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The baby moved, spread its legs, completely answering any question of gender.
“Couples disagree about this all the time. No problem.” The ultrasound tech clicked a mouse a few times, recording measurements. “If you want to know, I’ll walk down to the ER later and tell you, Dr Stanley.”
“I already know,” James confessed, watching the baby seem to look directly at him. Impossible.
Oblivious to the turmoil rolling through James, the tech grinned as he repositioned the device on Melissa’s belly. “I kinda figured you hadn’t missed the perfect view we got. This little one isn’t bashful. The hard part is keeping it a secret when Mom doesn’t want to know.”
Fighting being overwhelmed with emotion, James told himself to grow up. “Mom knows.”
“I don’t.” Melissa shook her head. “Promise you won’t tell me.”
No way could she have missed that view. Not if she’d been looking at the screen. Which meant she hadn’t been. She’d still been watching him. Was that why she stared at him like he’d grown a second head? Because she’d seen his bewilderment? Could she tell how scared he was of a being that was mere inches long?
He didn’t say anything, just went back to watching the screen. Because looking at Melissa, letting her green eyes probe his, made him feel like she could see everything, made him feel impotent and weak. Hell, babies made men impotent and weak, made everyone weak because their lives depended on you and if you screwed up, they died.
Cailee should be whacking him with memories, with regrets, but he couldn’t pull the image forward, wondered why he even attempted to. Instead, he became mesmerized by his baby, who was sucking its thumb.
“So precious,” Melissa whispered, her hand reaching out, clasping James’s.
He couldn’t even acknowledge that she’d touched him. Only that he’d helped create a miracle.
“Yes.” The word came out as a growl. He hadn’t meant it to, but his entire insides had puffed up, including his voice box. That was his baby. His. His and Melissa’s.
The radiologist handed Melissa a paper towel to clean the gel off her belly and her hand fell away from his, unacknowledged. Her mouth formed a tight line and he could tell that his lack of response upset her. Couldn’t she tell how overwhelmed he felt? How he was bursting with joy and pride and scared to death all at the same time?
On the night after her ultrasound Melissa got a call from James. And each night following. They didn’t talk long or discuss any issues. He asked how she felt, if she was eating, if she’d felt the baby move. Fine, yes, yes, came her nightly replies. She wanted to say more, but the right words never came out. Maybe the right words didn’t exist.
James wanted to know what was happening with her pregnancy. He wanted her to be healthy. He may not have wanted a baby, may not even realize the truth, but he’d fallen in love with the precious soul within her. A love that he failed to shield behind the fortress around his heart, perhaps because he hadn’t expected the emotion to hit him. A deep love that she’d never seen in his gaze before.
She rejoiced and ached all at once. She wanted him to love their baby, but hadn’t been prepared for her jealousy. What was wrong with her? She’d never been a jealous kind of person, but these days she practically breathed green fire.
She’d been so lost in watching him, wondering what had caused the color to drain from his face and his hands to tremble, that she’d missed the perfect view. Which was just as well because she really didn’t want to know the baby’s gender. Although if it had been that easy to tell, she suspected their baby must be a boy.
A son. A little boy who looked like his daddy. How would her heart ever take that? He’d surely wrap her around his little finger and she’d never be able to deny him a thing.
Two weeks passed without her seeing James. Just the nightly phone calls.
The pressure of taking off work for her appointment with Dr McGowan and for the ultra-sound put her behind schedule. She still didn’t feel she’d caught up, and although her nausea had passed and she was beginning to eat well again, fatigue set in, making her schedule that much more difficult. Plus, she hadn’t slept well since James moved out. All in all, stress was taking its toll on her body.
Perhaps tonight she’d get home in time for a long, warm bath. Maybe that would relax her enough for sleep.
But before she thought about baths and sleep, she needed to finish seeing her patients for the day. The morning clinic had been full of kids from the local elementary school ill with a stomach virus and this afternoon wasn’t proving any slower.
She glanced at the chart in her hand. Amanda Moss. Way later than the recommended seven to ten days, but no doubt at the office to have her stitches removed.
Guilt hit Melissa. Why hadn’t she thought to drive out to Jamie’s trailer and remove the stitches?
“Hi, Amanda. How’s that knee?” she asked, entering the room. Immediately, her eyes were drawn to the pale woman sitting in the chair next to the exam table.
Jamie looked terrible. Much worse than the harrowed reflection that stared back at Melissa each time she gazed in a mirror—and that was saying something.
Jamie’s eyes were puffy and already her eyebrows had become scanty from her chemotherapy. The cheap wig covering her head wouldn’t have fooled a blind man. Her face was swollen. But it was the lost expression in Jamie’s eyes that broke Melissa’s heart.
“It hurts.” Amanda pouted, putting both hands over her knee and giving Melissa a suspicious glare.
Jamie’s sad eyes went to her youngest daughter. “She doesn’t want them taken out. I know I should have gotten her here sooner, but I…” Her voice trailed off. “I just didn’t have the energy to do more than go for my chemotherapy and run the girls back and forth to school.”
“I know you’re doing the best you can,” Melissa assured her, eyeing the tightly embedded sutures.
