Just Beginning (33 page)

Gabe groaned and dropped his head forward. “That feels so good.”

Jenny dug deeper, then pushed her thumb up his neck, first one side, then the other. “You’re so tense. What happened today?”

She stopped her massage long enough for Gabe to take a long pull of his beer. She glanced at the pot of dried-out rice. Big deal, two dollars of rice down the drain.

Gabe took another gulp of beer. “It was ridiculously terrible. A disaster. Almost comical really.” He tilted his beer sideways. “But not really.”

“A
disaster
?” Jenny moved around him and sat on the other stool.

“When my alarm didn’t go off this morning, I should have stayed in bed. You know how much I hate being late.”

“That’s hardly a tragedy. Steve didn’t mind.”

“That was just the beginning. It started at the clinic. Stupid kids. Should just sterilize half of them.”

Jenny pulled back. “That seems a bit drastic.”

“Not really.” He rolled the beer bottle between his palms. “This girl came into the clinic this morning. Amy Riley. Just as I was heading out to lunch, Amy shows up at the clinic, running a fever and in premature labor—with her one- and three-year-olds in tow.” He paused, looking at her. “And she’s sixteen with full blown gonorrhea.”

Jenny winced.
What a mess
. “Is she okay?”

“Oh,
she’ll
be fine. A few days in the hospital pushing IV antibiotics will fix her up.” A little muscle in his tight jaw pulsed. “The baby died, but the mother will be fine—and probably still fertile, unfortunately.” He stood and jammed his hands deep in his pant pockets. “I couldn’t save the baby.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, honey.”

“It was a boy.” He leaned back against the wall. “A perfect little boy, born too soon. Because of her.” He closed his eyes for a second, then opened them. “It’s not right. He was an innocent.”

“Maybe she needs counseling.”
Maybe she just made one incredibly big mistake
.

His face wrinkled in a give-me-a-break look. “She had her first baby at thirteen, Jen. She’s had counseling. She has a long history of noncompliant prenatal treatment. She smokes pot and lives with her mother on welfare. She needs to be sterilized.”

“That’s a little harsh.”
I had Michael at fourteen. Accidental pregnancies happen all the time.
“If they’re on welfare, how do you know she wasn’t having sex for money to buy food?”

Jenny eased off the stool and handed Gabe his beer. As he took a sip, she moved over to the chair in front of the desk and pulled her sweater down to completely cover the pink First Response Pregnancy kit. Not the time. He’d freak.

“Tell that to her dead son. If she were turning tricks, she’d use birth control. She’s had counseling and access to birth control. Nope, she’s simply an irresponsible child. What chance do those other two kids of hers have? Being raised by an ignorant girl incapable of doing anything but spreading her legs?”

He poked at the mail on the desk. “I called Social Services. I know the foster situation, but even orphanages would give these kids a better chance than with that girl.”

Jenny came up behind him, squeezed his rigid shoulders and guided him back to the counter. “Let’s have dinner. You’ll feel better with some food in you.”

She popped the top on another beer and handed it to him. “Maybe you should step back a bit—get some perspective. Just because this girl’s promiscuous, doesn’t mean she’s a bad mother who deserves to lose her children.”

The timer went off, and Jenny took the salmon out of the oven and left it on the stove to cool. Good thing they liked leftovers.

Gabe stopped pacing the kitchen and sat in a chair at the table. “She’s a kid coping with babies by herself. They don’t even have the same father, for cripe’s sake. What kind of life can she give them? I’ve been there. I was twelve when Aunt Adele died, and then it was only me and Uncle George. Just me and a bitter man trying to cope with his grief. It was hard, Jen. Damn hard.”

He arched a brow at her. “And that’s coping
with
the benefit of money and education. It’s not fair to the kids. I’m not complaining for myself. I’ll always be grateful Uncle George took me in, but it’s far from an ideal childhood.” Gabe set his empty bottle down with extra force.

Jenny took the containers out of the paper bag and reached for dinner plates.

“Then this afternoon during my bowel resection, I dropped a scalpel and nicked the bowel—after, of course, I backed into a nurse and knocked a pack of sterile instruments out of her hands.”

“Oh, no.” She covered her mouth to hide a smile.

Gabe pursed his lips and shook his head. “No, wait. It gets better.” He reached into his pocket and tossed his old phone onto the table. Jenny moved closer to inspect the destroyed screen.

“What happened?” Holy cow, had he sat on it?

“I dropped it in the parking lot.” He finished off the first beer and reached for the fresh one.

“Does it still work?”

“Don’t be silly.”

She thought not but hoped it might. “It’s okay, I’ll take it to Verizon tomorrow—”

“Already done. That’s why I’m so late. Why I picked up the dinner. I got that,” he nodded at the containers on the counter, “while waiting for them to load stuff onto the new phone.”

“Oh, babe.” Jenny sat on his lap and hugged Gabe close. “I’m sorry.” Stroking his head, she tried to absorb his frustration and pain. “Now you’re going to have to reheat your dinner, too.”

He squeezed her back. “That might be the best thing that happened to me today. I just want to eat dinner and go to bed.”

They stayed that way, holding one another, each lost in troubled thoughts. Jenny hadn’t realized that Gabe’s childhood had been that difficult. He always talked matter-of-factly about losing his parents and living with George. She’d thought he’d been happy with George.

Given his past, how would Gabe feel about bringing a baby into the world now? They could make a perfect family to erase his painful childhood. Clearly
now
wasn’t the time to broach the subject, but it might be the perfect healing prescription for her love.

But then, if she was already pregnant, what were the chances he’d believe it was an accident? Didn’t seem likely, as they’d always used birth control.

And he could
never
find out about Michael—that was for sure. He’d made his views on teenage pregnancy crystal clear. She glanced at the chair and her sweater covering the pregnancy kit. Had to get that hidden, for sure. One glance at that would send Gabe around the bend.

Powerless to know how to help him, Jenny pulled Gabe closer, pressing a kiss into his soft hair. “Poor baby.”

She felt his rigid body relax, little by little. Easing away, she scanned his face before placing a hand on his cheek and pressing a light kiss to his lips. “I love you.”

Gabe’s only response was to pull her closer again and hold on tight.

After a few minutes, she moved away and looked at him. “You’ve been working too hard. What d’ya say we go away for the weekend? Just you and me. No pager. Turn the cells off. Just us.”

He frowned. “I’m pretty busy right now.”

“You’re
always
busy. You haven’t had any time off since we took the kids to Mexico for spring break.”

“What’d you have in mind?”

“I’m doing a piece on bed and breakfasts, and have a phone interview scheduled with this place in Saugatuck. Why don’t I do it in person instead? We could make a long weekend of it. Go away for our anniversary. That gives you a week’s notice. Think of how relaxing it’d be. Say yes.”

It’d give Jenny time to see if she really was pregnant. If she was…their lives would be totally turned on end, but at least telling Gabe on a romantic getaway when he was relaxed would set the atmosphere for a productive discussion where they’d figure things out together.

She was no longer an irresponsible, dependent teenager. Jenny had a great job, lovely home, and a loving husband. Like Mom said, she and Gabe made a great team. If she
were
pregnant, they’d figure it out, together.

Her biggest hurdle would be convincing him she hadn’t accidentally on purpose gotten pregnant. But she’d have a week to work on that.
If
she was pregnant. If not, it was still the perfect time to bring up the subject of having a baby—but she wasn’t going to tell him about Michael. There was no need, and she had no doubt he would not understand.

He thought for a moment, and then stared at her through serious eyes. “Yes.”

“Great.” Jenny smiled and hugged him close. “This is exactly what you need—we need. You’ll see.”

The End

Thank you for taking time to read Just Beginning. If you enjoyed it, please consider telling your friends or posting a short review. Word of mouth is an author’s best friend and much appreciated. Jenny and Gabe’s story is continued in
Just Destiny
. Turn the page for a sneak preview.

Prologue

Steve Grant’s heart pounded as if it might hammer its way right out of his chest. He took a measured breath, stretched an arm across the back of Annie’s chair and settled into his stadium seat.
What’s the problem, man? You’ve faced down Billy Ray Butler and Crush Davis, stared them down across home plate, in front of a sold-out crowd without breaking a sweat; you can do this. It’s the right thing to do.

The band’s drums, trumpets and trombones belted out the Michigan fight song. “Let’s! Go! Blue!” The Ann Arbor crowd cheered as one.

“Why’d you give up your fifty-yard-line seats for these nosebleeds?” Annie raised her eyebrows.

“Lemme go,” the three-year-old behind her shrieked as he strained and bucked in his mother’s arms.

Annie winced, covered her ear and gave Steve a knowing look. When they went out without her children, he knew she wanted a break from
all
kids. These seats cost a small fortune; who in the hell brings their kid along? Steve scanned the packed seats around them—not a damn kid in sight. What were the chances they’d be sitting right in front of the only holy terror?

“One of our paralegals, Pete McGaffy, has his dad in town this weekend to celebrate his first year cancer free. Pete helped me a couple of times so when I found out his dad’s a huge Michigan fan, I gave them my tickets and got these instead.” He glared at the kid beating an annoying tattoo on the back of Annie’s chair, tempted to grab the little ankle to still him. “We have a great view of the whole field from here. Besides, I thought you’d enjoy sitting with Notre Dame fans instead of the enemy for a change.”

Annie had gone to Notre Dame and was a die-hard Irish fan, where as a Michigan alum, Steve’s season tickets bordered the Michigan sideline. She held out her hand for the binoculars and jerked forward as the kid pounded her chair with both of his feet. Stiff backed, Annie scooted forward in her chair.

“Switch seats with me.” Steve stood and pulled Annie out of her seat. She should be safe in front of the dad.

Annie stood and threw the little brat that warning look mothers seem to perfect, before slowly lowering herself into the other seat. Not exactly the mood he wanted to set. He hoped it wasn’t an omen.
Chill, man. She’s gonna love it.

He looked at the giant scoreboard—five minutes to halftime. Steve settled back in the seat, rubbed tight neck muscles, and rolled his shoulders.

He’d chosen these seats carefully. The first row in club level seating had lots of legroom, a bird’s eye view of the whole field, and the cameramen should have no trouble zooming in on them. It was perfe—the boy put a sticky hand on Steve’s head and lunged over his shoulder, nearly falling into his lap. Steve caught him and shoved him back at his parents.

“Henry. I’m sooo sorry. Really. Sorry. I... ” His mortified mother tried to lift him onto her lap, but the little boy arched his back and bellowed.

“That’s enough!” the father said. He handed his wife his beer and reached for the boy at the same time the kid jumped up, knocking her arm.

The halftime buzzer sounded loudly as Steve lunged forward, but he couldn’t right the cup before a wave of beer cascaded over the lip, splashing all over Annie’s shoulder, arm, and chest.

Annie gasped, jumped up and whirled on the threesome. Fury burned in her eyes as she shook her arm, spraying beer. “Are you freaking kidding me? What’s
wrong
with you people? Haven’t you ever heard of a babysitter?”

Steve stepped back and stared in horror. The pink of Annie’s shirt grew increasingly dark as it soaked up the beer.

“I’m
so
sorry.” The woman rummaged in her bag, yanked out some baby wipes and held them out to Annie. “I... please. We’ll pay for dry-cleaning.”

Annie snatched the wipes, made a few futile dabs at her arm before throwing them on her seat and pushing past Steve.

“Laaadies and geeen-tlemen,” The announcer drew out.

Steve grabbed her arm. “Where’re you going?”

“Preee-sent-ing the two-hundred thirty-five member Michigan marching Band. Baaa-nd... take the field.”

Annie frowned as if he was crazy. “To the bathroom.”

“Now? You can’t go now.”

Eyes widening, she plucked the wet shirt from her chest. “I’m
covered
in beer.”

Shit. Shit. Shit
. “Uh... there’ll be a long line. Just wait a little bit.” He turned her toward the field. “Watch the show.” He glanced at the forty-seven by eighty-five-foot screen to see the camera zooming in on them. He pointed toward the field. “Look, they’re spelling out something.”

“I don’t care.” She tried to pull free.

Steve tightened his grip on her shoulders. “Listen. It’s that Bruno Mars song you love.”

“What is wrong with you?” She glared. “I’m soaked and smell like a frat party.”

Steve pivoted her toward the field and locked his arms around her. “
Look
.”