Don't Look Back (5 page)

I looked at the other women, not expecting to see any familiar faces, so it was with surprise that I recognized Billi, the woman from my dog training class. She was standing by herself so I hurried over.

“Hi there, Billi.”

“Oh hey! Kate, right?”

“Yeah. What are you doing here?”

“Same thing as you, I imagine. Learning to protect myself.”

“Of course,” I said, feeling stupid for asking. But she hadn’t answered in an unfriendly way, so I knew it was just me feeling dumb and not her trying to make me feel that way.

“It’s funny to run into you here though,” she said.

I nodded. “So how’s Chloe doing?”

“Same as usual. Always looking for something to chew on.”

A moment later the instructor had us gather around him. He looked like was in his early thirties and he introduced himself as Steve. He had blond hair and light colored eyes. In some ways he reminded me of Trevor and for a moment I missed having him around. I realized I didn’t hate him; in fact I still loved him. At least I loved the man I thought I’d married. But I was afraid of him. Afraid of how he would react to random things, afraid of what he would do to me if he found me.

Pulling my thoughts away from Trevor, I focused on what Steve was saying. Before he taught us any self-defense moves, he talked about how to avoid situations where self-defense would be required. Stay alert to your surroundings, have a buddy walk with you to your car, especially after dark.

As he went over his list, I noticed he didn’t mention avoiding possessive, jealous husbands. Well, I guess it’s too late for that anyway, I thought.

Then he talked about how our bodies reacted to an accelerated heart rate. He explained that as our heart rate increased, our vision would narrow and our hearing would diminish. To counteract that, it was important to take a deep breath.

Finally he showed us some simple moves to break free from an assailant. He had us each try it out with him. I watched him go through the steps with each of the women. First he would come up behind a woman and wrap his arms around her, immobilizing her, then she would do a series of moves to break loose. Then he would approach the woman from the front and she would deflect his attempt to grab her, and then push him away.

Then it was my turn. I stood with my back to him, anticipating him grabbing me. Even though I was expecting it, when his arms went around me and I was immobilized, I froze. For the life of me I couldn’t remember the moves I was supposed to make.

“Peel my finger back,” he said into my ear.

Even though his words told me what to do, I wasn’t able to get my body to obey.

“Come on, Kate,” I heard Billi say, encouragement clear in her voice.

I looked at her and she nodded at me and I was finally able to respond. I peeled his pinky away from his fist, holding it with my whole hand, then pulled it backward until his hands released me.

Then he had me face him, my body in a defensive stance. As he approached me, I saw Trevor’s face superimposed over his and panic engulfed me. The instructor must have seen the fear in my eyes, because he stopped short and didn’t touch me. I stared at him, his face coming into focus as Trevor’s face faded. Steve must have been able to tell that I had gotten control over my fear because he asked if I was ready to try it again. I nodded and he backed up a couple of steps, then walked quickly toward me. I used my arms to deflect his attempt to grab me, then used one hand to push him in the chest and force him to take a step back.

“Very good,” he said.

Proud that I was able to successfully execute the moves I’d learned, I felt even happier that I had been able to push Trevor from my mind.

But what if it had actually been Trevor? All good feelings fled as I realized that a real encounter with Trevor might end up differently than my brief encounter with my instructor, which had been in a controlled environment.

I suddenly wanted to practice more. Fortunately, Steve told us to find a partner and take turns being the assailant and victim. Billi and I worked together perfecting our movements. Steve came around to each pair, correcting where needed and praising when deserved. Billi and I were doing pretty well. He only had to make a few suggestions to help us get it right.

At the end of class I was exhausted. I said good night to Billi and we went our separate ways.

The next morning I put the last coat of paint on the walls of the baby’s room. While cleaning up, I thought about the baby. He or she was still kind of an abstract idea. I couldn’t feel any movement yet and I hadn’t heard the heartbeat. I knew I needed to go to a doctor for a checkup to make sure everything was proceeding normally. I had been taking over the counter prenatal vitamins though and trying to eat healthy, so I didn’t think the doctor would tell me to do anything different.

Now that I was feeling settled in, it was time to find a doctor and make an appointment. I guessed I was about ten weeks along, so I knew I should go to a doctor soon.

As I stood at the kitchen sink patting the paint brush dry on a paper towel, I gazed out the window into the backyard. Mary had told me I could plant flowers or vegetables. I had done a little gardening with Dad and had enjoyed the result. I decided I’d buy some plants and beautify the yard.

I had let Greta out of her crate before I started washing out the paint brushes and now she was jumping on my leg, trying to get my attention. As I looked down at her, I wondered if she would destroy anything I planted. I decided I would figure that out later.

I took Greta out back to play for a while, then I put her in the crate before driving to a local plant nursery. Walking up and down the rows of flowers, I enjoyed the process of selecting colorful flowers that pleased me. I bought some hand tools to help me with the job, then took my purchases home.

I had lived in the house less than a week, but was quickly beginning to feel at home there. I still had several things I wanted to do to make it my own, but I felt good about all that I had accomplished so far.

Opening the side gate, I made several trips to bring all of my purchases into the backyard. Once done, I latched the gate and went into the house so I could let Greta into the backyard while I worked. She pranced around, anxious to have me toss the ball for her. I threw it a few times, then set it at my feet.

“I’m going to plant these flowers now, girl. You’re going to have to keep yourself entertained for a while.”

She picked the ball up and looked in my direction, a hopeful look in her eyes. I felt bad ignoring her - she had been my constant companion since I’d gotten her - but she needed to learn that sometimes I had other things to do.

I walked around the large yard, Greta trotting along next to me, trying to decide where I wanted to plant the various flowers. I had bought a mixture of annuals and perennials and wanted to spread them around the yard in a somewhat organized fashion.

Next, I placed the pots in the places where I wanted to plant them. Standing on the back porch, I looked at the effect. After making a few adjustments, I felt ready to begin.

So far, Greta hadn’t bothered any of the plants, but then I hadn’t started digging yet. Sure enough, as I dug a fresh hole in the rich soil, Greta poked her nose in and began sniffing furiously. I pushed her away and set the first flower in the hole, then filled the hole with dirt and patted it in place.

As I moved to the next plant, Greta continued to investigate the first one.

“Greta, come!” I commanded, but she ignored me, not at all trained yet.

I kept an eye on her as I planted a few more flowers. Though interested in the plants, she hadn’t  tried to dig any up yet. Unexpectedly, her attention zeroed in on the gate that led to the front yard, and then she began barking.

The blood drained from my face and my eyes were riveted to the gate. It was too high for me to see who was there and I expected Trevor to come barging through in seconds. But when I heard a female voice, relief cascaded over me.

“Yoo hoo. Is anyone home?” the voice called.

I had been kneeling and pushed myself to a standing position. I walked toward the gate, wondering who it was. It didn’t sound like Mary’s voice. Undoing the gate latch, I pulled the door open and saw a woman holding a plate of cookies. She appeared to be in her late forties. Her hair was brown and cut in a short style. Friendliness was clear on her face.

“Hello,” I said.

“You must be Kate.”

“Yes, I am,” I said, alarmed that this stranger knew who I was and where I lived.

“I’m Trish. I live next door.” She pointed off to the right where a house stood about a hundred yards away.

“Oh,” I said. “It’s nice to meet you. Would you like to sit down?”

“Sure.” She held the plate of cookies out to me. “These are for you. I hope you like chocolate chip.”

I took the plate. “Thank you. They’re my favorite.”

“Wonderful.”

I led her to the back porch. Greta had stopped barking but was trying to catalog the woman’s scent. I shoved Greta away and invited Trish to sit with me on the steps of the back porch. “I’m sorry. I don’t have any chairs back here yet.”

“That’s all right,” she said, sitting on the step near me.

Still concerned that she’d known my name I asked, “How did you know my name is Kate?”

She laughed and it was the kind of laugh that made you want to laugh along. “Mary told me all about you. I think she’s developed a soft spot for you. You probably remind her of her granddaughters. They live back East and she doesn’t get to see them very often.”

Her explanation made me feel much better, although I hoped Mary wasn’t telling all of her friends about me. Suddenly I was very glad I’d told her my name was Kate.

“She’s been very kind to me,” I said.

“Where did you move from?”

This was not a question I had planned for. In fact, I hadn’t even thought of the story I would tell if someone were to ask how I became widowed. “Las Vegas,” I blurted out, not knowing where that came from. It made sense though. My license plates said Nevada, I didn’t want to tell anyone I had moved from Reno, and Vegas was large enough that no one there would be expected to know me.

“So you’re used to the heat then.”

“Yes,” I lied. In fact, I’d never lived anyplace where it got as hot as it did in Vegas.

“Our summers won’t seem so bad then.”

“How hot does it get here in the summer?” I asked, now worried that I might be miserable.

“Most days are in the nineties, but a couple of weeks are over one hundred. But it’s more humid here than Vegas. That’s where you might notice the difference.”

I nodded, contemplating how it was going to feel to be pregnant in that heat. My attention was drawn to Greta, who had started digging around one of the newly planted flowers. I jumped up and ran to her. “Greta, no!” I grabbed her collar and pulled her away. Shaking my finger in her face I said, “No!”

She whined, knowing she had done something to displease me. I brought her back to the porch steps, holding on to her collar with one hand and petting her with the other.

Trish laughed. “She’s a bit of a handful, huh?”

I laughed too. “Yeah, but she’s a good dog. She’s going to obedience school, so I have high hopes.”

“Did you know you can put chili pepper powder around your plants to repel the dog?”

“Oh. I didn’t know that. I’ll have to give that a try.”

“Well, Kate, I’ll let you get back to your planting,” Trish said, standing.

I had to hold tight to Greta’s collar. When Trish stood, Greta jerked forward, trying to get loose. “Thank you for the cookies.”

I finally let Greta go and she excitedly sniffed Trish. I pushed Greta away and walked with Trish to the gate.

Trish stopped and turned toward me. “If you need anything, you just come on over.” She smiled warmly. “I mean it.”

I smiled back, touched by her sincerity. “I will.” I latched the gate behind her, then went back to planting flowers. I worked until I had planted each one. Standing back to admire my work, I smiled, loving the beauty the flowers added to the yard.

Chapter Eight

The next week I drove to my first appointment with the obstetrician. I had found the doctor’s name when I did a search for local female OB’s. When I checked in, they asked me to pay for the appointment up front since I didn’t have insurance. But they also gave me a discount since they wouldn’t have to deal with an insurance company. I paid in cash so they wouldn’t have to see my real name.

The nurse weighed me - I had gained five pounds - then took my blood pressure, which was normal, and placed me in a room. I sat on a chair in the corner. Doctor Eggleston came in a short time later. When she asked me questions about my health, I had no trouble answering. But when she began asking about the baby’s father, I became nervous. Even though as my doctor she was supposed to keep our conversation confidential, I felt certain that she would have to write it down somewhere. I had just met her and didn’t want to divulge all my secrets just yet. I had removed my wedding ring, not wanting to show there may be a man in my life.

“The baby’s father is out of the picture,” I said, saying the words I had mentally rehearsed.

“I see,” she said. “Who do you have as your support?”

I must have looked confused because she said, “For example, who will be with you in the delivery room?”

I felt tears sting my eyes and I hated myself for getting emotional so easily. I bit the inside of my lip to distract myself, then blinked a few times to clear my eyes. Dr. Eggleston watched me and I felt extremely self-conscious. I thought about the people in my life and found the list tragically short. Finally I said, “I uh, I haven’t decided yet.”

Dr. Eggleston smiled at me, apparently used to pregnant women who became emotional. “Well, you have a while to decide.”

I smiled back, relieved the hard questions were over.

Dr. Eggleston stood and patted the exam table. “Let’s get a look at your baby, shall we?”

I grinned, thrilled to get to the part of the appointment I had been looking forward to. I climbed onto the table and lay back. Dr. Eggleston pulled up by blouse, exposing my still flat stomach. She squirted gel onto my belly, then pressed a device against my abdomen. Immediately the room filled with the sound of a strong, rapid heartbeat.