“Not that I know of.” Holding the wheel steady with his knee, he signaled a lane change, clasping her hand all the while.
Becca wondered if Phyllis wanted children as badly as she had. If she ever felt the helplessly empty feeling so deep inside you couldn’t reach in and pull it out.
“Just think, Bec, we’re going to get to see our baby today,” Will said softly.
“Yeah.” And that’s exactly what I’m afraid of. There were so many things they checked for. So many things that could be wrong.
“We’ll get to see his little fingers and toes, see his face.”
“Yeah.” It might be a her.
“Dr. Anderson’s been keeping such a close watch on things, we know he’s growing exactly on course, that his heart is extremely healthy.”
Her stomach relaxed just a little. Will had seen through her sudden intense interest in a woman she’d never even met. “Yeah.”
“He’s kicking hard enough to tell us his parts work.”
With one hand splayed across her belly, Becca smiled. “Yeah.” And then, “Will?”
He glanced over, brows raised in question.
“Thanks.”
AS HE’D predicted, the ultrasound of Parsons, Jr., as Will had taken to thinking of his offspring, indicated that everything was just fine. The measurements were as they should be. All limbs and organs were present and functioning. He, Becca and the ultrasound technician had counted ten fingers and ten toes.
He and Becca had counted them again several times that week—whenever they showed the video of the ultrasound to one or another of their loved ones.
They still didn’t know the sex of the baby—by their choice, mostly—but Jr. hadn’t cooperated, either. It didn’t matter to Will; he was a daddy. At almost thirty-two weeks along, Parsons, Jr. was pretty much a fully developed baby—just needed some growing time.
The phone rang as he was leaving his office on Tuesday, a week after he’d taken Becca into Phoenix. His secretary had already gone for the day.
“Parsons,” he said, catching it on the third ring.
“Dr. Parsons?”
Instantly recognizing the voice, he sat back in his chair. “Yes, Christine,” he said. “I’ve been waiting to hear from you. How are things with your sister?”
He still wished he knew what “things” were. Phyllis Langford, upon her arrival the week before, had confirmed that Christine’s delay was due to her younger sister, but beyond that, she’d been no more forthcoming than Christine.
“She’s doing okay,” Christine said, her voice sounding more animated than he’d ever heard it. And yet, it was still oddly infused with caution, as though that was as much a part of her nature as breathing.
“She had some trouble with an ex-husband, but now she’s back here. She’ll be moving out to Arizona with me. We’ve already shipped our stuff, and I’m just calling to let you know we’re on our way out,” she said.
Will grabbed a pen. “I’ll be at the airport myself to pick you up,” he said. “When does your flight get in?”
“We’re not flying,” she told him. “I decided to drive out, so I’ll have my car with me.”
That would take her another five days at least. Five days he couldn’t really afford to give her. But he would.
There was just something about her.
“Fine,” he said, but had to add, “Be careful.”
“Always,” Christine said. Somehow he knew her response was more a promise than a platitude.
WHISTLING AS HE LEFT the quiet campus that afternoon, Will looked around him at the big old buildings, the green lawns with benches and tables that would be crowded with students in another few weeks. Shelter Valley grew from a population of three thousand to almost ten thousand when school was in full session. The white latticework gazebos were mostly deserted now, but soon couples would be huddled together there, stealing kisses between classes. The cement-mounted porch swings, located throughout Montford’s campus, would be moving again, rather than hanging lifeless as they were now. Groups of students would be lounging on the grass, studying, campaigning, planning, complaining, telling jokes. The occasional tired kid might be found sleeping there, too.
His step picking up, Will hurried toward his car. God, he loved this place. Looked forward to the day when Parsons, Jr. would be one of the students out on that great expanse of lawn.