Sheri WhiteFeather - The Billion Dollar Pact

“I don’t know. She just seems run-down, I guess.”

“Then give her some time to recover.”

“Maybe I should stop by her place to check on her.”

“Sure, you could do that. But you should probably call first.”

“Or text,” Jake said, recalling the texts that had led to their first night together. “I just want to know that she’s going to be okay.”

“You’re really reliant on her, aren’t you?”

“She’s good at her job.” Hot and sexy in bed, too, he thought. And warm and sweet. Everything he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about. But he couldn’t seem to let those images go, no matter how hard he tried. “I’ll text her after I finish my beer.”

“I’m getting another one.” Garrett lifted his empty bottle and signaled the waitress.

Jake wasn’t having another drink. He wanted to keep a clear head for when he saw Carol.

* * *

Jake rang Carol’s doorbell and shifted the bag in his hand. In his text, he’d offered to bring her some soup. It was as good an excuse as any to con his way over here. Besides, he knew how much she loved the matzo ball soup from a nearby deli.

She answered the door, looking even more exhausted than the last time he’d seen her at work. Dang, he thought. He’d hoped that her condition would be improving, not worsening.

After she invited him inside, he held up the soup. “Do you want this now?”

“Maybe a little. Thank you.” Carol took the bag and went into the kitchen. Jake waited at the entrance of the kitchen, watching her move about. She opened the container and poured some of the broth into a mug, then spooned a matzo ball into it. “There’s a lot here. Do you want a cup, too?”

“No, thanks.” Jake studied her more closely. She was wearing sweatpants and a blousy shirt, and her typically tidy hair was pulled up into a rooster-style ponytail, the ends poking out at feathery angles. In a more relaxed situation, the chaotic style would have amused him. But he was in no mood to smile.

She motioned to the living room, and he followed her to the sofa, where he sat beside her.

She tasted the soup. “It’s really good. Thank you again.”

“You’re welcome.” He paused before he continued, giving her time to eat a bit more of the soup. Then he asked, “Have you seen a doctor yet?”

She shook her head. “I wanted to wait until...”

Jake frowned. “Until what?”

“I was ready.”

That made absolutely no sense to him. “You’ve been sick for almost a week.”

“I’ll make an appointment if I need to.”

“I think you need to now.”

She put her mug on the coffee table. “Let me handle my own business, Jake.”

“I’m just worried is all.”

“I’ll be fine.”

She didn’t look fine. Not in the least. He’d never seen her in such a fragile state before.

“I started on the quilt I promised to make for you,” she said, changing the subject. “But it’s slow going.”

“You’ve been sewing?”

“No. But I cut the squares from the different fabrics. Or most of them. I still need to order a few more.” She glanced toward a basket in the corner of the room where the fabrics were. “You can look at what’s there so far, if you want.”

He went ahead and checked it out, curious to see what patterns she’d chosen. But that didn’t mean he was going to let her get away with ignoring her health issues. He intended to work their conversation back to that. But first, he retrieved the basket and brought it over to the sofa.

He looked through the squares. There were a variety of fabrics, most of them containing the beach themes he’d suggested, with depictions of mermaids, sandcastles and islands on them. She’d even tossed in some printed with blue crabs. There was also a multicolored print that had the same jewel tones as the bracelet he’d given her. She’d included a shiny starfish pattern for the earrings, too. He noticed a geometric Native American print as well, that he assumed was meant to represent him and his heritage. He kept looking and uncovered a stack of squares with grasshoppers on them.

“For Eskeilay,” she said. Then softly added, “The mother of the earth-womb.”

“You did a beautiful job with what you chose.” He wished that he could touch her, hold her, make her feel better, but he figured the last thing she wanted was for him to take her in his arms.

“I plan to include something for Uncta, too. A fire print of some sort, something with a golden hue. That’s one of the fabrics I still have to order.”

“I appreciate your attention to detail.” To the memories they’d created, even if neither of them had spoken of that weekend since.

“I don’t know when I’ll finish it.”

To him, it sounded as if she had mixed feelings about whether to complete it at all. She’d probably only brought it up as a diversion to keep him from bugging her about going to the doctor.

Jake put the basket aside, refusing to let her off the hook. He asked, “Are you ill because of me?”

She had a worried expression. “What?”

He clarified his question. “Is being around me too stressful?”

She twisted her hands on her lap. “Sort of, I guess. Not wanting to face you is part of the reason I’ve been calling in sick.”

“You’re facing me now. You agreed to let me come over.”

“I knew I couldn’t avoid you forever. And it is a little easier seeing you here than at the office. But I still don’t want to talk about it. Not until I see a doctor, and I already told you, I’m not ready to do that.”

He pushed the issue, determined to get answers. “Please, Carol, just tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s too soon to tell you.”

“Too soon for what?” He noticed that she was still wringing her hands. “I’m not leaving here until you level with me.”

Her breath rushed out. “Okay, but it’s going to freak you out.” She looked directly at him, her voice quavering. “I’m scared, Jake. Scared to death that I might be pregnant.”

Nine

Carol waited for Jake to respond. But he just sat there staring at her. Was he struggling to grasp what she’d just told him? Or was he simply too stunned to move? To blink? To talk?

After what seemed like forever, he said, “That’s impossible.”

“In what way?” she asked, prodding him to explain what he was thinking and feeling.

“We used protection.” He spoke robotically, like a computer stating a fact. Or someone who refused to believe what he was hearing.

“Condoms sometimes fail.” She’d checked the failure rates and the numbers were staggering. “Mostly from them breaking or slipping off.”

“But that didn’t happen to us.”

“No, but I might have damaged the first one. With as much as I fumbled with it, I could have poked a tiny hole in it. Or the failure could have come from the last one we used. Remember how the edges of the packet were bent from the way it had been stuck in your suitcase? The condom itself could have been compromised without us even knowing it.”

Jake stood and stepped away from the sofa, pressing his back against the fireplace mantel. He was beginning to look like a caged animal. Carol knew exactly how he felt.

“Then I guess it is possible,” he said.

“Yes, it is.” Her voice vibrated with every breath she took. She’d never expected to be in this position, possibly impregnated by a man who didn’t want children. “Last week, I thought I had my period, but it was weird. First of all, it was early and that’s never happened to me before.” Normally her cycles were like clockwork. “And it only lasted a few hours, which was even weirder.” She hated to share all of the clinical details, but considering how crucial this was, it seemed necessary. “It was more like spotting than a full period.”