Unnatural Calamities (23 page)

“I’m driving,” Toph stated.

She nodded, but didn’t look at him.

He fought the almost overwhelming urge to shake her and shout into her stupidly brave, sweet face.
Let me take you to a good doctor. Let me take care of you.

No point in getting pushy. He knew he couldn’t force her to agree. And bellowing was not the way to go if he wanted Janey to stay with him. Oh damn, not when the one hold he had on her might be slipping away.

How else could he keep her? She was strong enough to survive without his strength. And she didn’t want his stinking money. Not even to save their baby.

The first woman he’d ever loved might be about to say good bye to him.

Janey wished she’d brought a book so she could stare unseeing at a bunch of words on a page instead of staring blankly at the clinic’s waiting room walls. They sat on uncomfortable, hard plastic chairs in a flesh-colored room that would have made even Jeno the taste-free interior designer wince.

Janey was used to the clinic, but Toph frowned at the signs. “Cash Only. No personal checks.” “Thursday Needle Exchange Program Canceled until Further Notice.”

On the drive over she noticed that she didn’t feel crowded by his presence as she’d expected. Warm gratitude filled her as he sat next to her in the car and in the waiting room. Maybe she should have let him take her somewhere else. But she knew this place and if she was heading back to her old life, she should start as soon as possible.

After they settled to wait, he briefly leaned against her arm, picked up her hand and watched her. The touch of his thigh against hers was wonderfully reassuring and reminded her of their time with Zack.

Only somehow his touch was different, and the way he watched her held a new tentativeness she didn’t quite recognize. In the midst of her misery, she was touched by a stir of anticipation. He wasn’t there just to protect her. What next?

Toph folded her hand in both of his and rested his forehead on their enwrapped hands as if he consoled himself.

Bingo.

The gesture of helplessness and need for comfort gave her an answer she’d been looking for. She knew what had changed in Toph. He was right in there with her. Not an aloof bystander or superhero guardian.

The fear and the pain were lodged in him too and he wanted her touch to help.

No man had ever been in the ring with her before, fighting alongside her. A quiver ran through her and she grew even more stirred than she did during the fabulous sex they shared. Well, okay, maybe just stirred in a different manner.

He looked over at her, and she saw his worried face was pale except the dark stubble on his chin and cheeks. He needed a shave. For the first time she noticed his clothes and hair were rumpled, and circles had formed under his eyes. He looked…vulnerable.

Janey’s heart hiccupped at this sight of Toph, and she plunged right on into full-blown love for the first time in her life. Jumping into that lake, allowing it to surround and control her, was more wonderful and less agonizing than her weeks of standing at the edge, pacing and imagining the worst. Come on in, the water is exhilarating.

“So,” he spoke in a low voice. “What does it mean?”

She swallowed hard to clear away the lump in her throat formed by the unexpected, overwhelming surge of love. “What does what mean?”

“Does it mean the end?”

She shrugged, helpless. “I don’t know. I’m not bleeding a lot.”

“But if it is, um, gone. Are we finished?”

Oh. Despite the fact that Toph was uncharacteristically inarticulate and indirect, she understood. He was inviting her to take back her life. No more too-huge house in the stultifying ’burbs, no more being launched into the whirl of a life out of her control. And maybe if she ended up back in her own world, she’d feel she could borrow money from him to start the business she’d planned for years.

The sanctuary of her old peaceful existence, the life she’d carefully built up—for a half second, it beckoned. But for the rest of that second and the seconds after, the thought came crashing in—good gosh, what a stale, dead-end of a life if Toph wasn’t there to laugh with.

“That depends,” she said at last.

“On what?”

“Well.” It was her turn to search for words she didn’t know. “Ah. It just depends.”

“On what? It depends on what? Janey, tell me.” He spoke louder now.

The woman next to them, a large lady with a fake leopard coat and five shopping bags gathered at her feet, turned to glare at them and mutter under her breath. Toph didn’t seem to notice. He stared at Janey with fierce concentration. She could see him drawing hard, deep breaths.

She turned her head away from the blazing vision of him, so poignant it hurt her heart, to gather her thoughts. She looked over at him again so she could gauge his reactions. “The thing is, Toph. It’s just that. Well, I mean… What do you think?”

Over his fierce, dark-eyed stare, his brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean ‘what do I think?’”

She thought about asking him point blank,
do you want to marry me
, but he’d made that clear early on. He had no problem with marriage. She was the one who’d been kicking and screaming about it. But now. She was different. And maybe he was too.

“Not so much what do you think,” she said slowly. “More what do you feel. Because. Well. See. I had always thought that when I got married it would be to someone who cared about me. A lot.”

He cleared his throat. “But what about you? Don’t you want to marry someone you have feelings for?”

The light clicked on in her love- and grief-befuddled brain. “Darn it, Toph. You know what’s going on, right? We’re babbling because we’re playing chicken. One of us has to keep the hands on the wheel until there’s a big old crash. Okay. I’m brave enough for this. Toph Dunham. I believe that I love you. I’m just about certain I do. Wait. Let me try again. Toph, I love you.”

Right there in the middle of the grungy little waiting room, Toph grabbed her and hauled her onto his lap.

“Oh Janey, Janey. Me too.”

“Bluck, bluck,” she clucked softly in his ear.

In a ringing voice, he thundered, “I love you, Janey Carmody. I want to marry you. I’m dense as a rock because I have only just figured this stuff out. Last night really. But I have loved you for a long time.”

The woman next to them shifted away two seats and shoved several of her bags into the chair between them.

Janey smiled weakly. “You haven’t known me for a long time.”

“I have loved you for a very long time,” he continued firmly as if she hadn’t interrupted. “I fell in love in that damn bathtub. Before that even, when we were in the car with Zack, when you talked about your horrible parents without a hint of anger. Or before that, when you got winged by that bullet. It hurt me to see you hurt. Or before that, while we were putting Zack to sleep.

“No. It was while I watched you eat a muffin that morning we met to talk business. Or maybe the night before, when you turned your pizza inside out.

“Okay, this was when I fell in love: While I watched you sleep in the bleachers wearing those flannel pajamas. My heart hurt for you because I thought you’d spent time in prison.”

Her heart, heavy with grief though it was, swooped right up to her throat. No matter what happened, even if the baby was gone, she would all right. Eventually she’d even be happy. Squirrelly joy ran through her—side by side with the bottomless sorrow about her baby. Their baby. “So what do we do?”

His face was still wan, his eyes shadowed with fatigue, but he was gradually shifting back to the old Toph she knew, confident, calm. He’d even managed to smooth down his wild hair. But she didn’t mind a bit. She loved that Toph as well.

He grinned at her. “Get married, buy a house in the suburbs and get a Volvo or an SUV.”

“Live in West Farmbrook forever.” Even happily ever after had some flaws, but she’d live with them. Hell, she’d live with him in that house if she had to.

“You hate it that much?”

She managed a smile. “I’m getting used to it. Margaret is a good guide to survival there and it’s best for the kids.”

“There isn’t a barbed wire fence around the place, Janey.”

She shrugged. “And my business…”

“You can locate your business any place you want. If you can’t just take my damn money, I will get Nina to write up some kind of contract and you can borrow money for your business. I don’t care about the damn details. All I know is I am not letting you go if you love me. Never.”

Toph the tornado. He’d swooped in and dragged her up after all. She was in for the ride of her life. Good. She snuggled into his lap. She only hoped she’d be able to give him nearly as good as she got.

Epilogue

Four hours later, Dr. Mitchell wandered into the room where they sat side by side on the examining table, trying to distract themselves by designing a wedding invitation on Toph’s laptop.

“Good morning, Mrs. Connolly.”

“Carmody,” Janey automatically corrected, though she was impressed he hit on a name so close to her own. She remembered Dr. Mitchell from three months earlier when she’d had strep throat. During that visit he called her Mrs. Harrigan and Miss McPherson.

Toph slid off the table and stood next to it. He jammed hands into his jean pockets.

The doctor gave little puffing breaths, punctuated by comments, as he leafed through the folder. “Let’s see, let’s see. What are we seeing you for this morning?”

She didn’t bother to point out it was now afternoon.

He flipped the folder shut and peered at her. “So you’re going to be a mother. Congratulations.”

Janey blinked away the sudden tears in her eyes. She pulled the paper gown around her so tight it ripped in the armpits. “But there’s been bleeding and…”

From his white coat, Dr. Mitchell pulled out a small machine that looked like a portable tape player. “Not much blood and rust colored, correct? Probably not a problem. Your hormone levels are lovely, Mrs. Connerman. Simply lovely for the conception date marked here.”

He held up the machine. “Ultrasound’s broken,” he announced cheerily. “But we’ll try this. Even though we’re only seven weeks along, I’m a wizard with this doppler gizmo. Let me see if we can catch that good little heartbeat.”

The doctor waggled a large forefinger at her. “Now don’t let’s get all worked up if we don’t hear the little fella. Sometimes we have to be further along, closer to ten weeks.”

Janey closed her eyes and lay back, awkwardly crunching along the paper-covered table under her. When she raised her arm and stretched out her fingers, Toph, standing next to her head, understood. He grabbed her cold hand and nestled it between his warm ones.

The doctor glopped a slug of warm gel on her belly. They all stopped breathing as he slid the machine across her skin. For a brief moment, tiny quick thuds echoed through the room.

Dr. Mitchell grabbed a paper towel and wiped off the machine. He handed the used, goopy towel to Janey. Then he yawned and said, “Go home. Lie down and rest, Mrs. Connelly.”

Janey sat up. She abruptly buried her head in her hands and began to howl, crying as if her heart had been ripped apart. Toph grabbed her and wrapped his arms around her. With her head pressed against the warmth of his chest, she felt rather than heard the words he said to the doctor, “Thank you very much. We’ll clear out in about ten minutes, okay?”

“Fine, Mr. Carmody. Take your time.” He pulled out a prescription pad and scribbled. “Prenatal vitamins. Take them.”

He handed the paper to Toph and ambled out.

“Are you okay?” Toph whispered close to her ear.

She hiccupped. “Sh-shocked. Re-re-relieved.”

“Oh, Janey, that doctor might be all right, but the guy doesn’t even know your name. Please, please, let me take you to my internist. Or call him? He’ll know a good ob-gyn. Let me. Please, Janey love.” He sounded fierce, not sedate or reasonable, as he pleaded with her.

She nodded. “Yeah. Please.”

His arms still held her as she climbed off the table. She rested against the hard wall of his chest for a moment to listen to the hard thump of his heart—fast, yet so much slower than the beat of the baby they’d made. Their baby.

For a moment she allowed herself to relax and lean against Toph. She grinned. Golly, what would they tell the little guy about how his parents met? She’d let Toph take care of that story.

She reached up to stroke his rough, unshaved cheek. “Let’s bring along Rachel too. And Cynthia.”

The instant she had understood Toph, Jr. still might be on board, she’d had no intention of getting stupid or stubborn about medical care. She was even going to suggest they call his doctor before he began to beg her. Janey would not begrudge money spent to help that little miracle, but, hey, no point in telling Toph, Sr. that fact right away.

Nope. She wouldn’t tell him yet. She liked the way he pleaded with her, instead of telling her in that matter-of-fact way of his. It was a very good sign for their future.

About the Author

Summer Devon is a pen name for Kate Rothwell, who also writes under her own name.

Though her favorite subgenre is late Victorian historicals, especially with a New York City setting, Kate/Summer also writes contemporaries, paranormals and fantasy. The one consistent factor: the stories are all character-driven romance.

She’s won numerous awards such as the Passionate Plume (she finalled a few times and won 2011 with co-writer Bonnie Dee), finalled in the Eppies, won a RIO award, the Golden Rose, the ecataromance Reviewer’s Choice award, and she was a Romantic Times Readers’ Choice finalist.

You can find her at twitter, Facebook, her own blog
katerothwell.blogspot.com
. She lives in Connecticut in a town that is not even remotely like West Farmbrook, nossirree.

Look for these titles by Summer Devon

Now Available:

Learning Charity

Revealing Skills

The Knight’s Challenge

Taken Unaware

Coming Soon:

The Psychic and The Sleuth (with Bonnie Dee)