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27 weeks
The vibrationof a call coming through on Ben Rosner’s cell phone caused the device to bounce like a Mexican jumping bean atop the hood of the ’64 Ford Fairlane he was working on. Muttering a swear word, he ignored the call and squinted, trying to focus on the trim he was painting by hand. It was the third call in ten minutes, and the distractions were making it hard to concentrate on the precision pinstriping.
“August, turn that damn thing off, will you?”
When his assistant failed to respond, Ben stood upright and slapped the paintbrush onto the tarp protecting the cherry-red finish.
“August, where the hell are you?” Grabbing his cell, he marched into the office of his auto restoration shop, annoyance rising as he noted the absence of both his employees. Since August and Vickie, his receptionist/bookkeeper, started dating, they’d taken to sneaking off together for a quick smoke and grope. He was usually more tolerant, remembering those early days with Jules when they couldn’t get enough of each other, but these days, his stress levels were off the charts.
Bzzz.
The phone vibrated in his fist, prompting Ben to punch the TALK button and bark a terse greeting.
“Mr. Rosner?” The voice was female, young, hesitant.
“Yeah. Who’s calling?”
“This is Sophia from Dr. Kettner’s office.”
His irritation immediately shifted to concern. “Are you calling about Jules? Is my wife okay?”
“Um.” After a quick pause, the words rushed out. “She didn’t show up for her one o’clock appointment with the nurse practitioner. We wondered if she was…running behind schedule.”
Glancing up at the wall clock he’d made from an old hubcap, Ben realized it was past two. “You’re just now calling?” he snapped, cold dread coursing through him.
“We have four or five patients a week who miss appointments or arrive late,” Sophia said meekly. “Pregnancy brain is a real thing. Usually we work them in or reschedule, but I haven’t been able to reach Mrs. Rosner.”
“If she shows up, call me. Maybe her phone died or…or something.” He sucked in a steadying breath. “Thanks for calling. I’m sorry I was rude.”
“Perfectly understandable.” Sophia’s voice warmed noticeably. “She’s probably out shopping for baby clothes and just lost track of time.”
Grunting to mask his disagreement, Ben terminated the call and dug into his pocket for his keys, bellowing, “Goddammit, August. Get your ass in here.”
The utility room door flew open, the handle hitting the wall with a hollowwhump. August’s muscled bulk filled the doorframe, his face slowly coloring with a brick-red flush.
“Sorry, boss.” He straightened his t-shift as Vickie scooted from behind him, scurrying to the front counter.
“We were finishing up lunch—” she started.
“No more quickies on the clock.” He glowered at Vickie, the more responsible of the two. She’d been with him since he opened the shop ten years ago, and Jules jokingly called Vickie his garage wife. It wasn’t too far from the truth, which made Vickie’s sudden preoccupation with August frustrating. Managing the pregnancy had caused Ben to become distracted, increasing his dependence on both employees. Still, they didn’t deserve to become targets for his anxiety.
“Sorry.” He grasped the edge of the counter and leaned in on both arms. “Jules didn’t show up for her appointment, and the doctor’s office just called looking for her.”
“That’s the third time,” Vickie gasped, her hand flying to cover her mouth. “Forget I said that.”
“What the—” Ben almost crawled over the counter, invading Vickie’s personal space so that she took a step back.
“She forgot and was late. Twice,” Vickie explained apologetically. “She asked me not to say anything. She didn’t want you to worry.”
“Not worry?” he yelled. “It’s my fucking job to worry. And now—”
“Don’t blame Vic.” August’s tone, while even, carried enough warning to defuse some of Ben’s anger. “We’re just as concerned about Jules and the baby as you are.”
Ben let the allegation pass unchallenged, although there was no way in hell either of them would or could appreciate what it was like to worry about your wife and unborn child after three miscarriages. The expectation and excitement crashing into shock and guilt, time and time again. Themonthsthat opened with hopeful anticipation and closed with feelings of inadequacy when the pregnancy test showed one line yet again.
Their struggle with infertility had taken a toll on their marriage, Jules unable to focus on anything but her cycle and another opportunity to become pregnant while Ben tried not to resent that making love had become a chore and that his wife seemed unable to appreciate him for more than his sperm.
