The Pregnant Virgin. Anne Eames
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serious, Ali. Why would you want to use a sperm bank? You’re still in your twenties.”
“Not for as long as I’d like. And next month I can chalk up another year.”
“Is that what this is all about? Birthday blues?”
Ali shook her head. “I never would have guessed I’d be this old and not even engaged. And don’t give me that ‘you’re just a baby’ look.”
“But you are. You have lots of time left.”
Did she? She used to think so. She stared at the blue painted ductwork overhead, and in her mind’s eye years of fantasies paraded by—images of a strong yet sensitive man sweeping her off her feet. Not taking care of her, she reminded herself. Completing her was more like it. She could almost see his face, at least his eyes. They were always intense, sincere. And oh, so full of love for her.
She glanced back at the cover model on her book.
Ah, yes. Just like that.
She mentally shook off the image and faced her sister again. “No offense, sis, but you and Ken thought you had a lot of time and look how long it took you to conceive.” Ali leaned forward, deciding it was time to make her case. She didn’t need her sister’s approval, yet the months to come would be much easier if she could make Lynne understand.
“Lynne, you were nearly forty when you finally got pregnant. Remember the years of anxiety you went through, not to mention a chunk of money for treatments?”
Lynne nodded reluctantly. “How can I forget? If it weren’t for Mom’s estate I’d still be paying off loans…not that I’m complaining. Little Keri is worth every penny.”
“I agree.” She picked up her iced tea and pictured her two-year-old niece’s kissable cheeks and smiled. If she loved Keri this much, how would she feel about a child of her own? As far back as she could remember she had delighted in playing with little ones.
No, there was no doubt in her mind that she was doing the right thing. She’d be a fool to wait for some fantasy man with dreamy eyes. Besides, what were the odds she would ever find one?
She set her glass down decidedly. It was time to take matters into her own hands, and she could sense her sister was weakening.
“Let’s not forget Barbara. She wasn’t as fortunate as you. Little Timmy is adorable and as loved as any child, but we both know adoption was her last resort when all else failed.”
Lynne reached across the table for Ali’s hand. “Sweetie, just because we had trouble doesn’t mean you will.”
“True. But I don’t want to wait until the eleventh hour to find out. Besides, I haven’t met a decent guy in over a year. In a blink of an eye I’ll be thirty and still telling jerks to take a hike. Please, will you try to understand? I’d really like your support on this.” Ali held her sister’s gaze, hoping to telegraph just how serious she was about her decision.
Lynne squeezed Ali’s hand, then on a long sigh, she let go and nodded slowly. “I can see you’ve made up your mind, so if it’s my blessing you’re looking for, you’ve got it.”
It was all Ali could do not to let out a hoot and rush around the table to hug her sister. “Thanks, Lynne. It means a lot to me.” She slouched in her chair, realizing she’d been holding her breath.
“Whew! I’m sure glad that’s out in the open.” She fanned a napkin across her face. “Now, what do you think Barbara will say?”
“Probably the same as I did. She’ll put up a fuss before she acquiesces. Neither one of us has ever been able to say no to you, baby sister, and you know that.”
Baby sister—that was the problem. At times she even wondered if her overpowering desire to have a child of her own was so everyone would stop viewing her this way. They always thought of her as a baby, even though she’d lived on her own for seven years now and had done all right for herself. Except in the men department. They were still an enigma.
She drank more tea and decided it was time for a new subject.
“Speaking of Barbara, any word about Tom’s transfer back to Detroit?”
“She’d hoped before Christmas, but last time we talked she said it looked more like spring. I hope nothing slows things up again. We were kinda counting on doing some sort of job share. Something where I’d keep the little ones every other week while she worked and vice versa.”
Maybe they could help with her little one, too, Ali thought. She would need reliable child care if she decided to return to work later. Fortunately her inheritance gave her the option.
Lynne glanced around the room, then leaned closer and whispered, “Have you even bothered to look around this hospital? Look at all the good-looking young men in this room alone. They can’t all be married or undesirables.”
Ali sighed, frustrated that “The Search,” as it had come to be called, was again the topic of discussion. Reluctantly she scanned the area, not paying close attention. Good looks didn’t mean much to her, anyway. And if the guy happened to be a doctor, there was a good chance he had a God complex. Experience had proven that point. If he was good-looking, too, forget it. He would probably have an ego the size of Saturn.
But Lynne had different ideas.
“Check out the tall, blond guy in the middle booth.”
With a roll of her eyes, Ali looked. “He’s got to be six-five if he’s an inch. Just what I need. Someone fifteen inches taller than me. I get a stiff neck thinking about it.”
“Okay,” Lynne said, not sounding deterred. “What about the studious one in the corner…the one with the wire-rimmed glasses?”
“He’s gay.”
“Really?”
“No.” She laughed. “I don’t know. Maybe he is.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Look, kiddo, do you think we could drop The Search…at least for today?” Lynne crossed her arms, resignation not being her strong suit, and Ali changed the subject. “Are you and Ken going to the Michigan-Michigan State game this weekend?”
Lynne shook her head slowly, looking somewhat annoyed. “Ken has to work. Wanna go?”
“Are you serious?” The game was one of the biggest rivalries of the football season and the weatherman predicted temperatures in the eighties, unusual for mid-September in Michigan. “You bet I do…assuming you won’t try fixing me up with some guy in the stands. Especially if he’s a doctor.”
“This is still about Dad, isn’t it? Come on, Ali. Let it go. So he was a jerk who just happened to be a doctor. That doesn’t make them all bad.”
“I might have agreed with you if I hadn’t worked for that obnoxious group of surgeons at my last job.” At least at her current job, doctor contact was minimal.
“Got a postcard from Dad last month,” Lynne went on. “He and Tinkerbell are in Tahiti.”
Ali was surprised he was still with his toy bride. When he left her mom more than a dozen years ago for someone younger than Barbara and Lynne, Ali was sure it wouldn’t last. It must be his money, she decided.
As young as Ali had been at the time, she could still remember how often her father had said this or that patient needed him, that he had to work late. While all along he was…
Poor Mom. Ali wondered again if Mom would be alive today if Dad hadn’t broken her heart. She shivered and hugged herself.
“Doctors are the scum of the earth,” she said, more for her own benefit than her sister’s. “A necessary evil, maybe, but I wouldn’t trust one any farther than I could throw him.”
Lynne shot Ali a derisive look before searching the room one last time. “Ooh, ooh. Table at four o’clock, just sitting down.”