Eclipse of the Heart

chapter 27

Cape Cod wasn't actually a cape, Amanda learned as Mrs. MacDonald drove her over the Bourne Bridge. It had been at one time, but the Army Corps of Engineers had dug a canal to provide shorter transit for ships, and now the Cape was a long, narrow island off the coast of Massachusetts.

Traffic on the bridge was light on a Monday morning in early June, but Amanda could imagine it would be hellish on a Friday afternoon in July.

She hadn't asked Mrs. MacDonald any questions about Logan's home, but, clearly, the older woman was familiar with the route. They drove past miles of scrub pines and then along winding lanes lined by neat homes. A half hour after they'd crossed the bridge, they reached a charming New England village, with gray shingled shops trimmed in nautical white.

"I'll go out later and buy food and supplies," Mrs. MacDonald said. "We're almost at the house."

Amanda was surprised to feel a spurt of excitement. This would only be a temporary home. No need to get too enthusiastic. But there was no denying the fact that her body was already beginning to relax.

She smiled at Mrs. MacDonald. "I like the way the other half lives."

"You won't find a better place to endure bed rest."

They pulled into a short driveway and Amanda gasped. "Wow!"

Mrs. MacDonald turned off the car. "The house probably needs airing out, but Logan had the caretaker in to do the basics."

Amanda got out of the car, stretching. The Atlantic Ocean was visible a short distance away, a rippling sheet of gray beyond a narrow beach. She wanted to walk down to the beach, but her instructions from the doctor had been clear. Get in bed, and stay there.

"I didn't expect Logan to own something so unusual," she said, starting up the white pebbled path.

"Where are you going?" Mrs. MacDonald asked. "The house is over here." She pointed to an enormous, three-story mansion on their right. Amanda looked back at the tall, lighthouse-shaped building she'd been aiming for.

"We aren't staying there?" She waved at the smaller building.

"It's not a real lighthouse."

"But it's so cute!"

Mrs. MacDonald smiled. "Most folks would prefer the main house. The one you like is the guest house."

"Oh." She hung her head a little. For some reason, the lighthouse had spoken to her as soon as she saw it. With its storybook appeal, it seemed like a special place to await the birth of a baby. She was a guest, though. She wouldn't complain. Slowly, she turned to face the mansion.

Mrs. MacDonald peered at her. "I suppose," she said, "that we could stay in the guest house. I hadn't planned on it, but—"

Amanda beamed with excitement. "Do you really think we could? Does it have any kitchen facilities?" She didn't want to make extra work for the housekeeper.

"Oh, yes, it's a fully functioning home. I always thought Mrs. W—"

She stopped. "Well, no need to waste time reminiscing when there's work to be done."

Amanda wondered. Had she been about to say Mrs. Winter? Logan's mother? Why was there a cone of silence around the subject of his family?

***

Two weeks passed with little more than a few calls from her friends, her mom and Julie. Amanda had finally confessed her predicament to her mother, and was met with the love and acceptance she'd expected. It made her feel even guiltier for adding to her mom's burdens, but reality couldn't be denied forever. They'd decided that her mom would look for a slightly larger apartment when she returned from Denver. Amanda would move in with her and Julie after the birth. In the meantime, she resolved not to feel sorry for herself.

She didn't hear from Logan during that time. Of course, she didn't expect expect to. A lie. Which she only admitted when she saw his number pop up on her cell phone.

Then her stupid heart lurched with excitement when she heard his voice. Which was only natural, as he had a very sexy voice and any woman would feel a shot of adrenaline just to hear it.

"How are you feeling?" He opened the conversation casually. No hint of a threat in his tone.

"Pretty good." Mostly, she felt like a fraud, lying around in bed all day, doing nothing more taxing than reading the novels Mrs. M. brought home from the library. In the evening, they might watch a movie, or a show on TV.

They kept the windows open if the weather was warm enough, so she could smell the ocean, and hear the seagulls crying.

She still hadn't been to the beach.

"I heard you settled in the guest house."

"I like it," she said. "It's quiet and peaceful."

"Do you have everything you need?"

"Yes, thank you." She was gripping the phone as if…as if she didn't want him to end the conversation. Which was a big mistake. She'd have to end it herself.

"Thanks for calling," she said. "I'm all set here. There's no need for you to check in again."

"I'd like to come and see you this weekend," Logan said firmly. "It's time for us to move on."

"There is no 'us'."

"Don't be foolish, Amanda." His voice was controlled, but she heard a thread of irritation. "We're having a child together. That will tie us together for at least eighteen years. Wouldn't it be better to make them pleasant years?"

What did that mean? Pleasant years? Amanda shook her head. She shouldn't even think about it. There wasn't any point to raising false hopes in her clueless heart.

"Is this where you threaten me again with your lawyer?" she asked.

"If that's what it takes," he snapped.

"Takes to do what?" An imp of curiosity bit her. He sounded serious about—something. Probably the custody issue, and she didn't want to argue about that again. "Never mind." As always, she had to beat him to the punch to forestall her own crazy hopefulness. "I have to go. The doctor is buzzing me."

She clicked off the phone, as sadness swept over her. She was getting too good at lying.

Logan stared at his silent cell, cursing under his breath. How had they reached such an impasse? The only sensible thing for them to do was to get married, but he would be damned if he'd propose to her over the phone. He'd thought that once he got her settled in a worry-free environment, she'd calm down. Okay, he understood that she didn't want him to run her life, but he had resources that she didn't have. Why couldn't she simply accept his help? He had a responsibility to her now that he'd gotten her pregnant, and he also had rights with respect to the child. At least he hoped he did.

Should he stage a surprise visit? He didn't want to upset her, or do anything that might jeopardize her health or that of the baby. Hell, what did he know about pregnancy, let alone bed rest?

There was only one way to find out exactly what action he could take. And he was itching for action.

Unfortunately, it took him the better part of a week to wear down Rosie to the point that she revealed the name of Amanda's doctor.

"I can't be bought," she said, when he walked in the day after she finally broke.

He rapped his fist on her desk in greeting. "I did it because you held out for almost five days, not because you gave me the doctor's name." He'd sent a thousand dollar check to the charity for which she'd sponsored the toy drive.

"I wouldn't have done it if I didn't think it was the best thing for Amanda," she said darkly. "Just so you know."

"Credit me with some sense." He smiled at her. "I won't rat you out, either."

The visit to the doctor was less successful.

Logan sat in the waiting room, feeling like a penguin in the desert. There was no reason on earth for a single man to be visiting an ob/gyn alone. The waiting room had been designed to be soothing, done up in tan and blue. But most of the waiting patients were in various obvious stages of pregnancy, which, in itself was enough to make a man uneasy.

He found he couldn't stop wondering about Amanda. Was she showing? How was she feeling? Worst of all, he wondered about the status of her pregnancy. Was the bed rest helping? Was she still in danger of losing the baby?

Questions haunted him. As much as he tried to ignore them, he worried incessantly about both her and the child.

A child he'd never dreamed of having. But now that the possibility had lodged in his brain, he couldn't dislodge it.

When he was ushered into the office, he knew his errand wouldn't prosper. The doctor wore heavy, black spectacles, a crisp white jacket, and raised eyebrows. Her severity was somewhat lessened by her pleasant, contralto voice.

"You have a patient who is pregnant with my—my child," he began. He did not enjoy being in the position of supplicant and had arranged his life to avoid this exact thing. But life had shot him an unexpected arrow, and he'd just have to deal with it. "Her name is Amanda Thompson."

The doctor stared silently through her ugly glasses.

"I need to know that she’s alright," he finally said.

"We practice strict patient confidentiality in this office," the doctor said severely.

"I'm sure you want what's best for your patients," he said calmly, although his insides were roiling with anger. "But surely the father has some rights."

"In a court of law." The doctor met his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Amanda is on bed rest." Logan raised a hand to forestall the woman telling him she couldn't talk about that. "I already know this. I need to discuss something very important with her. Could you tell me the best way to approach her without disturbing her unnecessarily?"

"She can't be disturbed at all."

"That's not a helpful response."

"If you care about her and the baby, you'll leave her alone. That's the best thing you can do."

The words hit him hard. For the sake of her health, he'd have to stay away from her? He managed a short nod. "Let's talk about money, then. I need to make arrangements with the billing office to pay anything that might not be covered by insurance."

"You are persistent, I'll give you that." The doctor tapped a finger against her blotter. "The billing office handles all financial matters."

"Excellent. Then I have permission to speak with them since I'm paying this patient's insurance." He stood.

"Don't use my name."

He brushed past a tall nurse as he left, but she turned her head to stare at him, and he had no trouble hearing her voice.

"Are you sure he doesn't need an exam?" the nurse said.

The doctor laughed. "This is an ob/gyn office."

"I wouldn’t be picky about details if I had a chance to see that hunk in the buff."

Logan shook his head. A stupid comment like that made the doctor laugh, and yet she treated him like an insect not worthy of being crushed. He followed a clerk down the hall, his heart heavy. At least he assumed that was the organ hurting deep inside. He knew he should be proud of Amanda for handling her life and all the complications that had been thrown at her.

But he wished she had needed him even a little bit.