When I staggered miserably into bed that evening, my phone blew up with an accusatory text from Jeff. Why aren’t you going out with Brooke? She does not need to be going out alone … It’s your job to build relationships with your surgeons…
I thought about snapping a picture for him the next time I vomited, with the caption: This is why.
It hit me what was really going on. He was worried about her fooling around with someone else. I laughed at the thought, considering he was married with children. I wondered if he knew exactly how she was “building her business.” Regardless of her tactics, my business had always been more successful than hers.
I fought the urge to wake her up at four AM with a few solid kicks on her door and unleash my inner Grace. “Congratulations, bitch! You are now the queen bee. Hope you had a good time last night! How’s your jaw?” It felt good to safely go off on her in my mind.
Without the energy to rehash the disturbing night to Andrew, I slowly cried myself into an unsatisfying sleep after staring at Jeff’s message, unsure of how to reply. Upset at the onset of yet another conflict, the sound of my tears was drained out by the torrential rain pouring outside. I awoke with caked tears dotting my bloodless cheeks, worried this stress was harmful for my developing baby. My bloodshot eyes squinted to read the glaring clock that was halfway falling off the nightstand. Maybe three hours of sleep.
I cowered in the hotel hallway as I spotted Brooke leaving that morning … accompanied by one of the young surgeons who had been at dinner, and obviously the bar, the night before. She flipped her hair over her shoulder until her pale cheek was touching his. I ducked back into my room just in time as she whipped her head around to check her surroundings. Life would only become drearier for me if she caught me catching her in the act.
Oh, but Brooke was born again. Those tears sure seemed genuine several months before as she told a group of customers over lunch how Jesus had changed her life. If it wasn’t for Jesus, she would not know which direction to go. If it wasn’t for Jesus, she didn’t know where she would be now. If it wasn’t for Jesus, she would not have been cured of her crippling childhood asthma that hospitalized her for weeks at a time. Jesus was her husband while she waited on the one He had for her. Uh-huh.
Beep, beep. My text message alert went off as I started my car. Ugh. Brooke.
You may want to tell Collin, or at least Jeff, that you are expecting. That might help it be more understandable why you were not able to take the surgeons out to discuss business.
Discuss business, my ass.
I would bet my new Coach bag that Brooke had already relayed the message for me. But, sighing, I knew what I had to do now and scrolled to Jeff’s contact info. No answer, but he returned my call within minutes. Somehow I got the words out: “I’m pregnant.”
I felt the need to explain, twice, that Andrew worked a traditional eight-to-five most days, and we planned for him to chauffeur the baby to/from our parents’ houses. In other words, my schedule with Covington would not be affected.
I expected Jeff to voice his approval, but his silence was deafening. Finally, he offered a forced “Congratulations” before excusing himself from the conversation.
Andrew, my knight in shining armor, continued to rescue me from my professional hell, surprising me by having Grace and Gavin over to cook out Saturday night. Andrew’s cousin built us a to-die-for grill, and nearly every weekend was enjoyed in our backyard, music blaring and beer flowing. Andrew built our deck with his bare hands; both the handsome deck and him shirtless, muscles rippling with every move he made, could have landed a magazine cover.
Gabbing with my best friend took the edge off my ruminating anxiety. They had recently returned from Destin, Florida and were relieved to take a break from unpacking and fighting about Grace’s wad of credit card receipts. Gavin, a man of personal integrity and few words, only challenged his spendthrift other half when her offenses were particularly offensive, so I was certain she jumped off the deep end in the outlet malls.
“Tell Jana how much those Costas cost.” Gavin pointed at the expensive sunglasses that pushed back his wife’s blond waves, and then at the colorless diamond earrings she sported. “And those.”
“I got a bonus,” she snapped at Gavin, crossing her arms. “Besides, Jana would have bought them, too. This isn’t a ‘bipolar’ thing.”
Gavin had that look on his face that meant he knew his wife was in “handle with care” mode. “What we got is a lot of things we don’t need, babe.” He cringed, knowing he shouldn’t have gone there.
Quickly, he turned to Andrew to divert Grace’s backlash. “Man, I don’t know if I’ve told you, but congratulations, Daddy.”
Andrew beamed proudly. “Thanks, man.”
“I cannot wait,” Grace gushed as we nearly salivated, watching our husbands flip burgers. “I want to be a mother, too!” She nudged Gavin affectionately, having rapidly forgotten about their argument.
“Ah … you too?” Andrew teased her, grabbing a handful of paper plates off our outdoor table and placing hamburger buns on each one. “There must be something in the water.” He flipped the last two well-done burgers and announced, “Food’s done, ladies. Eat up.”
“Well…” Grace’s expression was almost shy. “We have not exactly been trying, but we’re not exactly preventing, either … at least most of the time. We’ve been together forever, and what if it takes us years?” She pouted at Gavin. “I want Baby Cook and Baby Milton to grow up together! No more pulling out.” She had zero filter.
“I would LOVE for you to get pregnant soon!” I grinned, handing her a plate. “Then I wouldn’t have to suffer alone.”
“Ohhh…” Grace whined as she loaded her hamburger bun with condiments. Her latest diet was ditched in favor of the gobs of mayonnaise and mound of bacon spilling off the sides of her hamburger. “I can’t handle the vomiting, Jana. I know it’s been awful for you.” Her enviable lips pouted, and she batted her long, dark eyelashes sympathetically.
“You may not have morning sickness. A lot of people don’t.” I gulped as I endured a wave of nausea after looking at my loaded hamburger, which looked so tasty just seconds before. “I usually get sick at night. I’ll be in my second trimester in a few weeks, and hopefully this too shall pass.”
Gavin’s pager started going off incessantly, and he fumbled around for it in his jeans. “Shit. I’ve got to go, guys.” He looked worried.
Grace gaped at him. “What is it?”
“Attempted robbery over in Sunset Trace at the residence of a ‘pretty young woman in her twenties’ … they hope robbery is all it is.” His eyes were glued to his cell phone, where texts were coming through constantly.
“Well, golly, you better hurry up,” Grace said sarcastically. “Don’t want to miss a ‘pretty young woman in her twenties.’”
Gavin rolled his eyes. “There’s no one prettier than you, Grace.” He kissed her lightly on the cheek before rushing to his car. “Jana, can you run her home if I don’t get back?” I nodded. I wondered why he looked nervous to leave her. She wasn’t drinking much.
As his car roared into the night, she sighed. “I hate it when that happens. I know he’s on duty, but I hate when fun gets interrupted.” The frustration on her face shifted to admiration. “He’s so good, though, Jana. How can I stay irritated at someone so damn precious?”
Gavin Milton was the face of a future Fairhope hero, the type that frequented front pages of newspapers. A well-known local police officer, he would help anyone with anything at any given time. He was currently preparing to become a detective. Little old ladies and cute kids adored him, not to mention every woman between twenty and fifty swooned over him. Catching sight of that heartthrob face (and his phenomenal ass), who could resist? On some weekend nights off, he strummed his guitar and let that sexy voice out of its cage at local venues. He literally had phone numbers thrown at him from the seasonal and tourist crowds, but everyone local knew to suppress any nau
ghty thoughts, too afraid of Grace and her famous outbursts to make a pass at what belonged to her.
“You can’t.” I hogged a bite of my delicious hamburger. “Scrumptious.”
“Guess it’s me cuddling with my bullet tonight,” she muttered under her breath where Andrew couldn’t hear, pulling the pickles off her burger.
“You’ll survive,” I replied. “While you’re sipping wine and soaking in a bubble bath, remember he’d rather be tangled up with you than rescuing some woman, even if she is young and pretty. He will always come home to you.”
“When he proposed, he said the one thing you don’t have to chase is true love.” She blushed, her gaze lost in the twinkling stars that spelled beauty in their own letters. “How could I say no to that? I don’t deserve him.”
“Don’t say that, Grace.” Were those tears in her eyes?
“I don’t, Jana.” A strangeness fell over her, but I couldn’t describe it. “He’s so…unreal. With Gavin, the lines are blurred between making love and having hot sex. Nobody else ever made me feel that way, you know?”
“Especially not a bullet,” I teased.
The laughs the three of us shared that night, the sound of love and friendship dancing with cold beer and country music would always be something I remembered—the plans we charted for our futures, Baby Cooks and Baby Miltons included, long days boating in Orange Beach and baseball on Saturdays. There was no way I could have forecast the turmoil brewing in the background of our lives underneath the stellar architecture of our Fairhope night sky. If someone told me how the stars would disjoin and all of our lives would be thrust into a tailspin that only God could grip to a screeching halt, I never in a million years would have believed it.
ANOTHER MORNING LITTERED with gray clouds and scattered thunderstorms marked my next field ride with Jeff. The day before, I had a new prescription filled. Now, I stared at the new pill that battled nausea waiting for me on my dresser, debating whether to take it or not. I decided its side effect of somnolence was better than vomiting and gulped it down with a glass of ice water.
I tackled the steps of dressing in slow motion. I frowned at my reflection, groaning as I realized I needed to add maternity clothes shopping to my already ridiculous to-do list. Baby Cook had taken up residence and blown up my abdomen. Listlessly, I ran my faithful Chi through my dry hair, hoping to fight the inevitable frizz that accompanied stormy weather.
I pecked Andrew and pushed myself out the door to face the day.
“I love you,” he called out as the door slammed behind me.
The weather became increasingly inclement as I sailed closer to my destination. I switched my windshield wipers up a notch as the rain began to pound harder. Lightning cracked and thunder rumbled, shadowing the clouds with the darkness of a nine o’clock PM sky. Why was it always raining? I longed for the orangey sunshine and blueberry violet skies that lived in my childhood memories.
My cell phone started ringing loudly, its first soft tones hidden under the deafening storm. Dangerously, I fumbled around on the passenger seat, groping until my fingers clasped my phone. Chris.
Ah, if only I were still working under him. At that point, I would have considered the major pay cut of going backward in exchange for a peaceful working environment. My relationship with Jeff had been nothing less than awkward since my big announcement.
I jerked my wheel back to the right after swerving irresponsibly due to my mindless searching. No wonder so many people thought talking on cell phones in the car should be illegal. “Chris!” I answered brightly. “How are you? I’m sorry it’s loud—it’s storming here.”
“I’m wonderful, girl.” Chris’s contagious voice made you want to hear him talk. “You?”
“I am doing well.” Sadly, the lie rolled off my tongue with no hint of insincerity. I almost believed myself. I remembered what Grace once told me: “It’s not a lie if you believe it, Jana!” No wonder she won trips every year.
“My mid-year review went well, despite being the black sheep.” I paused momentarily, realizing that the mid-year review was completed prior to my pregnancy. “How is your new associate?”
“He’s awesome!” Chris’s enthusiasm was genuine. “But he’s no Jana Cook. Nobody catches on faster than you.”
How ironic, I thought, reflecting on Collin’s initial concern about my ability to acclimate.
“Well, I wish that my current partner—”
I didn’t see the black sedan in front of me until it was too late. I tried to slam on my brakes, screaming and dropping the phone.
My eyes widened in horror, and I forgot to breathe as I realized what was happening.
BOOM!
I have no recollection of what happened next, only diving mindlessly, unconsciously, back to my early twenties.
Drink in one hand, book in the other, toes in the sand … we were in Orange Beach again, “house-sitting” for Andrew’s parents while they sipped martinis and privately renewed their vows on a Caribbean cruise. I laughed as Grace, after one too many drinks, danced teasingly around Gavin, who was trying to sleep through the last half-hour of sunshine. She swung her sleek, toned legs over his body, straddling him and burying her face in his neck, her to-die-for lips softly kissing him. “I love you, baby. You know what I want to do?”
I reburied myself in my latest Jodi Picoult novel, shaking my head.
“Grace. Jana’s right there.” Shy, sober Gavin glanced apologetically in my direction. I shrugged nonchalantly, relishing the feel of the silky breeze flowing over my sun-kissed skin.
“Awwww, Jana doesn’t care. I tell her everything anyway.” She burst out laughing. “I teach her my tricks. Hey, Andrew, you hear that? You can thank me for Jana’s drastic improvement in the—”
“GRACE!” I shouted, fumbling into a sitting position. “For God’s sake, he’s helping those kids build a sandcastle. Shut your dirty mouth.” I watched my breathtakingly handsome boyfriend patiently help two five-year-olds sculpt the perfect sandcastle in the distance, fantasizing about what a storybook father he would be. “Although, I must admit I benefitted from your insight in that department.”
“Oops, I’m sorry, Jana.” She couldn’t stop giggling. “I need to be cut off. I didn’t even see those kids.”
All I could do was shake my head.
“Jana, you know what?” Grace smirked. I noticed her Playboy bunny breasts were about to fall out of her size-too-small triangle bikini top.
She shook her blond waves in Andrew’s direction, who was putting the final touches on the intricate sandcastle beside the two ecstatic children.
“What?”
“You are going to marry that man, live it up in a cottage on the beach, and paint all day. You’ll be famous!” She paused to take a sip of her drink, her sexy lips curving into a devious grin. “He may not be your first, but he’s going to be your last!” We all giggled.
“There will never be another man who makes me feel that way. He’s definitely my Romeo.”
My tired eyes, strained from having my head buried in a book all day, rested on Grace’s princess cut diamond engagement ring. I watched as solemn, strong Gavin massaged her scalp under her unruly mane, and found myself smiling as I noticed how tenderly he watched her, even in her wildness.
Andrew’s hypnotic eyes found mine, and the butterflies were born for the millionth time, sweeping me into his mesmerizing aura. God, I wanted every ounce of his body and soul to be mine, all mine.
He asked me to marry him that night.
I regained consciousness probably moments later, although the time slowly materialized as if it were hours. My eyes opened to a dizzy spread of dots in every color before my vision cleared. Gasping for air with the wind knocked out of me, frantic tears rolled down my face as I realized what happened. My head throbbing, I opened my door and tried to stand.
The driver of the other car was already by my side. “I’m so sorry,” I sobbed to him. “I tried to stop. My brakes must have lo
cked up. I have insurance. It’s a company car.” My tears rendered me incomprehensible.
“It’s okay!” the man soothed, looking over my hysterical mumble-jumble. He was older, probably sixty, a businessman with gentle brown eyes and a kind, wrinkled smile. “The car will be fine. It was barely a dent, and your car looks like you just drove it off the lot. There’s no damage. Are you all right?”
“I-I think so,” I stuttered, watching the world spin around me. “I’m just really, really dizzy. I think I blacked out for a minute.” I lowered myself back into my car. Calm down. Calm down.
Walking closer to me, brow furrowed, he opened my door. His jaw dropped when he saw my thirteen-week bubble belly poking out from my slender frame. I was finally showing. “Ma’am, are you expecting?” My victim looked genuinely concerned.
“Yes, but I think I’m okay…”
One of Gavin’s colleagues arrived within minutes and dutifully questioned us, as well as the witnesses who had stopped—some out of curiosity, some because they couldn’t go anywhere anyway until our cars were moved. The wreck was obviously, unquestionably, my fault. I explained that my brakes had locked up.
The police officer yawned and rubbed his eyes. I assumed he was coming off the night shift. “Well, that’s a wrap. Just a little bump. You know, my wife had one of those Nissans. She always complained about the brakes, too.” He finished taking his notes, explained what would happen next, and then left the scene.
Numbly, fingers shaking, I dialed Jeff’s number to confess my accident. Andrew was traveling to an out of town meeting, and the only response I could get was his static-y company voicemail. Grace’s cell phone was off, and Mama’s home line greeted me with a busy tone. Loneliness crept in, and I could not help entertaining poisonous what-if thoughts. What if the wreck hurt the baby?
Jeff drove me to get my rental car, making meaningless small talk. I waited for him to ask if he should come back another day; he didn’t. I should have gone home, but the determination to prove myself took over my desire to curl up in a ball, cry like a baby, and bow out.
The Storm (Fairhope) Page 6
