The Pregnancy Plot. Carol Ericson
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paper crinkled as she slid off the examination table. How had her life gotten so complicated in such a short period of time? She’d been happy with her job, happy with her fiancé and safe.
Safe? Where had that come from? She crumpled up the paper gown and shoved it into the trash can. She didn’t have to dig too deeply for the answer.
She’d been feeling uneasy ever since Simon had started blowing up at the smallest issue until his ranting and raving had gotten so severe, she’d broken off their engagement over four months ago. Then he’d dropped off her radar for good. Or had he?
She squeezed into her fat jeans, making a mental note for the hundredth time that week to shop for maternity clothes.
Since her breakup with Simon, she’d had the unsettling feeling that her ex-fiancé had been stalking her—watching her, following her. She had no evidence at all to back up that suspicion, only a creeping feeling of dread. Looking over her shoulder and checking her rearview mirror had become habits for her—habits she didn’t like.
Habits that gave her even more reason to leave LA for her family’s bed-and-breakfast up in the Puget Sound area. The TLC that place needed since her stepfather passed away would be enough to keep her occupied.
Slipping her feet into her wedges, she hooked the strap of her purse over her shoulder. She kissed the ultrasound picture of her baby and slipped it into her purse.
She breezed into the reception area. Leaning over the counter, she said, “I need to make my next appointment.”
“Of course.” The receptionist’s fingers raced across the keyboard of her computer. “Does this same time next month work for you, Nina?”
If the great Pacific Northwest hadn’t called her home by that time. Nina peered at the calendar on the phone cupped in her hand. “Yes, and Tuesday or Wednesday of that week looks good.”
“Perfect.” The receptionist checked some boxes on an appointment card and held it out between two fingers.
“Thanks.” Nina took the card and dropped it into her purse.
While she waited for the elevator that would take her down to the parking garage below the building, her cell phone buzzed. She glanced at the display and sighed.
Six months ago she’d been thrilled to land this job, designing the interior of a beach house in Malibu, but after Simon had gone AWOL and she’d found out she was pregnant, she had no patience for this demanding client.
She answered the call anyway. “Hello, Jennifer. Were the tiles delivered on time?”
“They arrived yesterday. I opened one of the boxes and I’m not so sure I like that yellow and blue.”
Of course you don’t.
The elevator doors slid open, and Nina stepped into the car, nodding at a woman holding a squirming toddler in her arms.
The woman dipped her chin while blowing a strand of hair from her face. “You need to get in your stroller now, Ben.”
How did kids even move that way? He looked like a giant worm. She placed a hand on her belly. Would her baby be wiggly like that?
“Nina? I said I don’t like the color.”
She blinked. “If we send it back, it’s going to be another two weeks, at least, before the vendor can get another shipment from Italy.”
“Two weeks? I can’t wait. Everything will be done by then.”
“You loved the colors a month ago.”
“You’re right. I’ll keep them.”
“I’ll let Fernando know the tiles are in. He and his assistant will be out tomorrow for the installation.”
She ended the call at the same time the elevator stopped at the first level of the parking structure. The woman had coaxed her son into his stroller and rolled him out the door, calling over her shoulder, “Don’t worry. It’s all worth it.”
Nina’s mouth dropped open when the doors slid shut on mother and child. Had she been sending out that silent motherhood vibe?
She shifted her weight to her other foot, vowing to swap her high, wedged heels for flats any day now. She didn’t need a psychiatrist to tell her that her refusal to switch up her clothes to accommodate her pregnancy was a form of denial. She absolutely wanted the baby, but the pregnancy had been a surprise, and coming on the heels of her breakup with Simon, it had been an overwhelming surprise.
But one she could handle, one she couldn’t wait to handle.
The doors swooshed open on her parking level and she got a whiff of exhaust fumes. She waved her hand in front of her face. She’d definitely be breathing cleaner air if she made the move from LA to Washington, but she’d be leaving her life and her friends behind.
As she headed for her car in the far corner of the parking lot, her cell buzzed again. She held her phone up to her face in the dim light of the garage and squinted at a text from Jennifer—more doubts about the yellow tile.
Pinning her purse to her body with the inside of her elbow, she used both thumbs to text Jennifer some more encouragement. She sent the text and looked up.
“Three C?” she said to herself. She’d missed her aisle.
As she backtracked, a slow-moving car on the row above caught her attention. Unlike when she’d arrived for her appointment this afternoon, the parking garage sported plenty of empty slots. No need for that car to be rolling along at such a slow speed past vacant parking spaces.
In contrast to the speed of the car, her heart rate ticked up a few notches. She turned down the aisle where she’d parked her car and moved as fast as her shoes would allow.
Holding her key fob in front of her, she clicked it over and over just to make sure the car would be unlocked when she reached it.
She glanced over her shoulder at the other car, a black sedan, now crawling down the ramp to her level. She slid out of her shoes, grabbed them with one hand and jogged toward her car.
A woman getting into her car turned to stare at her. Nina didn’t care what she looked like running to her car.
She grabbed the handle, pulled open the door and dropped onto the seat, smashing her fist against the automatic lock. The woman who’d been eyeballing her started her own car and pulled out, giving Nina full view of the end of the row.
The slow-moving sedan showed up in the aisle, and Nina cranked on her ignition. If that car decided to follow her, she’d drive straight to a police station. If the driver was Simon, he’d get the picture soon enough that, baby or no baby, she’d press charges against him for stalking if he kept up this cloak-and-dagger stuff. All he had to do was call her.
Her car’s ignition clicked, but the car didn’t start. She tried again, clenching her teeth against the grating sound coming from her car. She didn’t need car trouble now.
She cut off the unresponsive engine, took a deep breath and turned the key one more time. Again, the engine failed to turn over.
The black car had turned around on the next level and was heading back toward her again. A cold fear seized her. She didn’t know if it was Simon or someone else in that car with the tinted windows, but she sensed a powerful evil heading in her direction.
She cupped her hands over her barely discernible belly, and a surge of protectiveness rushed through her body. She removed her key from the ignition and pressed the red panic button on the remote.
Her car alarm blared alternately with her honking horn as she slid down in her seat.
With her nose just above the steering wheel, she watched the car zoom past her.
A minute later, a man and a woman were knocking on her car window.
She buzzed down the window, and the woman poked her