Baby On The Way (7 page)

L
ibby wasn’t looking forward to the classes at all.

“Seems like a nice place,” Del commented as they pulled up before a small brick building next door to the hospital.

She didn’t answer.

“Quite a few cars parked out in front,” he continued determinedly. “At least we’re not the first ones here.”

Libby remained stubbornly silent.

Del sighed in exasperation. “Are you going to sulk all night?”

“I’m not sulking,” she replied. And she wasn’t. She was merely exhibiting her displeasure at his involvement by maintaining a tactful silence.

A wasted effort since Del obviously didn’t comprehend the fine shades of meaning exhibited by her behavior. “Sure seems like sulking to me,” he said as he climbed out of the truck.

He came around and opened the door for her, collecting the throw pillow she’d grabbed up at the last minute from the couch. “You should have brought the pillow from your bed.”

Libby glanced up, her gaze meeting his. Instant heat
flooded her. Intimate memories were in his eyes, and she averted her gaze, placing a hand on her stomach to ease the swooping sensation there. “What’s wrong?” he’d asked that long-ago night as she lay naked next to him in the darkness. Brushing back her hair from her damp forehead, he’d gathered her closer to his hard warmth.

“My pillow,” she murmured, lethargic from their lovemaking. “I have a hard time getting to sleep without it.”

He’d gotten up and found her poor, worn-out feather pillow, and she had thanked him with a kiss that had led to another session of lovemaking.

Her lips tightened. She resented him knowing such personal things about her. She took her sweet time gathering up her purse. She knew her slowness was aggravating him; she knew such behavior verged on the childish. She didn’t care.

This was all a big mistake. He might not realize it, but she certainly did. She didn’t want him coaching her-not even for a couple of weeks. She didn’t want to be in any situation where she was forced into close proximity with Del, remembering things best left forgotten, having him next to her, touching her-like the way he was doing now with his hand planted firmly on the small of her back as he guided her up the walkway.

She deliberately moved away from that unconsciously possessive touch. He cast her an unreadable glance, then immediately looked up as a tall young woman opened the door.

That she was the teacher was apparent as much by the determinedly cheerful smile she welcomed them
with as by the impressively large badge proclaiming Amelia Berry. Instructor pinned to her impressively large bosom.

“We’re just waiting for a few more couples to arrive,” Amelia said, shepherding them into a large carpeted room, bare except for a few straight-backed metal chairs pushed against a far wall along with a large projector. Five other couples were seated in a semicircle on the beige carpet. “I find it creates a more relaxed atmosphere for everyone to sit on the floor,” the instructor declared.

Relaxing for whom? Libby wondered as she struggled to lower herself down. Del offered her a helping hand. She sent him a baleful look but accepted it—anything to avoid tumbling over like an unbalanced bowling pin.

Leaving Del to chat with the teacher, Libby smiled at the couples nearby as she tried to get comfortable. Several of the women were sitting cross-legged, a position Libby had abandoned months ago. When the instructor hurried off to greet more arrivals, Del dropped down next to Libby. He must have noticed her shifting and fidgeting movements because he raised his brows. “Why don’t you lean against me?”

“No, thank you,” she replied primly. “I’m perfectly comfortable.” She wasn’t, of course, but she finally found a halfway bearable position by tucking her legs to one side.

She tried to relax. All the other women looked so serene and well-dressed. Libby tugged on the hem of her shirt. She hadn’t been in the mood to shop for anything new. Maybe she should have worn her denim jumper, but she was so tired of the outfit, especially
since a faint pink stain remained on the breast where she’d dropped the icing during her shower. Appreciating her dilemma, Christine had produced the blue pin-striped men’s shirt Libby now wore, declaring that it would do perfectly well as a maternity shirt when teamed with navy blue pants.

Libby hoped her friend was right. At least the shirt more than amply covered her. It hung well past her hips and she’d cuffed the sleeves neatly to her elbows. The only place the shirt was a little tight was across her breasts.

She nervously fingered the button there to make sure it hadn’t come undone and Del leaned closer, his warm breath brushing along her neck as he drawled, “That’s my shirt, you know.”

“No!” Taken by surprise, Libby’s eyes widened. “Christine said she found it at a thrift shop.”

“That’s her euphemism for my closet,” he said dryly. “She constantly pilfers my clothes and then conveniently forgets where she found them.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll return it as soon as we get home,” Libby said stiffly.

“Don’t bother.” Reaching up, he smoothed down her collar. She could feel the warmth of his hand as his knuckles brushed her cheek. “You look pretty in blue,” he said quietly.

Although she frowned and moved away from his hand, something inside her seemed to glow at the comment. Disturbed by the realization, she welcomed the distraction as Amelia entered the room again, followed by the couple from the doctor’s office. “Everyone’s here now, we’re ready to get started,” the instructor said, clapping her hands lightly to draw everyone’s
attention while Ken and Barbie found a spot across the room to sit down.

“Why don’t we all take turns and introduce ourselves?” Amelia suggested, smiling brightly. “Include your due date and whether you’re expecting a boy or a girl.”

Libby’s heart sank. She hated doing this sort of thing. She concentrated on the other couples, trying to decide how much she’d say when her turn came. The women did most of the talking with an occasional comment from the men. Libby mentally categorized the couples as she listened.

The “Been-there-done-that” Benedicts, were having their fifth child and wore almost identical expressions of bored exhaustion. Next in line were Howard and Linda McLean, who resembled nothing so much as a husband and wife cheerleading team. After each of Linda’s breathless chants of information, Howard would chime in with a brisk, “That’s right!” pumping a muscular arm for emphasis. The next two couples looked alarmingly young, but both were married, Libby noted, her anxiety increasing as her turn approached.

When the woman next to her shyly finished speaking, Libby drew a deep breath. Before she could begin, however, Del spoke up. “I’m Del and this is Libby,” he said abruptly. “Our little girl is due in October.”

“Our
boy,”
Libby blurted without thinking. She bit her lip as his eyes gleamed with satisfaction, while across the way Ken and Barbie exchanged a knowing glance.

“Oh, are you expecting twins?” asked the female cheerleader.

“No!” said Libby horrified. Goodness, she wasn’t
that
big, was she?

Amelia must have noticed her dismay because she said soothingly, “Libby is one of the farthest along. She and Del are taking the class a little later than most.” The instructor smiled at the Pattersons. “Your due date is the next closest on our list.”

Barbie smiled complacently, placing a hand on her stomach, while Ken introduced himself and his wife. “I’m a dentist and my wife is a child psychologist,” he added, passing out their business cards. “It’s a good idea to have your baby psychologically assessed as soon as possible. The birth process can be traumatic. And, of course, you should have their teeth checked as soon as they come in. We now have special braces that—”

“Thank you, but we’d better get started,” Amelia said, interrupting his sales spiel. She then launched into one of her own, explaining the class would be covering “self-awareness, self-control through programmed exercises, and reduction of pain through education and knowledge of the labor and delivery process.”

She started with a lecture on the baby’s developmental stages inside the womb. Libby listened intently for a while, but soon found her attention wandering. She’d already read extensively on this topic—nothing new here. She glanced at Del. He was leaning forward, his gaze fixed intently on the teacher. Good Lord, he was even taking notes! He’d pulled a crumpled envelope from his pocket and was scribbling as fast as he could on the back.

Libby swallowed her rising misgivings. He was really
getting into this stuff. When Amelia mentioned the benefits of breast over bottle feeding, he even gave Libby a nudge and an “I told you so” glance. You’d think he’d personally invented the process, she thought indignantly.

She brooded over his interest awhile, but soon more pressing matters occupied her mind. She needed to go to the bathroom. Was the woman ever going to stop talking? she wondered in growing alarm. To make matters worse, the baby woke up and began kicking her swollen bladder with disturbing frequency.

Finally, Amelia paused reluctantly for a break. Libby levered herself up and raced for the bathroom, managing to beat the other women to the single stall.

Emerging triumphantly a few minutes later, she returned to the classroom and headed immediately for the chairs. Even the cold, hard metal felt good after sitting on the floor for an hour, an opinion apparently shared by most of the other women who soon joined her. Only the cheerleader and Barbie disdained the relative comfort, returning to sit stiffly upright on the floor. All the men remained standing, clustered in small groups, but Libby noticed Del had cornered the teacher and appeared to be grilling her on some point.

Del didn’t have time to get all his questions answered, but by the time the break ended, he was definitely a proponent of breast feeding. When the instructor clapped her hands to herd her flock back to their pillows, he glanced around for Libby and spied her sitting on a chair, gripping the bottom on either side as if she thought someone might take it away. Striding across the room to her, he put out his hand
and hauled her to her feet. “Come on. They’re ready to start again.”

She dragged her feet following him and, glancing back, Del suppressed a smile at the sight of her forlorn face. She wasn’t enjoying this, he knew. During the lecture she’d shifted around repeatedly, trying to get comfortable. But he was thankful that they’d come. “Our” baby, she’d said-before the entire class. Satisfaction filled him and he tightened his grip slightly on her slim hand. For the first time, Libby had admitted in public that the baby belonged to him, too.

“You’ll like this next part,” he promised, helping her sit down again. “Amy said—”

“Amy?”

“The teacher,” he explained in response to her questioning tone. “She told me to call her Amy. Anyway, she said that for the rest of the evening we’ll be practicing relaxation techniques.”

Libby didn’t look reassured. If anything, her expression changed to one of trepidation. He led her to a fairly secluded corner of the room when Amelia directed in crisp tones, “Spread out, everybody. Now the first thing I want you to do is learn to relax at your coach’s touch.”

Libby acquiesced in the first exercise with fairly good grace, flexing and relaxing the muscles in her arm at his command. But the second exercise didn’t go well at all.

“Ouch!” he said, jerking away from her fingers on his arm. “You pinched me!”

“You pinched me first.”

“I was
supposed
to pinch you-Amelia said to. To help you learn to relax against the pain. And I certainly
didn’t do it as hard as you did to me,” he added, rubbing his sore skin.

“I don’t care. I don’t want to be pinched at alland certainly not in preparation for more pain. What kind of perverted reasoning is that?”

He tried to explain it to her, but finally abandoned the attempt as Amelia clapped her hands again. “Attention, everybody. Our time this evening is almost up and I like to end the classes with a relaxation meditation and massage you can practice at home along with your breathing techniques. Mommies, lie on the floor-on your right sides, please!-and, coaches, sit next to them and follow my instructions.”

Libby didn’t want to lie down. Del could tell by the way her slim brows lowered over her eyes and her mouth turned pouty. But she finally did so with a sigh, turning on her side with her back toward him.

Miss Berry dimmed the lights and switched on a cassette. A familiar sound in Oregon-the rain trickling through the trees-filled the room. “Now, coaches, let’s begin with a simple massage of the shoulders. Gently work the tension from your partner.”

Partner. Del liked the sound of that. Whether she liked it our not, for the next couple of weeks, he was Libby’s partner in this baby business. Placing his hands lightly on her shoulders, he gently kneaded her rigid muscles.

Feeling her stiffen, Del’s satisfaction faded. So she didn’t like his touch. Setting aside the hurt frustration her action caused, he patiently persisted in the massage. Gradually she relaxed beneath his fingertips, and soon she looked almost asleep. Her thick lashes
drooped heavily over her eyes, her hair tumbled lazily across her pinkened cheek. Even pregnant, her waist dipped inward when she was lying down, and his gaze slowly roamed the feminine curves of her breasts and hips revealed in the shadowy room as he worked.

“Move to the arms,” Amelia chanted softly, her voice almost blending with the background serenade of raindrops. “Gently massage down to the fingers.”

Libby had slim arms and delicate wrists. Faint blue veins pulsed beneath her skin there and he had the urge to kiss the sensitive spot.

“Don’t neglect the fingers…”

He didn’t neglect the fingers. He massaged the pad of her thumb and the hollow of her soft palm. He rubbed her small fingers, bending them gently.

“Let’s do the calf muscles. Pregnancy often causes sudden cramping in this area.”

He loved her legs. Long, slim, with nicely defined calves; ankles so small he could easily encircle them with his finger and thumb.