Forgotten Honeymoon (2 page)

To change the subject, Kelly asked, “Can I
have some of those?” She was suddenly hungry, and the potato chips
were tempting.

“Sure. Help yourself.”

Kelly ate one, then frowned. “Nope. That
doesn’t taste right, either, and I usually love chips. It’s
weird.”

“Are you craving pickles and ice-cream?”

“Very funny,” Kelly said, then stopped
cold.

The car accident.

The three weeks she couldn’t completely
remember.

What if she
had
slept with Nigel?

Was she pregnant?

Her mind raced. At first her memory loss had
been frightening. She’d spent days going through her emails and
text messages, talking to her friends and family, trying to figure
out what she’d missed. She was able to roughly reconstruct all but
the last few days. Apparently she’d had an argument with Nigel
Friday morning, lost her phone and gone dancing with her friends
that night.

At that point, there was little information.
Her best guess was that she’d spent a few days at her studio,
hibernating, until the car accident on Tuesday morning.

But even with all her detective work, there
were large gaps of time unaccounted for.

“Are you okay?” Brenda asked with concern.
“You look like you’re going to pass out.”

“I don’t know,” Kelly said honestly. “I’m
thinking about my memory loss. What if I am pregnant?”“

“Wouldn’t Nigel have said something, if you’d
had sex?”

“Maybe that’s why we fought.” She tried to
remember what he’d said at the hospital.
You were right. I was
wrong, and I’ll never do it again
. “There was something he
didn’t want to tell me because he didn’t want me to get mad again.”
She bit her lip, considering. “What did I tell you that night we
went dancing?”

Brenda shook her head. “I can’t remember
specifics. I was mad at Steven, and not paying too much attention
to you. Sorry.”

“I wish I could remember,” Kelly said. Bits
of memory had come back, but most of early March was still a blur.
It was infuriating.

Brenda shrugged. “We didn’t talk a lot,
except to agree that all men were swine. We drank a bit, danced a
bit. Then Lars showed up and took you home.” Her eyes widened.
“Hey, what about Lars?”

“What about him?” Lars Henderson was a Vice
President at Rawlins Lighting, her father’s company. He was good
looking in a Viking way, tall and blonde with broad shoulders, but
he wasn’t her type. He was too quiet. Too predictable. She’d bet
he’d never done a spontaneous thing in his life. He probably slept
in his suit and tie.

“Maybe you and he --?” Brenda let her voice
trail off.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I may have had a crush
on him in high school --”

“We all did,” Brenda interrupted. “He was
absolutely gorgeous -- with those piercing blue eyes -- like
something out of Norse Mythology. I remember you drew a picture of
him that you carried around in your notebook for weeks -- who was
he supposed to be?”

Kelly blushed. “Thor, but that is ancient
history. I was young and silly and it didn’t mean anything. The
truth is that we’re just friends; that’s all we’ve ever been. He
has never looked at me in a romantic or flirtatious way. He’s
always polite, but he has never made a single approach. Never.”

“You don’t think he’s gay, do you?”

“No. Just not interested in me.”

“Too bad. He would make a great baby daddy.
You would have a big, beautiful baby.”

Kelly laughed. “This is crazy. I don’t even
know that I am pregnant.”

“There’s an easy way to find out. The drug
store by the bank sells pregnancy tests.” Brenda rolled her eyes.
“Don’t ask.” She looked at her watch. “Oops, late again. I’ve got
to get back before someone decides to fire me.” She gave Kelly a
hug. “It’s probably nothing more than the flu. But call me, if you
need me.”

“I will,” Kelly promised.

Afterwards, she stopped at the drug store and
purchased a pregnancy test, just to rule out the possibility.

She knew she was probably over-reacting;
Brenda had babies on her brain. But there were the missing three
weeks that she still couldn’t remember completely, so technically,
there was a slight possibility that she might be pregnant.

Back in February, Nigel had been pressuring
her, saying “We’re engaged now. Why do we need to wait? Does a few
weeks matter?”

Had she given in?

But she was getting ahead of herself. There
was no real proof yet, just suspicions.

Please, God
, she thought as she headed
into the bathroom.
I’m not ready to be a mother.

An hour later, she stared at the little white
plastic test monitor in dismay. She had her proof.

She was pregnant.

So she had slept with Nigel.

Had she regretted it? They must have argued,
and after her memory loss, he hadn’t wanted to remind her that
they’d gone all the way. He hadn’t wanted to upset her plans for a
white wedding. Her heart softened at the thought.

What a gentleman.

Since the accident, he’d hadn’t pressured her
to sleep with him at all. She’d thought he had finally come around
to her way of thinking, and was waiting for the wedding ceremony to
consummate their love.

But now she knew differently.

She rubbed her stomach and thought of the
tiny child growing inside her. She and Nigel were going to have a
baby.

“Won’t your Daddy be surprised,” she
whispered, then thought of her parents.

Oh no. What was she going to tell them? Her
dad had never liked Nigel. “Why do you want that long haired
musician?” he’d demanded when she told him of their engagement.
“Why can’t you be interested in a normal, responsible man like
Lars?”

Of course that was back when Lars Henderson
was her father’s favorite Vice President. As far as she could tell
from the office gossip, they’d had a falling out in March, Lars had
tried to quit, and her father had refused to accept his
resignation. Lars went to Boston to supervise the construction of a
new plant, with the understanding that as soon as the work was
completed, he was free to go. Her father didn’t talk about it, but
she knew he felt betrayed by Lars’ defection. Lars had been like a
son to him.

For the past few years, her parents had
foolishly hoped that one day she and Lars would marry. It was
embarrassing the way they threw her at him -- making him sit by her
at company gatherings, or asking him to be a fourth for a trip to
the opera or symphony. Poor Lars didn’t like it any more than she
did, but he was a good sport and never complained.

Her parents didn’t understand that she and
Lars were only friends -- nothing more.

At least now with Lars as persona non grata
at Rawlins Lighting, her father didn’t talk about him all the
time.

She had hoped that with Lars out of the
picture that her father would come to appreciate Nigel. But once
her father knew that Nigel had gotten her pregnant, he’d be
furious.

Could she hide it for a few months?

Could she just get married, not tell her
parents, and let them figure out the math when the baby was born?
Would the shock kill her mother?

Her mother had been born with a heart defect
that wasn’t detected until she was pregnant with her. The doctors
told her not to have any more children. Then when Kelly was ten,
she had a heart attack, and surgery, and was told that she would
only live five more years. She’d lived thirteen since then, but
Kelly knew they were on borrowed time. That was why she still lived
at home, to be with her mom as much as possible.

After the wedding, her parents were planning
to go on a cruise for two months. “We’ll have our second honeymoon
while you have your first,” her father had joked. He’d even offered
to let her and Nigel join them, but Kelly had declined, nicely. She
loved her parents, but that was taking family unity too far.

If she told her father about the baby, maybe
he could break the news to her mother gently, while they were gone
on the cruise.

When was the baby due anyway? Her periods
were so irregular, she never kept track of them. She hadn’t even
noticed that she hadn’t had a period since the car accident. She
went online on her phone to figure out a possible due date.

December.

That seemed soon.

And Nigel -- how was he going to react?
They’d talked about children before, but more as a distant
possibility, not as an immediate reality.

They had planned to live together in his one
bedroom loft apartment, but now that would be too small.

A baby. That meant getting a crib and
everything. Early morning feedings. Diapers. It was
overwhelming.

Kelly brushed her teeth. She frowned at her
reflection in the mirror. She didn’t look any different -- same
wavy brown hair, same green eyes, same faint sprinkling of freckles
on her nose.

How could she be a mother?

CHAPTER TWO

Kelly thought “you’re a father” was the kind
of information best given face to face, so she decided not to call
or text Nigel while he was getting ready for work. He worked
nights, came home around four a.m. and slept in until noon. She’d
go by his apartment tomorrow and tell him then. Deep in her heart,
she knew she was procrastinating.

What if Nigel wasn’t happy about the
baby?

She slept at the studio, not wanting to see
her mother until after she’d talked to Nigel.

In the morning, she went to her OB-GYN’s
office for an official confirmation and some prenatal vitamins,
then stopped by her father’s office.

She carried one of her newest creations, a
big brown vase, through the marble floored lobby and over to the
elevator doors. The vase was only ten inches tall but so big around
that she couldn’t push the up button without placing the vase on
the floor. But if she put the vase on the floor, the doors would
close before she could pick it up again.

“I should have brought the dolly,” she
muttered.

Suddenly the elevator doors from the parking
garage opened and Lars stepped out. He was impeccably dressed, as
always, in a conservative gray suit, crisp white dress shirt and
silk tie. Even his shoes were polished. He exuded an aura of
strength and reliability.

She hadn’t seen him in ages, and she was
startled by the warm feeling that flooded through her. “Lars,” she
said smiling happily. “Long time no see. I’ve missed you.”

“Kelly?” His voice was hoarse.

She nodded towards the elevators. “Hey, give
me a hand, would you?”

He stared at her with a look of astonishment
quickly masked. Then without a word, he took the vase from her. At
six foot five, he was a big man with big capable hands; he hefted
it easily.

She remembered the weekend he’d spent putting
up all the shelves in her studio three years ago. Had she ever
thanked him for that or had she taken his help for granted? He’d
been around for so long, he was almost a member of the family.

“Thanks,” she said lightly, wiping her hands
on her denim maxi skirt. “That thing was getting heavier by the
minute.” She pressed the up button and the sliding doors
opened.

“Kelly,” he said urgently. “We have to
talk.”

She was a little surprised by that -- she’d
wondered if he was avoiding her. Since he’d gone to Boston, he’d
been back once or twice, but she’d never seen him. She followed him
into the elevator and stood next to him. “Fine,” she said lightly.
“What do you want to talk about?” She reached across him to push
the button for the eleventh floor, and for an instant, her arm
brushed his. He flinched.

“Excuse me,” she murmured. What was wrong?
Lars wasn’t usually so touchy.

Truth was, she was a little nervous around
him, too. It was all because of Brenda’s comments about him being a
good baby daddy. It was ridiculous, she thought, giving him a
sideways glance, but since Brenda had said it, it put the
possibility in her mind, giving a twist to their calm, friendly
relationship. She’d be glad once she had a chance to talk to Nigel
and all the uncertainty would be over. She and Nigel could go
forward as parents, and there would be no more jokes about Lars. He
was a good man and deserved more respect.

Claire called, “Hold that door!”

Kelly pushed the door open button for her
father’s secretary. She was nearly twice Kelly’s age, but still a
lot of fun. Sometimes they went out to eat, too.

“Hi, Claire,” Kelly said, and stepped
backward so there was more room for her in the elevator. “How’s
life?”

“Busy,” Claire said, “My youngest is
graduating from high school, and I’ve never been so hectic.”
Belatedly, she recognized Lars. “Is the plant in Massachusetts
finished?”

“No.”

“Then why --”

“Something came up,” he said tersely, looking
directly at Kelly.

Lars had always been a man of few words. Like
the “measure twice, cut once” builder’s code, his conversational
code seemed to be “think twice, talk once.” He never used ten words
if three would do.

Kelly didn’t understand what he was referring
to. “If you’re in a hurry to talk to my Dad, you don’t need to help
me,” she said reasonably. “Claire can hold open the doors.”

“No, I want to help.”

Something was definitely wrong. She’d always
thought that Lars should loosen up -- he was a prime candidate for
an ulcer -- but she’d never seen him so stiff. Was he ill? “Sounds
like you could use a vacation,” she teased.

He pressed his lips into a tight line.

Claire must have sensed the tension between
them, and in an attempt to smooth things over, asked Kelly, “Is
this for the office?”

Kelly nodded. “I’m thinking of putting it in
the reception area.”

Claire eyed the mottled brown pebbled surface
of the vase with distrust. “And what’s it from -- your hedgehog
period?”