desk chair and read the swiftly written lines in which he’d poured out his grief and sorrow to his deceased wife for hurting her with his neglect, his wish that they could have had another chance. It ended in despair…

  I know life goes on and that a person must move on, too. I’ve met someone, slept with her, but I’m not sure I can ever love again or share what we had. I’m not sure I want to.

  The letter stopped there. It was one of remorse, but more than that, it was one of love, a deep, abiding love that had never died. It was a letter to the woman who filled his heart.

  That woman wasn’t her.

  Jenna heard his steps in the kitchen. Panicked by emotions she couldn’t contain, she rushed out the elegant doors, around the house and down the drive. She was in her car when Eric came out the front door. He called her name, but she didn’t answer.

  “Jenna, it isn’t what you think,” he called, running toward the street.

  She’d left the keys in the ignition, so it took only a turn to start the engine and speed away, leaving him looking concerned as he watched her leave. It wasn’t until she was back on the main county road to town that she could think again. Tears kept clouding her vision so that she had to continually blink in order to see.

  He couldn’t possibly know what she thought. She didn’t know herself. Except that she’d been a fool to think she could make a difference in his life. And stupid to fall in love with him.

  As she rounded a sharp curve, she blinked again, but the scene didn’t change. Two cars were barreling side by side down the two-lane road, racing each other.

  There was a shallow ditch and stone wall on either side. Having no choice, she swung the wheel hard to the right and planted both feet on the brake pedal. She managed to cut the wheel back to the left just before impact with the wall and hoped it would be a glancing blow.

  A tree loomed in front of her. She wrapped a protective arm across her abdomen. “Please,” she whispered. “Eric, we need you.”

  It was the last thing she remembered.

  Chapter 10

  Eric got a call from the emergency-room receptionist just as he sat down on the back patio with a cool beer. After Jenna had taken off, he’d showered and changed in order to give both of them time to think things through before they faced each other again. He knew he had to be certain about what he wanted to say. It would affect their future. And that of the child.

  “Thompson,” he said into the receiver.

  The news stopped his heart for a second, then sent it into overdrive. He listened, asked a few questions then hung up. Jenna had been run off the road by two guys who were drag-racing. She’d bounced off a stone wall and crashed into a tree. She was in surgery to rejoin a cut artery and close a wound in her leg. She’d lost a lot of blood.

  Dear God.

  Grabbing the keys off the kitchen counter, he hurried to his car. In less than a minute, he was on his way to the hospital as history repeated itself, only this time it was Jenna who’d been in the accident.

  At least she was still alive. Not like the other time. He forced the thought at bay.

  After parking in his usual spot, he ran inside. “Which O.R.?” he asked the older woman at the desk. She was the one who’d thought to call him.

  “It’s finished,” she said.

  His heart stopped, literally stopped.

  “She’s in recovery now,” the receptionist added.

  He glared at the woman who’d handled the emergency-room admittance forms almost as long as he’d been born. She smiled serenely at him and gestured toward the swinging doors. He turned toward them.

  Composing himself, he went down the corridor to the surgery recovery area. Three beds were occupied in the rooms surrounding the nursing station. Jenna was in the first.

  He went inside, his gaze automatically taking i
n the readings on the monitoring equipment. Then he bent over the protective railing and looked into her face.

  She had the pale, waxy appearance of someone who’d just gone through a major trauma, someone near death.

  He took her wrist, needing to feel the beat of her pulse for himself. For a second he couldn’t find it. A ripple of anguish ran through him.

  His eyes went to the monitor. Her heart was steady. He found the pulse and counted. The oxygen monitor showed full saturation. So, all the signs were good. The relief was almost as painful as the fear had been.

  A second monitor showed the baby’s heart rate. It was fast, but not alarming. The child may have been bumped around, but he was still nestled securely in the cradle of his mother’s body.

  “Good,” Eric said aloud, feeling the tension seep from his neck. The phone rang beside the bed. He picked it up. “Yes?” he said, not ready to talk to anyone.

  “This is Rachel. Is Jenna all right?”

  His impatience evaporated. Jenna had loyal friends who loved her. Something, his heart or soul or whatever, swelled until it filled his chest to the bursting point. “She’s fine. So is Stevie.”

  “Stevie? Oh, the baby,” Rachel said. “Yes, she’s fine,” she said to someone in the room with her. “What happened?”

  He explained all that he knew. He’d no sooner hung up than the phone rang again. This time it was Lily. He went through the facts again. After four more calls from friends and co-workers, he recorded a message and routed calls to the voice mail.

  Then he waited.

  The night passed, hour by slow hour. Jenna didn’t wake or move. When he held her hand or touched her forehead, she was cool, as if she were made of wax.

  But her signs were steady, and at last he fell asleep in the chair, his dreams strange as he ran through a maze, but couldn’t find his way either to the center or to the outside.

  “Eric?”

  Jenna narrowed her eyes and studied the man whose hand rested on top of hers. He had a growth of beard on his face. She’d seen that twice…the morning after he’d spent the night on her sofa and the one after he’d spent the night in her bed.

  He opened his eyes and stared into hers. Then he smiled, a slow, sexy smile that stirred up things in her heart. “Hi.”

  “What are you doing here?” She looked around. “I’m in the hospital. The wreck—”

  Panic hit her. She slipped her hand away from his and laid it on her tummy.

  “He’s okay,” Eric said. “He probably didn’t like the jouncing around, but he’s not hurt.”

  “My leg hurts.”

  “A piece of metal sliced through an artery. It’s been repaired, but you’ll have to stay off your feet for a few weeks until it heals.”

  She checked the monitors. “It’s kind of odd to observe your own heartbeat and everything. I suppose that’s better than the alternative, like not having one to check.”

  “Stupid young punks,” he said fiercely. “You could have been killed, you and Stevie.”

  His eyes were stark with anger, she saw, but there was more. She just didn’t know what it was.

  “We weren’t,” she reminded him softly. “Have you been here all night? You should go home and rest,” she said without waiting for his confirmation.

  He took her hand. “Not unless I can take you with me.”

  For a second she was dazzled by the possibilities, then she remembered the letter. The glow faded, leaving grief in its place. “You’re not responsible for me or the baby. You don’t have to take care of us.” She managed a smile.

  “I want to,” he said.

  He smiled, too, and she was close to being dazzled again. She took a firm hold on her emotions as she shook her head in a scolding manner. “You’d better watch what you say, doctor. You know how patients can take things wrong.”

  He took her hand and gently squeezed it. “Then I’ll be very clear,” he promised, “because I want you to take things right.”

  She saw his chest lift and fall in a deep breath. She did the same, preparing herself for his words.

  “The letter you saw wasn’t written recently. I wrote it over a year ago after a night with a friend, a widow who, like me, tried to get on with life. It didn’t work for either of us. We weren’t ready. Or maybe the person wasn’t the right one.”

  Jenna nodded. Her heartbeat stayed the same on the monitor. She was proud of that.

  “Yesterday,” he continued, “I was restless. For some reason, I started cleaning out my desk. I realized it was time to clear out the past, because I want a future.” He lightly touched her abdomen. “With you and our children.”

  The heart monitor went into double-time. The blood pressure indicator zoomed into the red zone. An alarm went off. A nurse hurried in. She paused at the foot of the bed in confusion, her eyes going from the machine to the patient, then to the doctor who calmly sat and held the patient’s hand and didn’t look worried at all.

  Footsteps sounded in the hall. The surgeon entered, another nurse on his heels. “What’s going on?” he asked, shutting off the alarm, then giving Eric a mock-stern glare. “Doctor, are you interfering with my patient?”

  Eric checked the monitors. Jenna’s heart and blood pressure were dropping into the high normal range. “If you can get her stabilized, I’d like to ask her to marry me.”

  The alarm went off again.

  “Jeez,” the surgeon said, hitting the reset button, “can’t you wait until she’s out of recovery?”

  Eric gazed into wide blue eyes. “No,” he said softly. “I can’t wait another second.”

  “Well, go ahead,” the other doctor ordered, “while we’re here to resuscitate her.” He grinned.

  “Jenna Cooper,” Eric said solemnly, “will you marry me and make me the happiest man on earth?”

  The heat rose to her face, but she decided this was no time for an attack of modesty. “Are you sure?” she asked.

  Eric knew what she was asking. He nodded. “Life can be cruel, but it can also be kind, giving us a second chance even though we don’t deserve it. I want that chance with you.”

  He waited while Jenna stared into his eyes, uncertainty in hers. Opening his heart, he tried to let her see all the way to his soul, all the way to the overwhelming love that filled him, love that she had brought to life.

  “I love you,” he said simply.

  “And I, you,” she whispered.

  Tears filled her lovely blue eyes. He wiped them away with a tissue, then unable to resist, he bent forward and kissed her. Her lips were soft against his. And warm.

  When he raised up, they were alone in the room. The vital signs were all in the normal range, he saw.

  Jenna’s eyes closed as she rested again. A smile lingered on her delectable mouth. A hint of color warmed her pale cheeks. A great happiness flooded his heart, and he was content.

  Epilogue

  Rain splashed against the window, but inside, a fire flickered over gas logs and the guests were cozy.

  Bryce Armstrong, their host, lifted his cup of egg nog, which of course had no alcohol due to the nursing mothers, and proposed a toast. “To our beautiful wives.”

  Jake and Eric called, “Here, here,” and drank to the three women, who smiled and nodded graciously.

  “To friends noble and true,” Bryce continued.

  They all sipped from their cups.

  “And to the holidays and the new generation now sleeping—thank heavens—in the nursery.”

  The three couples laughed, the merry sound covering the howl of the wind as a storm blew in from the Pacific Ocean.

  Jenna glanced at Eric and found his gaze on her. The darkness was gone from his eyes. Only the glow of love, freely given and received, lingered there now. Looking around the pleasant room and counting her blessings, she saw her two best friends doing the same.

  They exchanged smiles.

  “Love,” she said, raising her cup.

  “Happiness,” Rachel
said, raising hers.

  “Forever,” Lily added and took a sip when the other two did. “By the way, Jake and I have decided we, uh, want to increase our little family as soon as possible.”

  The other two women stared at the couple.

  “That sounds like a challenge to me,” Eric said. “How about you?” he asked Bryce.

  “Yeah,” the other man agreed. He gave Rachel an assessing perusal, then waggled his eyebrows at her.

  “Not for a year,” she declared firmly. “At least a year.”

  Eric glanced at Jenna, his eyes warm with laughter. “Steven is barely three months old. I think we’ll give it some time,” he said, “then we’ll see about a sister for him. And maybe a brother after that.”

  “I’m thinking we need enough to field a baseball team,” Jake said, looking very serious.

  Lily opened her eyes wide in alarm.

  “Well, I’m game if the rest are,” Jenna stated. “After all, we can’t let the team down, can we?”

  That brought on more laughter. They had drawn names and now exchanged presents, opening them before the evening grew too late. In a quiet moment, Eric drew Jenna into his arms and kissed her briefly but tenderly.

  “Your love is the best gift of all,” he told her. “I was almost afraid to accept it. When you were in that accident, I thought I would die, too, if you didn’t make it. I realized life was giving me another chance at happiness. I nearly let fear ruin it.”

  “I’d given up, too,” she said, smoothing a dark lock off his forehead. “Going to the clinic to conceive a child was my way of avoiding a relationship. We were lucky that fate intervened.”

  “Yeah, lucky,” he agreed.

  Their laughter brought chuckles from their friends. It was a sound to delight the heart.

  Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Susan Mallery, Christine Rimmer and Laurie Paige for their contribution to the LOGAN’S LEGACY series.

  MOTHER BY DESIGN

  Copyright © 2004 by Harlequin Books S.A.