Love at First Laugh: Eight Romantic Novellas Filled with Love, Laughter, and Happily Ever After

by Krista Phillips

  “I’m so worried about you. It’s a good thing you’ve got a doctor’s appointment this morning. Goodness knows what bug has dug its claws into you.”

  Hopefully a cute little one with ten pink fingers and toes.

  Don’t go there. How many times over the years had she walked this road of thinking, hoping? She shouldn’t be taking that walk again. Not at her age.

  And yet, she couldn’t help it.

  In three more hours she’d be in the doctor’s exam room. Hopefully, he’d be able to diagnose what kind of stomach bug she’d managed to contract, put these silly thoughts to bed once and for all.

  “I–I think perhaps I’d better not eat or drink anything just yet. The doctor might need to run blood tests that would require fasting.” Elizabeth pushed away from the toilet bowl, flushing it as she rose to her feet. “I’m going to hop into the shower and freshen up.”

  Brian kissed her cheek and Elizabeth pulled back. “I probably reek of vomit. Let me shower and brush my teeth, then I can say good morning properly.”

  “For better, for worse, in sickness and in health.” This time he gently kissed her lips. “Thirty-five years ago I gave you my word to love you in all circumstances.” He offered her a soft laugh. “Upchuck and all.”

  After a lengthy shower, Elizabeth transformed into a healthier version of herself. The nausea and fatigue had lifted so much that she was tempted to cancel her appointment with Dr. Cummings. Brian would hear nothing of the idea, and so by ten o’clock, Elizabeth sat in the waiting room, Brian in the seat beside her, faithfully keeping his vow. In sickness and in health.

  Fifteen minutes of waiting had Elizabeth wondering why doctors didn’t schedule their patients’ appointments fifteen minutes later. Her musing and slight annoyance was interrupted by the receptionist advising them that the doctor would see them now.

  “Brian. Elizabeth. What brings you here today? How are you doing, Brian?”

  The kind, middle-aged doctor with his bushy eyebrows and medium brown hair that had started to gray above his ears had been their GP since they moved back to South Africa. And he knew their history, in and out.

  Brian smiled. “I know there’s no cure for my ailment, doc, but living in this climate, away from further exposure to the dust of Northwest Africa, certainly has seemed to help. As advised, Elizabeth and I are leading a healthy, active lifestyle.”

  “So who’s the patient today?”

  Elizabeth raised her hand. “I’ve been extremely tired for several days now. Yesterday I started with nausea and vomiting.”

  “Hmm.” Dr. Cummings rose from his chair. “There has been a bad stomach bug making the rounds. Come and hop up onto the examination table; let me take a look.”

  She did as the doctor requested. He checked inside her ears, down her throat, and felt the glands in her neck before asking her to lie down.

  “Any other symptoms?”

  She nodded. “Frequent urination.” No way was she adding the tender breasts part. He might want to check. Perish the thought.

  “I see.”

  Huh? What did he see? “Do you know what’s wrong with me, doctor?”

  He shook his head. “It’s hard to tell without running some tests.” He prodded with his hands on her stomach before helping her up to a sitting position.

  She swung her legs over the side of the table again.

  “I’ll start you on a broad-spectrum antibiotic. I’d like you to fast from ten tonight. Come back tomorrow morning, and we’ll draw blood. I’ll request a full blood count—check that you haven’t brought something back from your time in Burkina Faso, although it hardly seems likely four months down the line.” He smiled. “But let’s check, just to be safe.”

  “You could draw blood now. I haven’t had anything to eat or drink since around seven last night, except for one sip of tea this morning. That’s all.”

  “All right. Let’s do this then.” The doctor reached for the tourniquet and various glass vials with different colored tops. He pulled up a chair beside the bed. “If you could move to this seat, Elizabeth, then extend your left arm… This won’t take long, and I promise, you won’t feel a thing.”

  Elizabeth flashed a smile as she moved to the chair. “It’s okay, doctor. I’m not afraid of needles.”

  Behind them, Brian cleared his throat. “Will those blood tests reveal a pregnancy?”

  Elizabeth shot Brian a look, and he swallowed hard. Wrong question to ask. He should’ve paused to think before vocalizing his thoughts. But the words had just spewed from his mouth. He’d had no control over speaking them.

  He probably owed JoAnn an apology. Here he was thinking just like her. Unless that was her fault to begin with. What she’d said had turned in his head last night like a merry-go-round—the ride not as pleasant or exciting as it might have been in their youth—until finally he’d drifted off to sleep.

  Dr. Cummings gave a slow turn on his heel, and his hallmark eyebrows edged closer together. “I mean no disrespect, Brian, but did I hear right? You want me to request a pregnancy test on Elizabeth?”

  Brian opened his mouth; he’d have to stand his ground. “Yes. I do.”

  “Why? She’s past childbearing age. And I have both your medical histories—she’s never been able to conceive. Why would she do so now, at sixty?”

  The chair scraped against the floor as Brian pushed to his feet. He came to stand beside Elizabeth. “Dr. Cummings, I’m all too familiar with our history. But I also know my wife. I’ve seen her fight her way through many illnesses and diseases before. This…” He reached for Elizabeth’s hand and grasped it. “This seems different.” His other hand came to rest on the doctor’s arm. “Please. It can’t hurt to do the test, and it will at least put our minds at ease.”

  The doctor focused his attention on Elizabeth. “How long have you been in menopause?”

  She stared at him. “I–I don’t know. I’ve never really felt menopausal. I guess I was always too busy to notice.”

  “No irregular periods, night sweats, hot flashes—”

  Elizabeth laughed. “Dr. Cummings, I’ve lived in Northwest Africa for the past twelve years—I was always hot.”

  A smile tugged his lips. “Point taken. What about sleeping problems, mood changes?”

  She’d been a little ratty of late, but nothing that could be categorized under mood changes.

  She shook her head. “None of the above. Except the irregular periods, but those eventually stopped…some time ago.”

  “How long ago? A year? Two years? Longer?” the doctor pushed.

  “I— A year. Possibly two. I wasn’t really keeping track.” She sucked in a breath, and Brian squeezed her hand. “My breasts are also tender at the moment.”

  “Are they now?” Dr. Cummings tipped his head to the side. His fingers grasped the rubber strap. He wrapped it around Elizabeth’s arm then tightened it. Lifting the needle, he tapped her arm, looking for a vein. “You might go down in history, if I do a test and it comes back positive.”

  “How so?” Brian asked.

  “Because according to the Lancet Medical Journal, the last woman to conceive naturally at this age—although at sixty-two and a half, she was a little older—was in 1887 in England. She gave birth to triplets—three boys—but they were her 11th, 12th, and 13th children. I’ve never come across someone conceiving their first child naturally at this age. With IVF yes, but natural conception…” He shook his head as he swapped out the full red vial for the next one.

  “You do know there are huge risks involved if you are by some miracle pregnant?” he continued. “You could die; the baby could die—during the pregnancy or the delivery. You could suffer from high blood pressure or pre-eclampsia, which could create complications. There’s an increased risk of miscarriage, plus a higher occurrence of twins or triplets, as already evidenced by the 1887 birth. You could have prolonged labor or require a C-section delivery. And then of course, there’s always the chance of a stillbir
th or congenital abnormalities like Down syndrome.”

  He changed the vial for the fourth time and stared into Elizabeth’s eyes. “I don’t mean to come across unfeeling, Elizabeth, but are you certain you want to take those risks, assuming you are miraculously pregnant?”

  Elizabeth drew in a slow breath. “Dr. Cummings, I could have experienced any of those possibilities, even at a younger age. Life and death and conception…they’re all in God’s hands.”

  “We know of a couple, Doc,” Brian said, “who conceived naturally and had a perfectly healthy baby boy, and they were in their nineties.”

  “What?” Doctor Cummings shook his head. “Impossible. That would have been documented.”

  A chuckle escaped Elizabeth’s lips. “It was. Way back in the book of Genesis.”

  “Abraham fathered the nation of Israel from his son, Isaac. And then a few millennia later there was Elizabeth and Zechariah who also fathered a son in their old age.” Brian smiled. Maybe this wasn’t such an unbelievable concept after all.

  Dr. Cummings removed the needle from Elizabeth’s arm and pressed a wad of cotton wool against the tiny blood-oozing hole in her skin. He secured it with medical tape. “Those are just Bible stories.”

  “All the more reason they’re true,” Brian said.

  Dr. Cummings released a sigh. “All right. I’ll request an HCG test be done as well. I’ll call you tomorrow, Elizabeth, when I get the results.”

  Chapter 3

  Elizabeth knelt in front of the open medicine cabinet beneath the sink in the bathroom adjoining the master bedroom. Her hand hovered over the blue box just as it had when she’d purchased it from the pharmacy after leaving Dr. Cummings’s medical suite yesterday morning. And the same way it had a myriad of times since hiding it in the cabinet. How on earth did twenty-four hours take so long? No wonder people resorted to over-the-counter pregnancy tests. Waiting for blood results was sheer torture.

  The strapline highlighted in an orange block at the top of the packaging beneath her fingers beckoned. As Accurate as a Doctor’s Test.

  She glanced at her cell phone lying on the windowsill behind the toilet. Not muted. Good. She breathed out a heavy sigh. When would Dr. Cummings call with the blood test results? She’d felt as ill this morning as she had yesterday. And she’d felt as tired yesterday afternoon as she had for more than a week. Thank heavens JoAnn had called yesterday to find out how she was and to cancel their spinning class today. Although if she hadn’t, Elizabeth probably would have called early this morning to do the same. JoAnn’s son, Jordan, was flying in from Johannesburg on a surprise visit for the weekend, so JoAnn had to fetch him at 9 a.m. at King Shaka airport. Her friend was so excited. She didn’t get to see her son that often, and all the poor thing would have was two nights before he flew back home on Sunday. JoAnn didn’t know how long it would be before she’d see him again.

  A soft knock sounded at the door. Elizabeth turned her head sideways to gaze at the flat white surface separating her from the world.

  “Elizabeth?” Brian’s voice drifted through the wooden divide. “Are you all right, love? You’ve been inside there for quite some time.”

  “I’m fine, honey. Why don’t you put on the kettle, and I’ll join you for a cup of tea in a moment?”

  Her fingers wrapped around the box, and she removed it from the cupboard where she’d stuck it yesterday, out of Brian’s view. She didn’t want him to know she’d bought a pregnancy test when all she was meant to get at the pharmacy while he waited in the car was some anti-nausea tablets the doctor had prescribed and a box of band-aids because they’d run out, thanks to the DIY home renovations. Dr. Cummings had decided to wait until the blood results were back before prescribing an antibiotic.

  She should take the home pregnancy test now. It wouldn’t take long. What if she didn’t get the blood results until this evening? What if something went wrong at the labs? It was the weekend, and the call from the doctor could be delayed until Monday. She couldn’t wait until then.

  Wouldn’t.

  Elizabeth opened the box and pulled out the pregnancy test. It looked like a digital thermometer. For a split second she feared she’d grabbed the wrong box. So different from the last pregnancy test she’d had done. Of course, back in those days, doctors had always done them. There was no such thing as buying a pregnancy test over the counter and doing it yourself.

  She slid her reading glasses from where she’d hooked them onto the neckline of her blouse, as was her habit, and put them on. That was better—now she could see to read. She scanned the instructions, and then followed them to the letter. As she laid the wet test on the side of the basin, freeing her hands to pull up her jeans, her cell phone rang. She zipped the zipper then gave her hands a quick rinse under the tap. The towel barely had time to dry the water from her skin before she reached for the phone.

  Dr. Cummings’s rooms.

  Hands trembling, Elizabeth lifted the phone to her ear. “Hello.” Her legs mimicking her hands, she set the toilet seat down.

  “Mrs. Dunham?” the female voice on the other side of the phone asked.

  “Yes.” Sitting down, Elizabeth focused on the test lying on the basin. Nothing yet. No news is good news, so the saying goes. But what news did her doctor bring?

  “Please hold the line for Dr. Cummings.”

  She nodded as questions pummeled her mind and fears tore at her heart. From the day they were married, she and Brian had dreamed of having a child—lots of them actually. But could they raise one at their age? Not to mention the high likelihood of having to raise a child who could be disabled; one who would likely be an orphan before his or her thirtieth birthday, if not far, far younger. And what of all the cautions her doctor had mentioned yesterday? Perhaps it would be better if this was just another false alarm.

  She huffed out a laugh. As if there was even a biological clock ticking at her age.

  A positive result now could be a curse, not a blessing.

  “Elizabeth.” Her doctor’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. “I have the blood results back.”

  “I see. And…do you know what’s wrong with me?”

  “Well, you don’t have any kind of tropical disease.” He laughed. “And I still can’t believe what I’m seeing.”

  Neither could she.

  The indicator block on the pregnancy test proudly boasted a plus sign.

  “Congratulations, Mrs. Dunham. You’re pregnant.”

  Brian set the teapot down as Elizabeth leaned against the kitchen doorjamb, staring straight ahead as if she’d seen a ghost.

  He rushed over to her. “Love, what is it? Do you feel ill again?”

  Elizabeth turned her head and focused her gaze on Brian’s. “The doctor called.”

  “W–what did he say?” Oh please, Lord. Don’t let it be anything serious.

  “I…uh…I…” She gripped his hand and pressed something into it.

  He raised his hand and opened it. What on earth? “You want me to take your temperature?”

  She shook her head and pointed to the plus sign visible in the center of what he had thought was a thermometer. Her eyes glistened. “Read.”

  Brian didn’t have his glasses on, so he extended his arm, hoping to better make out the small writing on the device. Oh, explanations of the plus and minus signs. It took a moment for the information to register. “Pregnant? Y–you’re pregnant.” The timbre of his voice rose several pitches, and he raked a hand through his hair. “I— We—”

  “Breathe, Brian, before you have a heart attack, and I’m left to raise this child on my own.” Elizabeth’s soft laugh trumpeted her concern.

  Brian shook his head. How was this possible? After all these years, never a blip on the parenting radar. Until now…at this age?

  He sank to his knees in front of Elizabeth and wrapped his arms around her. Clutching that positive pregnancy test tight in his palm, he pressed his face against her stomach. His tears wet her shirt. “Hey
there, little one,” he whispered before looking up into her beaming face. “And the blood test? The same?”

  She nodded. Her lip quivered before her own tears began to fall.

  “Hey…” Brian pushed to his feet and pulled Elizabeth into his embrace. “Are those happy tears?”

  “Some.”

  “And the others? Fearful ones?”

  She offered a shrug before her soft, silvery hair brushed against his cheek as her head moved up and down.

  He tightened his grip. “I want nothing more than for us to have this baby, but if for one second your life was endangered— I–I couldn’t live without you, love. You come first. So if the doctors think for a moment that this is a bad idea—”

  Elizabeth placed her finger against his lips. “Shh.” Her blue eyes searched his. “This isn’t the first time in history God has chosen to give an aging couple a baby. Abraham and Sarah, Zechariah and Elizabeth…they all survived, and their sons went on to be important people in God’s plans. He’ll do the same for us and our child, too.”

  “Ah, so you think we’re having a boy?” Brian laughed before a cough buckled him over.

  Elizabeth stepped to the sink and filled a glass with water. Turning around, she handed it to him.

  When he’d emptied the glass, he set it down on the kitchen counter and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Thank you, love.” He swept a thumb over his eyes, first the left, then the right. “Now, where was I? Oh yes, a boy?”

  “Honey, it’s too early to tell. Besides, would we want to know? We’ve waited so long for this day—another few months of not knowing won’t hurt.”

  Brian smoothed his hand over Elizabeth’s abdomen. “Do you know how far along you are?”

  She shook her head. “Doctor Cummings will make an appointment with an OB/GYN as soon as possi—”

  “O-b-g-y-n?”

  “Obstetrician Gynecologist—a doctor who delivers babies and specializes in treating diseases of the female reproductive organs.”

  Brian smiled. “Of course. It’s been a while since we last visited one.”