“I was right, wasn’t I? It’s the flu, I know it,” Maura told the village doctor as he walked into the examination room. “I haven’t been getting enough sleep and there’s so much work to be done. I’m run down is all. I thought you could give me a little something to help me sleep.”
Doc Rafferty had been in the village for forty years. He’d treated everyone for miles around and he had delivered both Maura and Cara himself. So he knew them far too intimately to pull any punches, so to speak. And as he was a forthright man in any case, he met her gaze and told her the truth of the matter.
“I’ve got the results of your test,” he said, checking the papers he held in his hand as if to be sure of what he was about to say. “If this is the flu, it’s the nine-month variety, Maura. You’re pregnant.”
A beat of silence fell between them as those last two words of the doctor’s repeated over and over again in her head. Sure she’d misheard him, Maura laughed shortly.
“No, I’m not.” She shook her head. “That’s impossible.”
“Is it now?” The older man sat down on a rolling stool and shifted his pale green eyes up to hers. “You’re telling me you’ve done nothing to produce such a condition?”
“Well I—” He’d examined her from head to toe too often for her to try to persuade him she was a virgin, and why would she care to? But this? No. It couldn’t be.
Maura stopped, frowned and started thinking. Odd, but she’d been paying no attention at all to her period and hadn’t even noticed until now that it hadn’t shown up in quite some time. Quickly, she did a little math in her head and as she reached the only conclusion she could under the circumstances, she let out a breath and whispered, “Oh my God.”
“There you are, then.” Doc Rafferty reached out, patted her knee. “You’ll be feeling fine again soon. The first couple of months are always the hardest, after all. In the meantime though, I want you to take better care of yourself.” He scribbled a few things down on a pad and then tore off the top sheet and handed it to her.
Maura couldn’t read it through the fog blocking her vision.
“Eat regular meals, cut back on the caffeine and I’ll have Nurse Doherty give you a sample bottle of vitamins.” He stood up, looked down at her through kind eyes and said, “Maura, love. You should tell the baby’s father right away.”
The baby’s father.
The man she’d sworn to put firmly in her past.
So much for that fine notion. He would surely be a part of her future now, wouldn’t he?
“Yes, I will.” Tell Jefferson that he was going to be a father. Well, wouldn’t that make for a lovely long-distance conversation?
“Will you be all right with this, Maura?”
“Of course. I’ll be fine.” And she would. Already, the first shock of the news was passing and a small curl of excitement was fluttering to life inside her.
She was going to have a baby.
“Do you need to talk about anything?”
“What?” Maura’s gaze lifted to meet his. Kindness was stamped on his familiar features and she knew he was worried for her. And though she appreciated it, he needn’t be.
“No, Doctor,” she told him, scooting off the examination table. “I’m fine, really. It was a bit of a shock, but…” She stopped and smiled. “It’s happy news after all, isn’t it?”
“You’re a good girl, Maura, as I’ve always said.” He gave her a nod of approval and added, “I’d like to see you once a month now, just to keep a check on you and the baby. Make the appointment on your way out. And, Maura, no more heavy lifting, understand?”
When he left the room, she was alone with her news. Although…
“Not as alone as I was when I arrived, am I?” she whispered and dropped one hand to her flat belly.
Awe rose up inside her.
There was a child growing within her. A new life. A precious, innocent life that would be counting on her. But Maura was a woman used to responsibility, so that didn’t worry her. The fact that her child would grow up without a father was a bit of a hitch. When she’d imagined the day she would become a mother, she’d had hazy, blurry images of a faceless man standing at her side, rejoicing with her at the birth.
Never once had she considered being a single mother.
Heaven knew she hadn’t planned on this. Had, in fact been taking precautions—well, the over-the-counter precautions. It wasn’t as though she had sex often enough to warrant anything permanent.
Of course, she should have insisted Jefferson wear a condom, that would have been the intelligent thing to do. But neither of them had been thinking straight that night, she admitted silently. For herself, she’d been in such a hunger to have Jefferson over, under and in her, she hadn’t wanted to wait for anything.
Now, it seemed, there would be consequences.
But such wonderful consequences. All penances should be this happily paid.
A child.
She’d always wanted to be a mother.
Maura turned, looked out the window and watched as thick, pewter clouds raced across the sky. A storm was brewing, she thought, and wondered if it was a metaphor for what was about to happen to her life.
“We’ll be just fine, you and I,” she told her child, still keeping one hand tight to the womb where her baby slept. She would see to it that her child was safe and well and happy.
As soon as she got home, she’d call Jefferson. She’d keep the conversation brisk and as impersonal as she could, considering the situation. She’d tell him because it was right. But she’d also tell him she had no need for him to come rushing back. She wasn’t over him just yet and had no wish to see him again, stirring up things that had yet to settle down.
One phone call.
Then they’d be done.
Two months later…
“Mr. King said there would be no problems.”
Maura glared at the little man standing on her porch. He was short, bald and looked as though a stiff wind off the lake might blow him into Galway city. She showed him no mercy. “Aye, your Mr. King says a lot of things, doesn’t he?”
He took a deep breath as if trying for patience. She understood that feeling very well as she’d been trying for weeks and still hadn’t found any.
“We do have a contract,” the man reminded her.
She looked past him out to the film crew setting up tents and trailers and cameras with banks of lights surrounding them. Somehow she hadn’t expected the whole mess to be quite so…intimidating. As it was, she had dozens of people trampling the grass in her front yard and the complaining bleats from the sheep were as sharp as nails against a chalkboard. Swallowing her irritation as best she could, she said, “We do indeed and I’ll stay to the very letter of the contract.”