Pursued by the Playboy (19 page)

On auto-pilot, Kate changed back into her clothes.  The nurse ushered her to a lab draw station, where a phlebotomist took several tubes of blood.  Then it was back to Dr. Nemtsov’s office.  Through a fog, she listened as the doctor droned on about crown rump length and gestational sac diameter.  “By convention we measure gestational age from the date of the last menstrual period, which is typically fourteen days before ovulation and actual conception.  So based on today’s measurements, I’d estimate you’re about seven weeks, five days along.” 

The doctor slid a small black and white print-out across the desk.  “If you like, you can have this to take home.  The first photo of your baby.”

Kate stared at the image, but made no move to take it.   She felt her chest tightening and had to force herself to breathe.  In the background, the doctor launched into a series of precautions:  no alcohol, no deli meats or unpasteurized cheeses, no sushi, no hot tubs, no over-the-counter medications except those on the pre-approved list—another piece of paper was added to the growing pile of prenatal information on the desk.  Kate cringed, thinking of all the rules she had unknowingly broken in the last few weeks.  Had her actions already caused irreparable damage to the tiny life inside her? 

Somehow she found her way back to the front desk, arms filled with folders of information on prenatal care, the prescription for vitamins and ultrasound picture clutched in her hand.  The receptionist had to repeat her question twice before Kate finally extended the superbill to her in exchange for a reminder card listing the date of her follow-up.  The appointment at which, as Dr. Nemtsov had delicately put it, they would “discuss options” after Kate had taken some time to think the situation over.

Outside, the sun shone brightly, cars honked as they maneuvered through snarled traffic, and people rushed past her on the sidewalk in a typical mid-Friday afternoon hurry to conclude their business before the weekend began.  For a moment Kate just stood there, like a stone in the middle of a fast-moving stream, water breaking around her.  How strange that it was still daylight, she thought.  It felt like her entire world had shifted on its axis, and yet in reality very little time had passed since the moment she had entered these very same doors for what she thought would be a routine visit.

Someone jostled her elbow.   A rough voice warned her to “watch it.”   She started slowly down the street.  At the corner, she retraced her steps to a pharmacy she had passed earlier. 

As she waited for her prescription to be filled, she wandered down the baby aisle.  Boxes of diapers in a bewildering array of styles and sizes, packaged in bright primary colors, competed for space with baby wipes, creams and lotions for diaper rash and cradle cap, “no tears” shampoos, bottles and sippy cups, pacifiers and teething rings, formulas and breastfeeding supplies, drops for colic and runny noses, antipyretics and gummy-vites.  An entire industry devoted to the care of infants.  Dozens of brands marketed to appeal to neurotic parents. 

A wave of panic washed through her.   She couldn’t do this.  She wasn’t ready.  She had never imagined herself as a mother. 

Her own childhood had been something to be endured, gotten through as quickly as possible, by turns lonely and frightening—depending on where her father was at any given time, and how that had affected her mother’s mood from one minute to the next.  School had been her escape from the oppressive atmosphere at home, until she had finally managed to break free by getting into college early and moving into a campus dorm.  No way was she going to repeat the mistakes of her parents in raising her own child.  But with no other examples to follow, she had no clue where to even start.  

And what of Marc?  How would he react to the news that their temporary affair without strings was all of a sudden sprouting entanglements that neither of them had wanted or anticipated?  He came from a large family, and seemed to like children.  But that didn’t necessary mean he wanted his own, now, with Kate.

After leaving the pharmacy, instead of returning to work, Kate turned onto Hamilton Walk and wandered behind the biology buildings complex toward the hidden oasis of the BioPond.   She found an unoccupied bench and sat down.  A gentle breeze rippled the surface of the water.  Fish darted just beneath the surface, stirring up silt below.  Turtles sunned themselves on rocks along the perimeter.  Overhead, a sparrow fluttered through the trees.  A family of ducklings rooted through a nearby pile of mulch under the supervision of their mother.  

Kate sat for a long time, watching the signs of life blossoming around her.  The noise and bustle of the city seemed far removed from this quiet shady enclave.   Her earlier anxiety slowly abated.  A tiny spark of excitement ignited at the idea that something she hadn’t even considered as a possibility was now a de facto reality:  a child of her own, whom she could nurture and mold and shower with all the love she hadn’t had growing up. 

Her cell phone rang.  By the time she fished it out of her bag, buried as it was beneath her vitamin bottle, a book on pregnancy that she had picked up at the pharmacy, and all the paperwork from the doctor’s office, the ringing had stopped.  The message light blinked.  A text, from Marc: 
Coffee?

She texted back: 
Can’t, busy.  Dinner?

His response came moments later: 
Pick u up @ lab, 5:30.

She managed to get through the rest of the day, even dredging up a semblance of normal conversation over dinner with Marc at a local tapas bar.  Mindful of the doctor’s instructions, she avoided the ceviche, goat cheese croquettes, and wine. 

Marc studied her over dessert.  “You okay?”

“A little tired.”  She mustered a smile.  “It’s been a long week.”

“Let me get the check.  We’ll make it an early night.”  He signaled their waiter.  “Maybe you should cancel your brunch with Jake tomorrow and sleep in.”

In her preoccupation, she’d forgotten about brunch.  She considered Marc’s suggestion, but decided against it.  Jake had been her sounding board forever, the one person she could always count on to advise her, support her, and point her toward solutions she might not otherwise have seen. 

“I’ll be fine once I get some sleep,” she said.  

And despite her fear that she would toss and turn all night, thinking about her options, she dropped off into exhausted sleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

Chapter 19

Jake doused his pancakes with more syrup.  “You need to get over this obsession you have with Jerry Springer.”

“Haven’t you been listening?”  Kate pushed aside her plate and leaned forward.  “My father is about to become a dad again and a grandfather in the same year.  No second parent for either child.  And neither of us knows the first thing about babies.”

“What’s to know?  You feed one end and wipe the other.”

“Thank you, Dr. Spock.”

“And besides, why do you assume you’ll both be single parents?”

“You haven’t met Tiffani.”

“No.  But I’ve met Marc, and he strikes me as the kind of man who steps up to his responsibilities.  Have you told him yet?”

Kate shook her head. 

“Tell him.  You’ll see, he’ll come through.”

“Maybe I don’t want him to ‘come through.’  This isn’t some damned problem that needs taking care of.  I’m an adult.  I’m responsible for my own behavior and any consequences that result.”

“Funny.  Last I checked it takes two.”

“It wasn’t his fault.”  Kate wrapped her hands around her mug and stared down at the now tepid tea.  “We were careful.  We had one little slip, and I never got around to taking the morning after pill.”

Jake exchanged his empty plate for her half-filled one.  “Maybe this was meant to be, after all.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it.  You do research in ovarian cancer.  You, of all people, ought to know that the pill doesn’t just prevent pregnancy, it reduces the risk of ovarian cancer.  And yet you weren’t on the pill, were you?  Maybe you subconsciously wanted to sabotage yourself.  Maybe you wanted to get pregnant.”

“Are you crazy?  I don’t do families, and I don’t do kids.”  The familiar litany poured from her as if by rote.  “One miserable childhood was enough, thank you.  No way would I have orchestrated this on purpose.”

Jake raised his brows at her vehement tone.  “People who are serious about not propagating don’t take chances.  Two forms of birth control, remember?  You could have started on the pill, or gotten an IUD.  Even a tubal ligation—snip, snip, and you never have to worry about birth control again.”

“But that’s so permanent.”

“My point exactly.  Maybe you were conflicted about it up here,” he pointed to his head, “but in here—” he tapped on his chest, “you may have been hoping something like this would happen.  Boom, it’s done.  Decision’s out of your hands.”

“Not quite,” Kate said slowly.

“So you’re considering a termination?”

Several minutes passed before she finally sighed.  “No.”

“I rest my case.”  He signaled for more coffee.  “Whatever happens, you’re not alone.  Tell Marc, see what he says.  You may be pleasantly surprised.”

“I need to think about
it
.”

“You do that.  And in the meantime, stop moping.”  He laced his freshly filled coffee with sugar and milk. 

“You don’t have to be insulting.”

“Come on, admit it.  You’ve been over-analyzing everything since meeting Marc.  It’s not like you to be so insecure.  Where’s that forge-ahead-with-all-barrels-blazing Kate we all know and love?”

Kate bit her lip.  It was true, her self-confidence had taken a nosedive lately.  And loathe as she was to admit it, she had spent an inordinate amount of time feeling sorry for herself.  How much of it was hormonal as opposed to her uncertainty regarding her relationship with Marc, she didn’t know.  The fact was, she felt incredibly vulnerable, as if any misstep would send her tumbling down an emotional precipice with no guarantee of climbing back out.

“Hey, don’t cry.”  Jake thrust a wad of napkins under her nose.  “Everything’s going to work out, you’ll see.  Come on, Katie, stop that.”

She wiped her eyes and gave him a watery smile.  “I’m fine.  Damned hormones.”

He settled back in his seat, eyeing her warily as if expecting another burst of hysterics at any moment.  “My parents are coming to visit in a few weeks.  Lily and I are planning to take them to dinner.  You can come along, if you want.”

“And horn in on Lily’s moment in the spotlight?  No thanks.  But I’d love to see them.  How long will they be here?”

“A week.  Enough time to visit old friends, make sure the house isn’t falling apart in their absence.
You can talk to my mom if you want.  I’m sure she’d be happy to help in any way she can.”

Kate
nodded
, pleased at the prospect of spending some time with Jake’s mother.  From the first day Jake had brought Kate home to his parents, Ruth Stein had embraced her with all the warmth and affection Kate’s own mother had lacked.  Come to think of it, Ruth and Leonard Stein were a wonderful example of marriage and parenting at their best:  two people whose love and devotion to
one an
other only grew stronger over time and expanded to encompass their son and all the strays—Kate included—who passed through their house.

“Can you email me the dates?” Kate said.  “I’ll call once they’re here and set up an evening.”

“No problem.”

“By the way, I meant to thank Lily for the job lead.  My mom interviewed there last week, and
she thinks they might make her an offer
.”

“That’s great.  If she gets the job, it’ll be one less thing for you to worry about.”

“Fingers crossed.  I’m heading over to see her tomorrow.”

###

Kate swallowed her vitamin and just managed to get pill bottle back in her nightstand drawer before Marc came out of the bathroom in a loosely belted robe, towel slung around his neck.

“You’re back.”  He rubbed the towel vigorously over his head, leaving patches of hair sticking up in casual disarray.  “How was brunch?”

“Fine.”  She leaned into his kiss.  The heat of his chest penetrated through her thin t-shirt.  Her nipples peaked, and she moved restlessly against him.  

The towel dropped to the floor as he cupped her jaw to change the angle of the kiss.  His other hand drifted down her back and squeezed her bottom.  She arc
h
ed her hips closer and burrowed her fingers under his robe, spreading the material wide to gain access to the hard
muscles beneath
. 

He groaned and drew back a little, just enough to break contact.  “I need to get dressed or we’ll be late.”

“What?”  She stroked his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart beneath her palm.  “Where are we going?”

“To pick up a cashier’s check before the bank closes, and then to the dealership.”  He dropped a final kiss on her lips before moving away.  Tossing his robe over a nearby chair, he selected a fresh pair of boxers from the dresser.