Beauty and the Baby. Marie Ferrarella
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was small-boned and if you looked quickly, her slightly rounded shape looked to be a trick played by some wayward breeze that had sneaked into the drafty gymnasium and had snuggled in beneath her blouse, billowing it out.
Lori looked down at her stomach. She’d felt pregnant from what she judged was the very first moment of conception. Somehow, she’d known, just known that there was something different that set this time apart from all the other times she and Kurt had made love.
Carson’s words to the contrary, she felt huge. “Thanks,” she quipped. “But right now, I feel as if I look like I’m smuggling a Thanksgiving turkey out of the building.”
His mouth curved ever so slightly. “Looks to me like there’s going to be a lot of people going hungry at that Thanksgiving dinner,” he commented. He looked at her stomach again, trying to remember. “You’re what, seven months along?”
“Eight, but who’s counting?” she murmured.
She was, Lori added silently. Counting down every moment between now and her delivery date, fervently wishing that there was more time. More time in which to get ready for this colossal change that was coming into her life.
No one talking to her would have guessed at her true feelings. She was determined to keep up a brave front. She had to because of the Lamaze classes she taught at Blair Memorial Hospital twice a week. The women who attended them all looked to her as a calming influence, especially the three single moms-to-be with whom she’d bonded. She smiled to herself. If the women she was instructing only knew that her nerves were doing a frenzied dance inside of her every time she thought of the pending arrival, they wouldn’t find her influence so calming.
She missed seeing the three women who had made up the group she’d whimsically dubbed The Mom Squad. But C.J., Joanna and Sherry’s due dates were now in the past. The three all had beautiful, healthy babies now, and, by an odd turn of events, they also now had men at their sides who loved them. Men who wanted to spend the rest of their lives with them.
All she had were Kurt’s pile of debts, which were dwindling thanks to her own tireless efforts, but none too quickly.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Lori upbraided herself. You also have Carson.
She glanced at the man who looked like a sterner, older version of her late husband. She wasn’t about to minimize the effect of having him in her life. Having her brother-in-law’s support went a long way toward helping her get her world in order.
Not that she leaned on him—well, not so that he really noticed. But just knowing he was around if she needed him meant a great deal to her. Carson had offered her a job helping at the center when her company had left her almost as high and dry as Kurt’s death had. And he’d also been instrumental in pulling strings and getting her the job teaching the Lamaze classes at Blair.
That and the freelance work she found as a graphic designer helped her make ends meet. More importantly, it kept her sane. Kept her grief at bay. Kurt had never been a steady, dependable man, but in her own way, she’d loved him a great deal. Forgiven him a great deal, even his inability to grow up and take on responsibilities. Even the dalliances she’d discovered. It had taken her time, though, to forgive him his death.
She was still working on it.
Kurt had had no business racing like that, no business wanting to shake his fist at death just one more time because it made himself feel more powerful. Not when he had her and a baby on the way.
She sighed quietly. That had been Kurt—thoughtless, but engaging. At times, though, it had worn a little thin.
“Eight?” Carson echoed.
She looked at him, her thoughts dissipating. Carson had forgotten, she thought. But then, there were a lot more important things on his mind than her pregnancy. Like constantly searching for funding.
“You’re that far along?”
She tried not to laugh at his incredulous expression. “You make it sound like a terminal disease.”
Broad shoulders rose and fell in a vague fashion. “I guess I just didn’t realize…” An idea came to him suddenly. “I can have you placed on disability—” He didn’t know where he’d find the money, but something could be arranged.
Lori knew what he was trying to do. Contrary to her ex-sister-in-law’s beliefs, Carson’s heart was in the right place, but in her book, what he was proposing was nothing short of charity.
“I’m not disabled,” she countered.
He heard the stubborn tone in her voice. Admirable though her independence was, there were times when his sister-in-law could be a mule. Like now. “Yeah, I know, but technically maternity leave doesn’t start until after you give birth.”
It was her turn to shrug. “So, I’ll stick around until I give birth.”
“You should be home, Lori, taking care of yourself.”
Carson didn’t see what the problem was, or why she had him fighting a war on two fronts, one to get her a paid leave and one to get her to actually leave. When Jaclyn had been pregnant, she’d insisted on having a woman come in and do all the chores that she didn’t normally do anyway. After Sandy was born, Hannah had stayed on to care for the house and the baby.
Jaclyn had always maintained that she was too delicate to put up with the drudgery of routine. He’d indulged her because he’d loved her and because she was his wife, his responsibility.
And because he’d been crazy about their child.
In hindsight, Hannah had taken care of Sandy better than Jaclyn ever could. Carson didn’t mind paying for that. There was nothing too good for Sandy.
“I am taking care of myself,” Lori insisted. She was accustomed to looking after herself. She’d been on her own since she was twenty. Even after she’d met Kurt, she’d been the one to take care of him, not the other way around. “If I stayed at home with my feet up, I’d go crazy inside of a week. Three days, probably.” She smiled at Carson, appreciating his concern but determined not to let him boss her around. “Haven’t you heard, Counselor? Work is therapeutic. Speaking of which, I’d better be getting back. There’s a basketball game I’m supposed to be refereeing.”
Bracing herself, she placed a hand on either wooden armrest and pushed herself up. The movement was a little too sudden, a little too fast. Lori’s head started to spin.
The walls darkened. The small room began to close in on her.
A tiny pinprick of panic scratched her skin.
Lori struggled against the encroaching darkness, struggled to push the walls back out again. The effort was futile. The walls turned all black as they raced toward her with a frightening speed.
Perspiration beaded along her forehead.
And then there was nothing.
The next thing Lori knew, she felt herself being jerked up. Someone’s arms were closing around her. There was heat everywhere, swirling about her.
She realized her eyes were shut.
With a mighty effort, she pushed them open again and found herself looking up into Carson’s dark blue, solemn eyes. They were darker than Kurt’s eyes had been. And far more serious.
Lori tried to smile. Even that took effort. He was holding her. Holding her very close. Was that why it felt so hot all of a sudden?
Because he looked so concerned, she forced herself to sound light. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that if you scowl so hard, your face’ll freeze that way?”
“My mother told me very little,” he told her, his voice monotone.
She’d given him one hell of a scare, fainting like that. He had no idea what to think, what to do, other than to feel utterly helpless. Somebody needed to hand out instruction booklets when it came to women. Maybe even an entire desk