Here With Me (23 page)

The doctor looked at her. “Do you want to
know?”

Melody looked at George. A bead of sweat was
working its way down the side of his jaw. He smiled at her and when
he swallowed, she could see the muscles in his throat work.

“What do you think, George?”

“Well, I never was all that fond of the name
Jingle,” he said.

Melody sucked in a deep breath and turned to
her doctor. “Tell me.”

Dr. Thacker shrugged. “It’s never a sure
thing but I’d say there’s about a ninety percent chance you’ve got
yourself a little girl.”

A daughter. She was going to have a daughter.
If she could have managed it, she would have kicked her feet.

“And she’s okay?” Melody managed to ask.

The doctor nodded. Then he fiddled with the
machine and some measurements flickered across the screen. “All the
data matches up with the early September due date that Dr. Jetille
established.” He held out a hand to help Melody sit up. “Do either
of you have any questions for me?”

“She’s been having some leg cramps at night,”
George said. “Should we be concerned about that?”

She was amazed that he’d remembered and it
was a good reminder that George Tyler didn’t miss much.

“Fairly common, I’m afraid,” Dr. Thacker
said. He picked up her chart and wrote something down. “Avoid
sitting with your legs crossed or in one position for too long a
time. Take a short walk every day. Also, sometimes a warm shower or
bath before bed can help.” He made another entry into her chart.
“There’s an old saying that the leg cramps and the frequent need to
urinate at night are nature’s way of preparing both Mom and Dad for
the sleep disruptions that are coming their way once the baby is
born.”

There was no
Mom and Dad
. She and
George wouldn’t be sharing midnight feedings. There’d be no gentle
arguments over whose turn it was. He’d have returned to his old
life, a few dollars in his pocket, and that would be the end of it.
His sleep would be undisturbed. A year from now, if he happened to
wake up in the middle of the night, would he even remember her?

Would she ever forget him?

Dr. Thacker stopped writing, closed her
chart, and reached for the door. It was now or never.

“I have a question,” she said.

Dr. Thacker stopped. “Yes.”

“What about sex? As in having sex?”

George made the same sound he’d made when the
elevator doors had opened. Melody kept her eyes on the doctor.

“Continuing to have sexual intercourse is
perfectly acceptable.”

There was no
continuing
here. It
wasn’t a marathon that she’d been training for. This would be the
first time in a while that she put on her running shoes. “We. .
.uh. . .haven’t exactly been having much sex,” she said. “I didn’t
feel all that great,” she added. “So it would sort of be like
starting up again. Does that make a difference?”

Dr. Thacker shook his head. “It’s not that
unusual, especially when you’re experiencing typical morning
sickness symptoms, to temporarily lose interest in sex. Many
couples in the middle stages of pregnancy find great satisfaction
in resuming a normal sex life. From a practical perspective, as you
get bigger, you may find that it’s more comfortable if you’re on
top.”

She made the mistake of looking at George. He
was staring at her. The tip of his nose was pink and his eyes were
big, the pupils very dark.

She couldn’t look away. Her throat felt dry
and it seemed hard to breathe. Energy, barely contained, seemed to
sizzle around them and her skin felt hot. Her nipples hardened and
pushed against her thin bra and shirt.

Dr. Thacker cleared his throat, causing both
her and George to jump. “Generally,” he said, looking amused, “we
like for our patients to wait until they get home.”

***

When Melody parked in front of Peterson’s
Plumbing, George could hardly remember why they were there. There
was no room in his head for rational thought. One, he’d just seen a
child
inside
her mother’s womb. No one in his time had even
conceived of such a notion. The picture had been so clear that
Melody now knew she was having a daughter. It was staggering.

Then, on top of that, Melody had asked the
doctor about sex. She’d been bold as could be and if not for the
chair that he’d grabbed onto the back of, he’d have slumped to the
floor and cracked his damn head open and Dr. Thacker would have had
a second patient.

Christ, if all the women were as bold as
Melody, why weren’t all the men walking—no, make that
strutting—around with big smiles on their faces? He knew the
answer. It was no doubt because men hadn’t changed all that much in
a hundred-plus years and they still weren’t sure what to do when a
woman came sniffing in their general vicinity.

Men were dumb when it came to women. Maybe
because all the blood pooled in their cocks, leaving their poor
brains to muddle along without fuel.

“George?”

And now she had the nerve to act like what
she’d asked the doctor was of no consequence. As if she’d begged
for a tonic to soothe a sore throat.

“Are you getting out?” she asked.

He stared at her. “You’re good with the
questions today, aren’t you?”

Her eyes widened at his tone. It made him
feel bad but he couldn’t stop, not when what he had to say needed
to be said and he wasn’t sure he was a strong enough man to say it
later if a sheet was the only thing that separated them.

She shrugged. “Dr. Thacker asked if I had any
questions. I did. I figured it was the time to ask.”

“You might have given me a little
warning.”

“Look, George, I’m sorry if I embarrassed
you. It’s not that big of a deal.”

Now that made him mad. “Oh, really.”

She sighed. “He said I
could
do it,
not that I
had
to. And by the way, nobody is holding a gun
to your head.”

But she had his balls in the palm of her
hand. “It would be a mistake,” he said.

“Why?”

Because I’m waiting for the footprints to
take me home.
Who knew how much time he had left here? He’d
known many men who could spend the night in a woman’s arms and move
on in the morning without a backward glance. He’d never been one of
them. And even though it had only been a few days, he felt fairly
confident that she’d be the type to be devastated if they were
intimate and then he up and deserted her.

“Well?” she prompted.

“Because it wouldn’t be right.” He grabbed
the door handle.

“Says who?”

Christ, she needed to let this go. “Says
anyone with half a brain in their head.” He opened the door. “Let’s
go.”

She shook her head. “I’d rather not.”

It had to be ninety in the shade but there
was severe frost all around. “Come inside. It’s too hot for you to
stay out here.”

She didn’t look impressed with his logic. She
pointedly looked at her watch. “You’d better hurry. Maybe you’ve
forgotten that Grandmother is celebrating our marriage
tonight.”

“Damn it, Melody,” he said. “This is not my
fault. It’s not yours either,” he added hastily when he saw the
storm clouds gathering in her pretty violet eyes. “But it’s the way
it is.” He swung his legs out of the car.

“Because you’re not staying?” she accused,
stopping him. “You’re going back to North Dakota?”

That and more. He belonged in 1888, in
Bluemont. “That’s right.”

She pressed her lips together. “You don’t
have to go,” she said, her voice tight.

He could perhaps leave his position and his
time but he couldn’t forsake the promise that he’d made when he’d
stood over Hannah’s grave. He’d promised her that the men who’d
taken her from him would pay. Two were dead. A third still roamed
free. And while George had no way of knowing who that man was or
where he lived, it didn’t mean that at some point, there might not
be another clue, something that would lead him to the bastard. But
how could he explain all that to Melody?

“I
do
have to go,” he said, his voice
quiet. There was no point discussing this anymore. He looked up and
down the street. “I’m going to get the pulley. I don’t like the
idea of leaving you here by yourself.”

She stuck her nose in the air. “Don’t worry
about me. I’m used to being alone and that doesn’t look like its
going to change anytime soon.”

“Melody,” he said, trying to convince her to
be reasonable.

She waved a hand, cutting him off. “You know
what really gets me?” she asked. “It’s your ego. You’ve turned me
down now a couple times. I’ve gotten the message. So, maybe, just
maybe, when I asked the question about sex, I wasn’t even thinking
about you.”

He wiped the back of his hand across his
sweating forehead. He could feel the sandwiches Bessie had made for
him turn in his stomach. “What?”

She shrugged. “Maybe there are other people
who might not be as picky.”

The thought of her with another man made him
see red around the edge of his vision. “Last time I checked, Mrs.
Johnson,” he said, “you were married to me.”

She rolled her eyes. “For now,” she said,
dismissing him. She stared at the door. “Can we please just get
this over with and go home?”

He got out. “Lock the doors,” he said.

She let out a sigh. But she did it.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

She didn’t answer. He was fairly certain she
didn’t care if he ever came back.

***

She was a shrew. A rip-roaring bitch. An
evil, needy, clingy, little woman. She was. . .oh, just face it,
pathetic. That was really the best adjective to describe her.

As soon as George got inside the building,
Melody rolled down her window and let some air into the hot car.
Given the way her mouth had been going, she figured it was a
toss-up as to whether there was more hot air outside or inside the
vehicle.

George wasn’t the bad guy here. She’d hired
him to do a job. She should probably appreciate that he wasn’t the
kind of man to sleep with his female boss. It was admirable.
Frustrating as hell, but admirable.

When she’d decided to seduce him, she hadn’t
factored in a will of pure steel. She’d given up gracefully the
night before but today, his
just say no
attitude had put her
in a tailspin. Maybe it was because of what had happened in the
doctor’s office. He’d been holding her hand when she’d gotten her
first glimpse of Jingle. They’d been connected, the three of them.
And maybe for just a minute she let herself believe that they
really were a family.

But it wasn’t true. He was leaving soon���with
her threats of sleeping with someone else ringing in his ears.
Earlier she’d felt sophomoric. Well, this was worse. She’d been
deliberately hurtful.

It wasn’t how she wanted him to remember her.
She owed him an apology. She’d had every right to invite him to her
bed, but he also had every right to turn her down. It hurt but she
couldn’t argue that she was getting anything worse than she
deserved.

Ten minutes later, she saw him exit
Peterson’s Plumbing, his arms wrapped around a large box. She
pressed the trunk release and felt the back end of the car sink
down when he loaded it. He opened the door. “Here,” he said and
handed her a plastic cup. “I put it in my pocket but I spilled a
little on the way.”

He’d brought her water.

She felt the hot rush of tears and she
blinked hard.

He got in the car and reached for the cup.
“Melody, you don’t have to drink it,” he said, his voice thick with
concern.

She hung onto the cup with both hands. “I’m
sorry,” she said. “Look, I was an idiot earlier and I’m being an
idiot now. I’d like to blame my hormones or the swelling in my
ankles but I can’t.”

She stopped and waited for a response. He
didn’t say anything.

She started the car and pressed on the gas,
pretending to be totally focused on pulling out onto the street.
After a minute, she risked a quick look at him. George was studying
her, frowning.

She returned her focus to the road—it was so
much easier not looking at him. “There’s a strip mall a mile or so
up the road,” she said, changing subjects. “We should probably stop
there. We didn’t buy you anything the other day that will be
appropriate for Grandmother’s dinner party. You’ll need pants for
sure. Maybe a jacket. I don’t know about a tie.”

My God, she was babbling. But since there was
only silence from his side of the car, somebody needed to fill it.
“That sound okay to you?” she asked and forced herself not to
cringe. She sounded like an overanxious used car salesperson trying
to convince somebody to buy a lemon.
That sound okay to you that
it only gets seven miles to the gallon? That sound okay to you that
it only starts about half the time?

“Melody,” he said finally, his voice
soft.

“Yes.”

“It’s not that I don’t want you.”

She bit the inside of her mouth. She would
not cry. She would not. She gripped the steering wheel and took a
sharp left. She took her time looking for a parking spot, then
busied herself shutting off the car and putting her keys into her
purse.

Without looking at him, she opened her door.
She started to get out but he gently grabbed her wrist. “Melody,”
he said.

She was so not going to have any more
conversation about this. There wasn’t enough tea in China. She
turned toward him and gave him a big, if not sincere, smile.
“Great. Glad we could clear that up. Now, let’s get those
pants.”

For a minute she thought he was going to push
the issue but then he got out and followed her across the parking
lot. She was relieved. Maybe he’d realized how close to the edge
she was, how slim her handle on control was, and had decided that
he didn’t want to risk a full-fledged meltdown in the mall parking
lot.