JOSH FELT GRIM.
He didn’t like doctor’s offices, hospitals or clinics, and lately it seemed he spent all his waking hours at such places. He and Briana had dropped Nealie off at the house of Briana’s college friend, Cheryl. Cheryl had a six-month-old girl, and Nealie loved the baby.
This morning, Nealie’s blood check showed she was no better, but neither was she worse. “She’s holding her own,” the doctor told Josh and Briana in his office. “I wish the medicines were doing more for her, but at least the disease isn’t gaining ground.”
Briana looked as if she was going to cry. But she didn’t. She hated for people to see her cry. Josh saw her bite her lip, straighten her spine and grip the arms of her chair more tightly.
Now they were on their way to the fertility and genetic center. Josh hated the idea of such an intimate physical exam, but Briana didn’t seem to think about it at all. She still seemed depressed at Nealie’s lack of progress.
At a stoplight, he reached out and put his hand on the nape of her neck. “Cheer up. If she can stay stable until the baby comes, that’s all we need.”
“I just worry about her,” Briana said. “I was terrified she’d be worse. I wanted so much for her to be better.”
“I know,” he said, his hand stroking her nape. “Believe me, I know.”
He would have leaned over and kissed her, but the light changed. He put his hand on the wheel.
He said, “I’ve got to ask you something.”
Her expression went wary, suspicious. “What?”
“This fertilization thing—using a lab for a stork. It’s got to be expensive. You’ve got to let me pay for it.”
She shook her head, her dark hair swinging with the motion. “No,” she said, “I’ve got some things figured out. I’ll manage.”
“That’s your answer to everything,” he said. “If I said, ‘Look out—a giant meteor’s going to destroy the earth,’ you’d say, ‘I’ll manage.’”
Her expression grew stubborn. “You can pay for your physical and the other work they have to do with you. I’ll pay for the rest. It’s my body.”
“And it’ll be my child in your body. What’s more, there are all these expenses for Nealie. I want to pay for them from now on.”
“All I ask is that you donate sperm. I never asked for money.”
“Well, dammit, you should. What do you have? Some kind of martyr complex? Why do you always think you have to carry the whole world on your shoulders alone?”
“I don’t want to be indebted to you,” she said.
He pulled off the street so quickly that the tires screeched. He veered into the parking lot of a convenience store and stopped. He’d seen her records. He knew she was plunging into debt up to her neck.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“Getting ready to turn around and go back to Illyria. You want my tadpoles? You’ll take my money. You’ve got one minute to change your mind. It’s my way or the highway.”
Her dark eyes flashed. “That’s blackmail. You’d never do it. You have to help Nealie.”
“Yes. And I want to help her in every way possible. I have that right. She’s my child, too.” He glanced at his watch. “Fifty seconds.”
“You’re pushing again,” she accused. “What makes you think you can shove your way into this and take charge?”
“I’m her father. I’ve been paying child support. Right now, she’s a special child, she needs special support. You’re close to coming unraveled, Briana. You think you’re Wonder Woman, but you’d better admit you’re human. How will you take care of Nealie and a baby when every day you’re worried sick about money? Forty seconds.”
“I’ve been taking care of her all the time you’ve been gone,” Briana countered. “Which has been most of her life.”
“Ah,” he said. “So now all my travels are guilt trips. It so happens I make my living moving around. You make yours staying put. And you know I make more than you do. So let me put it where it’s needed. Use it for our little girl—and our baby. Thirty seconds, sweetheart.”
“Look,” she said, despair creeping into her voice, “we shouldn’t be arguing. In twenty minutes we have to walk into that clinic and convince a counselor we’re fit to be the parents of a new baby. If he saw us the way we are now, he’d kick us out the door.”
Josh shook his head. He’d tried to make an honorable offer, but instead of comforting her, he’d only upset her. He needed to regain lost ground.
He spoke more gently. “You’re right. We need to present a united front. Now when the doctor asks how we intend to support both these children, you can’t sit there jutting out your chin and saying, ‘I’ll manage.’ It’ll be much better to say we’ll work together. And that I, as the father, will pay child support for two and for all medical bills involving them.”
He paused. Lightly, tentatively, he put his hand on her shoulder. “They won’t think we’re able to cooperate in bringing up two kids if we can’t agree on anything. Trust me. Fifteen seconds, baby. Fifteen.”
For the space of a heartbeat, she said nothing. Then she raised her shoulder so her cheek pressed against his hand. At last she whispered, “You’re right. We have to pull together.”
“Then let’s kiss and make up,” he said. “Okay?”
“Okay,” she said, her voice unsteady. She lifted her face to his.
He would have unsnapped his seat belt and thrown it off, seized her and kissed her until they were both oblivious. But this was not the place and it was absolutely not the time.
He forced himself to be controlled. He leaned toward her and gave her the gentlest, most encouraging kiss he could. But her mouth against his made his soul spin.
THE CONSULTING DOCTOR was a small, wiry man with eyes as black as jet. Everything about him said that he wanted straight answers, and he wanted them without hesitation.
For one of the few times in her life, Briana felt intimidated. The man sat behind the desk and stared at them like a stern judge. His fingers were steepled, and his gaze never wavered.
She and Josh sat across from him, and she felt it was as if they had fallen into the clutches of the Grand Inquisitor. Her mouth was dry, and her muscles clenched into knots as hard as stone.
Beside her, Josh gave off an aura of seriousness and calm. He stretched out his hand and took hers, settling them on the arm of her chair. It might have been a theatrical gesture, simply for the doctor’s sake, but it seemed sincere, and she was grateful he’d done it.
The doctor’s name was Vargas. He said, “In vitro fertilization means the egg is fertilized outside the mother’s body, then reimplanted. The process, as you know, is controversial.”
Briana could find no words. Josh said, “We understand.”
Vargas said, “But if IVF is controversial, the genetic testing of the fertilized eggs is a hundred times more controversial. Many people think it’s playing God. That it’s used to create some sort of designer child.”
“We don’t want a designer child,” Josh answered, squeezing Briana’s hand. “We want a healthy child. We wouldn’t want it to suffer the way Nealie has. And we don’t want to bring another fatally sick child into the world.”
“But,” said Vargas, “there will be people who condemn you for doing this. They will look on you as meddling with the very process of creation. How do you intend to handle that?”
Briana’s heart beat harder. Her mouth went dry. Josh said, “We’ll handle it by keeping it as private as possible. Your clinic has a confidentiality policy. We’ll keep this to ourselves. It’s a family matter.”
“But you’re not a family, are you?” Vargas said with frost in his voice. “You’re no longer married. Which makes this irregular.”
“This is the only family I have,” said Josh. “I care deeply for Briana and for our daughter. I’d like very much to have another child. Of all the women in the world, Briana is the one I’d want to be that child’s mother.”
Vargas’s black eyes flicked to Briana. “And you? How do you feel?”
Briana struggled to find her voice and make it confident. “I feel exactly the same. I’d love another child. And I don’t know any man I’d want to father it except Josh. We—we’re still fond of each other. And it’s nobody’s business but ours how we choose to have a child. We want the baby to be healthy—and to be able to help Nealie. That’s what medicine is for, isn’t it? To promote health and save lives?”
Vargas looked at her skeptically. She felt exhausted by even such a short speech. She clung to Josh’s hand more tightly.
Vargas said, “About the support of this new child—about the medical bills—you’ve made arrangements?”
“We’ve made arrangements,” Josh assured him. “I’ll support both children, including medical expenses. We’ve settled that.”
Vargas had kept his gaze on Briana. “True? You have an agreement?”
“Yes,” she said, her throat constricted. “We have.” She did not dare say they had reached it only within the last hour, after arguing in the parking lot of a convenience store.
“I’m willing to sign a legal document to guarantee it,” Josh said.
Vargas gave him a cool look. “That would be a good idea.” He glanced at the forms they’d filled out. “Yet you say that you have, at present, no intention of remarrying. This is odd, when you protest how much you care for each other. It’s also going to put a stigma on this second child, whom you both claim to want so much.”
Briana was shocked and angered that he would bring up such a matter. What business is it of his? Then she realized, It’s exactly the kind of question that he’s paid to ask.
“Actually we’ve discussed this,” Josh said. “But it’s a difficult time for Briana to make a decision. Nealie’s not the only member of her family who’s sick. Her father has a history of heart trouble. In fact, he just had another spell and gets out of the hospital today. The situation is complicated for her.”
Briana thought he’d given an adequate answer, but Vargas studied Josh intently. “Is it also complicated for you? Are you also unable to reach a decision?”
Josh turned to Briana and looked at her, not the doctor. “If she’d say yes, I’d marry her in a minute.”
Briana’s stomach fluttered. Suddenly she was able to meet the doctor’s eyes without fear. “Our daughter wishes with all her heart that we’d marry again. But it didn’t work the first time. She’d be devastated if it didn’t work out a second time. I can’t rush into a marriage hoping it’ll work. I have to know it would work. I can’t chance putting everyone through that pain again.”
Vargas said, “And you really believe you can hide what we’d be doing here—whether you marry or not?”
“Yes,” she said with conviction. “It’s best that we keep it to ourselves. Nobody else has to know.”
Vargas gave her a tight smile. “But people may find out. It’s quite possible. And if so, you will face intense criticism from some quarters.”
“I’ll manage—” She remembered what Josh had said and changed what she had started to say. She looked at Josh, her hand still linked with his. “We’ll manage. Together we’ll work it out.”
Vargas looked unmoved. “I hope for your sake you can.”
He reached for a form, wrote out their names, then signed his own at the bottom. “Take these to the lab. You can start your tests.”
A disbelieving joy jolted through her. “You mean we’re approved?”
“The paper says I’ve counseled you and brought up some of the difficulties you face. You’re in a dilemma, but you seem to have given it genuine thought. Yes, I have reservations about your case—it’s unusual. You face a number of difficult problems. You seem to have the courage to face them. I wish you luck.”
He rose, shook each of their hands, and walked them to the doorway. Briana felt giddy and weak in the knees. They had won the first round. Josh slipped his arm around her shoulders, and she thought, Thank you, thank you. I couldn’t have made it through that interview without you.
“I could hardly talk in there,” she admitted. “You had to give most of the answers.”
“Once you found your pace, you were fine. You did great.”
They went to the desk that scheduled preliminary interviews and tests. They filled out more forms. They sat and waited to be called.
Briana saw a copy of Adventure magazine. She paged through it idly until she came to a photo feature on Haiti. She recognized Josh’s work immediately, although he hadn’t sent her a copy of this article. She turned to face him. “Haiti? When were you in Haiti?”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “Early last year.”
She stared at the pictures in horror. “My God, this is the middle of a riot. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want you or Nealie to worry. I wasn’t there that long.”
A tide of resentment swept her. “One of these days you’re going to walk into the wrong place and get yourself killed.”
“I’m always careful.”
“So you went there when there was fighting in the streets, and nothing happened to you? Nothing threatened you in the least?”
He wanted to lie to her. He knew any more lying would be wrong, so he tried to play down the truth. “Some guys fired at us. They didn’t hit any of us. They were lousy shots.”
He didn’t tell her about the hand grenade that had nearly put out the eye of Wentz, the writer, and grazed Josh’s calf with shrapnel. He could see she was upset enough.
“Oh, Josh,” she said. “It destroys me when you do these things. That’s one reason I can’t think about remarrying. I’d live in dread that you’d be killed somewhere. I’d never stop thinking about it.”
He had no chance to give her an answer. A nurse called their names. They rose, and the nurse guided them down a hall, then sent them two separate and opposite ways.
BRIANA WAS GLAD to let Josh drive when they went to get Nealie. She was a skillful driver, but he was even more so. Yet for all his ease weaving between lanes and negotiating complex routes, he looked unhappy.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “I thought your nurse said you were a strapping, healthy guy, strong as a horse.” With an air of mischief she added, “And that your sperm is very lively.”
“He did say it,” grumbled Josh. “Good grief, why did they have to give me a male nurse?”
“He’s not just a nurse,” she said. “He’s a clinical nurse specialist. They can do all the basic things a doctor can. Give physicals, make diagnoses, even write prescriptions.”
Josh was not appeased. “Then what in hell do we need doctors for?”
“The doctor can spend more time with patients with special needs. He can put the more elementary things into the hands of the nurse.”
“Please don’t remind me about the hands of the nurse.” Josh gave a mock shudder. “They were cold as an arctic herring.”
She looked at him in amused disbelief. “You just came from Siberia, and now you’re complaining about a man’s chilly hands?”
“Nobody in Siberia put his chilly hands where this guy did. He poked me where I don’t want to be poked. He squeezed me where I’d rather not be squeezed—at least by a guy. Then he shut me up in a bathroom with a girly magazine and two paper cups. Into one cup I was supposed to whiz. In the other I was to expel my own personal reproductive juice. Neither of which was easy with Mr. Herring Hands standing out there smirking.”
Briana smiled for the first time that day. “If the door was closed, how did you know he was smirking?”
“I could feel it. His smirk sent vibrations through the door.”
She put her hand on his shoulder in sympathy. “A physical’s no fun for women, either. Trust me.” She thought of the trial transfer she’d undergone. It was relatively painless but had filled her with anxiety.
“Yeah, but you got a female doctor.”
“I’m a woman, I got a woman doctor. You’re a man, you got a male nurse. What’s the difference?”
“It’s different, that’s all,” he said.
She gave his arm a soft, playful swat. “I’ve learned two things about you today. Doctors’ offices make you nervous, and you’ve got a phobia about male nurses. I used to think you were completely fearless.”
“Well, I’m not. Sorry.”
“But you’ve climbed in the Himalayas. You went to Albania when it was a war zone. Haiti, too. You’ve been shot at, you’ve had a polar bear charge you, you were bitten by a moray eel in Tahiti.”
“I’m used to that sort of stuff.”
“Well, then what bothers you about having a male nurse?” she teased.
He was silent for a moment. At last he said, “I was in too many foster homes. Sometimes there were guys who tried to get touchy-feely. I could usually make them back off.”
Shocked, she stared at him as if seeing him for the first time. “You’re saying some of these men tried to molest you?”
“Yeah,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road. “One guy told me to cooperate or he’d sneak in my room when I was sleeping and gag me with duct tape. I told him if he tried it, I’d kill him. But he was a lot bigger than me, and I had to sleep sometime. He did it.”
Sickness filled her. “Oh, Josh, you never told me that.”
“It’s not the kind of thing you want people to know,” he said. “When I fell for you, I fell so hard, I didn’t want you to find out. I was afraid you’d think—less of me.”
Her heart wrenched. “I think more of you—for surviving. But what did you do? How did you get away from this man?”
“I sneaked out my bedroom window the next morning, before he got up. I walked four miles to the police station. I told them what the SOB had done. I had to go to a doctor, have a damn physical. At that point it was the last thing I wanted to do.”
“How old were you?” She was riven by sympathy for what he must have suffered.
“Eleven,” he said between clenched teeth. “I’d just turned eleven.”
“And the man?” she asked, still numb with horror. “What happened to him?”
The corner of his mouth twitched in bitterness. “Oh, they got him. They found out he’d had his way with my two older foster sisters, too. And others before us. He got twenty-five years in the state pen. He died there ten years later. A nice, peaceful death, lying on his cot, watching TV.”
She laid her hand on his upper arm. “I wish you’d told me before. You were brave, Josh, to go to the police like that.”
“No. I was scared out of my mind. I used to have nightmares that he’d break out of prison and come looking for me.”
“You can be scared and brave at the same time,” she told him.
He turned to her with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You’ve taught me that, Briana. You’re the perfect example.”
“I never went through anything like that. It must have been the most frightening thing that ever happened to you.”
He shook his head. “No. Nealie’s being sick is the most frightening thing. It’s a thousand times worse.”
She knew this had to be true. But she still burned to ask him more about his childhood. When they were falling so headlong into love, he’d fended off questions about growing up. I spent a lot of time in foster homes, he’d say. I don’t like to talk about.
They were on Cheryl’s block, only a few houses away. There was no time to ask anything.
“Guess we’d better put on our happy faces,” Josh said.
He pulled into Cheryl’s driveway. Wearing expressions that were falsely cheerful, they made their way to the porch to get their child.
“WELCOME HOME, Poppa,” Briana said, kissing her father on the cheek. He sat in his recliner watching television. “Is Mrs. Swenson here?”
“She’s in the kitchen, doing the supper dishes,” Leo said rather pettishly. “She said she wouldn’t leave until you came back. You took your time up in St. Louis. Have fun?”
Resentment rippled through her. “We didn’t go for fun. Nealie and I both had appointments. We spent most of the day in doctor’s offices.”
“Well, I hope you can stay home for a while now. Where you belong.”
Briana took a deep breath. The Center for Reproductive Health had never before dealt with a case related to Yates’s anemia. They wanted to monitor her almost every day.
She said, “I have to go back and forth for more tests and things. For the next two or three weeks.”
Leo reared back in his chair. “Two or three weeks? Is this something serious? You look plenty healthy.”
Briana steeled herself to talk fast. She knew her father had a Victorian horror of discussing what he called women’s problems. So she said, “It has to do with my, er, time of the month. It’s a common problem, but they have a new treatment with high-dose vitamin B-12 shots.”
Leo winced. “You can’t get a vitamin shot here?”
“No—it’s a very new thing. It takes a specialist. And I’m more comfortable with a woman doctor. These matters are so—personal.”
Leo was embarrassed and displeased. “But how can you keep chasing off? You’ve got a business to run.”
“Penny’s coming in,” Briana said.
Penny was her part-time assistant. She was thirty-two and lived in town with her older sister, Tammy, a music teacher. Penny had been a violinist in Branson, Missouri, but she’d broken her wrist in a bicycle accident and could no longer play with her former skill and precision.
She was taking correspondence courses in business and management. Her fingers were nimble enough to work a computer keyboard. She was a quick learner and grateful for the chance to earn money and learn at the same time.
“Penny hasn’t got the experience you’ve got,” Leo complained.
“The more she works here, the more experience she’ll have,” Briana reasoned. “Besides, she helps at the greenhouses, too.”
“Phooey,” said Leo.
Briana changed the subject. She forced a hopeful smile. “So how do you like Inga Swenson?”
Leo’s expression grew strange. “She’ll do, I guess. She came back with me when Larry drove me home. But now I’ll have to have her here almost full-time—what with you gallivanting all over.”
Briana sensed that her father was pretending to be far more displeased than he actually was. At that moment the kitchen door swung open and Inga came into the living room.
She radiated confidence and cheer. “Hello, Briana,” she said. “How’s your little Nealie? Doing well, I hope.”
“She’s doing all right, thank you.”
“That’s good,” said Inga. “That’s good.” She set about straightening a disorganized pile of magazines. She seemed a bustling sort of woman, born to set things in order.
“I would have come to say hello sooner, “Inga said, “but I thought you and your father would want some time alone. I’ll be out of here soon. I’ve already phoned Harve to come get me.”
Briana blinked in displeased surprise. “Harve?”
Inga looked up with an innocent smile. “I’m having a little problem with my car. But Harve said he’d take me and bring me. He’s such a sweet man. So generous.”
Briana nodded and forced another smile. She said, “Poppa’s going to need you all week, and maybe then some. I hope that’s all right.”
“Oh, yes,” Inga said, moving to inspect a magazine rack jammed with past copies of TV Guide. “Why, some of these are three years old, Leo. Do you want me to throw them out?”
“I haven’t done the crossword puzzles in them yet.”
“Whatever makes you happy, Leo. Do you want me to pick up anything special for your lunch tomorrow?”
“I’d like some more of that vegetable soup you brought with you today,” Leo said. “That stuff’s good enough to eat seven days a week.”
Briana stiffened, still more surprised. Leo loved raising vegetables but often tired of eating them. He had long scorned vegetable soup.
“I’m trying to coax Leo into eating a more healthy diet,” Inga said in a stage whisper. She ducked her head as if in shyness, then threw him a little glance.
Leo tried to look nonchalant. “I suppose I should.”
The doorbell rang. Briana started. She had been so fascinated by the dynamics in the room she hadn’t heard anyone pull into the drive.
Harve, she thought in dread. It’s Harve, and I have to be polite to him.
Inga said, “That must be my dear boy. Briana, if you’ll answer the door, I’ll get my coat. I’ll be out of your way in no time at all.”
Reluctantly, Briana went to the front door and opened it. Harve stood on the welcome mat, his expression shy and full of yearning. He swallowed.
“Hi, B-Briana,” he said. Sometimes, under duress, he stammered.
“Hi,” she returned. “Come on in.”
He entered, giving Leo a nod of greeting. Inga was slipping into her coat, which was stylish. “You’re such a kind fellow,” Inga said to Harve, “taking care of your old aunt like this.”
“It’s a pleasure,” said Harve and swallowed again.
Inga began to button her coat. She was leisurely about it. “Harve,” she said, “when I looked out the window at Briana’s house, I saw she’s got a drainpipe coming loose. Do you suppose you could fix it for her?”
No! Briana wanted to scream. Instead she said, very softly, “No. You don’t have to—”
“Harve’s such a wonderful fix-it man,” Inga said, with that fetching tilt of her head. “He’s got his own place in such perfect shape, there’s nothing left for him to do. He’s been itching for a project.”
“I like fixing drainpipes,” said Harve.
“You’re a good fellow, Harve,” said Leo.
“Always glad to help a neighbor,” Harve said, giving Briana a shy look. Help! Briana thought. They’re ganging up on me!
“No,” she repeated, “really. You don’t need to—”
Inga cut her off. “Tut, tut, dear. It’s a man’s job. Your father can’t do it. And Larry works so hard, plus he’s got his own home to keep up. Harve will be glad to help. Won’t you, sweetheart?”
“I like to work, all right,” said Harve. “Keep things fixed up.”
Briana struggled to take control of the conversation. “You don’t need to, Harve. My husband—my ex-husband—Nealie’s father can do it.”
“Harve can help him,” said Inga, chipper as could be. “Many hands make light work.”
“I don’t think Josh does that kind of work,” Leo said with a disapproving slant to his mouth. “He’s more the artistic type.”
“Oh, yes,” said Inga, winding her scarf around her throat. “You said he’s a photographer. And goes everywhere. How wonderful to travel all over the world, to see exotic sights. Does he just love his work?”
“He certainly seems to,” Leo said dryly.
“He’s wonderful at his job,” Briana countered. “Not many men have the courage to do what he does. Nealie’s very proud of him—and so am I.”
“Oh, to be free as a bird,” Inga said dreamily. “But of all the world, I came back to Illyria. I may decide to settle down here. I guess that roots are what I may most want.”
“Me, too,” said Leo.
“Me, too,” said Harve.
“We’re all of a kind,” Inga said. “As alike as peas in a pod. But here I am chattering, and I should be on my way.”
She walked to Harve’s side and took his arm. “I’m going to hold on to you, dear. I wouldn’t want to slip on that packed snow out there. But you’ll take care of your old aunt, won’t you?”
“I’ll take good care of you,” Harve vowed. He opened the door.
Inga laughed and looked over her shoulder at Leo and Briana. “He means what he says. He’s a man of his word. Leo, I’ll see you bright and early in the morning.”
The door closed behind them. Thank heaven they’re gone, thought Briana, her knees going weak with relief.
“Ah,” Leo said with satisfaction. “They’re good people. The best.”