Unexpected Oasis (16 page)

~

The next five days pass in a blur of blissful happiness. Giddy would be a good way to describe my state of mind. Trey spends every night with me, and though discrete about the state of our affair in public, every non-working moment as well. I love it. It's more than just the amazing sex—though I won't pretend that isn't phenomenal—but we have such a great time together. Every. Time. I even miss him when he's not around, which worries me a little but I push it away. Work flies by and I don't even mind all the questions and forms and general hassle about the events at Site J.

I
am
careful about what I tell HR, my boss, and anyone else who asks though, leaving out the part where Trey gave me the gun and any of the shooting details, claiming to be in a shocked daze. The last thing I want to do is get him in trouble, and although he doesn't seem concerned about it, I figure it's best to let him decide what to tell them.

I have yet to see the camp doctor, since he happens to be on vacation. And since my appointment isn't until a week after we get back, I'm not even sure why it's necessary. Obviously any injuries I might have sustained would have either killed me, gotten horribly infected, or healed.

We've just finished a rather rigorous round of lovemaking and I'm still tying to feel my toes when Trey announces, "I'll be away from the compound for a few days."

My head rests on his chest and I lift it to look at him. One arm tucked behind his neck, his expression is casual. "Everything okay?" I ask.

"Yeah, they just need me to testify about Site J." He describes it like it's some boring business trip. I suppose for him, it is.

"Sounds serious."

"Nothing to worry about. In fact, once Hughes & Ralston pays the blood money, they're planning on relocating Kaihan and his family."

"Oh good. I was worried about him."

Releasing the arm, he wraps it around my shoulders and gives me a squeeze. "I know." He kisses my hair. "You have nothing to worry about. He'll be fine. And I will be back in a week or so and we can pick right back up where we left off." He gives me another squeeze, a little more sexual this time and less playful.

"I do like the sound of that."  And I love that Kaihan will be safe. And I definitely love that Trey seems just as eager to get back to me as I surely will be to have him back.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

M
anila folder in hand, Dr. Mishra sits on the edge of the exam room counter. Not surprisingly for Merritec, the room is tiny, with barely enough space for the exam table, let alone a chair for the doctor to consult from. "Well," he says, sifting through the folder. "Everything looks in order."

"As I expected."

"Except…" His thick black brows push together as he skims the test results.

What the hell could he have found? Knowing my luck, I have cancer or Yellow Fever or something.

His dark gaze lifts to me. Dark, nearly black eyes framed by lashes almost as thick as the moustache threatening to take over his face. "Did you know you are pregnant?"

It takes a second for the words to register. And then a few more seconds for them to sink in. "Uh, no. That has to be a mistake."

He glances back down at the paper. "It says right here…"

"Perhaps, but it has to be wrong." My increasing heartbeat works its way up to my throat and I swallow against it. I don't have time for that nonsense.

He looks at me again. "Have you recently had unprotected sex?"

His accent when he says, "unprotected sex", reminds me of Apu from The Simpsons. It must be the ridiculousness of the situation, because I nearly choke on the giggle that tries to burst from my lips. Seriously, how racist can I get?

"Yes, but…" A giggle still manages to leak through. Dr. Mishra looks incredibly confused. I clear my throat. "Yes, but it's still impossible."

"That is usually how these things happen."

"I know." God, his accent. I'm having a hard time keeping it together. "But I'm infertile."

"You appear to be a healthy women, certainly still of age to bear children."

Well, that manages to squash my warped sense of humor. "In theory, yes."

He glances at the test results. "In reality, yes."

I really don't feel like explaining my prognosis to him. "That test can't possibly be right.
If
," I make sure to emphasize the word as I look him squarely in the eyes, "I were pregnant, I would have had to conceive just over a week ago. I haven't even missed my period yet."

He is completely nonplussed. "The pregnancy hormone can be detected as early as 6 days after implantation."

That would mean I probably conceived at Site J. I don't buy it, opening my mouth to protest.

"We can retest if you like," he interrupts.

My arms cross tightly over my chest. "Please."

It's a grueling thirty minutes before Dr. Mishra returns with the Manila folder. I've been through the whole gambit of emotions, from trepidation to excitement, to scorning myself for getting excited. Hopefulness led to fear and then to denial. I can't begin to hope the test results might be correct because I can't face that disappointment.

But if they are? If Trey—?

I'm in the middle of chastising myself a second time when the doctor's appearance forces me to stare at that folder.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

"Well?" My voice trembles.

"Still pregnant."

I don't know how to react. I can't react. I mean, how can I? I simply stare at Dr. Mishra with a wide-eyed,
holy shit
, what is that big metal thing with the bright lights barreling straight for me, expression.

"If you would like a third opinion, I recommend you order a home pregnancy test. They are very accurate these days. In the meantime, you should begin taking some prenatal vitamins. You can order them with the pregnancy test."

"But…my ex-hus—…but…we tried…the doctor said…"

"Perhaps you were just with the wrong man," he interrupts my stuttering and closes the Manila folder. Clasping my shoulder, he smiles warmly. "Congratulations, Ms. Ellis. Do not forget those prenatal vitamins."

Someone else makes the command to nod, and then rise from the exam table. And someone else shakes Dr. Mishra's hand before crossing the out-of-place lawn courtyard to my room.

I don't even recall unlocking the door or sitting on my bed, but here I am.

Pregnant? Really? No, really, really?

I can't be. I just…can't.

What did Dr. Cooper say? Something about deformed ovaries and fallopian tubes and too much scar tissue. I don't know. I barely heard him the first time. Trying to recall via memory is like trying to find a quarter at the bottom of a murky lake. Especially right now.

Powering on my laptop, I find an online pharmacy, order two pregnancy tests and a bottle of prenatals, pay the thirty dollars it takes to expedite shipping and then just…sit.

I stare blankly at the wall for a while, trying to piece together some sort of logic. My mind simply races for the most part, jumping between the same emotional hoops I did cartwheels through in Merritec's makeshift doctor's office. Finally, after I've exhausted my mental loop-de-loops, I take a deep breath and try to think things through rationally.

I might be pregnant.

Shrill alarms pierce my brain, warning me of false hope and shattered dreams.

Silencing them, I take another breath.

It's very likely I'm pregnant.

"But how?"
my brain wants to know.

Doctors can be wrong. I never sought a second opinion. I'd planned on it, but the shock of Courtney's untimely pregnancy took precedence. So maybe I was misdiagnosed. Maybe Dr. Cooper was wrong.

Holy shit. Dr. Cooper might have been wrong. 

My hearts begins to race uncontrollably again and I'm forced to take rapid, deep breaths to calm it.

"Okay," I say out loud, breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth. "Okay."

So if Dr. Cooper was wrong and I am now, indeed, pregnant, what I do? More importantly, how do I tell Trey? I mean, I know what
I'll
do. I've always wanted to be a mother. Granted I'd prefer it to be in the context of a loving relationship, but regardless, this is something I want. It's always been something I wanted. What about the man who might now unwittingly be a father? After I told him I was infertile? How do I force this on him?

There's no way Trey wouldn't step up. I mean, I could explain to him that there's nothing he needs to do, that I expect nothing from him, that I will be more than happy to raise our child alone. But that will never fly. I think I know him well enough to know he'd come back to the States with me, that he'd sacrifice his happiness here to take care of his responsibilities.

Can I do that to him? Should I?

Falling back on the mattress, I sigh. At least I have a few days to figure it out. Besides, I might not even be pregnant and stressing over a moot point.

Gently, I cup my still flat belly. "Is there really a baby in there?" I say softly. "If so, hello baby. I hope you're there. I'll be a really good mommy, I promise."

I don't fight the tears as they stream down my face.

~

I must drift off because the next thing I know, a huge BOOM startles me out of sleep. The whole room shakes as what must be an explosion rips through my room. The concussive force alone rattles the windows and makes me cup my ears.

What was that? Are we being attacked?

My body temperature jumps by at least twenty degrees and my heart rate reaches near-bursting level.

I can't do this. Not again. Not without Trey. Not when I might be pregnant.

I have to find out what's going on, and whether or not I need to be running for the hills. Creeping to the door, I turn the knob at an achingly slow pace, and then barely crack the door to peer outside. I'm not the only one peering out my door. It's like a row of gophers peeking out of their holes, including my neighbor.

"Dan," I whisper his name.

He turns to me, wide-eyed and looking a little ashen. I'm sure I look the same.

"What's going on?" I ask.

"I don't know. Did you hear that explosion?"

How could you not hear it? I guess it's as dumb a question as me asking him what's happening. Like he somehow knows more than I do.

"Yeah…"

Two Bit jogging toward us diverts my attention. Carrying a large, automatic gun, his expression is grim yet strangely excited. Trey had a similar expression during the raid at Site J. These men obviously live for this.

"Please return to your rooms," he says, his normally quiet voice booming and authoritative. "Lock your doors and remain inside until further notice."

"What's happening?" Dan asks.

"Car bomb. We're securing the perimeter now."

Gunfire sounds in the background and Two Bit takes off running toward it. That's all I need. I can't close the door quickly enough and might just twist off the deadbolt with the force that I turn it.

As much as I wish Trey were by my side right now, I'm actually glad he isn't. One less person to worry about. He's safer where he is. I hope.

Time passes at an agonizingly slow pace. There are moments when I'm convinced it has stopped completely. Pacing occupies my time for a while, as does peering through the slats of my window blinds. At least there isn't any more gunfire and the compound
looks
quiet enough. Of course, all I can see is the courtyard and the building facing mine. The chickens scratching in the grass don't seem upset, but then again they're Afghan chickens. This probably isn't their first car bomb.

My heart never slows. In face, I think it increases in pace as time creeps by. My chest actually begins to ache and I'm sweating so profusely, I've soaked through the pits of my shirt. My hands have been wrung so much, my knuckles are red and sore.

If I don't calm down I'm going to work myself into a full-blown panic attack. I need a shot. Or three.

My stomach twists. Scratch that. Not when I'm pregnant.

I stop mid-pace. Oh my God. I
am
pregnant. I know it. I don't need a second or third pregnancy test to confirm what my gut is telling me.

I'm pregnant. I'm actually
pregnant
.

A smile spreads over my face and for the first time in the last hour, those butterflies squirming around my entrails are from excitement, not fear.

The smile abruptly drops. I've got to get out of here. Not just this room. This country—Afghanistan. I can't risk my baby's life. Assuming Security actually has this attack under control, what about the next one? As safe as I've felt behind these thick walls—especially the last week—we're always vulnerable. Car bombs, rogue missiles, even our own Afghan security team… I simply can't risk it.

I wish I could drag Trey out of this country with me, but I know if he were here, he'd be eating up every minute of this.

Powering up my laptop, I log into the network, my fingers tightly crossed as I attempt to access the Internet. Sometimes the satellites are sketchy.

The signal isn't great but I'm able to gain access. With a squeal, I quickly type out an email to Sharon—the HR lady who handled all my details coming here. There's a missed email from Trey, but I ignore it. I'll open it later, once I've had the chance to settle down.

I tell Sharon exactly why I need to leave. It doesn't actually take long because she already knows about the Site J
event
. Knowing my email is confidential allows me to explain why I need to leave. I don't mention Trey, of course, since that's none of her business and not remotely relevant.

I realize this is highly unorthodox,
I type at the closing to my email,
and understand the strain me leaving will put on Hughes & Ralston and the increased expense to our client. But even if it costs me my job, I really cannot stay here a moment longer.

There is no hesitation as I click
send
.

Now I just have to wait. And pack.