Just Around the Corner

“I don’t believe there’s a certain person for everyone,” Matt finally said.

Phyllis’s heart sank just a little, but she agreed with him there, too. Running her fingers through her short hair, she determined to recommit herself to the definition she’d come up with for her own life. One that didn’t require a man.

Any man.

Including the one by her side.

THE DOCTOR WANTED to do an ultrasound. Phyllis started to panic as soon as she heard, thinking of Matt out in the waiting room, wishing he was in here with her. The bleeding must have been significant, after all. There was something wrong.

“…see if we can get you in today, since you’re already in town,” Dr. Mac was saying when Phyllis tuned back in.

“Okay,” she said, nodding woodenly, bracing herself for what was to come.

“I told you everything’s fine,” the doctor said, her eyes kind as she sat on the stool beside the examining table.

Scared to death, Phyllis didn’t respond. She’d just been through Tory’s pregnancy with her and the first eight months of Randi’s. The ultrasound didn’t come this early in the process unless they were looking for something.

“We’ve heard your baby’s heartbeat,” Dr. Mac reminded Phyllis. “It was healthy and strong.”

Remembering that miraculous moment only a short time before, Phyllis relaxed. Her baby was alive in there. Everything else they could handle.

She and the baby. Together. Alone. Just the two of them.

“I’m a little curious about how quickly you’re showing,” the doctor said, still giving Phyllis her complete attention. No writing on charts for Dr. Mac while she was talking to her patients.

It was one of the first things that had impressed Phyllis about the obstetrician.

“Is there some normal explanation for that?” Phyllis asked, nervous again. “Something in particular you’re looking for?” Damn. She had to get a grip. This baby had come to mean so much that she’d lost all her normal emotional strength where the pregnancy was concerned.

Dr. Mac shook her head. “I really just want good measurements for the purposes of comparison,” she said.

Phyllis could live with that.

AS LONG AS THEY HURRIED, they could get in for the ultrasound before the clinic closed. Phyllis had to drink what seemed like three gallons of water over the course of about half an hour. After that, she was once again leaving Matt reading a magazine in a waiting room while she was led off to another area.

Sitting there in a deserted room full of women’s magazines, Matt concentrated on staying calm. He hated doctors’ offices. And he hated waiting. He disagreed with all the book reviews in the People Magazine he’d found and he thought the celebrity profiles that seemed to appear in every magazine there were trite. And boring.

The colored lights blinking on the Christmas tree set up on a table in the corner were driving him insane. He hated Christmas. All that phony cheer and desperate goodwill. He’d never been part of a real Christmas celebration and probably never would.

You’d think, after thirty-three years, he’d be used to being on the outside looking in. Christmas was the worst time for that.

Damned holiday.

Matt stared at the door through which Phyllis had gone; it was still shut. Though he watched steadily, she didn’t come walking through.

Glancing at his watch, he saw she’d only been gone about twenty minutes.

How long did ultrasounds take?

She’d said the doctor only wanted measurements. Matt continued to watch the door. If anything happened to that baby…

For Phyllis’s sake, he put every ounce of mental energy he possessed on the other side of that door, in whatever room they were doing the ultrasound. That baby had to be fine. Phyllis needed it so badly.

And there was no one who deserved it more. Phyllis was the greatest woman he’d ever met. He’d never known anyone who just kept giving and giving the way she did. There seemed no end to the fount of her caring for those around her. Here she was, lying low, having a tough time of it, handling things all alone—and helping Tory birth a baby, helping to save Sophie from herself. And saving Matt from himself, too.

Dropping the People magazine back to the table, he stood, fingertips in the front pockets of his jeans. Where on earth had that last thought come from? He didn’t need saving.

He’d saved himself years ago. Had a life now. A good life.