Chapter Eight
“Mrs. McCullom?”
Tate poked Abby gently on the arm when she didn’t respond. “That’s you.”
“Oh.” Her face heated as she put the magazine down and stood.
The doctor’s waiting room was filled with women in various stages of pregnancy and Tate was feeling more than a little out of place. When he stood with her, Abby shot him a look of surprise, but he suspected that if the doctor gave her any prescriptions, she’d never tell him about it. He was going to make sure she got them filled even if it meant suffering through this ordeal every time she had an appointment.
The nurse led them to an examination room, pausing at a set of scales to get a weight, then directed Abby to a table that sat in the middle of the room. “Just have a seat there, Mrs. McCullom and we’ll get started.”
Tate took the only chair in the room, listening as the nurse fired questions at Abby, marking her answers on a sheet of paper. When she was done, she stuck a thermometer in Abby’s mouth, then wrapped a blood pressure cuff around her arm. She added the results to the chart before opening a drawer in the bottom of the table, pulling out what looked to Tate like a paper tablecloth, which she placed on the exam table.
“I’ll need a urine sample. The bathroom is right down the hall on the left. Just leave it there.” She took a plastic cup from a cabinet and set it on the countertop. “When you’re done, go ahead and get undressed and slip the gown on. It opens in the back. I’ll be back in a few minutes to draw some blood.” The door closed quietly behind her.
Abby slid from the table and picked up the cup. “I’ll be right back.”
He stood until she’d left the room, then sat down, thinking about yesterday.
He’d spent the whole day in the fields, getting the last of the crops in the ground. He’d been sweaty, covered head to toe in dust raised by the tractor and, by lunch time, starved half to death. He didn’t want to take the time to go back to the house and eat, though, deciding instead to just keep going until he was finished.
He hadn’t expected to see Abby standing at the end of the row with a basket on one arm. A tiny surge of pleasure ran through him at the memory. Since his mother had died, no one had ever taken the time to care if he ate or not, but she had. Then again, something seemed to have changed between them since they’d gotten married. Abby seemed more relaxed, looser, around him. Like she’d decided to finally trust him.
His mind ran back over Monday. No, it wasn’t since the wedding, he thought. It had happened later that day. After she’d gone upstairs to change. Maybe it was the talk they’d had in the kitchen while he helped her with supper.
He only knew that they had spent a comfortable evening going over the seed catalogs together while Buddy did his homework upstairs. A grin split his face as he remembered Abby’s comment about needing a ladder to pick strawberries, and the laughter it had prompted from him. Apparently she’d never picked strawberries before, or even seen one of the low growing plants. She’d actually slugged him in the arm for laughing at her.
And that wasn’t all. The house was so clean he was almost afraid to walk though it. She’d even washed clothes. For the first time since his mom died, you could actually find Buddy’s bed.
Yesterday, they had sat under a tree while he ate the left-over chicken and cobbler she’d brought, washing the food down with about a gallon of iced tea. And even when they hadn’t been talking, the silence hadn’t seemed so uneasy.
The door to the exam room opened and Abby came back in, hesitated and then clutched the gown to her chest, staring at Tate helplessly. Tate knew how she felt. There was nowhere in the room to offer her any privacy. He cleared his throat. “Uh, I’ll just wait outside the door while you change.”
He stepped though the door, closing it behind him. The nurse was at a desk near the end of the hall and she looked up, one eyebrow arched in question.
“Problem?”
Tate thought fast. “No, just wondering if you have a drinking fountain.”
She pointed to her right. “Down there.”
“Thanks.” He took his time, dawdling to give Abby a chance to change, then went back to the room and knocked softly before opening the door a crack.
She was standing in the middle of the room, one hand behind her clutching the gown closed, looking like she was about to cry.
He slid all the way into the room. “Abby, what’s wrong?”
“I broke the strings on the gown trying to get them tied.”
“Turn around. Maybe I can fix it.”
She presented her back to him and Tate tried his best not to look at the long expanse of bare skin that led down to a nicely curved bottom. It wasn’t easy. Carefully, he examined the gown. “They’re only broken on one side.”
He took out his pocket knife and poked holes in the paper, threading the remaining strings through them and tying them off. “There. You’re all fixed up.”
He didn’t have the heart to tell her that there was still a two inch gap in the back of the gown. She was nervous enough as it was.
“What do you think they’re going to do to me?”
He shook his head. “Your guess is as good as mine. I’ve never been through this before either.”
They both looked up as the nurse came back in carrying a packet. Tate watched as she put a rubber strap around the top of Abby’s arm, but turned away with a wince when she pulled out a syringe. God, he hated needles.
“There we go. Just hold your arm closed for a second and I’ll get a Band-Aid on that for you.”
He looked back as the nurse collected the vials. Abby didn’t look like she was in mortal pain and he breathed a sigh of relief.
“Doctor Spanos will be in shortly.”
They were both quiet while they waited, Abby fiddling nervously with the sheet the nurse had draped over her lap. She literally jumped when the door opened again.
A short, stout man with hair as white as the jacket he wore came in, looking at the chart in his hands through black rimmed glasses. The nurse followed him.
He nodded at Tate, then turned to the table. “Abby, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Well, Abby, you are definitely pregnant. When was your last period?”
“March first.”
The doctor did some rapid figuring on the chart then peered at her over his glasses. “That would put your due date about December sixteenth.” He handed the chart to the nurse. “Now, I’ll need you to just lie back on the table.”
Moving up beside her, he slid the shoulder of her gown down. Tate suddenly found a scuff mark on the floor of major interest, but not before he caught a glimpse of one bare breast.
“Hmm. A little tender?”
Abby must have nodded in answer, because the doctor continued. “That’s to be expected at this stage. Nothing to worry about and it’ll go away soon.”
There were more rustling noises. “Okay, you can slip that back on now.”
Tate inhaled and looked up. Surely that would be the worst of it. It wasn’t. Not by a long shot. Just about the time he was starting to relax, the doctor pulled up what looked like metal stirrups from the end of the table and put Abby’s feet in them.
“Scoot your bottom down to the very edge. We need to take a look and make sure everything is where it should be.” When Abby complied, looking almost as panicked as Tate felt, the doctor parked himself on a stool between her legs. The nurse helped him put on rubber gloves and then handed him a tool that looked suspiciously like a post hole digger to Tate.
Surely he wasn’t going to… Tate blanched. Apparently he was, indeed. His stomach rolled. That must hurt like hell. His gaze shot to Abby’s face, but she was staring fixedly at a spot on the ceiling.
It was only a minute or two before the doctor handed the post-hole digger back to the nurse, but to Tate it felt like hours.
Doctor Spanos patted Abby’s sheet covered leg. “Everything looks normal and you’re right about the dates. I’d put you at about seven weeks along. Just relax there a second and we’ll take a look at the baby and see how it’s doing.”
Take a look at the baby? Tate was still trying to decide whether or not to protest when the nurse moved to a machine behind the table and pulled out a long wand-looking thing. When she rolled a condom down on it and coated it with lubricating lotion, Tate broke out in a sweat.
As the nurse flipped switches on the machine, the doctor bent over Abby again, doing something mysterious under the sheet.
There was a burst of static and the doctor, nurse and Abby all turned their heads toward a flickering light.
“Dad, you might want to move a little closer so you can see this, too.”
Slowly, Tate got to his feet and moved to stand near Abby’s head, his eyes on the screen beside her. He stared at it for a second before he realized what he was seeing. Most of the screen was white, but there was a darker half-arc in the center. And inside that arc, something was moving. Awe ran through Tate, filled him to near bursting. His breath caught in his chest. “My God,” he whispered. “Look! Is that the baby?”
Doctor Spanos chuckled from the end of the table. “It’s always easy to tell who the first-time parents are. Yes, that’s the baby.”
Tate tore his gaze away from the screen and looked down at Abby. She looked like she was about to cry again, but she was smiling. At the same moment their hands moved, fingers joining tightly together.
“There’s its head.” The doctor pointed out a larger, rounder shape on one end. “Let’s see if we can get it to hold still long enough to get a fix on its size. Sure is an energetic little thing.”
Tate looked back at the screen intently. After some shifting around and some loud static, the shadowed image of a curve appeared, indistinct, but obviously alive and active. Unconsciously, his grip on Abby’s hand tightened.
The image on the screen froze and several dots popped up with a white line stretching between them.
“What’s wrong?” Tate glanced at the doctor.
“Not a thing. Just getting some measurements. We’ll print this out for you so you can show it off to all your relatives. Baby’s first picture.”
The machine clicked and then spit out a strip of paper. The frozen image vanished and Tate could see the baby moving, almost bouncing from one side of the dark area to the other.
“Can you tell if it’s a boy or girl?”
Doctor Spanos shook his head. “It’s still too early for that. We’ll do this again in about four months. We should be able to tell then.” He flipped the machine off and handed the wand to the nurse. “Okay Abby, you can sit up now.” He rolled his stool to the counter and picked up her chart, looking through the pages.
“Everything seems to be right on schedule and the baby looks healthy and normal. However, you’re a little anemic and you’re also underweight. I’m going to give you a prescription for some vitamins with an extra supplement of iron. How are you feeling, generally?”
“Fine.” Abby was sitting up, holding the sheet tightly around her, but she hadn’t released Tate’s hand.
“She’s been getting sick and throwing up,” Tate added helpfully.
Abby glared at him, but he ignored her.
“That’s normal and should ease up soon. In the meantime, I’ll give you something for nausea that should help. Other than that, just eat well-balanced meals and rest when you feel tired.”
He wrote the prescriptions out and handed them to Abby. Tate took them away from her and stuck them in his shirt pocket.
The doctor stood. “One last thing. Most folks are usually too embarrassed to ask, so I always make it a point to tell them. Sex is fine right up until the end as long there’s no discomfort.” He smiled at both of them. “The nurse will give you your pictures and some reading material. Abby, I’ll see you in a month.”
The nurse handed them a bunch of pamphlets and the pictures. “These should explain what to expect over the next seven months, but if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to call us. Did you want to sign up for the Lamaze classes? They won’t come until you’re much farther along, but we usually have a pretty long waiting list. It’s better to schedule early if you want to be sure and get in.”
Abby looked at him blankly. Tate shrugged. “Sure. Sign her up.”
The nurse smiled at him then turned to Abby. “You can get dressed now. Just stop at the receptionist’s on your way out and she’ll set up your next appointment.” Taking Abby’s chart with her, she departed with brisk efficiency.
Abby slid off the table and reached for her clothes.
“I guess I should get out of here and let you get dressed.”
“It’s okay. Just turn around.”
Tate turned his back to her and gazed down at the pictures in his hand, wonder filling him all over again. His baby. The child they had made together. There was no way he could regret that, not ever.
“I’m done.”
He looked up from the pictures. Abby’s hair was mussed on one side and he reached out to smooth it down, his hand lingering as he gazed down at her. “It’s really real, Abby. A real baby.”
“I know.”
She smiled softly and Tate suddenly realized she was glowing. Before he even knew he was going to do it, he leaned down and kissed her gently. “Our baby.” He straightened and stepped away from her, embarrassed by the emotions that were running through him. “Did you see the way it was bouncing around? That doesn’t hurt does it?”
Abby laughed. “I can’t even feel it yet. I think it’s still too small.”
He took her hand again. “Let’s get out of here. We still have a lot to do. We need to get these prescriptions filled, run by the bank, then to the feed store. And we’ll stop and get a hamburger before we head back to the ranch.”
“What do you have to do at the bank?”
“Get you put on the checking account.”
He heard her gasp but didn’t even slow down. “There may be times I can’t come with you and you’ll need to be able to write checks yourself. Only makes sense. I can’t wait to show Buddy these pictures.”
They stopped at the front desk and Tate paid the bill while Abby made her next appointment. As soon as they were back on the street he headed for the drug store. “You know the room across the hall from yours? It’s still full of Mom’s sewing things, but with a little fixing up, it would make a great nursery.”
Abby came to a screeching halt. “But I thought…”
Tate paused. “What? You don’t like the room?”
“No, it’s not that. I just thought that after the baby was born you’d…”
Tate took a deep breath as realization swept over him. “You thought that after the baby was born we’d get a divorce and it would all be over with.”
Abby hesitated. “Yes. I know you’re only doing this because you feel like you have to. I thought you’d want to get back to your old life and, by the time the baby’s born, I’ll have my diploma. I’ll be able to get a better job. You won’t need to take care of us anymore.”
Tate took her hand. “Listen to me, Abby. When we got married the vow was until death parted us, not until the baby was born. I meant it. I admit, the baby was kind of an abstract idea to me until today, but now it’s real and it’s my baby too. I want the chance to help raise it, to see it grow up. You can’t take that away from me. Please, promise me you won’t do anything until we at least talk about it.”
Abby was chewing on her bottom lip, her gaze searching his expression and Tate held his breath while she hesitated. “Okay. I promise we’ll talk about it again after the baby’s born.”
Relief shot through Tate and he smiled at her. “Good. I know we can work this out. And in the meantime, we can go ahead and get the nursery fixed up.” He glanced down at her as they reached the drug store. “Have you thought about a name yet?”
“A name?”
“For the baby. Never mind. Maybe they’ll have one of those baby name books in here.”
“But we don’t even know if it’s a boy or girl yet!”
“Well, we’ll just pick out one of each that we like. Then we’ll be covered.”
Abby laughed and shook her head. “I think you may be jumping the gun a little. We still have lots of time before we need to settle on a name.”
“You never know,” he said wisely as he handed the druggist the prescriptions. “What if we can’t agree on anything? For instance, I’m afraid I’d have to protest if you wanted to name a boy Howard.” He shuddered in mock horror and Abby laughed harder.
“You can rest assured, I’ll never name our son Howard if you promise not to name our daughter Louise.”
A son and a daughter. Not one child, but two. Would it ever happen? With her? Tate stood there gazing down into Abby’s smiling face and knowledge slammed into him, staggering in its intensity. He wanted her. Wanted her more than he’d ever wanted another woman in his life. His body had been trying to tell him that for weeks now, but he hadn’t listened. Couldn’t afford to listen.
Guilt hit him hard. How could he want Abby this much when it was Diane he loved? And what did that make him? A selfish, cheating bastard? But which woman was he cheating on? His wife or his fiancée?