The Doctor's Pregnancy Bombshell

Sadly, Melissa knew this was the truth. Because of Jamie’s mentally and emotionally abusive husband, she’d lived an isolated life prior to his death. Since then she’d struggled to make ends meet and take care of her girls. She didn’t have time for making friends and her only relief from isolation consisted of trips to Melissa’s, the school, the welfare office, and the grocery store for necessities.

“I’m going to call Brother Howard and see if one of the ladies from church can go with you.” Melissa had called on Brother Howard a few times in the past when she’d come across a patient in dire straits. He’d never let her down. “He’ll arrange for someone trustworthy to drive you to the appointment and sit with the girls while you’re talking with Dr Arnold tomorrow. I can’t promise anything for future visits, but I think he’ll be able to help tomorrow. Would that be OK?”

Her lower lip trembling, Jamie nodded. Melissa spent another fifteen minutes with Jamie, trying to answer questions and offer assurances that Dr Arnold would do all that could be done.

The rest of Melissa’s morning flew by. Mostly with seeing patients with runny noses; itchy, watery eyes; and sneezing. Living in middle Tennessee, where the pollen count soared, meant she spent a lot of time counseling on allergies and sinusitis symptoms.

“You look wiped out,” Debbie commented when she walked into Melissa’s office carrying two phone messages from the small local pharmacy. “Jamie seemed to take the news OK, though. She kept it together when she collected the girls.” Knowing the news Melissa had had to deliver, Debbie had kept Jamie’s daughters entertained in the nurses’ station. “I offered to have Ramona look after the girls if she needs help.”

“Is Ramona off work tomorrow?” Debbie’s daughter worked at the only grocery store in town, the Piggly Wiggly, better known as “The Pig”. The teenager would be starting her senior year in two short weeks.

“Yes. I gave Jamie my number. She’s going to call if Brother Howard is unable to arrange someone.”

Melissa nodded. One of the things she loved about Sawtooth was how people cared about each other. Having grown up in big-city foster-care, she’d missed out on the hometown warmth she now enjoyed being a part of. Actually, it could be argued that she’d missed out on warmth altogether.

“So, what gives?” Debbie dropped the messages onto Melissa’s desk, then pinned her with a stare. “Besides Jamie, because I know something is bothering you. I can see it on your face.”

Of course, there was also the hometown nosiness where people thought they had a right to know every minute detail of your life.

“Nothing’s bothering me,” she lied, knowing she needed to talk with James before anyone else. “Just a little tired.”

“Yummy Dr James keeping you up too late?”

Hardly.

He’d been working more and more lately. She hadn’t complained. It was easier to hide how nauseous she was when they only spent a few hours together here and there. Because she had been hiding her symptoms. From James and from herself. Facing them meant facing decisions she didn’t want to make. Like what she’d do if the most important person in her life didn’t change his mind about wanting a baby.

“He worked the emergency room shift at Vanderbilt last night and had late meetings the night before. I’ve not seen him for a couple of days.” Not wanting to go into more details, she picked up her messages, skimming their content. One was a routine medication refill request, the other a newer patient who Melissa suspected of being a drug seeker.

Debbie’s eyes narrowed. “Are you and Super Doctor getting along OK?”

“We’re fine.” Except James didn’t want kids and, according to the two blue lines, he was going to be a daddy. She closed her eyes, envisioning a little boy with James’s dimples or a little girl with his dark hair and blue eyes. A baby. Her heart squeezed.

Memories of them volunteering at Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital last Christmas played through her mind. The children had swarmed all over James while he’d entertained them with corny jokes and silly magic tricks that Melissa still hadn’t quite figured out. She’d laughed so hard at him that her eyes had watered. Only now, with the clarity of hindsight, did she see that those tears had been much more. She’d wanted that. James playing with children. Their children. That night they’d argued, but James had refused to budge on his views. No kids. She’d told herself it was OK that he didn’t want children, that just having him was enough.

If James persisted in not wanting their child, she’d have to learn to accept it. Regardless, she wouldn’t ever let her baby have to deal with the feelings of being uncared for that Melissa herself had faced as a child.

“Stretching again?”

Melissa blinked. “What?”

Tucking a short strand of chestnut hair behind an ear, Debbie cocked her hip against the desk. “Thought you might be stretching your eyes the way you were stretching those long legs this morning.”

Not meeting her friend’s eyes, she shuffled through some papers on her desk. “Like I said, I’m just tired.”

Debbie shook her head and sighed. “OK, but when you’re ready to talk, know I’m here for you.”

Dr James Stanley turned his Mustang into the driveway of the house he shared with Melissa. God, he was tired of this dri

ve.

Between his two twenty-four-hour shifts a week in Vanderbilt’s emergency room, his research, and his teaching stint for the university, he kept a full slate in Nashville. Living an hour away was damned inconvenient, but he couldn’t convince Melissa to transfer from her small-town practice.

Life would be much simpler if she’d agree to take a job with the university like he wanted.

Sometimes he thought he’d made life too easy by moving in with her. Had he stayed in Nashville, perhaps she’d have seen the advantages of living in the city.

Instead, she’d hinted that she’d like him to join her practice—like he wanted to do pap smears and tonsil checks all day.