“We’re … a lot of things. Surprised, for one. After all those months of trying, and then after we’d pretty much concluded we were giving up, bam.”
The doctor nodded. “You’d be surprised how it happens that way for many people. Couples who find out they’re pregnant halfway through adoption proceedings, or couples who have just adopted a baby and then find out another one is coming. The mind and body connection is a funny thing. It’s as if for some couples, once they accept that it’s not going to happen—as you said—bam, it does.”
“The universe has a sick sense of humor. Not that I’m complaining,” Rachel added hastily, not wanting to test fate. David came to stand beside her.
Dr. McDermott was a tall, aristocratic-looking woman who delivered dozens of babies each year. Though her sleek bob had gone almost entirely gray, her blue eyes twinkled and her attractive face was mostly unlined. She looked wise and capable.
Rachel knew with sudden certainty she didn’t want anyone but Lydia delivering this baby. I’m staying in Mistletoe. Which meant she had to decide on some long-term plans, the sooner, the better. She couldn’t stay at Winnie’s until the baby came this summer.
The doctor wore reading glasses on a slim chain around her neck and lifted them to better study the nurse’s notes. “How are you feeling? Any major side effects you want to discuss or ask about?”
“Well, the morning sickness has kicked in. That was fun,” Rachel said wryly. “And I was cramping a few days ago. Before the home pregnancy test. At the time, I figured it was just my stalled period about to start.”
“We’ll check everything out, of course, but lots of women experience abdominal discomfort from ligaments stretching. Things are moving around and changing, so there will be some minor pains. Don’t let them panic you. Any headaches, dizziness or breast tenderness?”
“Yes, on all three counts.” Thinking about how sensitive her breasts had become—it practically hurt to roll over in her sleep—Rachel felt herself blush. They’d always been sensitive, which, in happier times, David had used to orgasmic effect.
“All right.” Dr. McDermott walked to the counter and set down the manila folder. “Why don’t you lie back, and we’ll take a look.”
Rachel’s heart fluttered rapidly. As she reclined, she reached out without thinking. David reacted immediately, clasping her hand and giving it a brief reassuring squeeze. She couldn’t look at him—it would make the moment too unbearably intimate—but she was grateful for the contact.
If she stopped to think about what was going on, the ultrasound would have been a bit embarrassing, but she was far too mesmerized by the colors and blobs on the small screen Dr. McDermott turned toward her.
“There. See that? There’s your little one, right where he should be.” A tiny shape, curved but indistinct, a dark winking at the center.
Tears blurred Rachel’s vision. That was her baby, that was the heartbeat.
David sounded choked up as well when he asked, “It was just a figure of speech, right? The ‘he’? I mean you can’t tell …”
Dr. McDermott chuckled. “No, it’ll be a long time before I can advise you whether to buy pink paint or blue, but the months will go fast. You’re already well on your way to the second trimester! As anxious as the two of you have been, I’m surprised you didn’t take the home test sooner.”
How to explain that she’d been so preoccupied with her marriage falling apart that the first missed period had gone unnoticed? “Well, I was afraid to get my hopes up too soon.”
Lydia nodded, pressing some buttons on her machine. “Give it a few minutes, and you’ll have your first baby picture for the scrapbook. Everything looks great.”
Once the exam was over, they talked some more about what to expect and when Rachel should come back in for the next visit.
“That’s everything for now,” the doctor concluded. “I’ll step out and let you get dressed, give you a chance to think of any more questions. And a moment to celebrate your good news privately.” She smiled at both of them, then left.
Neither of them moved. David looked as poleaxed as Rachel felt.
He glanced at the grainy photo Dr. McDermott had handed him. “We did that.”
She grinned over his shoulder. “Yeah.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.” The enormity of the situation settled over her; she and David had created life. There was a new little person growing inside her. Even though she’d known it on an abstract level, seeing the visual proof was profound.
“You all right?” he asked.
“I’ll be better once we hit the second trimester mark,” she admitted.
“‘We’? Meaning you and the baby?”
“All of us.” She stopped, started again. “I’m still going to see my family in a few weeks, but just temporarily. Whatever else happens, I won’t leave Mistletoe until the baby’s born.”
He closed his eyes for a moment. “And after?”
“I … I’m still working on that.”
Not an answer he liked, but all she could give him was the truth. Whatever he might be thinking, he didn’t argue. Instead, he selected another wall to face—this time with a view of a smaller brochure printed on bright pink paper. Rachel slid her feet down over the side of the exam table. In the quiet of the room, the sounds of paper rasping against her skin and the slide of fabric seemed exaggerated. Within minutes, she was completely dressed and slipping on her shoes.
“All done,” she said.
“Rach?” He turned his head, his blue-green eyes burning like turquoise flame. “If I had asked you not to go, if I had asked you to see a marriage therapist with me first, to try working this all out … would you have agreed to give us another shot?”
Her chest constricted so tightly she couldn’t breathe. “I think I would have,” she said after a long moment’s thought. “If you’d asked before you knew about the baby, I would have.”
Chapter Nine
After the doctor’s appointment, David’s mind was too cluttered for him to go back to work. If he tried crunching numbers in this mental state, the store would probably never recover from all the data errors. I could single-handedly destroy generations’ worth of work in an afternoon. Something approximating a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. The despairing thought was the kind of exaggerated, self-deprecating statement he used to fuss at Rachel for making.
Lord, he missed her. If she didn’t move back into the house, he’d eventually put it up for sale. Without her there, it just felt … wrong. He was grateful beyond words that she wasn’t going anywhere at least until summer, but the possibility of losing her after that, of losing his child, was too painful to entertain.
Once home, he wandered through the rooms like a ghost, seeing the things they’d
