“I wasn’t an hour ago. I’d better check again.”
When Sierra stood, the twinge diminished and she felt so relieved. But after she went into the minuscule bathroom, her heart pounded, her ears rung as fear invaded her whole body.
When she exited the cubicle, she said to Camille, “I am spotting. Not much, but some.” She felt close to tears as she headed for her purse lying on a shelf underneath her work counter. “I’ve got to call my doctor.”
The nurse in Dr. Connor’s office directed her, “Come in now. Do you have someone to bring you?”
“Can you take me over?” Sierra asked Camille, knowing she could drive herself if she had to.
“Of course. Come on, grab your jacket and let’s go.”
A few minutes later in Camille’s car with her hands trembling, Sierra made the call she didn’t want to make. Taking the business card Ben had given her from her purse, she punched in his cell phone number. Expecting to reach his voice mail, she would just leave a calm message…
He’d obviously checked the caller ID when he answered. “Sierra, I’m on my way to a meeting. Can I call you back?”
She could just say yes and hang up as if this were no big deal. Instead she responded, “I’m on the way to my doctor’s. I’m spotting. I just thought you should know. I’ll give you a call after I see her.”
She heard him swear.
“I know you’re busy, Ben. Camille’s with me. I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
In the silence, they held the line open. It was as if they had a lot to say, but didn’t know how to say it.
“I’ll call you in a little while,” she murmured, and then ended the connection.
Camille was watching her.
“He has a meeting, but he said he’ll come as soon as he can.”
“If that’s what Ben said, then he will.”
It occurred to Sierra that Camille had known Ben since she’d met Miguel two years ago. “You know him better than I do.”
“Time will change that.”
Time. But would they have time? If she lost this baby, she’d have no connection to Ben. They’d go back to their separate lives. That made her more sad than she wanted to admit.
Forty-five minutes later, Dr. Connor had finished examining Sierra and performing an ultrasound. Sierra was trying to stay calm, but was failing badly.
When there was a knock on the door, Dr. Connor opened it and Ben stood outside with the nurse.
The nurse told the doctor, “He insisted on coming back.”
Dr. Connor glanced at Sierra. “Do you want him here?”
Not only did Ben have every right to be here, but she needed him here. “Yes, it’s his baby. He deserves to know what’s happening.”
After Dr. Connor motioned him inside, Ben crossed to Sierra immediately and took her hand. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, but her fear was so close to the surface she couldn’t speak.
“Okay, here’s my verdict,” the doctor said, giving them both a reassuring smile. “Everything looks fine. Spotting in the first trimester isn’t uncommon. As a precautionary measure, I’d like Sierra on bed rest for the next ten days to two weeks. That means feet up, no standing longer than it takes you to go to the bathroom and return to bed again. Do you have someone who can take care of you?”
With her aunt gone, Sierra wasn’t sure what to say. Camille might help her out—
“She can stay with me,” Ben suddenly responded. “If necessary I’ll hire someone to be with her during the day. I’ll be there at night.”
“Ben! Are you sure? What about your long hours?”
“I can bring work home. We have to do what’s best for the baby, Sierra.”
She knew he was right. But staying with Ben?
“I’ll let the two of you discuss this,” the doctor offered, “but I want you going straight somewhere and putting your feet up. No long decisions about packing, carrying suitcases, that kind of thing.”
Sierra was really scared now, scared enough to do whatever the doctor ordered.
Dr. Connor studied Ben. “Before you leave, stop at the desk and I’ll have a list of home-health-care professionals who can help if you need their services.”
After the obstetrician left, Sierra felt shaken, worried and totally out of her element. Staying with Ben seemed so outrageous.
“This is such an imposition,” she murmured.
He was still holding her hand, and now he looked directly into her eyes and bent a little closer. “No. It’s not an imposition. Taking care of this baby is what we’re going to do together. That’s what we’re doing now.”
She’d been trying not to panic, trying to keep all of her emotions in check. But now she felt tears burn in her eyes. “I never expected to be pregnant, but I want this baby, Ben. I really do. I saw her or him when the doctor did the ultrasound.”
Releasing her hand, Ben brushed a stray strand of her hair back with the rest.
It was such a tender, gentle gesture, she really felt like crying, and now her eyes did brim with tears.
Ben appeared to be at a loss for a moment, but then his arm went around her and he held her against his chest. “We’ll get through this, Sierra. We will.” Leaning back, tipping her chin up, he smiled. “Do you know how long it’s been since I had a roommate?”
“Do I want to know?” she teased back, attempting to be positive. “I don’t even know where you live,” Sierra said.
“On Comanche Road.”
They were talking, trying to have a normal conversation, but his strong arm felt so good around her. His eyes had that intensity that was pure Ben, with a sizzle that could zap her whenever she was close to him. It made her tingle now. He looked as if he wanted to kiss her. Did he?
Suddenly as if he remembered their decision not to become physically involved, he took his arm from around her shoulders. “After you get dressed, I’ll take you to my car. Camille is in the waiting room. Do you want me to talk to her about what we’re doing?”
“I don’t want to impose on her, either. She just got married.”
“She’s your friend, Sierra. You can just tell her what’s happening and go from there.”
So that’s what they did. After Camille heard what the doctor had ordered, and that Ben insisted that Sierra move in with him, she concurred. “I can take care of you during the day. Miguel will be at work. It’s not as if I have anything on my schedule yet.”
“Are you sure?” Sierra asked.
“How many times have you taken care of me when I had the flu, or helped me rearrange my apartment or let me whine on your shoulder before Miguel got serious? Of course I want to do this, Sierra.”
“Our main problem is what she’s going to do to occupy herself,” Ben said with a smile.
“I can still design necklaces and bead in bed,” Sierra assured him. “And I have a laptop. I can write e-mails to people I haven’t had time to stay in touch with. I also have an MP3 player and I can read.”
Camille addressed Ben. “I’ll go with you to her aunt’s. I know where she keeps her laptop and everything else.”
“Don’t you have to get back to work?” Sierra asked Ben.
“I want to get you settled first.”
“I don’t know how to thank both of you,” Sierra said gratefully.
“Don’t thank me yet,” Ben teased. “You haven’t tasted my cooking.”
Camille laughed. “There’s always takeout.”
Yes, there was. Maybe this experience wouldn’t be too unsettling for either of them. Maybe all would go well. Just maybe they’d learn how to be parents together.
Just maybe she’d get to know Ben Barclay better than she ever expected to.
Had Sierra actually thought she could be comfortable alone with Ben in his house?
Standing in his living room, his life all around her, she could hardly take it all in. His adobe rancher had three bedrooms. Decorated in Native Americ
an patterns and colors, a mixture of sky and earth, mountains and woods, the home had plank flooring and woven rugs, which were backdrops for the lodgepole pine furniture. The table in the dining area near the kitchen overflowed with books and papers and file folders. Photographs of Ben’s family decorated the bookshelves, which held a flat-screen TV and stereo system. The wooden blinds under carved cornices hung at the windows rather than curtains.
What had she expected? Sparse? Glass and chrome? No character to a house where an assistant district attorney spent little time?
Ben motioned her toward a hall where she assumed the bedrooms were located.
There were two doors on the left and one on the right that she suspected led to the master suite.
“I’m going to give you my bedroom,” he told her, “because the bathroom’s right there. You won’t have to walk down the hall.”
“I’m not going to put you out of your room!”
“You’re going to be spending two weeks in bed, Sierra. I’ve got a king-size one. You can move around, stretch and have everything at your fingertips.” He opened the door into his bedroom. “There’s a bookcase headboard so you can set everything there that you need.”
“But what are you going to do about your clothes, the things that you need?”
“The spare room closet’s empty. I’ll take clothes over there. As far as the rest…” His eyes glimmered with amusement. “Are you going to lock the door so I can’t get in?”
“No, of course not.”
“Well, then. There’s no need to worry, is there? Come on. Get into bed.”
She had to admit that in her dreams she’d imagined being in bed with Ben again, had wondered what his bedroom looked like, had gotten excited over the prospect of him leading her to his bed. But this was so very different than anything she’d dreamed or imagined.
His room was red and gray…and inviting with its down comforter, braided rugs and Minnesota woods prints on the walls. A sweatsuit sprawled over a wooden bedroom chair. The closet door hung open and sneakers lay cockeyed by the bathroom door.
Ben must have sensed Sierra was feeling totally out of her own world. Crossing to her, he clasped her shoulders, his fingertips lingering on the ends of her hair. “I know you must feel like you’ve suddenly landed in Oz. Just think of my place as a vacation resort where you can stay in bed and don’t have to lift a finger.”
“That’s not me, Ben.”
His thumb soothed her shoulder. “I’m beginning to see that.” His voice was low and husky and there was a look in his eyes—
Instead of a kiss on the lips, he kissed her forehead and led her to the bed, his arm around her waist. “Camille will be here in a little while and you’ll have everything you need. How about lunch? I don’t cook much, but I make a mean omelet.”
Giving in to what she and the baby needed, Sierra sat on the bed, pulled his pillows from under the comforter, and stacked them against the headboard. “I’m not very hungry,” she admitted, “but I know I have to eat. An omelet sounds good.”
As she sat on Ben’s bed, looking up at him, realizing that they were going to be together a lot more than she’d ever imagined, her pulse raced faster. He was so handsome in his suit with his tie slightly askew, the top button of his shirt open.
“The truth is, Sierra, I thought about you being in my bed, but not like this. You’re safe with me. You know that, don’t you?”
“I know.” She felt safer with Ben than she had with anyone. Because he was tall and strong? She didn’t think so. It had more to do with the inner man, a sense of integrity that was just part of who he was.
Now seemed like the right time to reach for her purse, open it and slip out the picture of their baby. “The nurse gave this to me after I got dressed. It’s what I saw on the screen during the ultrasound. I have a DVD, too, that you can watch when you have time. It’s our son or daughter.” Her voice thickened as she said the words.
She moved over so Ben could sit on the bed beside her. He did and slowly took the picture from her, just staring at it, totally enthralled. She had been, too. When she’d glimpsed their baby for the first time on the screen, it had filled her with such a sense of joy, she’d felt she could burst. So she knew what Ben was feeling now. At least she hoped that’s what he was feeling.
“The arrow is pointing to the baby’s head. Do you see it?” she murmured.
“I see it.” His voice was husky.
She’d been right about Ben Barclay. He might be as tough as an armadillo on the outside, but he had the kind of heart and depth of character that was hard to find in a man. She’d found it in Travis.
Travis.
If they had gotten married, how soon would they have had children? Would they have come back to the United States? Would Travis have put their child before his work? She knew she would have put their child before anything. She would put this child before anything.
“It really is a miracle, isn’t it?” Ben’s voice was low and gruff. “Everyone says it is, but until a man faces the reality himself—” He shook his head. “I can’t even imagine how you feel, having a life growing inside of you.”
“This makes it more real,” she confessed, reverently touching the picture. “And I imagine when he or she starts moving or kicking, then I’ll know for sure.”
“Know what?”
“That I’m going to be a mom. I’ve seen a lot of mothers and babies—women sitting around a communal fire practically naked with babies at their breasts, women who make sure their children are fed before they take a bite of food themselves, women who have walked miles to find their child medical care. I’ve seen how strong that bond is even though I rarely felt it with my own mother, and I always wondered about it, where it came from, how it happened, how long it lasted. I know for me, the bond’s going to last a lifetime, a cord that’s never going to be cut, at least not on my side.”
“Uh-oh. I can see a teenage rebellion in the works,” Ben teased.
She smiled. “I know I’ll have to let go eventually, but that cord…I’m going to hold on tight to it.” Emotion got the best of her again and her voice broke when she said, “I can’t lose this baby, Ben.”
“We’ll do everything in our power to keep you and the baby healthy and safe. That’s why you’re going to let me and Camille wait on you, right?”
The doorbell rang, and a second later Ben’s cell phone beeped. He checked the number and answered it on the way to the door.
Sierra could hear Camille’s cheery “Here I am.”
She listened as Ben told the phone caller, “Hold on a minute.”
He directed Camille, “Put everything wherever she needs it.”
When Camille entered the bedroom, her arms full of clothes, she said to Sierra, “I’m going to make room for these in his closet. I brought you mainly lounging stuff and sweats. I didn’t think you’d need much else.”
Camille was inside Ben’s walk-in closet when he returned to the room.
He called, “Camille?”
She poked her head out.
“I need to get back to my office. Should I stir up an omelet or can you manage something?”
Camille wrinkled her nose at him. “In spite of rumors to the contrary, I’m quite capable in the kitchen.”
Ben gave her a sly smile.
“Okay, Miguel told you about the overdone roast and the scorched refried beans, but I really can handle a few eggs.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“Will you get lunch?” Sierra asked him.
“I’ll get something eventually.” He glanced at Camille. “I’ll try to be home by six. Is that okay for you?”
“It’s fine. Miguel never ends his workday much before seven.”
“Hel-lo,” Sierra interrupted them. “I’m here. If there’s an hour or two between shifts, don’t worry. I’m not going to do anything I shouldn’t.”
Ben and Camille exchanged a look.
“Really,” Sierra vow
ed. She touched the picture in her lap. “I mean it, Ben.”
He nodded as if he finally did believe her. Crossing to the bed, he studied her with an intensity that seemed more intimate than a kiss.
Moments later, he was gone.
“I’ll bet he skips lunch more often than he eats it,” Sierra murmured.
“And you care about that?” Camille asked.
Since Camille was her very best friend, because Sierra knew she had to be honest with herself, she replied, “I think I care too much.”
Chapter Seven
Late that night, Ben stood outside of Sierra’s bedroom door and didn’t know whether to knock. He’d moved his work clothes over to the spare bedroom earlier, but not his sweats, and he really needed to go for a run tomorrow morning. So it was either disturb Sierra now, or wait until morning before the sun came up.
He knocked.
When she didn’t answer right away, he thought she might be asleep, but then he heard a muffled “Come in.” It didn’t sound like Sierra at all.
They’d had an unremarkable evening. He’d looked in on her now and then, but mostly he’d worked at the dining-room table. When he’d gone to check on her the next time, her light had been out.
The door was already open a few inches and he pushed it wider. “I’m sorry if I woke you. I want to take a run in the morning and I need some clothes.”
When there was no answer, he finally moved his gaze to the bed. He’d been avoiding doing it. He really didn’t need to see Sierra in one of those tempting little nightgowns.
After he switched on the wrought-iron lamp on the dresser and its dim glow reached the bed, he crossed to Sierra so he could see her face. She was propped on two pillows, her laptop beside her. As he drew closer, he could see her nose was red. From crying?
“What’s wrong? Aren’t you feeling well?”
“I’m feeling okay. Frustrated thinking about at least ten days of this, but okay. The spotting has stopped.”
Her hand was in a fist, a tissue crunched inside. He tapped his finger on her thumb. “Then what’s this?”
“It’s nothing for you to be concerned about, Ben.”
The Daddy Verdict Page 8
