Wedding Date with the Army Doc (12 page)

“You were the one who quoted the good doctor that ‘life shouldn't be about what might happen,' otherwise we never would have made love in the first place, right?”

She suddenly had his undivided attention, the dumbfounded look nearly causing his mouth to drop open. She wanted to sit beside him and plead for him to understand, but she stayed right there, on the other side of the coffee table from him. “So that brings us back to what is happening right now. Yes, I'm pregnant.”

“You're pregnant.” Evidently he was still feeling stunned.

“Yes, and you made me that way.” Her finger shot up. “No, that isn't exactly right. We got that way together.
We're
pregnant.”

Still Jackson remained painfully silent. It cut like a blade through her center.

She'd just laid her fear, pride and guilt on the table and he wasn't rushing to save any of it. Her decision to stay pregnant seemed to be hanging in the balance of his grace. She couldn't allow him to have that control over her body and her baby. Could she stand to hear him tell her thanks but, no, thanks?
 
Oh, God, no, it would hurt too much. Fear took over about what he might say, and as was her pattern of dealing with fear, she rushed into a response before he'd had time to digest her news and form the words for a reply. She simply couldn't take this agonizing pause. If he wasn't going to say anything right this instant, she needed to step in, take control, preempt the outcome. “Please, leave. Now.”

“Charlotte.” She heard pleading and frustration in the single word of her name.

She shook her head. “I promise not to upset your carefully planned-out life. I get it. You told me from the start. You've done the fatherhood thing and never want to do it again. You're counting down the days until Evan turns twenty-one.” Her fear seemed to change to anger from one breath to the next and she couldn't bite her tongue to stop the next thought from coming out. “I know you never want to get married again. Hell, you can be an old lonely man for all I care. I'm having this baby.” Damn the break in her voice, the surge of hurt childishness, the threatening tears welling in her eyes. Damn them all. And damn him, too.

She scanned the table for more used tissues.

“Wait a second,” he said. “You're reading all kinds of things into this, and I don't deserve your insults. Can you understand that I might need to digest everything you've just told me? You owe me a little time to think, don't you?” He stood, imploringly, it seemed, taking a couple of steps toward her.

She moved back. “Sure.” She sounded terse.

Had she hoped for and maybe even expected too much from her Southern gentleman? He didn't rush to her or make a single promise. He'd simply stood there looking all befuddled.
You're what?
What he asked for was time. And a reasonable person would grant him that. But she was anything but reasonable in her pregnant and scared sightless state.

The saying that actions spoke louder than words hit her like a full frontal head butt, knocking her fear aside and fueling her anger. He obviously didn't want any responsibility for this baby growing second by second inside her. If he didn't want to jump on board with the pregnancy, that said all she needed to know, and so she didn't have time for him. If she were a princess, she would have him banished, but she was a modern woman dealing with a life-changing event, and it hurt to have to go through it alone, to not get from him the support that she'd secretly prayed for. Her secret dream. But so be it.

“Go,” she said, trying to cover up her true feelings. “Think all you want. Nothing is changing on this end. Go. Go!” Had she actually yelled at him?

Because he didn't budge, she grabbed his hand, pulled and led him to her front door, and only because he was still stunned and didn't seem to have the ability to resist her did he allow her to push him out. Or maybe he wanted her to, to let him off the hook.
She kicked me out!
he could claim later—which only made her angrier. She closed the door with a bang, nearly in his face.

She wanted to cry and scream and drop to her knees with disappointment, but the only thing she could do right that moment was respond to his muffled protests on the other side. “Charlotte. Charlotte. Come on. Don't be like this.”

She searched for her voice and mustered all the nerve she had left. “Just to make it clear, I said nothing is changing on this end. Except whether or not I'll ever let you back.”

CHAPTER NINE

J
ACKSON
 
WASN
'
T
 
EVEN
 
sure how he'd made the drive home. His head swam with thoughts yet nothing seemed clear enough to grasp. Charlotte was pregnant, the one thing they'd both agreed from the start would never happen.

And she planned to keep the baby.

Where did that leave him? With an intense sense of déjà vu.

Think straight!

First, he needed to admit he loved her for helping him get his life back, and though he'd been on the verge of telling her—his midnight visit had seemed like the perfect time—the news that she was pregnant had knocked him completely off track. It had rocked the thoughts in his brain until they were so jumbled up he couldn't think.

The monumental revelation, that he loved something Charlotte had done for him, helping him heal and grow, deserved its own moment in time. He'd planned to indulge in the new thought for days to come, that he might be able to love again, to hold the concept in his hands and pass it back and forth, to get a feel for it, savoring the secret, and then and only then to find the nerve to say it out loud. To see how it sounded:
Charlotte, you've revived me, and I'm finally open to a complete relationship with you. Are you ready to see where this goes?

It might sound awkward and clinical, but it was his true feeling, and she deserved to know.

But she'd just told him she was pregnant!

Now he'd have to jump ahead dozens of steps in the relationship to admit the big secret. The one he'd planned to carry around with him for days, taking his own sweet time to tease her with dumb grins, special touches, secret glances at work, all building to the big revelation.
I'm in love with you, can't you tell?
Now everything had changed. Because the pregnancy forced it. And long before he was ready he had to admit it. The truth shocked him, made his mouth go dry. This was never supposed to happen again.

She wasn't merely “a thing.” She hadn't ever been.

He loved her. Damn it, he loved her. But there wasn't time or the luxury of basking in that knowledge because she was already making him a father. Again.

Part of him wanted to kick himself for getting into this position in the first place. Wasn't a man supposed to learn from his history? Why had he let himself think he could be normal, pick up his life, enjoy getting close with a woman again? He'd been playing with fire since he'd first asked her out. If only Charlotte hadn't made it so enticing and easy.

Sure, blame her. You wanted her long before she came around to the idea.
His fingers flew to his brows and rubbed up and down, as if that might help clear his head.

He'd sat there just now at her house like a big dolt when she'd told him. His jaw had dropped open, mind numbed by the news, unable to respond.
This is all out of order. I need more time to get used to the first part! You're not just a thing to me. I think I love you.

He'd seen her inconsolable reaction, as clear as her beautiful brown eyes. He'd hurt her to the marrow, ripped open her heart, left her bleeding, and she'd turned that hurt into anger and kicked him out. Could he blame her?

He paced his condo, unable to rest, wanting to call her but still not knowing what to say.
I love you but I'm not ready for more.

A baby? He was forty-two, done with those things. They'd made a pact on their first date, hadn't they? She clearly hadn't keep her side of the bargain. But was that all they were to each other, a bargain? He stopped to breathe and felt the wall building itself around him, separating him from the living, keeping him safe from ever feeling again.

Was he done with Charlotte? Could he throw away that new love so easily? What kind of man walked away from a woman he'd finally and only just recently admitted he loved, because she was pregnant and he didn't want to be a father again?

An empty and damaged-for-life bastard, that was who. Write it down, put it in his packet—damaged goods. But was that who he really was? Now was the time to decide if he was still that other man. Or not.

He slid onto his couch, mind roiling, hands fisted, sweat beading on his upper lip. He wanted a stiff drink, the crutch he'd come to rely on years before. But he'd spent enough time on the dark side after the accident. He knew the path to hell backward and forward and never wanted to go there again. He'd traded in that prison cell for a new beginning in California. Which had opened him up...for Charlotte.

He called her. She didn't answer. He didn't leave a message.

He glanced at his watch—it was almost three a.m. His first surgery was scheduled for seven. He put on a pot of coffee, set the brew button for five a.m. then went to his bedroom, threw on his jogging shorts and exchanged his prosthetic for the running blade, then drove to Malibu for a long soul-searching run on the beach just before dawn. Maybe it would help clear his head.

Having a full surgical schedule would force him to compartmentalize. Charlotte deserved his undivided attention and so did his patients. He could only deal with one trauma at a time, and one hundred percent couldn't be divided during surgery. As much as it tore him up, since she hadn't answered earlier, he'd have to wait until that night to talk to Charlotte. Maybe he'd be more coherent by then.

In the meantime he worried what kind of a hard-hearted SOB she'd think he was. Because he cared. And because he was leaving her in limbo for a day, he deserved all of her negative thoughts about him. He could practically feel them with each step of his run. His pace was off, his muscles tight and tender, his breathing out of sync. Yeah, he deserved it for putting her through hell.

* * *

The problem with taking the “patients come first” approach in medicine was that when at the end of an unbelievably grueling day, when he hadn't had an hour's sleep the night before and had zero left to give, he wound up giving himself a pass on calling Charlotte.
I need to be well rested, to have my thoughts straight, to know exactly what I think and feel about the situation
,
 
he rationalized
.
He hadn't had a moment to think about any of it that day, and with tomorrow's schedule he feared it would be no different then.

She'd probably be done with him by then. And he would deserve it. So he dialed her number again. She didn't pick up. Again.

He fell into bed, planning to call her once more in an hour, and amazingly slept through the night instead. But at five a.m. he was wide-awake, his head spinning with thoughts. It was too early to call her, so he dressed for another run. He needed to consider the consequences of his affair with the beautiful pathologist. The woman he loved. He was starting to get used to the phrase, the woman he loved. That was progress, wasn't it? Maybe by the time he had finished jogging, she'd be up. He'd call her. This time she might answer.

But what would he say? Could he make things right with her after this torturing delay?

It wasn't a good run—in fact, it was worse than the day before. Every step felt as sluggish as his brain. Anxious thoughts came to mind. How much he missed Charlotte. How he needed to talk to her, which left him edgy and stepping up his pace. One he could hardly keep up with. After the unheroic way he'd handled her news, why would she even want anything to do with him? She'd pushed him out of her house. Her life? Hell, maybe it was better to let things end as they had.

He wanted to kick himself for letting the negative and completely unacceptable thought slip in.

It was an old and sorry excuse, as familiar as a predictable movie. And totally unacceptable. Wasn't he a new man—a healing man, thanks to Charlotte—or had her news ripped off the new skin and left him back where he'd started three years ago with all of his old flaws alive and festering, dragging him down?

Was that really what he was made of? He hated to think of the answer. He was only forty-two, it had been over three years since everything had changed, and surely he was a better man now.

He stopped and called her. As predicted, it went directly to message. “Charlotte, we need to talk. When can I see you?”

He ran on, soon hearing a text message shoot through.
Don't bother to call again.

Blast it all to hell. He really had blown it by letting the extra day go by!

Damn, he already missed her more than he had ever thought possible. His chest ached, fearing he'd lost her forever. She was pregnant with his baby. Their baby. He understood what an epic decision it had to be for her to have the baby. Her fears, her guilt of passing on imperfect genes. He wanted to be by her side every step of the way. Now all he had to do was convince her he wasn't the heel she must think he was.

Not an easy task.

He ran back to his car, remembering how important the role of being a father was, and how his wife had always complained he had never been there enough for the boys. If he was a new man, couldn't he be the kind of father for this baby that he hadn't been for his sons? Charlotte was giving him a chance to shine in life again. Together. Why would he want to crawl back to his “you call this living” cocoon?

Things could be completely different this time if she'd only give him a chance. Shouldn't she give him a break? Sure, he'd failed his first chance, when she'd told him the news. He could tell how hard her decision must have been—she'd looked like she'd been through the wringer. The fine skin beneath those beautiful eyes had looked bruised and tense. Her full, normally soft mouth bitten and tight. She'd left work early and had probably thought about her condition every second until she'd called him. She'd cautiously tiptoed her feelings out, testing him, and had blown him away with her words. “I'm crazy about you.”

She'd put herself on the line and he could have been a robot for the lack of response he'd given her. Of course she'd be furious with him. In his defense, he'd been completely stunned. But he'd had time to recover, and all he'd chosen to do had been to let her down in the name of needing time to think things through and his demanding job. No wonder she never wanted to hear from him again.

He got into his car, wondering what good was a man who didn't risk it all for the woman he loved? Yeah, he'd had enough time to admit it and now he knew without a doubt that he
loved
her. Maybe he'd been forced to come to the conclusion, but the feeling had already been there, well hidden, of course, because even a breath of admitting he could love again had scared the hell out of him, let alone the thought of becoming a dad again. He knew he wouldn't feel the love so strongly now if it hadn't already been there, starting as a seed and growing every time they'd seen each other. Why else had everything felt so right whenever they'd been together?

He drove to her town house and pushed the security button.

“Go away.” Her voice came through the speaker a few seconds later.

“I need to talk to you.”

She clicked off and didn't open the gate for him. After a few minutes he revised his plan. Because now that he'd had an epiphany, he knew what needed to be done. If life was all about what was happening right then, not the past or what might be in the future, he wanted and needed with everything he had to be there for Charlotte
now
.
 
And when the time came, he'd be a proper father for their kid, too. That was the beauty of new beginnings—he could start afresh, get it right this time.

He glanced at his watch. It was almost six on Thursday morning and he had another big surgery in less than two hours. Tomorrow, Friday, was the day they were supposed to leave for Georgia and his cousin's wedding. He'd bought the plane tickets and made reservations at the grand old hotel on the banks of the Savannah River. But forget about the wedding. He wouldn't go unless Charlotte was by his side. There was no way he'd go without her.

He'd been told all his life he was smart, but what this situation called for wasn't brains. It called for heart...plus a bit of resourcefulness. For a methodical surgeon, every once in a while he surprised himself with his creativity. A great idea popped into his mind. Sure, it was a risk, a huge risk, which made it all the more necessary. Charlotte had done the same with him the night before last, had laid it all out there. Now it was his turn. She deserved no less. The only question was, how would Charlotte respond to his over-the-top plan?

* * *

It was seven a.m. Jackson had performed the five-minute hand and arm scrub, and donned the first pair of his sterile double gloves. His surgical nurse had just helped him into his gown, his cap and mask were in place, and he used his elbow to push the plate on the automatic door opener on the wall. The important surgery required a frozen section. He'd seen Dr. Gordon's name on the list for the morning, so he'd called and, calling in a favor, had insisted that Dr. Johnson had to do it. It would be up to Jim Gordon, now that he was back part-time at work, to come up with a believable reason for Charlotte to step in. Knowing what a team player Jim was, Jackson trusted it would be a good one, too.

An hour later, after they'd cracked open the patient's chest and he'd biopsied the mass on the right lung, he put the fresh tissue into the waiting petri dish, which was sealed and labeled and quickly handed over to the OR runner. Pathology knew the specimen was coming. “Don't give it to anyone but Dr. Johnson.”

“Yes, sir.” The young summer volunteer, garbed in full OR regalia, took the specimen and fled like his life depended on the mission. Did he even know who Dr. Johnson was?

The entire surgical team waited for the report as the surgery was held in limbo and the patient constantly monitored.

While he waited, leaving the assistant surgeon in charge, he knew beyond a doubt what he had to do once he heard Charlotte's voice. He wanted to be a man Charlotte could trust and depend on and look to for support, for everything, and he didn't intend to waste another minute before he told her.