Her Baby, His Proposal. Teresa Carpenter
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The matter-of-fact look he turned on her spoke volumes, questioning her worry of money over her health. “I’ll cover the fees. You can pay me back.”
He made it sound so easy, so reasonable. Which somehow made her feel worse. “I can’t let you pay for me.”
“Why not?”
Wonderful. Now he wanted her to explain her irrational feelings. Not easy to do when she didn’t understand them herself.
All she knew, all that made it through the throbbing in her head, the rolling in her stomach, the pain that seemed to be everywhere, was it should be Tad with her.
And that truly was irrational. She’d received more compassion from this stranger in the past hour than she ever had from Tad.
Old habits died hard.
She’d only been in San Diego for a year, so she was by no means an authority on Navy etiquette, but she had learned one thing. A seaman’s reputation mattered. The Navy supported family values and frowned heavily on sailors having their fun but not living up to their responsibilities.
Brock deserved to know what he was letting himself in for. Only fair she give him that consideration.
“I can’t let you pay, because I think the doctor is going to tell me I’m pregnant.”
The words hung heavy in the air between Brock and Jesse.
Even in profile she saw his brows rise, then settle into place. Otherwise he showed no reaction to her announcement except to say, “Then you can’t afford not to see the doctor, can you?”
“I guess not.” Jesse cringed down in her seat, hugging her middle. Fear and denial had been her constant companions since the first niggling suspicion of pregnancy had occurred to her.
Sure she wanted kids. Someday in the future. When she had a career, a husband, a home.
Now was not good.
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.