Harvest Moon (17 page)

Pulling out a chair from the table, he bowed from the waist. “Sit down,
Princesa
, and oblige me,” he said teasingly.

“Perhaps another time, Sweetheart. Right now your baby and its mother need nourishment.”

He seated her, lingering over her head for several seconds. Even though Regina had informed him that he had gotten her pregnant, she had been referring to their unborn child as
my baby
.

“Say it again,” he whispered.

She went still. “Say what, Aaron?”

“Tell me it’s my baby.”

Turning slightly, she looked up at him, her expression softening. “It’s not yours or mine, but ours.”

Bending, his lips slowly descended to meet hers. “Yes,
Princesa
, it is ours.”

Regina caught his hand, holding it tightly, and when their lips parted she pressed a soft kiss to his palm, rewarding him with a sensual smile.

Aaron straightened, reluctantly withdrawing his fingers and moving away to place the plates that he had kept warming on the table. The dreamy intimacy evoked by their kiss lingered far beyond breakfast.

Regina sat in the Range Rover beside Aaron, staring out the window as he drove slowly past acre after acre of coffee fields. He chanced a quick glance at her profile behind the lenses of his sunglasses.

“I divided this year’s crop into four varieties, each one encompassing several thousand acres.”

She turned to look at him. “Which ones have you decided to plant?”

“Conilon, Typica, Bourbon, and Caturra.”

Smiling, she turned her attention back to the passing landscape. That explained why some of the plants were large bushes or shrubs while others were small trees.

“Do you usually get enough rainfall to sustain a good harvest?”

“Most times we do. But I installed a sophisticated irrigation system two years ago just in case the rainfall is lower than usual. Several years back nearly every coffee grower in Brazil suffered enormous losses when a frost swept the country.”

Maneuvering off the single-lane unpaved road, he shifted into four-wheel drive and drove up a rutted road until he stopped at the top of a hill. A tall, thin man came out of a small cabin at the same time Aaron stopped and turned off the sport utility vehicle’s engine.

A bright smile curved the man’s mouth when he spied Aaron getting out of the late-model four-wheel drive vehicle. “
Bom dia
, Senhor Spencer. You are later than usual this morning.”

“
Bom dia
, Sebastião,” Aaron replied, a mysterious smile parting his lips. He rounded the Range Rover and opened the passenger side door for Regina. Extending his arms, his hands
circled her waist as he lifted her effortlessly before setting her on her feet. His foreman’s surprise was apparent when he snatched a worn straw hat from his head and crushed it to his chest.

“Sebastião, this is Regina Spencer.” His arm tightened around her waist. “Regina, Sebastião Rivas, my foreman and the person most responsible for the excellent quality of da Costa’s superior coffee crop year after year.”

Sebastião bobbed his head up and down as he clutched his hat tighter to his chest. “
Muito prazer
, Senhora Spencer.”

“He says he’s pleased to meet you,” Aaron translated the Portuguese into Spanish.

Regina inclined her head. “
Muito prazer
, Senhor Rivas,” she replied, trying out her limited Portuguese again.

Sebastião’s gaze was directed to her left hand, where the rising sun fired the diamonds that made up her wedding band. Aaron saw the direction of his gaze. Regina had not removed the ring his father had given her to symbolize their union, and he was grateful she hadn’t, because it eliminated his need to deceive others who assumed they were husband and wife. He wanted to protect Regina from unnecessary gossip concerning what would be obvious with her impending motherhood.

Regina listened intently as Aaron and his foreman lapsed into a serious discussion of the number of laborers needed to harvest the current crop, she understanding less than half of what was said in rapid Portuguese. Her six months in Brazil would be put to good use: renovating the da Costa garden and learning Portuguese.

Aaron, with Sebastião’s assistance, had modernized the da Costa coffee plantation. Higher labor costs were offset by using modern techniques, including the use of fertilizers, herbicides, pesticides, mechanization, and irrigation.

He ended his daily encounter with the foreman, shaking his hand. Turning, he directed his attention to Regina, who had walked to the summit of the rise and stared down at countless acres of coffee plants stretching down to the ocean.

Walking up behind her, he curved both arms around her waist, pulling her back to lean against him. “What are you thinking?”

She laid her hands over his and closed her eyes. “It’s so beautiful here. So peaceful.”

“That’s why I live here.” His voice deepened until it resembled a sensual growl against her ear.

And as beautiful as it is, I’ll have to leave it
, she said silently.

Aaron tightened his grip, inhaling the clean, rain-washed scent of her soft body. “Marry me, Regina. That way you won’t have to go back to the States. You can stay here forever.”

She stiffened in his embrace. “No,” she whispered.

Turning her in his embrace, he cradled her face between his hands. Vertical lines appeared between his eyes. “Why not?”

“Why not? I’m surprised you have to ask me that.”

“Am I missing something?” he questioned.

“You are, Aaron. I will not marry you just because I’m carrying your child. That is not reason enough for me to accept your offer of marriage.”

“But I love you.”

“And I, you. But if our love is strong enough, then we can wait until after the baby’s born.” Rising on tiptoe, she kissed his scowling mouth. “I’m still Mrs. Spencer.”

“You were Mrs. Oscar Spencer,” he spat out angrily.

“And I’ll become your wife if the time presents itself.”

He cursed under his breath, coarse, vulgar, obscene curses which surprised even him when they sprang to mind.

His expression changed, becoming impassive. “Let’s go. You have an eight o’clock appointment to see Nicolas.”

A
aron arrived at Salvador’s largest municipal hospital, parking in his assigned space in the staff parking lot. He attached an ID badge to the waistband of his jeans and escorted Regina through the staff entrance and into the elevator and up to the floor for gynecology and obstetrics. Dr. Nicolas Benedetti worked the 3:00 to 11:00 a.m. shift, and had offered to see Regina before he completed his morning rounds.

Knocking on the door bearing the name of his colleague, Aaron pushed it open to find Nicolas rising to his feet behind his desk.

“
Bom dia
, Nicolas. Thank you again for agreeing to see Regina.”

Coming from behind the desk, Nicolas extended a large hand covered with a profusion of coarse, black hair. “
Bom dia
, Aaron. Anything for you.”

Aaron moved closer to Regina, pulling her gently to his side.
“Regina, this is Dr. Nicolas Benedetti. He’s the best obstetrician in the country. Nicolas, Regina Spencer.”

She shrank from the large, hulking man, who claimed swatches of thick, black eyebrows that grew in wild disarray over his squinting black eyes. Forcing a smile, she extended her hand. “
Muito prazer
, Dr. Benedetti.”

Nicolas, momentarily stunned by her dimpled smile, took her slender hand and held it gently.
“Muito prazer,”
he said repeatedly as if in a trance. “Please come with me,” he continued in rapid Portuguese.

Aaron released her waist. “You’ll have to speak either Spanish or English, Nicolas. Her Portuguese is very limited.”

Nicolas shifted an eyebrow that looked very much like a hairy caterpillar inching its way up his forehead. “I hardly speak Spanish since living in Brazil,” he said to Regina, speaking rapidly in that language. “I don’t get a chance to speak English except with my American wife. You can correct me when I make a glaring blunder with my words.”

“Then English it is,” she confirmed, her smile growing wider.

Nicolas stared at Aaron. “Would you like to stay for the examination?”

Regina felt a wave of heat suffuse her face. It was one thing to share her body with Aaron, but having him present when another doctor conducted an internal examination made her uncomfortable.

He shook his head, relieving her of her increasing apprehension. “I’ll be in my office. Call me when you’re finished.” Leaning over, he pressed his lips to Regina’s forehead. “I’ll see you later.”

Aaron waited until Regina disappeared into the examining room with Nicolas, then made his way down the highly waxed corridor to the elevator. His steps slowed when he saw Dr. Elena Carvalho coming toward him.

She walked over to him, lips drawn back over her teeth. “You cowardly bastard!” she spat out, her voice low and controlled. “Why did I have to hear it from your servant that you are married?”

Reaching for her elbow, he steered her gently away from the elevator and over to the door leading to a stairwell. “We’ll discuss this in my office.”

Elena pulled back. “We have nothing to discuss,
Dr. Spencer
.” Her hazel eyes filled with unshed tears. “If you couldn’t tell me to my face, then you should’ve called to let me know that you were married. I go out with you one night, and less than twenty-four hours later your servant tells me you can’t come to the telephone because you are eating dinner with your
wife
.”

Aaron struggled to control his rising temper. “Magda is not my servant, but an employee, and the only person I’ll ever owe an explanation to for
anything
in my life will be my wife. Is there anything about what I’ve just said that you don’t understand, Dr. Carvalho?”

Elena recoiled as if he had struck her. “I understand everything, Dr. Spencer.” Tilting her chin, she gave him a smile which successfully concealed her newfound hatred of him. “Have a nice life.”

Aaron stood, watching the woman he had seen socially no more than a half-dozen times over the past year walk down the corridor to her office. Elena had achieved everything she had ever wanted in life, with one exception: a husband and children. And for reasons he could not fathom, she wanted to become Mrs. Aaron Spencer.

They usually attended hospital social events as a couple, and there were times when they shared dinner, a movie, or concert, but never at any time had Aaron ever misled her. He could count the number of times on one hand when he’d kissed her, and the kisses were always chaste ones.

He wanted to tell Elena that he had agreed to have dinner with
her two nights ago because she had come to his office earlier that morning, threatening to cause a scene if he did not see her. Elena had wanted answers he was unwilling to answer, and she wanted to know the status of their relationship. He had told her firmly that there was no relationship. There never was, and never would be.

Shrugging a shoulder, he took the staircase up the two flights to the floor set aside for pediatrics. He was scheduled to see patients in the clinic at eleven o’clock, which gave him time to review patient records and then drive Regina back to the house before he began his shift.

He recalled Elena’s parting words—
Have a nice life
. He shook off the chill that swept over his body. The four words stayed with him until he opened a chart and read the lab results on a child who had been hospitalized with a high fever which had not responded to the powerful antibiotic he had prescribed to combat the infection invading his tiny, six-year-old body.

He stared at the diagnosis and let out his breath slowly. The tests revealed the child had acute promyelocytic leukemia—APL, a particularly deadly form of the disease. Closing his eyes, he mumbled a silent prayer. The child would be spared, because a brand-new medicine developed by pharmaceutical company researchers had predicted an eighty percent survival rate with the new miracle drug.

He glanced at his watch, then picked up the telephone and dialed the number of the man who headed a U.S. pharmaceutical company, knowing the child’s parents would never be able to afford the cost of the medication, but he could.

Waiting for the connection, he listened to the automated recorded message on an answering machine, then left his message. “Good morning. This is Dr. Aaron Spencer, and I’m calling from the
São Tomé Instituto de Médico Pesquisa
in Bahia, Brazil. I’d like to leave a message for Dr. Charles Sands. Chuck, please call me after noon Brazilian time—”

“Good morning, Aaron,” said a male voice with a distinctive New Orleans drawl, interrupting the recording. “How’s the research?”

“Slow, but very productive, Chuck,” he replied truthfully. “I need a favor.”

“Spit it out.”

“I have a patient who was just diagnosed with APL, and I need some—”

“Say no more, Aaron,” his former classmate interrupted. “I was just walking out the door to go to the office for a breakfast meeting. As soon as I get there I’ll FedEx the drug. I’ll have it delivered to your institute.”

His telephone call lasted less than five minutes, and when Aaron hung up his smile was one of relief. Regina was right. He had executed a marriage of pediatrics and medical research with wonderful results. If only his personal life were as perfectly aligned.

The telephone rang softly, and he picked it up after the first ring before the secretary for the pediatric department could answer it. She waved to him as she walked into the large outer officer and took her position behind her desk.

“Dr. Spencer,” he said softly. “Please hold on.” He placed the receiver on the desk, stood up, then walked over to close the door. He did not want the secretary to overhear his conversation with Nicolas.

He returned to the desk, picking up the receiver. “Nicolas?”

“She’s in excellent health, Aaron, for a woman who is ten weeks into her term. I don’t foresee any complications, which means you can expect to become a father anytime between June twelfth and July eleventh.”

“Where is Regina now?”

“She’s sitting out in the waiting room. Why?”

“I have one concern.”

“And that is?”

“The narrowness of her hips.”

“You have a right to be concerned, Aaron. But I’ll monitor her closely. Bring her back next month and I’ll give her an ultrasound. I want you to watch her to make certain she doesn’t gain too much weight during the last trimester, but if the baby is a large one which makes a normal delivery impossible, then we can’t rule out her having a C-section.”

“Thanks, Nicolas. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He hung up, burying his face in his hands.

How could he tell Nicolas that Regina planned to leave Brazil six weeks before she was due to deliver their child? He had openly lied, telling Nicolas that Regina was his wife, and he wondered how many more lies he would be forced to tell before he would actually claim her as wife.

He lowered his hands and stared at a shaft of sunlight pouring into the room. He did not want to think about Regina leaving him and taking their unborn child with her.

Compressing his lips tightly, he shook his head. She had left him once, but it would not happen again—not as long as there was breath in his body….

Aaron drove Regina back to the house, giving Magda specific instructions about seeing to Senhora Spencer’s meals, then changed his clothes before returning to the hospital. Regina walked with him to the garage, holding his hand and telling him of the plans she had made for her afternoon. He wasn’t disappointed when she kissed him passionately, then turned and made her way back to the house. He stood watching her until she disappeared from view.

Regina’s plan to identify and label plants, flowers, and shrubs was thwarted by a torrential downpour. She’d been sitting in an enclosed patio flipping through magazines and watching the falling rain when Magda brought her a midmorning snack of sliced fruit, cheese, bread, and chilled milk. After she ate, a weighted
fatigue descended upon her, and she retreated to her bedroom for a nap.

She awoke once to relieve herself and then returned to the bed, where she slept through the afternoon and into the early evening. The second time she woke up it was to the now familiar feeling of gnawing hunger and the solidness of Aaron’s body as he lay beside her on the large bed.

Light from the table lamp illuminated his smiling face.
“Boa tarde.”

She tried sitting up, but he eased her down to the pillows. “What time is it?”

He took a quick glance at the clock on the bedside table. “Five forty-seven.”

“Aaron, I’ve slept the day away,” she moaned, burying her face against his warm throat. “All I do is eat and sleep.”

He laughed deep in his chest. “That’s what you’re supposed to do.” Releasing her, he leaned over and offered her a glass of milk. She drained the glass. At the same time, he picked up a bowl filled with stew. “It’s called
cozidos
,” he explained, spooning small portions into her mouth. “It’s made with a variety of boiled vegetables with different cuts of beef and pork.”

“It’s good,” she said between bitefuls of savory vegetables and tender cuts of meat. “Where’s yours?” she questioned after Aaron handed her a cloth napkin.

“I’ll eat later.”

Placing the bowl beside the glass, he turned back to her, smiling. “How was your day?”

Lying down beside him, she visually examined his face. There were lines of fatigue she hadn’t noticed before. They were etched around his nose and mouth, and closer inspection revealed newer, deeper lines around his slanting eyes.

“Very uneventful. I watched the rain, read an old magazine, and slept. How was yours?”

“Hectic. I vaccinated at least a dozen infants against the most
common childhood diseases, admitted an eight-year-old for pneumonia, diagnosed one child with PKU, and treated a little boy for impetigo.” He did not tell her that a little girl died in his arms of dehydration because her parents had neglected to bring the child to the hospital after three days of vomiting and diarrhea from an intestinal infection.

“What are impetigo and PKU?”

“Phenylketonuria, PKU, is a rare, inherited disease that affects the body’s ability to break down the amino acid phenylalanine. If it is allowed to accumulate in the body, phenylalanine damages the nervous system and results in mental retardation.”

Regina’s hand went to her belly. “What about our child?”

Aaron covered her hand with his. “Don’t worry, Darling. PKU will be inherited
only
if both parents carry the PKU gene.”

Her eyes widened. “Do you carry it?”

Lowering his head, he kissed the tip of her nose. “No.”

She let out an audible sigh of relief. “What about the impetigo?”

“Impetigo is a bacterial skin infection most often seen around the lips, nose, and ear, even though it can occur anywhere on the body.”

“What causes it?”

“Common skin organisms like streptococcus and staphylococcus, which are carried in the nose and on the skin.”

“What does the infection look like?”

“The rash starts as small blisters, which break and crust over to become yellow-brown scabs that look a lot like particles of brown sugar.”

She shuddered, moving closer to him. “Yuck.”

He forced a smile, telling himself this would be the first and last time he would discuss his patients with Regina. He did not need or want her agonizing over unfounded fears for her unborn child when her only concern should be carrying a healthy baby to term.

Pulling away from Aaron, Regina rolled over and sat up. “I need to take a bath and change my clothes.” She hadn’t bothered to remove her skirt and blouse, which she had put on earlier that morning when she lay down to take a nap which had stretched into more than six hours of a deep, refreshing slumber.

“I’m going to shower and change, too.”

Leaning forward, she pressed her lips to his, lingering and enjoying the taste and feel of his moustached mouth. “I’ll see you later.”

Aaron left the bed and picked up the tray with the empty bowl and glass. He winked at her as he made his way across the bedroom. Regina sat staring at the space where he had been, a comforting feeling of calm and confidence filling her entire being.