Eclipse of the Heart (28 page)

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.

Bright and early Friday morning, a FedEx truck pulled into
the driveway. Amanda happened to be sitting in the main room of the lighthouse,
which ran across the front of the house. She was looking out the window,
wondering if it was warm enough to sit comfortably on the porch. An unseen wind
blew the leaves of the magnolia tree in the side yard.

She called to Mrs. M. when the delivery guy started over to
the big house.

Mrs. MacDonald intercepted him and carried a box back into
the house. "Can't imagine what this is," she said cheerfully.
"But packages are always nice."

Amanda hoped she'd open it right here and now. Anything was
a break in the tedium.

The housekeeper placed the box on the coffee table and
bustled into the kitchen for scissors.

When she returned, she slit the seal carefully, brushed
aside the bubble wrap, and pulled out a plump, toy panda bear. The body and
head were a pure, fluffy white. Midnight black eyes, ears, arms and legs
provided a sharp contrast to the immaculate white. A perky red bow adorned the
panda's neck.

"Isn't that sweet," Mrs. M. cooed. She plucked a
business card out of the box and held it up. Amanda recognized Logan's black
scrawl.

Found this in Hong Kong. It's baby safe.

Their eyes met over the card. "A bit unexpected,"
Amanda said wryly.

"Yes," Mrs. MacDonald said, "and no. People
see his toughness, but never the soft side because he keeps hidden."

"Hmmm."
Amanda didn't
want to argue, especially because she couldn't resist reaching for the little
bear. She could so easily picture a baby grabbing onto the plush, big-eyed
panda and curling up to sleep.

Emotion washed over her. This was the first present she'd
received for her child. She'd never admit it to anyone, but it felt special.
Mentally, she winged a message of thanks out to Logan, sad to think he was so
far away, but accepting that it was best for both of them to move on with their
lives. It couldn't matter to her where he was.

She set the panda on the rocking chair in her room.

The following Friday, rain was drenching the Cape, and the
two women were drinking tea in the kitchen when the doorbell rang.

"Are you expecting anyone?" Mrs. MacDonald asked.

Amanda laughed. "Have I had any visitors yet? I don't
think today is my lucky day."

Mrs. M. carried in the white FedEx box which was addressed
to her. "Another surprise," she said comfortably. "The man has
style."

"You don't know what it is," Amanda pointed out.
She didn't want to acknowledge that her own heart had sped up a little in
anticipation.

As soon as the package was open, she recognized the
distinctive, almost-turquoise Tiffany blue of the box. A thick white satin
ribbon was tied around the box with a perfect bow.

"You go ahead and open it," Mrs. M. said.
"I'm sure it's for the baby."

"It was addressed to you," Amanda pointed out.

With a smile and a shake of her head, the housekeeper folded
her hands on the table.

Amanda slowly pulled off the white ribbon and took the cover
off the box. Nestled inside was a silver picture frame. A Tiffany bow was
engraved on the upper left corner. Wavy, engraved streamers ran along the top
and left side of the frame. The spot for the picture was blank, just waiting
for a photo of her baby.