Diner Girl(25)

“I did everything: I went to every appointment, I took every precaution. I cut my salt way back. I eat healthy. I had a BLT today, but Albert makes mine with soy bacon. It doesn’t even taste like bacon, but I eat it anyway! I don’t understand.”

“It most likely isn’t the hypertension.” At the table next to her couch, he let his hand glide over one of her lamps. “Sometimes women are put on bed rest as they get closer to delivery—as a precaution, that’s all. I’m sure this is just a precaution. The doctor couldn’t find anything wrong with you, she just wants to be cautious.”

“Bed rest.” She groaned. “I have to work! I have to pay my rent. I can’t be on bed rest.”

Mark went past her to the only closed door. “We’ll figure it out.” He reached forward and turned the knob. “Is this your bedroom? Let’s go ahead and get you settled in.” He opened the door and froze. Looking around the room, he felt as if the bottom had dropped from the floor.

“Mark, wait!” he heard her say, but it was too late. And her words made no sense anymore.

He walked to the middle of Jennifer’s room. All around him were the most beautiful baby mobiles he’d ever seen. Turning around and around he looked at each one. Two dozen, at least, in every color and shape he could imagine, dangled from the ceiling.

Unable to control his own hands, he reached up to touch one. It was a clown face with arms hanging from its suspended body. A tiny bell sounded as one of the arms reached over to tap the other. Tiny hands ringing bells.

How wonderful it would have been to be a baby surrounded by all this magic.

Turning around, he looked at Jennifer. She stood in the doorway, her eyes closed, left hand stroking her belly.

“Did you make these?” He wanted her to open her eyes. Face him. And he couldn’t help but notice the tiny curls of her hair hanging down, clinging to her face and her soft bosom. And her belly. Undeniable evidence that she’d hidden so much from him. That she was going to just give their child away and never tell him. She’d told him that much in the car on the way to the hospital. That she’d decided to give the baby...his baby...up for adoption. She opened her eyes.

“I started making them about two months after I found out I was pregnant.”

His chest tightened as a vice squeezed his heart. Why hadn’t she told him before now? He swallowed. “You told me you are giving the baby up for adoption, so what are all these for?”

Jennifer’s hand moved from her belly to her chest. She clenched it into a fist and held it over her heart. “I couldn’t help it. I knew I couldn’t keep the baby, but I wanted something to give it. I can’t explain. Something of me. Something that when this baby is older and hates me for what I did…maybe he, or she, can look at these and know I loved him. I, I don’t know.”

Her eyes brightened and her cheeks broke into red splotches as she spoke. She clenched her fist tighter. “I just wanted the baby to know that I loved...that I love it.”

Moving into the room, she sat on the bed. She reached her hand forward and touched him.

He yanked away. His skin burned where her fingers had grazed. Irrational anger surged from his gut to his head. He couldn’t look at her. He paced the floor, ducking to keep from striking his head on the flock of mobiles. Then he stopped and hazarded a look in her direction…and tried to catch his breath. Unable to stand still, he pushed hard against the wall, turned and slid down against it.

He wanted to be rational. His logical brain urged him to think through his anger—but damn her! She took all his choices away without even consulting him. Fury boiled from the pit of his stomach, and his head throbbed as he watched her.

Finally, he couldn’t hold back any longer. He had to speak up. Bringing her attention back to him, he said, “I can’t do this, I—”

Jennifer interrupted. “I’m not asking you for anything.”

“No, I mean I can’t do this. This is my baby, too.” He felt as if he had to fight against the building rage. God, why did she hide this from him?

Swallowing down the sorrow forcing its way to the surface, he started again. “This isn’t just your baby. It’s ours. You knew you were pregnant, and you decided not to tell me.” This wasn’t working. He couldn’t let her think he was okay with what she’d done. She’d deceived him! He had a right to feel angry. Worse, even. “You were going to give away our child and not even tell me.” His voice rose slightly. “What about me, Jennifer? What was the baby going to know of me? While you were making your plans to let the baby—our baby—know you loved it, what about me?”