Finding Home (10 page)

Did I want to please Nick? Or did I just want
to be alone with him? Not knowing he was coming, I hadn’t had a
chance to steel my mind to resist him.

I didn’t trust the situation, or myself.

I tugged off my jeans, noticing how tight
they’d become in the past week. There was a new roundness to my
belly and breasts, making my running shorts and T-shirt snug. I
couldn’t believe I’d put on weight already, but even though I ran
most days, I wasn’t nearly as active as I’d been at the lodge. Yet
I still ate as much. More, even. Would I put on weight faster than
I should, then be unable to lose it after?

That decided me. I really did need to go for
another run.

Nick was already warming up on the small
north patio off the library when I came out. I started stretching
too, conscious of him watching my every move.

“God, you’re flexible,” he said.

“I probably won’t be much longer. I’ll be
lucky even to see my toes, let alone try to touch them.”

“You don’t plan to keep on running the whole
time, do you?”

“As long as I possibly can.”

“But don’t you think it might be too
strenuous? I mean, it’s great to keep fit and all, but maybe
running might joggle the baby too much?”

I stared him down. “Trust me, I’ll be
careful. Anyway, I looked it up. There’s a whole shelf of books on
pregnancy in your library. Running’s perfectly safe, as long as I’m
comfortable and don’t overdo it.”

Nick nodded, looking sorry. “So you found
those. Kiera must have bought every book ever published on the
subject. And she never got rid of them, not even when she – well,
you know, she just never gave up hope.”

There seemed to be nothing to say to that so
I started off at a slow jog. Nick followed. I took the path towards
the sandy cove, veering off into the firs before we reached the
shore. We climbed steadily uphill, the ground underfoot springy
with layers of brown needles. At the top of the humped hill lay a
small clearing with a spectacular view.

I felt winded already and slowed up a little,
letting Nick pass me. Soon my lungs were aching and my breasts,
already tender from my pregnancy, pained with each thudding
footstep. I fell farther and farther behind, finally just giving up
and throwing myself down by a big rock.

Nick circled back immediately.

“Please, go on ahead,” I gasped. “I don’t
know what’s wrong with me. I’ve never had trouble with that hill
before. But god, I’m beat. I’ve got to rest.” I sat with my head in
my hands, panting, sweating and worrying. I felt like I was dying
right there.

“You shouldn’t just collapse,” Nick said,
jogging lightly on the spot. “Walk around a little to cool
down.”

But I shook my head, groaning. “Please go on.
I’ll be okay.”

Nick dropped down close beside me. “Hey, I
don’t mind staying here. The view’s great.” Below us the sparkling
sea, a lovely deep blue-green, lapped at the little cove’s sandy
shore. We watched in silence for a few minutes while I caught my
breath.

“God, I shouldn’t have made you run, I wasn’t
thinking,” Nick said. “I really just wanted to be alone with you, I
didn’t think about the baby.”

“Nick, please,” I said, “I’m fine.” The last
thing I wanted was for him to start fussing over me because I was
pregnant. “Dr. MacLaren says it’s okay, and so does Holly.”

“Holly?” he said. “Who the hell’s Holly?”

I had a sick feeling all over. This was a
conversation I’d been dreading. “Holly Boyd, she’s going to be my
midwife, she came up to see me yesterday.” I tried to keep my voice
casual. “You must know her, she’s in Kiera’s quilting group. She’s
a real sweetheart.”

Nick made a sound of pure disgust. “She might
be a sweetheart, but she’s no doctor, and she’s not delivering my
baby.”

“Excuse me?” I said. “I think that’s my
decision. And anyway, she has to work with Dr. MacLaren, midwives
aren’t licensed in Nova Scotia yet, so he’ll be there too. And
Kiera’s completely fine with it.”

“And you’ll go to the hospital?” he said.
“You’re not thinking of having a home birth or anything risky like
that?”

“Dr. MacLaren says wait and see.”

Nick glared at me. “And I mean the hospital
in Halifax,” he said, “not that shack down in Airdrie Bay.”

“Nick,” I said. “Think about it. A calm,
natural birth is far less stressful for the baby. The less medical
intervention, the better.”

“But what if something goes wrong?” he cried.
“It’s almost an hour to Halifax, the baby could die.”

“Hey,” I said, “let’s not worry about that
yet. We all want this baby to be born normal and healthy. If it
turns out I’m high risk, I’ll be heading straight to Halifax,
okay?”

“You better.”

I had to bite my tongue at that. I knew from
my years of casework it was the wrong time to pursue this
conversation. Nick needed time to adjust to the idea of women being
in control of his baby’s birth. “So,” I said, “I can hardly wait
for that turkey dinner. Phoebe is such a good cook.”

“Yeah,” Nick said, taking my hand. “I sure
hope you’re eating well and everything.”

I had to laugh. “They can’t stop me. I’m such
a pig, I just eat and eat and eat.”

Nick laughed too. “That’s good,” he said. “I
can’t wait till you start to show, I just love the way pregnant
women look.” He let that sink in, then said, “This is probably out
of place, but I want to tell you something.”

From the look on his face and the tone of his
voice I had an excited feeling I didn’t like at all. “Please
don’t,” I said, afraid he was going to bring up our past. I
disentangled my hand from his. I really, really didn’t want to be
reminded of what had happened between us.

“I wish,” he said, “I mean, I really would
have loved to, oh, you know ...” He grabbed my hand again,
massaging with both of his, as if that could force me to listen.
“Well, what I’m trying to say is, I really wish I’d made you
pregnant.”

“You did.” I tried to free my hand, but Nick
held it tighter.

“Only technically,” he said, his voice husky.
“I mean I wish that idiot MacLaren wasn’t in on it. I wish we’d
done it, you know, together.”

There was a coaxing in his grip that was hard
to resist. I looked out over the spruce forest, the relentless sea,
the helpless shore. Off to the left I could just see Malagash,
sitting solid and strong on the rocky point. It would have been so
easy to just sort of lean into Nick and let myself go.

“You know,” he said, “you must remember how
good it was – ”

“Nick,” I said, turning my face so I could
look him right in the eye. “It never happened.” I twisted my hand
out of his. “We start from now, okay?”

“No,” he said. “Not okay. You don’t mean
that. I know you, Luce, don’t forget.” He wrapped his arms around
me and breathed into my hair. “But there’s no rush, I can
wait.”

Don’t say anything, I warned myself, don’t
speak at all. He’s married to Kiera and you are merely a
convenience in their lives. You must produce a baby, collect the
money and disappear.

You must not get involved
.

“Well?” Nick said, his mouth very close to my
ear.

“What am I supposed to say?”

“Say if you feel the same.”

I didn’t speak.

“Do you?” He touched my cheek lightly, as one
might a baby’s.

I gave him a big wide smile. “Maybe,” I said,
getting up and brushing off my shorts. “And then again, maybe
not.”

He jumped up also, grabbing me in a
determined squeeze. At the base of my spine I felt a rush of
longing that shivered straight through me. If I gave in even an
inch his power over me would be complete. I felt the rough hair of
his forearms on my fingertips as I pushed him away.

“Why not admit it?” he said, brushing his
lips along my neck.

“Because it would be both stupid and
dangerous.”

Adrenaline rushed through me then, propelling
me back down the track away from him. I ran like a hunted deer,
crashing blindly through the forest, oblivious to pain and fatigue,
not even bothering to see if he was following.

Back at the house I took a long shower,
worrying how I’d get through dinner with Nick there. I felt
exhausted afterwards, and lay down awhile, but couldn’t fall
asleep. My thoughts were still racing, running madly away from
Nick.

I had to stay cool. I needed money, not a
man. But I felt so defenseless, so full of desire. I wasn’t sure I
could hold out.

For dinner I put on the new dress Kiera had
had Phoebe make me the day we found out I was pregnant. An
old-fashioned Laura Ashley style, it hung loose and ruffled, in
claret-colored cotton sprigged with tiny pink rosebuds. I was
surprised how well I liked it, although it wasn’t my style at all.
And I had absolutely no reason to wear a maternity dress yet. Well,
except for what Nick had said about loving the look of pregnant
women. Then I plaited my hair into a thick French braid and,
feeling ravenous, followed the aroma of roasting turkey.

Kiera and Angus MacLaren were having a drink
in the yellow-gold living room. I watched them for a moment before
they noticed me. How comfortable and content they looked sitting
there by the blazing fire. Something about the scene reminded me of
Jay, and for a moment I thought I might burst into tears or start
to scream. I missed him so damn much.

Why couldn’t life turn out the way you wanted
it to? More than anything I wished that instead of fretting about
how to resist Nick, I was sitting with Jay right then, in just such
a room, pregnant with
his
child.

Angus MacLaren rose when I entered.
“Pregnancy seems to agree with you,” he said. “You look very well.”
I thought he looked pretty good too, in his tweed jacket and
rumpled cords. In fact he seemed to suit the room, even the house,
far better than Nick, whom I pictured more at home with chrome and
mirrors and sleek black lacquered furniture.

“Wine?” Kiera said.

“Oh, I couldn’t, thanks. Alcohol can have
such horrendous effects on the developing fetus, you know.” I would
have loved some, but I’d given up alcohol during my pregnancy.
“I’ll get myself some mineral water, and check if Phoebe needs any
help in the kitchen.”

Nick was just entering the room as I turned
to go. We nearly collided in the doorway. He studied me from head
to foot. He didn’t say anything, just gave me a lingering look that
made my knees feel like jellyfish.

Phoebe, busy mashing potatoes, set me to
thickening the gravy. “Mind it doesn’t lump,” she ordered, “and
don’t let it burn.”

“It’s a lot of work, getting a turkey dinner
ready,” I said, remembering how Vera Wemble used to fuss over such
things.

Phoebe flailed at the potatoes as if they
deserved punishment. “Heavens, I do turkey dinners for a hundred
down at the church all the time. This is easy.”

“Oh.”

Phoebe just kept on bashing the potatoes. I
knew, because Kiera had told me, that she was ecstatic about the
baby. Yet she’d never mentioned that to me. She’d never said
congratulations or how are you feeling or any of the usual things.
In fact we didn’t talk at all beyond the necessary. I could only
guess at how difficult the whole thing must be for her.

Dinner was odd. Phoebe seemed uncomfortable
sitting at the table with us and kept finding excuses to go to the
kitchen. Kiera looked happy, yet she didn’t make conversation. She
barely spoke. Angus tried to fill the awkward quiet with talk about
his rare medical book collection. But then Nick, who drank
non-stop, kept interrupting with funny anecdotes about his
work.

I mostly ate, and the food was delicious. I
tried to avoid Nick’s eye, but while Phoebe and Kiera were serving
the pumpkin pie at the sideboard, I glanced over at him. He raised
his glass in a silent toast, then raised his eyebrows in suggestive
question.

I thought about what had happened up on the
hill, how much I’d longed to just fall into his arms, and how wrong
that would have been. But how long could I stay strong? I knew he
wouldn’t give up. He had that predatory style I’d seen so often in
the hunters at the lodge. No matter where I ran for cover, sooner
or later he’d pursue me again.

I also suspected he was like those hunters
who prefer a primitive weapon, say a bow and arrow, to reduce the
chance of success. They got more thrill from the stalking than the
actual kill. So I had to wonder. Was Nick was really interested in
me, or simply in my seduction?

Retching. Nothing but retching, all day
long.

That’s what I remember about the rest of
October and November. Often I felt so nauseous I spent most of the
day in bed. I wallowed in drowsy self-pity, rousing myself only to
rush to the bathroom to upchuck yet again. To even think of running
was impossible. Pregnancy consumed me.

“God, I’m sorry,” Kiera kept saying, “you’re
going through hell and it’s all my fault.”

“No, no it’s not. It’s my own bloody fault.
Why’d I ever get pregnant? I must have been out of my mind.”

“Please don’t talk like that,” Kiera would
say. “It makes me feel terrible. What you’re doing is humane and
unselfish and very noble.”

I wasn’t convinced. But blaming my stupidity
on the circumstances was some consolation. I’d been corrupted by
the thought of fifty thousand dollars. I’d been bewitched by the
appeal of Malagash. I’d been seduced by my attraction to Nick, and
by sympathy for Kiera, so cheerful and brave. Even my own body had
tricked me, somehow arranging ovulation at just the right
moment.

Phoebe brought me herbal tea and dry crackers
on a silver tray in the mornings. Still later she’d bring chicken
broth and custard. She never spoke as she served me, or rustled
about lighting the fire. And I always pretended to be asleep
anyway, feeling depressed enough without her serves-you-right
looks. Some days though her visits helped me rally She made me want
to defend myself, if only in my mind.