Not Quite Forever (Not Quite series) (18 page)

“Tell me about it. If I thought the man liked me at that point, I would swear he did it on purpose.”

“You don’t think—”

“Please, Mary. My life is nutty, but it’s not a soap opera.”

That was a relief. “Does anyone else know?”

“No. Not yet.”

Mary squeezed her eyes shut. “I hate to ask this . . . but . . .”

“What?”

“Are you going to keep the baby?”

Dakota sighed. “I never really thought it was an option. I’m not a kid. I have money.”

“You don’t sound happy about it.”

“I can’t even think of what’s happening as anything but a pregnancy. The thought of a baby scares the crap out of me.”

The psychologist in her was on high alert. “We really need to work on this, Dakota.”

“I-I know.”

Mary glanced at her closed front door. “Are you going to tell Walt?”

“Eventually. He has a right to know.”

“Good. Good. Has he, ah, has he called you?” Mary was fishing for information, hoped her friend was off her game and didn’t catch on.

“He’s left a dozen messages. I just delete them.”

“Without listening to them?”

“I can’t get over him if I hear his voice.”

Well, that answered that. “He’s been by your house twice.”

Dakota was silent.

“I told him you left, but didn’t tell him where.”

“Oh.”

“He seemed a little desperate.”

“Probably feeling guilty.”

“I don’t know, Dakota, seemed to be more than that. I think he knows he screwed up.”

“Yeah, well, he did. And if there is one thing all this taught me is that I need to depend on only one person. Me.”

The fight in her friend’s voice was better than the sorrow that had been there a second ago.

“You can depend on me, too.”

“You know what I mean.”

Mary did, but changed the subject. “If you’re going to keep the baby, you’ll need to tell your parents.”

“The doctor seems to think I should hold off until the second trimester. My blood pressure is still high. We won’t know if I’m at risk of staying that way throughout the pregnancy until next month.”

“I didn’t even think about that.”

“A part of my mind is working. I need to stay here for a while. If this pregnancy is high risk, I’m going to need my family.”

“I didn’t think you got along with them.”

“So far everything is fine. I’m sure all hell will break out when they realize why I’m really here. But they’re family. They have to put up with me.”

Mary laughed. “If they hurt more than they help, I’m here. Use and abuse me, babe.”

“I appreciate that, Mary. More than you know. I’ll do better with calling.”

“You better.”

“Love ya.”

“Love you, too.”

Walt had managed more sleep as a resident than he did since Dakota left. He’d pushed away from her because he worried about losing her. Where the hell was the logic in that? He ended up losing anyway and the pain cut deep.

Problem was, he didn’t know where to look or what key words to tell Mary so she would reveal her whereabouts.

He slammed into his apartment and checked his messages. He sifted through his mail and noticed a shutoff notice for his water bill.

“Ah, crap.”

He paid two bills before he thought of Monica. Maybe his friend knew something about his girlfriend. Women talked, after all.

She answered on the third ring.

“Hey, Walt. I hear you’re being groomed for the exec position at Borderless.”

“They’ve offered. I haven’t accepted yet.”

Monica was oblivious to the anxiety in his voice. “Really, why? I thought you’d jump.”

“I’ll probably take it. I just need to . . .” How was he going to play this? “Ah, damn, Monica. Dakota and I had a disagreement. She’s not taking my calls.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I was wondering if you’ve heard from her. You two seem to be hitting it off.”

“Can’t say I have. Have you gone to her house?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “She left town. Mary won’t say where.”

Monica actually laughed. “Must have been one hell of a disagreement. Is that what you called it?”

He wanted to growl. “I was an ass, Monica. I’ve told Mary the same thing and she still doesn’t budge.”

“If Dakota left mad at you, Mary won’t say a thing.”

“That’s what I thought.” Frustration boiled his blood. “Thing is, right before she left she had a bout of high blood pressure that gave her a nosebleed that needed treatment to stop.”

Monica sighed. “Is she OK?”

“I don’t know. She won’t take my calls.”

“Chances are she won’t take mine either. Tell you what, why don’t you give me Mary’s number. I’ll see if Dakota’s healthy.”

For the first time in days, relief filled Walt’s heart. “Thanks, Monica. I owe you.”

Monica offered a little laugh. “You know, Walt, it does my heart good to hear you so flustered over a girl. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“It’s my fault we fought. I just want a chance to talk to her.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Monica hung up laughing.

Mary was packing her briefcase with patient files for the few she had who needed to talk in the evenings when the phone rang.

“This is Mary,” she answered, assuming a patient was calling.

“Uh, hi Mary. This is Monica Fairchild.”

“Oh, hi Monica. How are you?”
And why are you calling me?

“I’m good, thanks. How are you?”

Mary set her case down, noted the time. “Good. Running out the door at the second.”

“Oh, sorry. This won’t take long. I got a call from Walt—”

“Stop. I’m not going to tell anyone where she is.”

“I would think not.”

“Then why are you calling me?”

Monica paused. “I want to know if she’s healthy? It’s one thing to keep Walt wondering where she is, but to think she’s sick somewhere is . . . cruel.”

“Is that as cruel as, let’s say . . . stopping any and all phone calls and brushing off your lover for no good reason?”

“He did that?” Monica asked.

“Communication went to zilch overnight.”

“That doesn’t sound like Walt. Why would he do that?”

Mary sat on the edge of her sofa, glanced at her watch. Two minutes and she’d have to cut this conversation off. “My guess is it has something to do with his late wife. Struggling with his growing feelings—”

“What? His late what?”

“Wife. You didn’t know he was married before?”

Monica squealed her answer. “No! Are you serious?”

“I hate gossip. I thought you knew.”

“I did not. Walt was married?”

“Yes.” Lord, how much of his story should she tell? Then again, Monica was Walt’s friend and calling for recon on Dakota. “Medical school, or sometime in there. She had colon cancer . . . no wait, pancreatic cancer. Sounded like he married her to keep her parents from hooking her up to a bunch of tubes or something.”

“Oh, damn. I didn’t know. No wonder he’s stressed about Dakota’s health.”

“I’m sorry for his loss. I am. But Dakota needs someone who’s going to stick around and not run off. Now more than ever.”

Monica moaned. “She’s sick, isn’t she?”

“Not sick . . . just . . .” Oh, shit. “She’ll be fine . . . I think.” Only Mary wasn’t so sure. Maybe the best thing for Dakota was to make up with Walt. Even if they decided to go their separate ways, she could put him out of her mind.

“That answer will make him crazy.”

“That answer was for you, not him.”

“Fine, that answer is making
me
crazy.”

“I hate the position I’m in. I’d do anything for Dakota. I’m not sure Walt is the best thing for her right now,” Mary said.

“He’s a doctor. He can help with whatever she’s going through. He’s a damn good doctor, Mary.”

“Yeah, but he kinda sucked as her boyfriend. And she needs the man who put her in this position to man up.” Mary wanted to suck the words back in her mouth as soon as they spewed. “Forget I said that.”

Mary knew Monica was a bright woman the night they met.

“You’re kidding!”

“I’ve got to go.”

“Mary, wait!”

They were both silent.

“Please tell me she’s with someone who knows. This kind of secret, the kind that drives blood pressure high and makes women do irrational things, can have disastrous consequences. She needs to be watched.”

“She’s seeing a doctor.”

“I’m talking about more than a monthly visit, Mary. Her blood pressure was high enough to cause a stroke.”

“Don’t tell me that. She said she’s fine. Needed another month to make any decisions.”

“Her hormones are crazy. Add a heartbreak and high blood pressure and who knows what she’s dealing with. Was she acting herself when she left?”

Mary hated how sound Monica’s words were. “No.”

“Has she acted herself since she left?”

“No, damn it.”

Monica released a long breath. “Listen. I get that you want to protect her. I do, too. We can play this a couple different ways. Either you or I can show up at her door and refuse to leave until we know she’s OK . . .”

“Or?”

“We piss off our friend and tell Walt.”

“No!”

“He’s not
that
guy, Mary. He can’t man up if he doesn’t know what’s going on. And he doesn’t. If he did, he’d be camped out on your doorstep.”

Mary’s throat tightened. “She’s my best friend, Monica. I can’t betray her.”

“And Walt saved my life once. I can’t betray him.”

“You’re pissing me off, Monica.”

She grumbled. “I stick a needle into everyone I’m trying to help. Piss them off, too. You have a lot of company.”

“Damn.”

“Listen. If you don’t tell me, you’re just going to delay the inevitable. Because you see, I’m going to hang up this phone and call my friend Katie. She knows this crazy awesome private investigator who can find anyone. My guess is we would only have to tap into Dakota’s cell phone to find where she is.”

“That’s illegal.”

“Medical emergency.”

A string of unladylike words passed through Mary’s lips.

“He has the right to know about the baby.”

“She’s going to tell him.”

“It might be too late.”

“I hate that you know more about this than I do.”

Monica’s voice was stern and cold. “Great, hate me. Where is she?”

“She’s going to hate me.”

“For a day . . . maybe a week. She’ll get over it.”

Mary’s back teeth bit her tongue. “If I find out you’ve played me . . .”

“You can sue. I don’t care. Dakota needs friends making rational decisions since she’s not making them.”

Mary hit her briefcase. “South Carolina. She went home like any pregnant, unwed woman would.”

Chapter Sixteen

Walt noticed the number calling and pounced on the phone when it rang.

“Tell me you know something, Monica.” During his days at work he could drag Dakota from his mind for short stints of time. Sitting at home, debating his life . . . that didn’t happen.

Instead of saying anything, Monica sighed over the line. “I know where she is.”

His entire body tingled.
Finally!
“Where?”

“I know why she fled.”

The tingling cut short. “I told you I screwed up.”

“It’s not that, Walt. Though I think you must have messed up really bad. Her fleeing to get over you isn’t the half of it.”

He stared at the pen he’d broken, closed his eyes.

“I shouldn’t be the one telling you where she is or why she’s there. For the record, if I wasn’t worried about her health I would follow the girl code and make you guess.”

Her health?
“You’re killing me here, Monica. Is she dying?” He surged to his feet and started to pace. Could he do this a second time?
Not Dakota. Please, God, not Dakota.

“No—”

“Her high blood pressure?”

“Is temporary.”

He paused, a thought tickled his brain. He stopped pacing, grasped the back of his desk chair.

“Her high blood pressure is temporary, Walt. A few months down the road . . .”

“Oh, hell.” Sudden onset high blood pressure, young woman of childbearing age . . . recent infection. “Bactrim. My dad put her on Bactrim.” She hadn’t been on it a week and he had . . . “I’m going to be a father.”

Monica was silent.

And he’d walked away before Dakota could tell him. Did she know when she’d cornered him in the ER? He couldn’t be sure, but even if she did, why would she have told him then? He swiveled his desk chair around and fell into it. “Where is she, Monica?”

“Home. She went to South Carolina.”

His head started rearranging his schedule, plugging favors, switching others, thinking about a position with Borderless Doctors that would make this easier. “I need a flight.”

“We can help with that, Walt. But before you pack a bag you need to know something else.”

There’s more?

“I’m listening.”

“Dakota hasn’t told anyone anything. She’s with her family nursing a broken heart. The only reason I’m telling you about the baby is because of the possibility of preeclampsia. I don’t think she understand the risks.”

“Has she seen an OB?”

“According to Mary she has. Either the doctor wasn’t clear, or Dakota downplayed her condition to Mary. I know she’s an adult. I know she has money . . . but she’s still a single pregnant woman. I’ve watched that happen in full living color. It’s scary, it’s lonely, and it’s completely irrational at times.”

His breathing came in short spurts. “Do you have an address?”

Monica came through. He would arrive on the East Coast just after midnight on yet another private jet. His favors to Monica and Trent were adding up fast. He would stay at the Savannah Morrison, which put him within spitting distance of Dakota. With a plan in motion, Walt paid his bills in advance for two months and closed his front door.

Thank God he didn’t have live plants. They wouldn’t survive.

He’d make this right.

All of it.

Dakota should have known the first day she wanted to join the world of the living she would wake up heaving. She’d escaped the nauseous part of pregnancy until the end of the second month. It hit fast and obnoxious the moment she opened her eyes. After tossing the nothing that was in her stomach, she crawled back into bed and buried her head only to be awakened by her sister an hour later.

Carol Ann bounced in the room, oblivious to Dakota’s condition. “You can’t mope around here another day. I won’t hear of it.”

“I’m not moping.”

Carol Ann sat on the edge of the bed. “Then what would you call it?”

Puking?

She couldn’t let on to her sister how she was feeling physically. Everyone would guess her condition in a nanosecond. She didn’t need that. Not yet.

“Fine.” Feeling green, and not at all ready to leave her bed, Dakota tossed off the covers and headed to the shower.

Carol Ann watched her with a smug look.

A shower, soda water, and a few dry crackers later, Dakota was ready to go. The weather had turned as much as it was going to in South Carolina. There was a slight nip in the air and a woman needed to shop. Or so the excuse was for getting together with some old high school friends while she was in town.

Louise was five foot nothing and still the tiny twig she’d always been. Then there was Sis. The three of them had always called her Sis even though her name was June. Maybe it was because Sis was an only child and always wanted sisters . . . or maybe she just hated her given name. Either way, they called her Sis and treated her thus.

“If it isn’t the elusive Dakota Laurens.” Louise opened her arms and placed a practiced smile on her lips.

“Hello Louise, long time.”

“Not because I moved away.”

Dakota would have laughed if she could do so without bringing up the crackers. Louise was destined to stay in their hometown until her parents died and left her their home. They all came from money . . . old Southern money that survived generations and wars. And it would be years before Louise lost her parents. Louise wasn’t going anywhere.

“California is great, thanks for asking.”

Louise offered a playful, but slightly hard slap to Dakota’s forearm. “You tease. You look . . . good.”

She looked like crap with makeup. She’d checked before leaving the house. Much as she tried to disguise her current level of pale and general yuckiness . . . it wasn’t working. Physically she was feeling worse, not better, since coming home.

Dakota placed her Southern smile firmly in place and did what she’d always done. “You never were a good liar, Louise.”

“I’m just trying to be polite.”

Yes . . . now Dakota was reminded why she left the South.

Sis rushed in from the parking lot and stood outside their rendezvous spot at the mouth of the shopping strip. “Sorry I’m late. I couldn’t get Junior down for his nap without a shot of whiskey.”

Carol Ann gasped.

“For me, not him!” Sis was a little less polished than Louise and Carol Ann, married the high school bad boy to spite her parents, and seemed to be happy.

“Dakota!” They hugged. “You look tired.”

Strange how refreshing honesty was. “There was a guy, he sucked, I’m here getting over him.”

Sis’s smile fell. “It’s always a man. Half the time I want to shoot Billy and the other . . . well, you write all
those
novels. You know what I want to do.”

Those novels.
The reference to her day-in and day-out life reminded Dakota of why she’d left home. It had always been difficult to determine who truly supported her life, or if they smiled to her face only to talk behind her back. Carol Ann and Sis she could trust . . . Louise, not so much.

Sis wrapped a hand over Dakota’s shoulders. “I missed you. When Carol Ann told me you were back in town I nearly ran to your house. Then I realized there must have been something really wrong for you to come home. I know how much you wanted out of here growing up. I figured you’d let us know when you were ready to play.”

Dakota took in her sister, Louise, and Sis and grinned. “I’m ready. So long as no one asks about
him
. I’m not ready to talk about
him
.” They referred to the guy who shall remain nameless, as
him
.
Him
was the man they all collectively hated on principle. If
himself
did bad by one of them, he did bad by all of them.

Sis wove her arm through Dakota’s and offered a side hug. “Are we back to the
hims
? Who was the first
him
?”

Louise raised her hand. “That would be my Tommy.”

“Of course,” Dakota said. “Tommy became
him
when he did Daphne Mayson.”

Louise dropped her fake smile. “That was a long time ago.”

Dakota laughed. “You showed him by doing half the football team.”

“I did not.”

“That’s right,” Sis corrected. “You only did three of them . . . all within two months.”

Why Louise had to scold them with a look at her age was yet another reason why Dakota left home. There were more Louises in her circle of friends than Sisses. “She’s right.”

“Doesn’t matter. Tommy and I are very happy.”

Dakota doubted that. Tommy had always been a player. Louise had served a purpose and was discarded. Then her football team debacle nearly ruined her reputation. Dakota always thought Sally was conceived on purpose. Tommy really didn’t have much of a choice but to stand up and do the right thing. His parents . . . her parents . . . wouldn’t have tolerated anything else. And since his parents held his trust fund, he wasn’t going to disappoint them.

Carol Ann chimed in. “Kevin was the second
him
.”

“Barely.”

“Yeah, like for three seconds. Standing you up because he was grounded and not able to call you only made him a
him
for one night,” Sis reminded them.

Carol Ann offered a smile. “Well, when Dakota is ready to tell us about
him
, we’ll be here to listen.”

Louise grinned. “That doesn’t mean we won’t pry.”

“I would think you were ill if you didn’t. Unlike you, I know how to keep my lips shut. My
him
shall remain nameless, faceless, and enemy number one.”

Sis laughed. “Well c’mon. I never have time to shop so let’s get to it.”

Shopping actually involved some shopping . . . but it also involved manicures, pedicures, sometimes a trip to the salon or day spa. There was usually lunch included with mimosas, sangrias, or something equally sickeningly sweet that a
good Southern woman
could drink in the middle of the day and not be considered a lush. If one of them was on a mission to buy a new dress, then the four of them would concentrate on that one purchase and be happy with the outcome.

By the time the lunch portion of their day had passed, Dakota was feeling ten times better than when she woke that morning.

Sis pulled them all into a toddler clothing store for a special outfit for Junior.

Dakota pasted on a smile and walked through racks of pink, yellow, green, and blue. Tiny sweaters, tiny jammies, socks so little they wouldn’t serve as thumb warmers.

She ran the tips of her fingers over a mini white angora sweater that reminded her of the one she’d ruined.

“Dakota? Dakota?”

She forced a smile and glanced up.

Sis held a little dress jacket. “What do you think?”

“I think your husband would rather it be in leather.”

The three of them laughed and Dakota’s focus centered on the sweater once again.

I’m pregnant.

Without words, she swiveled around and left the store. She found a bench outside and sat. The cool slap of wind helped push her thoughts away.

One at a time, her friends found her.

“You’re thinking about
him
, aren’t you?” Louise asked.

Actually, she’d been thinking about what
him
left her. “I guess. And here I thought I was doing so well today.”

Carol Ann draped an arm over her shoulders. “You’ve smiled more today than I’ve seen all week. It’s perfectly normal to have a small setback.”

“So long as it doesn’t linger.”

Sis jumped up, gathered her bag in her arms. “I know exactly what will cheer you up.”

Please don’t let it involve alcohol.
As it was, she’d poured most of her mimosa into Carol Ann’s glass when she wasn’t looking. “It’s a terrible idea when Sis has
just the thing
,” Louise said.

Unaffected, Sis rolled her eyes and pulled Dakota to her feet. “C’mon. Follow me.”

They walked around the far side of the shopping mall and over to the independent bookstore. “What are we doing here?”

Sis grinned, opened the door. “You’ll see.”

Dakota hovered in the doorway. The smell of leather and books met her nose and the quiet that always accompanied a bookstore or a library kept her from raising her voice. Her first love of books came from reading. She’d spent hours in bookstores like this one long before she wrote her first novel.