The Storm (Fairhope) (11 page)

Somehow, the mutilated bean bag made it to Fairhope. Thank God. Apparently, it might have saved my life.

Behind Andrew’s amusement, he could not disguise his exhaustion. He peered at me through bleak eyes framed with dark crescents before continuing his attempt at humor. “See, baby, everything happens for a reason.”

Not always a good reason,
I thought negatively as I faked a smile.

“Get me out of here, please.” I wanted to wiggle my toes, snap twice, or whatever the hell Dorothy did, and land at home immediately to disappear under my down comforter.

Mama wiped my messy hair out of my eyes, her soulful gaze glistening with tears. “We were so worried about you. You’ve been here for half an hour and hadn’t woken up. Did you skip a meal?”

“No, but I didn’t eat a lot at lunch,” I replied foggily. I looked down and noticed that my scrubs were caked with dirt from the garage. “I had a really bad day.”

The horrifying incident of the early morning was replaying through my mind when Andrew asked, confused, “What’s with the red car?”

I groaned. “I-I got in a wreck this morning. I had to get a rental. It’s fine, really. I could not stop the car fast enough in the rain, and my brakes locked up. I ran into the back of someone. I was not speeding, and no one was hurt.”

Everyone gasped. “You got in a
wreck
? Did you work today?” Mom scolded me. “Did you call your doctor? Why didn’t you call
me?
”

“Yes, yes, no, and it went straight to your voicemail.” My voice was scruffy, mimicking the fuzzy aftermath of getting over a sinus infection. “I wasn’t cramping or bleeding. Jeff was riding with me today, so he took me to pick up the rental car, and we finished out the day.”

Andrew shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe this. What did Jeff say? I hope you told him things aren’t any better with your asshole partner.”

I ignored him, answering with a quick “shush” glance. Now was not the time or place to discuss Covington. There was no sense in worrying my concerned best friend or parents.

I peered at Dr. Jones, my vision blurred. “Are you sure everything is okay? My heart pounding insanely is the last thing I remember. I don’t remember it doing that in the past when my sugar was low.”

“Your blood pressure is higher than I’d like to see,” he explained authoritatively, motioning to his chubby, rosy-cheeked nurse to return to my dismal room. “You’ve had quite a day. We will keep an eye on it and see if it lowers as you recover. You are lucky the bean bag caught you—or else your day may have had a very different ending. Thankfully, you and the baby are both doing fine. You need to rest for a couple of days, and call your obstetrician if you notice anything out of the ordinary. We will be forwarding the information surrounding this incident to Dr. Wilson.”

“No more skipping meals,” the nurse added.

Obediently, I nodded, holding my arms out to Andrew for him to lift me up and take me home.

“Jeff, I’ve got strep throat,” I said hoarsely to his voicemail. “I’ve started antibiotics, and I should be back tomorrow.” I faked illness, not wanting to explain that I passed out and went to the hospital. It would be the only sick day on my calendar that year.

Grace brought me lunch from Olive Garden. She hardly barged through the door before she threw a pregnancy test in my lap, the positive plus sign glaring in my face.

I squealed. “That’s wonderful!” I wolfed out continued congratulations in between bites of chicken parmesan. I tried not to think about the fact that she had peed on the stick that was touching my thigh. Such things made my stomach convulse now.

She carefully opened her to-go plate and delicately sat down on my sofa, nervously patting her stomach. I smiled. My prima donna bestie was already treating her self like a fragile china doll.

“I can’t wait to find out if it’s a boy or a girl. I have been feeling good lately, you know—happy—and I just hope it continues. I don’t want to take my meds while I’m pregnant.”

“
Can
you?”

“Dr. Wilson said it’s a risk versus benefit thing. And, there is a new one that is Pregnancy Category B, which means it has been tested in pregnant women. So, I guess, yeah. But I think maybe my disease is going away.” She grinned.

I smiled back, thinking that bipolar disorder wasn’t “curable,” was it? I hoped so, but it was not the first time she thought she was better. I tried not to get irritated at her chomping. My fluctuating hormones could turn me into a total witch at times.

Between bites of lemon cream cake, I wondered if
I
was depressed.

“Gavin’s been acting weird lately,” Grace said thoughtfully, dipping her fork into my dessert. “I can’t put my finger on it.”

“He’s had a lot going on,” I offered, inconspicuously moving it away from her. I wanted all of it. “He’s going to be a daddy, and our usually quiet town has stirred up some noise lately.”

“It sure has. He didn’t get home until after two that night the young woman got robbed. Remember when he had to leave our cookout? The asshole tried to rape her, too.”

“Are you serious? Who is she?” I licked the last bit of lemon cream off my fingers.

“He didn’t say, but he was definitely disturbed. He hasn’t slept much since.” Grace looked lost in thought. I eyed her black tie mousse cake, posing my fork … an eye for an eye.

“Things like that aren’t supposed to happen in Fairhope.”

“No, they’re not. I thought it was strange that a college student was living in Sunset Trace, alone. That neighborhood’s not cheap.”

“And without an alarm system?”

Grace shook her head. “Nada. They haven’t caught the guy yet.”

Gavin usually filled Andrew in on the graphic details of Fairhope’s rare crimes, but I could not recall that one. I wondered who this young woman was, husbandless in an exquisite home in the family-oriented town of Fairhope.

As had become the norm for me around 3 AM, I awoke drenched with salty sweat, horrific nightmares of losing my baby or my job plaguing my mind. My throat was hoarse and my eyes were puffy and dry, as if I’d actually cried in my sleep. The neuroticism of my blood hammering through my veins was driving me bat shit crazy.

My body plastered in too-tight scrubs and hair pulled back, I made it to my early morning case the next day, but definitely without bells on. My aching body begged me to stay nestled in my inviting sheets for at least one more day.

I skipped an appointment with my obstetrician to work this case. Jeff’s words from the week before, when I told him about the appointment, taunted me: “You can’t use your pregnancy as an excuse not to work. If you take care of yourself, you will be fine. Can’t you reschedule?” It would have done no good to tell him I tried to reschedule, but Collin refused to take the case for me.

Thankfully, the case started and ended on time. As I bolted toward the double doors, Dr. Hatten’s surgery nurse yelled, “Wait up, Jana!”

I whirled around to face her, my car keys clinging loudly. “Yes?”

“This pissed me off, so I wanted to tell you. Collin told us he couldn’t believe you got pregnant and were still trying to do this job. I told him to go to hell.” She wiped her hands on her scrubs, dramatically rolling her eyes.

I bristled, fighting the tears that slowly crept up. “Thanks for telling me.”

“He’s such a prick. Our inventory was managed terribly until you got here. Covington has been good to us, but we’d be fine if we didn’t have to work with him, or that other guy, anymore.”

I took the high road. “I’m glad we are doing a better job managing inventory now.”

She pursed her lips together. “That guy with him didn’t chastise him. He acted like you wouldn’t be here much longer. You’re not quitting, are you? We hate those bastards.”

“That guy” had to be Jeff.

Angrily, I cocked my head. “No, I won’t be leaving Covington Company. Not if I have anything to do with it.”

Relieved to get out of that hospital, I coerced Grace into girl time at Page and Palette. I needed to fill my life with more Grace gabbing instead of Covington drama. Hers was much more entertaining, and there was nothing I could do at this moment about the other.

“Tall decaf, whatever the house is,” Grace ordered, her right hand resting on her abdomen protectively.

“I’m not skipping the caffeine, and I don’t want a lecture,” I told her. “I’m ready for this day to rot in hell.” She shook her head disappointedly while I focused on the barista. “I want one of those iced mochas, with the whip cream. Can you put chocolate syrup on top?”

I gave her the backstory, and for once, she listened without interruption. “That’s such bullshit,” Grace said. “I should have Gavin arrest those two. With all the crap Collin does, it wouldn’t be hard. A little birdie should tell Jeff’s wife about his fling with Brooke.”

I cringed. I would love to see Jeff busted, but his poor family…

Grace added an extra sugar to her coffee. “You know, this is the twenty-first-freaking-century. We are stuck being the spawns of feminism, and gone are the days of the one-income family for most of us, especially me. There’s no way we could make it on Gavin’s salary, but I don’t care. I’m never quitting my job after what my mother went through.”

“With that voice, Gavin could make millions if he wanted to … and you could take him to the bank if he ever betrayed you, which is doubtful.” Gavin could compete with any contracted singer, and he was blessed with the boyish good looks to seal the deal. Shooting for the stars was second to defending the good citizens of Fairhope, which was perfectly fine with possessive Grace. She’d never worried about cash when there were credit cards.

She smiled girlishly at my compliment. “No joke … no prenuptial agreement in this marriage!”

I eyed the moist strawberry cake that was begging me to buy it, my taste buds betraying my desire to eat healthier. I prayed for willpower and sipped my sinfully calorie-ridden dessert drink. “I
like
working. I totally respect stay at home moms—I mean, Mama stayed home with me and Daniel! But that’s just not
me.
”

I reflected back on my childhood, noting the differences for mothers now. Some women welcomed work reluctantly, some of us excitedly. Our daughter, or son’s future wife, may have no choice one day. I had the best support system that money could not buy—my family. I could reduce the juggling act and, theoretically, succeed as Mom, Mrs. Andrew Cook, and Jana Cook, Covington Rep. At least I hoped.

“Working full time is uncommon for young moms in Fairhope,” Grace mused, rubbing lip gloss over her lips. “This town is full of old money and the career-driven wealthy upper class. Have you
seen
the wedding rings on all these women?” She snorted. “Somebody is going to cut off their fingers one day.”

Before our laughter ceased, she changed the subject. “Okay, Jana. I am prepared for you to tell me I am being nosy and stupid, but…”

“No, go ahead. No more Covington!”

She hesitantly unfolded a weakened piece of paper and laid it out on the table.

Alex. 555-1345.

I raised my eyebrows. “So?” I slurped the rest of my delicious treat.

“I saw his name in Gavin’s planner under last Thursday. No explanation, just ‘Alex.’ Then, I found this phone number in his pocket.”

“You were digging in his pockets?” I asked incredulously. “And how many times have you looked at that piece of paper? It’s falling apart.”

She looked guilty. “I have a weird feeling about it. When I asked him who Alex was, he got all weird and stuttered something about work.”

“Grace, think about how many people he meets in a day. Someone always asks for help or has questions. Isn’t he taking those classes to become a detective? Don’t you have bigger things to worry about?”

She shrugged, still looking suspicious.

“Grace, you are being paranoid. What, do you think Gavin is into, you know,
that
kind of thing?” I thrust my hips back and forth and made a barbarous face. “Men always crave a taste of something different, but…”

She laughed so hard that tears sprung in her sparkling eyes as she doubled over. “Okay, okay. You’re probably right, but I wonder why I can’t shake the notion that something is up.”