The Baby Agenda (11 page)

But she felt dampness between her legs, too. Really scared now, she sank down on the toilet and looked down at herself. Blood streaked her thighs.

W
ILL HAD JUST TURNED OUT
his bedside lamp when he heard the soft snick of Moira's bedroom door opening. He didn't like it that she closed it at all; he had been leaving his open at night in case she ever called out for him. He lay rigid, waiting. She might be going to the kitchen, she might not need him at all….

“Will?”

He sat up and reached for the lamp. “Moira? What's wrong?”

The light came on, and he saw that she had taken only a couple of steps into his room. A long flannel nightgown enveloped her from neck to ankle. But it was her face he focused on, and the fear he saw.

“Will, I'm bleeding.” Her voice was tremulous. “I think…I think I'd better go to the emergency room.”

“God.” He surged from bed and crossed the room to her. “Should I call 911?”

She bit her lip. “No, it's not that heavy. It's just…well, not quite spotting, a little more than that, but…” She drew a shuddery breath. “I don't think I should be bleeding at all.”

Will gripped her upper arms and squeezed. “Even if they have to do a C-section right now, the baby should be mature enough to survive.” He sounded one hell of a lot calmer than he felt. “Let's get to the hospital, okay?”

“Okay. Um…let me get dressed.”

“I'll help. No. Hell. Let me throw on some clothes first.” He'd worn only pajama bottoms to bed. “Go lie down.”

Moira nodded and disappeared, ghostlike, from his room.

He'd never gotten dressed so fast. Will didn't bother with socks, simply shoved his feet into his running shoes. Then he went to her room. She'd actually curled up on the bed rather than ignore him and dress herself.

“All right. Tell me what you need.”

“I already put on panties. A top and bottoms. There are some in the closet.”

He grabbed the first ones his hands touched. Gently he helped her struggle out of her gown. Trying not to focus on her naked breasts, larger than they'd been, he tugged a knit shirt over her head then helped her slide on loose pants.

Moira insisted on walking, and he let her, although he kept an arm around her the whole way. Outside
was
cold, frost sparkling on the grass beneath the streetlight. Despite her parka, Moira shivered as he backed the pickup out of the driveway.

Will broke speed limits all the way to the hospital. She sat silent and tense beside him. Not until he braked in front of the brightly lit emergency entrance to the hospital did she say very softly, “I'm scared, Will.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He hugged her, quick. “Let's not worry too much until we know there's reason to. Okay?”

She pressed her lips together and nodded, but her eyes were huge, her gaze clinging to his.

A couple of people in scrubs had come out, and within moments had her in a wheelchair. He had to park the pickup before he could sprint in.

The next two hours were hellish, even though the emergency-room doctor found the baby's heartbeat immediately. The doc seemed okay, although he was younger than Will liked. He had a million questions. How much bleeding? When did it start? What color was the blood? Was she cramping? Had she had sexual intercourse this evening?

Moira flushed at that question and cast Will an agonized look before shaking her head.

Had she fallen? When had she last seen her doctor?

It seemed to Will that the level of tension in the room dropped noticeably after Moira told them that she'd seen her doctor today and that yes, she'd had a pelvic exam.

Nonetheless, they took her away for an ultrasound, and when they brought her back he still wasn't allowed into the curtained exam cubicle because now the doctor was doing yet another pelvic exam and cervical culture. Will hated like hell that he was out here and she was alone with her fear, staring at the ceiling while some strange doctor had his hand inside her.

Sitting in a plastic chair in the hall, Will prayed as he hadn't in years. Amazing how much more faith a man
wanted
to have at a moment like this. He'd read about some of the things that could go wrong in late-term pregnancy, including placental abruption, when the placenta separated from the uterine wall. If she started to hemorrhage, it could kill her as well as the baby.

Will groaned. He rubbed the back of his neck, wishing he hadn't educated himself, that he didn't know how serious the trouble Moira might be in. “Mr. Becker?”

He looked up to see the green-garbed nurse, who said, “You can come in.”

Will followed her through the gap in the curtains, his
broad shoulders causing them to rattle on their rings. Lying on the narrow bed, Moira was covered now by a white blanket. The nurse had been bringing her warmed ones because Moira kept shivering as if she were cold. Cold, or in shock.

The moment he stepped into the cubicle, her eyes fastened desperately onto his face. A lump in his throat, he went to her side and took her hand in his, then looked at the doctor.

“At this point,” the doctor said straight-out, “I'm not very concerned. The bleeding was minor, and it seems to have stopped. The fetus shows no signs of distress. I think this was likely triggered by the exam Mrs. Becker had earlier today. Minor instances of bleeding are most often associated with a pelvic exam or sexual intercourse. I have some question about the possibility of placenta previa—which means that the placenta is implanted over or near the opening to the birth canal. If it's the case at all, however, my guess is that it's resolving itself, as most often happens. Your doctor will want to keep an eye on it, however. And I'm sure it goes without saying that you need to let her know about any further bleeding.”

Moira nodded. She looked drained, almost numb.

“I would certainly speak to Dr. Engel before you consider resuming sexual intercourse—”

“Fine,” Will interrupted. “Should Moira be on her feet at all?”

“Assuming there are no further episodes of spotting, I see no reason she can't resume normal activity. No dancing.” He chuckled, uttered a few pleasantries and went away.

Will breathed an almost-silent profanity and sank onto the chair beside the bed. “Damn. Does that mean we can go home?”

“I think so.” Moira sounded uncertain. “I guess you were right that I panicked unnecessarily.”

“You weren't the only one panicking,” Will admitted.

“I just tried to hide it.”

Her smile trembled, but it was a smile. “I'd never have known. You're always so…steady.”

“Practice,” he told her. “Clay mostly avoided hurting himself, but I had to rush Jack and Sophie to Emergency way too often. You get inured.” Which was a lie. Yes, he'd gotten so he barely rolled his eyes at a broken finger or even a broken arm—Sophie in particular had been an adventurer. But tonight, he'd been more scared than he could remember being in years. At least.

The nurse came in with discharge papers, and Will went to get the truck. They wheeled Moira out, helped her in, and not many minutes later he pulled into the driveway at home once again.

“Wow.” Moira fumbled to unbuckle the seat belt. “I think I'll reschedule the stuff I was supposed to do tomorrow.” She focused on the dashboard clock. “Not tomorrow. Today.”

“How about you sleep in? Maybe even take the day off.”

She must be shaken, because she nodded. “I think maybe I will. I'll set the alarm and call Gray—”

“I'll do it.” When she opened her door, he said, “Wait until I get around there.”

Wonder of wonders, she was docile again, waiting for his hand to take hers. She climbed the few steps to the front porch slowly, leaning a little as she went. When he helped her out of her coat right inside the front door, Will couldn't help thinking about how fragile she was. Generous curves or no, her bones were almost delicate. With the bulk of her pregnancy, it was easy to forget that.
“Let's see if I need to change any of your bedding,” he said.

She went to the bathroom while he checked and found that her nightgown had apparently soaked up any blood and the sheet was fine. He pulled open drawers in her dresser until he found a clean nightgown. When she came back, she didn't argue when he reached for the hem of her top and drew it over her head. Moira did cover her breasts protectively, though. Again he tried not to look, but couldn't help himself. God help him. She had the most beautiful breasts he'd ever seen, ripe and full, creamy skin dusted with freckles paler than the ones on her face and shoulders. He regretted letting the gown drop to cover her body.

When he eased her back on the pillows, Moira said, “I'm not helpless.”

“Tonight, let's pretend you are. For my sake.”

She looked up at him, her eyes very green, and finally gave one small nod.

Bracing himself for argument, he said, “I'm going to sleep with you. I want to be right here, and know you're okay.”

Her lips parted, then, after a perceptible pause, closed. She swallowed. “All right.”

“Give me a minute to get undressed.”

Will went back to his room and shed his clothes as quickly as he'd put them on. He thought about leaving on the T-shirt but decided not to. He'd always worn pajama bottoms because he'd had to get up often enough during the night with one of his brothers or his sister. That was as far as he was willing to go.

Moira watched warily when he returned to her room. He was grateful she had a queen-size bed, at least. They'd want a king-size eventually, he thought, but this would
do for now. He slipped in on the far side from her, then rolled toward her.

“Do you sleep on your back?”

She shot him a glance that made him think of a spooked horse. “No. I was, um, waiting to turn out the light.”

“Okay,” he said agreeably.

Moira reached for the lamp and plunged them into darkness. After a moment, he felt her moving, settling. He reached out a hand and found she'd turned on her side facing away from him. Probably on the very edge of the mattress. No surprise. He gently rubbed her back. “Sleep tight, sweetheart.”

After a moment of silence, she whispered, “Good night, Will.” Yet another pause. “Thank you. For…being here tonight. For…I guess for being here at all.”

He smiled. “You're welcome.”

Then he waited. Waited until she relaxed, until he heard her breathing deepen and slow. Only when he was sure she was asleep did he move the last foot closer to her, slide his arm under her head, and spoon their bodies together. He went still when her breathing hitched, but she sighed and, it seemed to him, snuggled against him.

He lay there in the dark, her springy hair tickling his chin and throat as it hadn't since that first night, and smiled again. Very carefully, so as not to awaken her, he splayed his hand on the large mound of her belly. Then, his wife and child held safe and close, Will let himself welcome sleep.

 

W
ILL HOVERED THE NEXT DAY
. There was no other word for it.

At first it was kind of nice. But nice wore off, and after a while, his edginess made hers worse. She'd stand up to go to the bathroom, and he'd automatically rise with her,
as if she was bound to collapse going ten feet. She'd look up and discover he wasn't reading at all, he was watching her.

In case she didn't notice gallons of blood gushing forth.

By midafternoon, she was snapping at him. When all he did was raise an eyebrow, she huffed out a breath. “Maybe I should go into the office.”

“No, you shouldn't.”

Moira's eyes narrowed. “You know, I'm usually pretty competent at taking care of myself.”

Will was sprawled in her easy chair, leaving the couch to her. He smiled. “I imagine you are.”

“Last night excepted.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I freaked. I admit it. Today, I'm fine.”

“Good.”

“You're looking at me like you expect the worst.”

“Maybe you should go take a nap,” he said gently.

“Are you going to come in and stare at me while I sleep?”

He fiddled with the book he so obviously wasn't reading. “Can I check on you a time or two?”

“No.” Moira rose from the couch and marched out of the living room. He was smart enough not to follow her.

She closed her bedroom door behind her with a satisfying click. Not quite a slam because that wasn't justified. But firm enough to make a statement.

She didn't even know why she was mad. Maybe it wasn't at Will at all. Maybe she was upset about her own predicament, for which God knows she bore almost all the responsibility, whatever Will said to the contrary. Yes, it took two to make a baby, but she'd practically shanghaied him. And now he was being so damn
kind,
and she was
all mixed up because it felt so good to have someone to lean on, but it was also scary and unsettling because she'd gotten so used to not having anyone. All these emotions seemed to tangle inside her, like a knot that got tighter and more complicated the more she picked at it trying to separate one strand from another.

She would never in her life forget how it had felt this morning to surface and find her head pillowed on his biceps, his warm, strong body touching hers from neck to calves. His breath had tickled her hair and raised goose bumps on her nape. His other arm enclosed her firmly and his hand lay open on her belly. One of
her
hands had clutched his arm as if to make sure he didn't get away. And she had loved waking up that way. She couldn't help thinking about the night she met him, the night they made this baby, and how much she had wished he'd still been there the next morning. How maybe everything would be different if he'd hung around. This awful, almost painful longing swelled in her chest.

And, damn it, she had to pee! So instead of lying there quietly savoring the experience of being snuggled by this man, or at least trying to deal with all these complicated feelings he brought to life in her, what she did was wriggle out from under his arm and rush to the bathroom. And by the time she came out he was awake, and his eyes on her embarrassed her, so she collected clothes and went back in the bathroom to shower—aka to hide out.