Linda Randall Wisdom - Pregnancy Countdown

“Talk about scary. This is good. One look at me and the man will run for the hills,” she observed.

“Nora?” Mark’s voice sounded panicked as it floated through the front window. He started pounding on the door. “I mean it. If you don’t come to the door I’m calling the cops.”

“Not if I call them first,” she said under her breath as she slowly walked down the hallway.

“If you don’t open this door in five seconds, I’m calling my mom!” he shouted the ultimate threat. “Do you really want her coming out here? You know she will.”

Nora groaned. The last thing she needed was Mark’s mother showing up at her door. Cathy Walker would do just that if Mark called her to say Nora wasn’t well. Nora loved the woman dearly, but she didn’t need anyone fussing over her. She took a deep breath and headed for the door.

“You are such a mama’s boy.” She threw open the door. “Go away.” Having given her command, she started to close the door, but Mark gripped it tightly and held fast. “Mark!” She tried pushing again, but he easily moved her to one side and stepped inside.

“What happened to you?” he demanded, walking past her. “You look like hell.”

“Thank you so much for that heartfelt compliment. Now that I’ve scared you into Halloween, would you please leave?” She swung the door open in hopes he would get the message. The last thing she wanted was company. While she had at first thought it was a good idea that Mark see her at her worst, she now realized she didn’t want him seeing her when she looked less than human.

Mark held up two plastic grocery bags in one hand. He used his foot to gently move Brumby away from his leg.

“Mom was sorry you didn’t come out for the barbecue. She asked me to drop some of the food off to you,” he explained. “There’s some of her potato salad, some of Abby’s chocolate cake, not that I’d recommend it, but Abby stuck it in. There’re also slices of tri-tip roast and some rolls if you want to make sandwiches.”

As the aromas wafted upward to her nose, Nora could feel her stomach start to roll over again. She swallowed convulsively. The last thing she wanted was to become sick in front of Mark. If that happened, he would not only refuse to leave, he’d probably call his mother, to boot! If she thought Mark was difficult to get rid of, Cathy would be downright impossible, because she would insist on staying until she was certain Nora was all right. Nora would feel much better if Mark would just leave her alone.

Except Nora knew she was lying to herself.

The idea of a man taking time to stop by as a favor for his mother and not put off by a woman who looked like something dragged out of one of the hiding places where Brumby kept his precious toys, was charming. She didn’t want Mark to be charming!

She looked at Mark. She wanted to reach out for him. To ask him to take her in his arms and tell her she was going to be all right. That he’d make it all better. She blinked rapidly for fear she’d completely disgrace herself and break down in tears.

“I’ll have to call Cathy and thank her for her thoughtfulness. It was very nice of you to drop the food off, so sorry you have to leave,” she said, her voice husky.

She should have known that Mark would ignore her. He walked past her and disappeared into the kitchen. She could hear the rustle of the bags as he set them on the counter and her refrigerator door open, then close as he put the perishable food away. She was ready to march in there and demand to know what was taking him so long, when he returned with Brumby following fast on his heels.

“I hope you don’t mind that I tossed Brumb a small piece of the tri tip. Hey, are you sick?” he asked. He reached forward to press the back of his hand against her forehead. She reared back. He stepped forward again and this time succeeded in touching her.

“It’s a toss up between the Chinese food I had last night or the beginning of the flu, which I’m certain you wouldn’t want to catch.” She suddenly felt weak in the knees. She wasn’t sure if it was because she’d been sick a good part of the day or because of Mark’s proximity. She wanted him to go before she broke down and begged him to stay. When had she turned so indecisive? She used to know her own mind and stick to it. Now all she seemed to do was argue with herself as to what she should do.

Mark was bad for her. He was the kind of man she didn’t need in her life. Which was why, deep down, she’d actually been pleased to see him at the door. Not that she’d ever admit it.

“I’m a trained paramedic, Nora,” he gently reminded her. “You do feel a little warm. You have a thermometer around so we could double-check?”

Nora blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. She told herself he was only concerned about her because he needed to do the right thing.

“I don’t need anyone to check up on me. I don’t need my temperature taken, Mark. I just need to get some sleep. But I can’t do that until you go.” She feared she sounded as desperate as she felt.

Mark looked surprised by her curt tone.

“Nora, if it is the flu, you need to be checked out. Let me call someone.” His voice softened. “I can call Gail. I’m sure she’d come over to examine you.”

Nora laughed softly. “I think you’ve forgotten something. Gail’s a pediatrician and I’m not five years old.”

“That doesn’t matter. She’s still a doctor,” he persisted. “She can still tell you if it’s the flu or something more serious.”

“It’s not the flu. Something I ate disagreed with me. That’s all. All I need is something to settle my stomach and some quiet time. Both of which I’ll have once you’re gone,” she said pointedly.

He didn’t move. “If you start feeling worse, will you call me?”

Nora edged him toward the door. “Yes, I will call you,” she lied.

He looked at her searchingly. “No, you won’t,” he said finally. “I wish you’d let me into your thoughts, Nora. I don’t know why you won’t believe it, but I do care what happens to you.” He leaned forward, kissed her on the forehead and walked out the door. “And I mean it, Nora. If you need something, call me no matter what time it is. I’m off for the next few days.”

“All right,” she lied, knowing it was the only way he’d leave.

Mark looked skeptical. His expression let her know that the small smile on her lips and her impassive gaze was an assurance that didn’t ring quite true.

“Try to eat something,” he said.

“I will,” she replied, mentally urging him out the door.

Thankfully, this time he heard her silent plea and headed the rest of the way to the door. The minute he was on the other side of the threshold, she flashed him one last smile of dismissal.

Nora had barely closed the door after Mark when she felt the familiar upheaval in her stomach. She clapped her hands over her mouth and ran to the bathroom with faithful Brumby toddling after her. She didn’t think about Mark any further.

A couple of hours later, after a bowl of chicken noodle soup, which she always considered one of her comfort foods, she curled up in bed. A favorite movie on TV provided background noise that mingled with Brumby’s rumbling snores.

When the telephone rang, she reached over to pick up the handset.

“Hello?”

“Nora, it’s Mark. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You should have known he would call to check on you. Mark may have been a wild boy at times, but he was also a caring one shot through her mind. She was rocked by a familiar voice echoing inside her head.

“I’m much better, thank you. Proof it had to have been something I ate,” she replied.

“You looked pretty pale earlier,” he pointed out. “Even if you feel better now, it doesn’t mean you might not have the flu.”