Her Baby, His Proposal. Teresa Carpenter
Now was a no-future, no-benefits job, a deadbeat, former boyfriend and a cramped apartment with an unreliable roommate.
“I heard you tell Stan there was no one to call. Does that mean the father isn’t in the picture?”
“Not anymore,” she confirmed, no longer worried about her dignity. “He left me a goodbye letter this morning.”
“Maybe if he knew—”
She raised a hand to stop him. “He taped the note to the home pregnancy test I bought last night. He found the test in my purse when he took my tip money.”
“Scum.”
She pursed her lips. “You’re flattering him.”
“So why were you with the guy?”
“Once upon a time, long, long ago, I loved him.” She laughed wearily. “What’s funny is I made the break. Moved all the way to San Diego to get rid of him.”
He sent her a pointed look. “You must have gotten together at some point.”
She closed her eyes and leaned her throbbing head against the soothing coolness of the glass window. Her left hand braced her on the seat. “He showed up a few months ago. Swore he’d changed. I held him off, but he really seemed different. He talked me into going to a party on Halloween. We were having a good time, drinking. It seemed like a good time to try again.”
The silence struck her, and she opened her eyes to focus on his strong profile silhouetted by the lights from the dash. What was she thinking?
“I’m sorry,” she told him, “TMI.”
His gaze left the road to sweep over her. “TMI?”
“Too much information.” She looked out her window, at the lights flashing by. “It was all a big mistake. And now I’m all alone.” She trailed off to a whisper, more thought than spoken.
Who could blame her for ignoring all symptoms and the possibility of pregnancy for as long as possible? She’d become so good at pretending, she hadn’t considered what her run-down condition meant to the baby. A new kind of fear cut like ice. She began to shudder as she prayed her ignorance and neglect hadn’t harmed her baby.
His large, warm hand settled over hers on the seat. “You’re not alone tonight.”
He kept his promise. Brock never left Jesse alone. Not in the waiting room, not in the emergency room, not for a moment. Not until he was asked to step outside the cubicle while the doctor conducted his exam did Brock leave her side. Even then he only left after she indicated she’d be okay without him.
Dr. Wilcox, an older gentleman with white hair and a Vandyke beard, gently poked and probed, asked a few more questions, extremely personal questions she was happy Brock wasn’t around to hear.
Of course, once a girl revealed she’d been left high and dry at her most vulnerable moment, she had few secrets left worth keeping. Answering when she last had a period, when she last engaged in intercourse were small potatoes after that.
Staring at the overhead light while the doctor completed his exam, Jesse bit off a humorless laugh. She’d already volunteered that last information to Brock.
Yeah, she was definitely on her stride today.
“You can sit up now,” Dr. Wilcox told her. After explaining she was dehydrated, he had a nurse hook her up to an IV. He then called Brock back to join them.
“Ms. Manning, I can confirm you are pregnant.”
The doctor continued to speak, but she didn’t hear another word as her mind, her heart, her soul dealt with the reality of a child growing within her.
In a single instant love filled her to overflowing, full tears flooded her eyes and her hands, cradled over her child, began to shake. She forgot every moment of denial, regretted every harsh thought as joy and wonder replaced doubt and fear.
A sense of belonging, deeper than any she’d ever known, forged an unbreakable bond between her and her baby. Silently she vowed never to let her child down.
“Ms. Manning, are you listening?” Dr. Wilcox demanded.
Jesse blinked and focused on him. “Excuse me?”
Brock reached for her hand and squeezed. “You should start over, Doctor.”
“You’re going to have to take better care of yourself.” His chastising look included Brock before the doctor turned his attention back to Jesse.
“As well as being dehydrated, you have a kidney infection, and your blood is low in iron. From what you tell me, you’re just over two months along. Still in the first trimester, which is the most dangerous time for the fetus.”
He leveled a stern gaze on Jesse that made her feel no bigger than a gnat and smaller still when he again moved the same stare to Brock who was innocent of any wrongdoing.
“You don’t understand, Doctor—”
He held up a finger, stopping her explanation. “It’s not up to me to understand, young lady. If you want to keep this baby, you need to make some changes. My recommendation is at least twenty-four hours’ bed rest, followed by a month of light activity.”
“A month…” Jesse whispered, appalled at the thought of the time off work.
“Get lots of rest, eat regular meals. I’m prescribing prenatal vitamins and iron. Drink lots of water. Cranberry juice is also good for kidney infection.” He scribbled on a pad as he spoke, then handed her the paper. “I want you to finish the IV, and I suggest you see an obstetrician soon.”
He stood, tucked the pad and pen in his coat pocket. “Good luck, Ms. Manning.” He shook her hand, nodded at Brock and left the cubicle.
Jesse pleated the paper, running her fingers over the crease again and again until Brock reached over and took it from her and placed it in her purse.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She glanced up at him, aware she owed him an apology for the assumptions the doctor had made and the condemnation he’d shown Brock. He didn’t deserve to be cast as the bad guy when he’d done nothing but help her.
She reached for his hand. Without hesitation he wrapped his larger hand around hers and lowered himself into the chair the doctor had vacated. Her fingers felt very small in Brock’s grip, and it struck her again how strong and capable he was. She’d always be grateful to him for staying with her through this unreal night.
Forcing a smile for his benefit, she said, “Thank you so much for your help. Ever since I fainted everything has seemed surreal.” She met his direct gaze, fearing contempt but finding only sympathy. “Just having you here, seeing a familiar face helped to keep me grounded.”
“If having me here helped, I’m glad,” he said simply.
“You’ll never know how much.” Torturing her lip while uncertainty tortured her insides, she looked away. “I’m sorry the doctor blamed—”
“Stop right there.” He squeezed her fingers. “You are not responsible for what the doctor thinks.”
“But—”
“Jesse you can’t take on every misinformed person out there. Life is too short for that kind of burden. Let it go.”
“I’m still sorry. And I want you to know you don’t have to stay here with me any longer.”
He made no move to leave. “I’ll stay to see you home.”
Yes, please. She really didn’t want to be in this cold, sterile place alone. Where the people were impersonal and judgmental. But the saline solution in the IV dripped slower than molasses, and she couldn’t ask him to waste any more of his night on her. Especially when she saw the clock read 1:00 a.m.
“You’ve