Authors: Liz Crowe
"Wow." She put her hand on the hard bump under her shirt. It seemed to have shifted a little, changed shape. She stared at Craig.
"Seriously Sara, you are freaking me the fuck out here. What is it?" He pulled a chair up to hers. "Do you need to throw up? What? Talk to me." The look of fear on his face made her giggle. Then as the laughter took hold she snorted, guffawed, did the proverbial laugh out loud, so loud a few of their colleagues glanced over the short divider at them. Finally, she calmed, hiccupped, and took his hand, pressing it to her stomach. The butterfly fluttered again. Craig's eyes widened. "Wow." He stared at his hand, then at her. "I want to kiss you so much right now." His voice stayed soft and low.
She nodded. And he did. The relief that flooded through for a brief moment quickly got hijacked by remorse. She broke their contact, put a hand to his face. "I'm glad you got to share that with me." Then she stood and made her way out into the main office. If she stayed, she wasn't sure what she'd do. And that was not in her plan.
Not anymore.
Chapter Two
Two months later
"I'm a little worried about your blood pressure." The doctor frowned at her handheld computer screen. Sara sat on the hard, too-small examination table. Her legs felt heavy, had for the last several days. Her mouth was constantly dry and at times, after the slightest exertion, her heartbeat would pound in her ears, making her dizzy.
"I'm fine."
"No, actually, you aren't. I'm going to have to report this to your dad. You came in here spotting, remember?"
"Oh please, Lisa, don't." She stared at the woman who'd been such a great help to her so far. The woman had come with her father's professional blessing, but was not his first choice. One of the reasons Sara had chosen her. She sat up, too fast it seemed.
"Whoa." She blinked, as the room got bright, then dimmed. "Damn." Lisa eased her back onto the table.
"That's it. I'm admitting you. I'm not worried about the baby, really. Getting a strong heartbeat there. But you are spilling proteins in your urine and..."
Sara closed her eyes and tried to ignore how fast and loud her own heartbeat sounded. Nausea hovered on her horizon. "Ugh." Lisa patted her leg.
"I'm calling him now, under threat of death. I will not cross Dr. Matt Thornton, Sara, sorry. And I do not like the look of your BP, the edema in your legs, none of it. Who can you call to bring your stuff to the hospital?"
"You mean I can't go home first?" Panic hovered, but that made her face sweaty, which didn't help the whole pounding heartbeat thing. She took a breath.
"No. Ambulance is on its way."
"Ambulance! Isn't that a little much?" Sara tried to sit, but the room spun. "Okay, never mind."
"Who am I calling for you Sara? Blake?"
Sara tried to focus on the ceiling to keep from puking. Fear and a bit of anger gripped her chest. She refused to be some kind of invalid pregnant lady. She gritted her teeth. "No. Call Jack."
"Okay then." Lisa patted her leg and turned to the phone. A weird blanket of exhaustion seemed to want to smother her. "Don't go to sleep!" Her doctor demanded, pinching her toe.
"Ow, dammit! I thought pregnant ladies got to sleep a lot."
"Not until I get you over to the U of M. I want monitors on you first. So stay with me, okay?" Sara nodded, but keeping her eyes opened proved to be harder than she imagined.
By the time she awoke she was hooked up to an IV, and Jack stood at her bedside, giving the attending doc the third degree. His voice soothed her like no other, and she smiled, and drifted off. Content that he had it all in hand.
Her dreams were a random, crazy mess of images. She forced herself awake finally and came eyeball-to-eyeball with her father, Dr. Matthew Thornton; retired, former head of obstetrics and gynecology at the University of Michigan Hospital. He glared at her, but her mother elbowed him in the ribs so he finally smiled, and put down the tablet computer he'd been staring at. "God, Mom how long was I out?" She stretched, and was more relieved than she cared to admit at the energetic fluttering under her hospital gown. Thank God she hadn't screwed up and lost the baby. She sighed at herself.
What a mess.
"So, young lady, looks like you get take a little vacation."
"Dad, being pregnant is not a vacation. I sincerely hope you never used that lame line with your patients." Her mother fussed around with her blankets, her lips twisting as she tried not to laugh.
"Well, um, anyway," he harrumphed some more, glared at what Sara assumed was her record on the small tablet computer screen. "You have to stay off your feet for another week. Completely off your feet. Do you comprehend what that means?"
"I think so yeah. You did pay for four years at U of M. I'm not an imbecile."
"Sara," her mother muttered, and patted her shoulders. Sara shrugged her off, suddenly so angry she could spit nails.
"When can I get out of here," She slumped back on the pillows, feeling like a pissy adolescent, which made her even madder. "I'm hungry." A nurse bustled in, followed by a trailing cloud of young doctors. They spent about twenty minutes being awestruck by her father's August presence, made suggestions about her condition and treatment and left. "Can I not be a guinea pig please?"
"This is a teaching hospital Sara. Deal with it." They glared at each other a minute before his phone buzzed. He turned away to answer it.
"I'll get some food for you. What are you hungry for?" Her mother hovered around.
"The hottest Mexican food on the planet." She bit back the urge to tell her mother to call Jack, have him bring it over. "Where did Jack go? He was here wasn't he?"
"Yes, he was. He was obviously uncomfortable though so I sent him home."
"Uncomfortable?" Sara let a small finger of irritation tickle the back of her brain. Who was really more uncomfortable?
"He was as pale as a ghost. Told me he had a 'thing' about hospitals. Nothing logical; like most phobias. But he did a lovely job handling things until Blake got here. We drove down from Traverse City as soon as we heard." She patted Sara's foot under the thin blanket. "Craig was here too, for a bit. Then he had to go."
"Hey!" Blake poked his head around the door. Sara's face brightened at the sight of him. "Look what I found on the way in." He held up a greasy bag. Sara's mouth watered.
"You read my mind brother."
"One of my many parlor tricks. Here, eat this crap before I toss it in the incinerator. My car smells like a taco truck. Disgusting."
Chapter Three
Three Months Later
"What do you mean you can't make it?" Sara struggled to heave herself out of the car and onto the hot asphalt. She glanced at her watch. Late for Lamaze again. She sighed, anticipating the long-suffering sighs of the hippy woman who led the class.
Her brother croaked into her ear. "I'm sick as a dog Sara. I gotta sleep. Doctor's put me in antibiotics for Strep. I can't do the Lamaze thing today. Sorry."
She repressed the need to yell at him.
Don't be selfish Sara. The whole world does not revolve around your sorry pregnant ass.
"Okay. Take care of yourself. Rob there?"
"He will be in about an hour."
She sighed, made more "take care of yourself" noises and hung up, leaning on the warm metal of her car, trying to catch her breath. Who would have thought she'd be one of those fragile pregnant ladies? She hated it. Every breathless, worrying, feet-up moment of it. Her phone buzzed.
Jack.
She smiled and answered it. "Where are you right now?"
"Headed home from a closing. Why? What do you need?"
Sara settled down on the floor, no mean feat, and smothered a grin when Jack appeared. He stuck out like a be-suited sore thumb, but she loved the sight of him. He was yammering into his phone as he walked, his deep laughter bouncing through the room drawing yet more attention to him. The class leader strode over and held out her hand. He stared at it. "I'll have to call you back." He said then ended his call. The woman kept her hand outstretched, a serene smile on her face. "Um, hello." He shook her hand. The class tittered.
"This is a device-free zone if you please. The radiation is a known carcinogen. Do you want your child subjected to that in the womb?" He frowned, looked at his phone.
"I'll keep it in my pocket." He saw Sara and started towards her.
The woman side stepped with him, crossed her arms and tapped her Birkenstocks on the soft, yoga-matted floor. "No, actually, you won't. Give it to me. I keep them in another room entirely."
"But…" he stuttered. Sara gave him a look. He handed it over. By the time he made it to her side, his face had reddened significantly. "Hippies." He muttered. Glancing around, he smiled at a few people "I sold that guy his first house. But he wasn't with her then." He raised a hand to another couple. "That couple is breeding? God help the human race."
Sara elbowed him in the ribs. He sighed, shrugged out of his grey suit coat and expensive shoes and sat next to her. The next hour they giggled their way through the day's discussion. "Opening your vagina with your mind" was the topic.
"Hey, did you know that I can open vaginas with my..."
"Shut up!" Sara elbowed him and tried not to let the giggles overwhelm her. He leaned into her ear again as the class leader seemed to go into some weird, trance-like state, extolling the virtues of olive oil on one's "pudendum" during the "stretching" process.
"Yum." He bit her earlobe, making her shiver.
"Yeah, I'll feel like Jabba the Hut and smell like a plate of pasta."
He chuckled and stayed near her neck about a half-second too long. She turned and looked at him, flinching a little when he raised a hand, and tucked a strand of hair behind her eyes. "You are gorgeous, Jabba. Truly. I've missed you."
The teacher's voice broke the moment. "Now papas, please let the mamas settle in between your legs."
"What the…?" Jack looked away from her. Sara slapped his socked foot.
"Spread 'em." He grinned and she sat between his legs.
"Now, papas, touch your child." Sara winced. So many times she wished she could take back her words. Have the paternity test and let Jack claim the child in her belly. Because something in her knew it was his. Jack stayed leaning back on his hands. "Like this," the Lamaze lady walked over and grabbed his hands, put them on Sara's round stomach, moved them in circles. "Love mama's skin. Let your baby know you're there."
Jack's strokes were perfunctory at first. Sara sensed his uneasiness like a physical presence between them. Then she felt it – a bump, some pressure, then a distinct heel or elbow as the baby rolled and mounded on one side of her. "Holy shit," he breathed. Sara blushed.
"Shhh…" the couple next to them admonished.
"Sorry." He leaned up, pressed his strong, warm torso against her back.
"Now, mama, lean back on his shoulder, let yourself relax. Breathe deep and clean. Let it out slow." The woman wandered off. Sara closed her eyes and tried not to cry. The crystal-clear rightness of this moment, sitting cradled between Jack's legs, his strong hands caressing her stomach as the baby seemed to sense a new presence and played hell with Sara's internal organs. She sighed, breathed deep.
"Relax," He whispered. "You're as tense as a damn guitar string. Breathe."
His deep voice conjured up memories and forced her into an odd, almost dreamlike state. She let go of the near constant tension she held daily. "That's it, baby. Like that." His voice dropped an octave and Sara got another sensation shooting through her. Pure, unbridled horny. She shifted a little, kept her eyes closed, but her breathing got faster. His hands kept moving. The baby fluttered around and then settled.
He rubbed, caressed all around the tight drum of her stomach. One hand made its way low, under the overhang of her belly. He growled in her ear. "I have such a hard on right now. Do not get up too fast." She grinned at his low-voiced admission.
"Mmm hmmm," she pressed back against him, as a sharp shaft of need pierced her brain. "You're gonna have to take me home after this, you know?" She kept her voice soft.
"Yeah. Well. Not happening. Friends, remember?" She groaned a little.
Your bed, Sara. Lie in it
. "But seriously don't move. I love the feel of you against me."
She sighed and let him soothe her a few more minutes. Until the Lamaze lady made them stand and Sara got to giggle at Jack's attempt to adjust himself. The sight of him, of what she knew damn well lay beneath that straining dress pants zipper, made her breathless. She turned away, angry at herself for making him do this.
"Now let's do our best middle school slow dance shall we?"
Jack rolled his eyes but tugged her close. She put her arms around his neck, going up on her tiptoes to reach him and whispered. "Thanks for coming with me."
"Sure. When is the next one?" She grinned, and gave him a light kiss, reveling for a half second in his familiar taste on her lips.
No. Stop. Don't do it. Let him help you, be a friend, but that is it.
"Next week." He pressed a hand into the small of her back, somehow providing just enough pressure to relieve the twinge of pain she'd developed sitting for so long.
"I'll be here."
Chapter Four
Craig stretched his legs and leaned back in the stiff office chair. He still had hours of work to do but the bright sunshine streaming in the front office window distracted him. He glanced at his phone and suppressed a frown of frustration. Suzanne had managed to avoid agreeing to a date for weeks now, resisting him, making excuses, leaving town. Finally, he'd cornered her during one of their slightly breathless late night conversations and she'd admitted that she would be around and not busy Friday. Tonight.
Sara buzzed him with a text. The sight of her name did its usual number on his emotions. Guilt, for having manhandled her so badly last fall. Anger at her stubbornness over the paternity test issue. And the sick puppy-like thrill he always got thinking of her. Giving himself a mental shake, he picked up the phone and read.