Just once.
Just once she would like to feel that she wasn’t at the mercy of some malicious fate that took delight in ransacking her life.
Just once.
Yes, the doctor agreed cheerfully as she handed over a prescription for prenatal vitamins. It only took once. That was why there were so many teenage pregnancies.
‘At least that gives you an exact date to work with—some women like that because it helps give them ideas for the baby’s name,’ she told Kate briskly, obviously not sure whether to be amused or sympathetic at her patient’s shell-shocked reception of the news. ‘You’re only four weeks along so it’s early days yet, but there’s no reason to think that this pregnancy won’t progress normally. You must be pleased after what happened last time—you did say that the baby was very much wanted.’
Kate looked at her blankly and burst into tears.
Many tissues and much embarrassment later Kate slunk out of the clinic, congratulations ringing in her ears. Still in a daze she drove into the centre of town, hardly even aware of the light bustle of lunch-time traffic, and did the shopping that would provide the excuse for her trip. All in a strange state of suspended emotion.
Fortunately, when she arrived back and used her front door key to snea
k in, it was to discover a note from Drake to say he’d received a reminder to take Prince for his annual vaccination, so she was relieved to find herself with some valuable breathing space. Time to calm down and recover her composure.
She carried her shopping bags into her bedroom and put them on the bed, frowning at the unexpected profusion. Had she really bought so much?
Koshka, whom she had found squeaking at the front door, prowled in and jumped up on the cream bedspread to nose into the interesting crackle of a brown paper bag.
‘Oh, you want to have a look, do you?’ Kate up-ended the bag and showed the cat the pale lemon-and-white striped top and leggings and the knitted hat that went with it. ‘That’s because we don’t know whether it’s a girl or a boy,’ she said, carefully folding up the tiny outfit, size 0000, and putting it aside to dive into another bag. ‘But I do have one or two pinks and a few blues…’
Soon the bed was awash with baby clothes and Koshka was lying down with her tail thumping back and forth on the bedspread looking mightily bored with the colourful array. Unable to resist, Kate pulled a cute little bobble hat over the velvety black ears and laughed at the squeak of offended feline dignity. She began to feel it…that long, slow, fizz deep inside, the inner fuse that was about to release an explosion of feelings.
‘I suppose I did go a bit mad,’ said Kate, whisking off the hat as the cat rolled over on its back. ‘A lot mad,’ she corrected herself, stacking everything into piles. She fetched an empty suitcase from the bottom of the walk-in wardrobe and unzipped it on the bed. ‘Totally insane, in fact.’
‘Kate?’ The call coincided with a door slamming somewhere in the house, and by the click of claws on the kitchen tile.
Kate gasped in horror. Quickly she scooped up everything on the bed and stuffed it into the suitcase, slamming the lid shut and turning her back on it, just as Drake burst into the room.
His eyes immediately went to the suitcase. ‘What’s that? What are you doing?’ he said hoarsely.
‘Nothing,’ she said quickly, for fear he would try to look.
His eyes flashed back to her face, seeing the lie. ‘Packing your bags? You’re leaving, Kate?’
‘I—’
‘Leaving me? Just like that? No discussion…no right of reply?’ he said savagely. ‘What were you going to do, prop a Dear Drake letter on my desk?’
‘No—’
‘How could you? After last night? After what I told you?’ His face changed, went as flat as his eyes, his beautiful voice: ‘Or is that it? Are you afraid I might have inherited my mother’s mental instability?’
‘No—’
‘Or my father’s sheer, cold-blooded inhumanity?’
‘No, Drake, it’s nothing like that.’
He grabbed her hands and pulled her away from the bed to face him. ‘Then tell me. What is it? What have I done wrong?’
She sighed. ‘Nothing. You haven’t done anything.’
Her sigh seemed to alarm him more than anything else. He laced his fingers through hers, securing her more completely to his cause.
‘Don’t go. Whatever it is, Kate, don’t leave me,’ he said, sending a piercing arrow of sweetness through her heart. She had never heard him plead before. Even last night, raw and bleeding with emotion, he had not spoken with such fierce desperation. ‘Talk to me. Please. Just tell me what I can do to stop you. I’ve let you know the worst of me, but you can’t judge me solely on what I’ve been. I can change, Kate…haven’t these past few weeks shown you that? I let you into my life; don’t turn around now and shut me out of yours! You can tell me anything. What is it you think I can’t handle to hear?’