A Father's Gift

by Andrea Edwards

  The frown grew as she finished the instructions and looked at her watch. Damn. Samantha was going to be here in a few minutes with Ollie. She should wait for them.

  But she had to find out what was going on with her body. And who knew what her sister would want to do? Sometimes Sam had someplace else to go and would dash out. Other times she’d just want to sit around and talk. It could be midnight before Cassie would have a chance to run the test. She dashed into the bathroom.

  The test was simple enough. Heck, lean it against some bush in the backyard and Ollie could take it. Making a face, Cassie stood and washed her hands. Actually, her dog might do better than she did. Males of any species seemed to have the inside track when it came to aiming their urine stream.

  The doorbell rang as Cassie was wiping her hands, causing her to look at her watch. Another two minutes. Her sister would just have to wait.

  Sweet, patient little Samantha quickly went from ringing the doorbell to banging on the door while Cassie counted down the last ten seconds aloud. “Three. Two. One. Zero.” Gripping the edge of the sink, she slowly opened her right eye and looked. A single line meant just a late period, a double line meant—

  “Ohmigod.”

  Her heart stopped, her stomach did a backflip and she wanted to cry. How could it be? Oh, boy. Oh, damn. Oh, Lordy.

  She was pregnant.

  Cassie slid down onto the toilet lid and, closing her eyes, leaned back. It sounded like Samantha was kicking the door now, and Ollie was helping her by barking.

  But, hey. Nothing was set in stone. The test could be wrong. It was probably wrong a lot of times. Oh, wow. Oh, damn. Laugh or cry? Which should she do? Doing both would be stupid.

  What she had to do was see a doctor. Right. That was it. Let a professional check her out. Not some stupid, two-bit drugstore kit. A real doctor would put things right.

  “I’m coming.” Shouting, she grabbed up all the test paraphernalia and stuffed it in a desk drawer, then hurried to the door. “Let’s not wreck the house.”

  “Where were you?” Samantha demanded.

  Cassie fought to catch her breath while fighting off Ollie’s welcome. “I was m the bathroom.”

  “I knew you were home.” Samantha pushed her way past them into the house. “Your truck’s in the driveway.”

  “Why don’t you come in, Sam? Sit down and rest a spell.”

  Before she could get a good argument started, Ollie was dashing into the kitchen. She and Samantha followed, urged on by his excited barking. Cassie smiled when she saw him eyeing the butcher-paper-wrapped package lying on the counter.

  “Okay, big guy,” Cassie said. “Just a minute and I’ll give you a snack.”

  “Daddy’s already fed him,” Samantha told her.

  “This is just a treat.” Cassie unwrapped the package. “He really loves these things. They look like real beef chunks.”

  As she laid the now unwrapped package on the counter, Cassie remembered that Samantha still had Ollie’s food dish and toys. “Sam,” she said. “Get Ollie’s—”

  But it didn’t matter anymore. Ollie had put his front paws on the counter, taken a deep breath and “inhaled” the whole pile of moist nuggets.

  “Those things really look like beef,” Samantha said as they watched Ollie lick the paper.

  “I told you they did.”

  “I mean, dripping with blood and everything.” Samantha made a face. “Yuck.”

  Dripping with blood? A cloud of dread circled Cassie’s head and took her oxygen. She stared at Ollie, still energetically cleaning the paper, then pulled the other butcher-paperwrapped package from the refrigerator. She ripped it open to find a load of Yummy Cuts, which went quickly tumbling to the floor.

  She’d been building up for a cry before and now it was almost impossible to hold it in. But she did. She didn’t cry. Not ever. Never.

  “Ollie likes this stuff, too.” Samantha bent down and picked up the wrapping paper. “Although the chunks don’t look as moist as the other ones did.”

  Cassie glared at her sister. Samantha was good at that. From the day she’d started to talk, her sister was always trying to make everybody feel better.

  “Why don’t we go out and eat?” Samantha said. “Grab a quick sandwich someplace.”

  Cassie continued glaring, although she knew she had little choice. There wasn’t much in her cupboard.

  “All right.” Cassie lifted her nose high. “But you are not to look at me or talk to me.”

  “Can I sit with you?”

  Her sister never got mad about anything. She was just too nice. Cassie felt like drowning her in a cup of coffee. Unfortunately, that would have made it too sweet to drink.

  “I don’t know,” Cassie replied. “I have to think on that.”

  Cassie lay flat on her back, her feet in the stirrups, and counted the dots in the acoustical ceiling. She hated these examinations. This damn position made her feel so helpless.

  “Enjoying yourself down there?” she asked.

  Dr. Maggie Novak straightened and peeled off her glove. “Purple,” she said, as she stepped on the lever and dropped the used glove into the waste can.

  “What’s purple?”

  “Your cervix.”

  Cassie closed her eyes for a moment. Breathe in, breathe out, she told herself. Breathe in, breathe out.

  “My stick had two lines,” Cassie said.

  “You took one of those home tests.”

  “Why do you think I called you?”

  Her doctor came over to the stool by Cassie’s head and sat down. The doctor stared at her for a long moment, while Cassie fought a mixture of dread and impatience—wishing her doctor would hurry up and give her the news she didn’t want to hear.

  Cassie had been going to the same general practitioner since she was a kid, and when he brought in Dr. Novak four years ago to take over his practice so he could retire, Cassie stayed, taking an immediate liking to the young doctor. But given the fact that Dr. Novak had access to records of everything from the case of poison ivy Cassie had when she was eleven to her fertility problems, there was little the good doctor didn’t know about her.

  “That gives you two yeses,” the doctor said.

  Cassie’s stomach did a jelly-like quiver. “What kind of reading did you get with the urine sample I gave you?”

  “Ah, yes. I forgot. You have three yeses.”

  Cassie fell back and tried to finish counting the dots. They kept blurring and she quit, deciding to sit up instead. “I don’t understand this.”

  “Almost thirty years old and you don’t understand about the birds and the bees?”

  “Ha, ha.” She made a face at her doctor. “You’re so funny. You should be onstage.”

  “I know. And the next one leaves in fifteen minutes.”

  Cassie didn’t bother laughing. When you’d known one another for a while, all the punch lines were pretty well committed to memory.

  “I thought we had determined that I could not have children.”

  “No, no, no. We did no such thing.”

  Cassie rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. The dots were still blurred. “When Ron and I were married, we could not conceive a child. Ron married another woman and he conceived a child. Ergo—”

  “Ergo, schmergo.” Dr. Novak gestured dismissively at her. “The only thing that we knew for certain is that you and Ron were unable to conceive a child. No more.”

  Cassie made a face and looked away.

  “None of the tests indicated that you had a physical problem.”

  “But that’s not—”

  “Yes, it’s very possible.” The doctor shifted on her stool. “In about eighty percent of cases, the process of conception takes place without substantial effort on anybody’s part.”

  All those women pushing baby strollers—whom Cassie had hated with an undying passion—certainly proved that.

  “The other twenty percent have problems. Some physical. Some psychologic
al. A few—total mystery.”

  Cassie searched her doctor’s face, wondering if she was giving her all the facts.

  “Yours was total mystery,” the doctor said.

  Actually, none of that mattered. What did matter were the two facts staring her in the face. She and Ron made love: no baby. She and Jack made love: bingo. One baby coming up.

  “Apparently you and Ron were not physically compatible.” A smile played on the doctor’s lips. “Obviously that’s not the case with you and—” the smile grew “—and Mr. X.”

  It was a small town and Cassie wouldn’t have been surprised if the doctor had named Jack, but the woman had more class than that. They both sat quietly and shared the silence surrounding them.

  “So,” the doctor said. “Now what?”

  Cassie shrugged.

  “Does the father know?”

  Cassie shook her head.

  “That should be taken care of.”

  Her vision blurred even more and Cassie had to look away. Was this to be the end of her and Jack? Would he be genuinely happy or would he be quiet and controlled? One mention of “duty” or “responsibility” and she was throwing him out. Better now than later.

  “You know,” she said. “This is throwing my life into an uproar.”

  The next thing she knew was that her doctor’s arms were around her. Slowly Cassie returned the hug.

  “This is just the beginning, kid. Just a teeny tiny first step toward total chaos.”

  Jack raised his hand to ring Cassie’s doorbell, but deep barking from inside the house told him not to bother. He stepped back and waited.

  Within moments the door opened and Cassie stood there in all her radiance. Their holiday—spending just about every single second of the day together—had been as near to heaven as mere mortals could get. But she’d been in a strange mood since they’d come back.

  He’d called her yesterday evening, but Sam had been over and they had only talked for a few minutes. Then today, when he’d called the store, she’d been out. It scared him, this inability to reach to her, but he told himself it was just his overactive imagination. She wasn’t avoiding him. Their schedules were just out of sync, so once the kids were in bed he’d decided to take a walk.

  “Hi,” he said and whipped a covered plate out from behind his back. “Aunt Hattie sent over some peach pie.”

  She took the plate but there was no smile in her eyes or her voice. “How nice of her.”

  Maybe she just hated peach pie, he thought, and pulled open the screen door, bracing himself for Ollie’s hearty greeting. As always, the big dog jumped up and put his front paws on Jack’s shoulders, but Cassie just turned away and walked into her living room.

  Jack frowned. Cassie usually scolded him for letting Ollie jump like that.

  “Get down, Ollie.” Jack spoke softly and followed Cassie. “Are you feeling okay?” Maybe she was just tired.

  “Fit as a fiddle.”

  There was a strong edge to her voice. Jack could feel the tension tightening his gut. Something bad was coming down.

  “Sit down, Jack.” She grabbed Ollie by the collar. “Let me put him outside.”

  Jack’s first inclination was to tell her to spit it out. Whatever was wrong, she should simply get it out in the open, but he just sat down. A definite smell of serious was hanging in the air.

  Cassie returned from putting Ollie out in the backyard and sat down across from him, sitting forward with her hands on her knees. “I’ve tried all day to come up with a good and easy way to tell you this.”

  Jack took a breath and held it. It looked like he was going to have to play defense attorney—take the hit, then respond.

  “But I never was a fancy talker.” She took a deep breath. “So I decided to tell you straight out.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  He was still, frozen even, as the words echoed around in his head. Pregnant. She was pregnant. A little part of him wanted to smile, to jump in the air, to sweep her into his arms. But another part—the part that was watching the stillness in her face—kept him from moving.

  “I see” was all he was able to say. He saw her lying in his arms just a few weeks ago, assuring him it didn’t matter that the condom had split, that it hadn’t been necessary anyway.

  “You’re surprised,” she said.

  “Yes.” Surprise didn’t begin to cover it. Everything—joy, excitement, fear, wariness, amazement—were all churning in the pit of his stomach. But the look in her eyes was giving fear the upper hand.

  “Well,” Cassie said. “I was surprised, too.”

  Jack flexed his hands and swallowed hard. “I thought we’d talked about protection.”

  “I didn’t think we needed it.” She took a deep breath and stared at the wall behind him. “I was married before. Ron and I tried to conceive a child for over two years.”

  Something unpleasant was boiling in his soul—he could almost see it. He kept his mouth shut and waited. His suspicions were just part of a bad dream. He would wake up and everything would be all right. Cassie would be his Cassie once more and together they would plan for the birth of their child.

  “We were never able to accomplish that little task.”

  “And you sought medical help.”

  She nodded.

  “And the doctors said that you couldn’t have children.”

  “Not in so many words.”

  Her face blurred and danced before his eyes. He looked away. He had no idea what she was thinking or feeling or wanting, but one thing was all too clear. She’d had a deep dark secret in her past that she’d kept from him. He’d told her all sorts of stupid stories from his childhood and his time with Daphne—half of them things that didn’t matter a whit—and she’d kept something vital from him.

  She hadn’t trusted him, hadn’t felt that they were growing close. Or hadn’t felt that it mattered that he really knew her. Keeping herself apart while playing him for a fool.

  He felt dead inside. No, not dead. That would mean the pain was over. A fist still had a hold of his gut, twisting and turning and yanking with evil pleasure.

  “So where do we go from here?” he asked around the bitter taste of crushed illusions. “I’m not running out on my responsibilities, but—”

  The lines in her face hardened and her eyes turned to stone. “I’m not asking for anything. I don’t need anything from you.”

  Hadn’t she already proved that? She hadn’t needed—or wanted—his understanding, his support, his reassurance. Not one damn thing.

  Except maybe his sperm.

  “I can support a child,” she said. “And I have a family that gives me all the emotional support I need. It’ll be surrounded with love. I don’t want a single, solitary thing from you.”

  “I know.” His face twisted in pain as he stood. “You’ve already got what you wanted out of me. So now you can toss me aside.”

  “What?” She got to her feet.

  He grabbed at the only thing he had left—his pride. He clutched it the way he clutched the football when he was about to be tackled. There was no force on earth that could make him let it go.

  “You wanted kids,” he said. “You wouldn’t feel like a complete woman until you did. So you took a proven stud and bedded him. Suddenly everything is ginger, peachy keen. You’ve got all the slots in your ticket punched and you are now a full-fledged member of the society of women.”

  Tears overflowed and slithered down her cheeks. His hold on his pride slipped a little, but he clutched it even harder. Daphne used to be able to cry like a barfly drank whiskey—easily and often.

  “I would never do anything like that,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “Right.”

  “You bastard.”

  Her fist swung out and suddenly pinwheels exploded in his head.

  Damn, that woman could hit. She’d hit him a good lick. He’d gone up against three-hundred-pound tackles who couldn’t
throw a punch anywhere near that hard. He felt like snatching her up in his arms and never letting go.

  And he would have. If it weren’t for the fact that she’d used him like she had. Used him and spat him out like a piece of bubblegum. Like every other yahoo jerk in the world.

  “Get out of here,” she said.

  “Gladly,” he snapped.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “So how’s everything?” Ellen asked, all bright and chipper the next morning.

  Cassie felt like belting her one, but her knuckles were sore from last night. She just opened her carton of orange juice and took a long drink. She supposed, as a mother-to-be, she shouldn’t be going around slugging people, anyway. It set a bad example. She doubted the kid would know what she was doing right now, but you never knew. Best to start as she meant to go on.

  “I’m just fine,” Cassie said stoutly and grabbed up her inventory sheet. “Thought I’d work on the inventory while you guys handle the customers.”

  “You sure? Burt and I could do it if you want to sit down.”

  Cassie just gave her a look. She was pregnant, not an invalid. “Call me if things get busy.” She hurried down the end aisle.

  The PCV piping was easy to count, in six-foot and ten-foot lengths and in various diameters. Then there were all the tee and ell joints. It took her about ten minutes to get really really bored and sink onto the step stool.

  She’d done a lot of thinking last night. Since sleeping had seemed out of the question, thinking had been something to do to pass the long hours She probably had told Jack about the baby all wrong, but then diplomacy had never been her strong suit. He had thought she wanted something from him. Maybe even thought she’d been trying to force him into marriage, which was the furthest thing from her mind.

  But still, all she’d really heard was “responsibilities.” He was willing to be responsible and she knew it was over. Although maybe it had all worked out for the best. Now, at least, she knew where she stood. No more fearing that he wouldn’t be there in the long run.

  “Hey, boss lady!” Burt called out as he ambled down the aisle. “Ellen said to help you with the inventory.”

  Cassie sighed, but didn’t say any of the hundreds of things running through her head. This was getting scary. Was pregnancy making her mellow?