Silver Miracles (15 page)

Actually, Larry hadn’t been told everything by the doctor or he would probably have blurted that out, too. The doctor had called a few days after her visit to tell Trinity that some of the tests he had run on her had indicated severe anemia. He had prescribed an iron supplement, but she had been too nauseated most of the time even to take it.

She freely confessed—but only to herself, needless to say—that she had been burning the candle at both ends these last few months in order to be with Chase and, at the same time, in order not to slight Stephanie or her work on the farm. What a fool she’d been to run herself ragged because of some false hope on her part that Chase could come to love her!

"Take your pick." Chase’s sharp voice broke into her thoughts. "It’s either me or the hospital. I’m sure that, after Larry and I both explain how you’ve been neglecting yourself, the doctor will insist on hospitalizing you."

Trinity was sure, too. In fact, the doctor had so much as told her that if the nausea persisted to the extent that she couldn’t keep anything down, he would have to put her in the hospital in order to feed her intravenously.

In desperation she tried a new approach. "There won’t be enough room here for all of us, you know. It’ll be too crowded, and you’ll be uncomfortable . . . and you keep bringing Mangus up. There’s no room here for him. This house is simply too small."

Chase looked at Trinity quite levelly and suggested, "We’ll move to my place. There’s plenty of room over there."

"No way! I’m not about to live in that mausoleum."

"You could have a free hand in the decorating once you got to feeling better. You said yourself, it could be made into a beautiful home."

Trinity was beginning to feel penned in on all sides. Nothing seemed to be going right, but she tried again, refusing to admit defeat. "I could never live over there. I’d feel stifled by all of those guards."

"They wouldn’t bother you. They’re there to insure privacy."

"I have all the privacy I need, right here—or rather, I will have when you leave—and I don’t care what you say. I’m not leaving my home."

"Fine," he returned calmly. "Then Mangus will come over whenever I can’t be here and will provide all the meals. If you don’t want him cooking in your kitchen, then he can prepare the meals over there and bring them here to reheat."

A new objection occurred to Trinity. "I won’t have your guards over here, either. I refuse to raise Stephanie in a prisonlike atmosphere."

"If they bother you so much, they’ll be dismissed immediately."

Trinity lowered her head into her hand. Chase had beaten her, and she knew it. She felt too weak, too sick, to do anything other than protest, and it was doing her absolutely no good. She couldn’t fight Chase anymore. Anyway . . . as soon as he had mentioned endangering the baby, she had realized that she would have to give in.

These past few weeks, she had been wrapped in a cocoon of numbing listlessness, too sick to do anything other than just what she had been doing—striving to get through each day as best she could, one day at a time.

But from now on, until she started to feel better, she was going to drift with the current, like the river she was named after. It was the course of least resistance, and it would be easier for her and better for both the baby and Stephanie. Maintaining her independence from Chase paled in importance when she compared it with her baby’s health.

She doubted if Chase would be around much, anyway. With the work load that he carried, he wouldn’t have the time to bother her a lot. For a little while, he’d probably make a great show of concern, making sure that she ate a little better and got more rest. But in the long run, it just wasn’t his style. Eventually, he would get tired of playing nursemaid and go away.

"Trinity?" Chase intruded on her thoughts once more. "What’s it going to be? Are you going to be reasonable?"

Lifting her head, she declared, as pleasantly as she could manage, "I’m always reasonable, Chase. You can stay, if you insist, but only until I’m back on my feet. Then you’ve got to leave."

"We’ll see," Chase murmured neutrally.

Larry stood up and smiled at her. "You’re doing the right thing, babe, and Sissy is really going to be relieved. You don’t know all the pans of fudge I’ve been forced to eat lately."

Trinity laughed glumly. "Yeah, sure. I’ve seen how she forces you to eat her fudge."

"O-kay. On that note, I’ll leave. He walked around the table and gave her a hug and a kiss. "But call tomorrow and let us know how you’re doing."

Trinity and Chase sat at the kitchen table for a long time after Larry had left, not speaking. She could feel his eyes on her, but she didn’t really care. Trying to decide what to do about dinner, she stared off into the spaces of her mind. Unfortunately, only a vast empty blankness greeted her. Her apathy, which had receded to a certain extent when Chase had appeared earlier in the day, was returning.

The silence was broken by Stephanie. "Mommy! Mommy!" Stephanie came running in carrying an exquisitedly beautiful doll dressed in a white satin dress with glittering white stones sprinkled all over its skirt and a sparkling tiara atop her head. "Look at what Chase got me."

"It’s lovely, darling," Trinity responded automatically, while at the same time shooting Chase a withering look because of the obvious cost of the doll. That it was no cheap tourist souvenir, she could see at a glance, but she didn’t have the energy to make an issue out of it. "Thank Chase for your gift."

Stephanie leaped the short distance into Chase’s arms with a giggle and a naturalness that Trinity viewed narrowly. It would never do for Stephanie to become too attached to Chase. He wouldn’t be around for long.

Chase smiled charmingly at Stephanie. "I thought a beautiful little princess should have a beautiful little princess doll." Still holding her daughter, Chase turned to Trinity. "What would you like for dinner?"

Seeing Chase sitting so casually in her kitchen, holding her daughter, being accepted without question by Larry and Sissy, Trinity realized that, even though she didn’t want Chase here, she was going to have to accept his presence, at least for the time being. However, she had no intention of allowing him to become too comfortable in her home.

She frowned at Chase. "Isn’t that my line?"

"I didn’t move in so that you would have just that much more work to do. Admittedly, I can’t cook too well, but what I can’t handle, Mangus can. He’s waiting for me to call him and let him know what we want for dinner."

"I’m surprised that you would even consult me," Trinity snapped sarcastically. "You’ve planned things out so well—just exactly who will do what, when and where—you don’t need to ask me."

Chase studied her for a moment, then said quietly, "You’re sick. Trinity, and everything assumes greater importance when you don’t feel well. You probably feel as if I’m trying to restrict you in some way, that I’m building a cage around you, putting up the bars one by one."

The compressing of her lips was the only sign that Trinity gave of the surprise she felt. Chase had been able to put into words what she herself had been only vaguely aware of.

Chase continued evenly. "You’re feeling crowded, and I’m sorry. Believe it or not, I would never attempt to put boundaries around you. I know you too well, and I simply couldn’t do that to you. All I’m trying to do is take care of you in the best way I know how. This is your home, and Stephanie is your daughter. If, at any time, you think that either Mangus or I am not doing things as you would like them, just tell us how you want them done." His lips lifted into a wry grin. "Now . . . what would you like to eat?"

Everything Chase had said made perfect sense, and, to her annoyance, Trinity found she didn’t want to argue with him.

"I don’t think I can eat anything," she mumbled, telling the absolute truth.

"You have to eat something," Chase insisted. "What sounds good to you?"

"Mexican food," she answered at once.

"Mexican food! Would you be able to hold it down?"

"I don’t know," Trinity admitted dryly, "but I’d like to try. Everything I can keep down tastes so bland, that I’m craving something spicy, something to wake up my taste buds."

Chase chuckled and set Stephanie on her feet. The little girl had been contentedly resting in his arms, playing quietly with her new doll. "Okay, I’ll get together with Mangus and see what we can come up with. In the meantime, why don’t you go lie down?"

Sometime later, Chase brought in a tray of food and set it before her.

"I don’t like to eat in bed," Trinity muttered petulantly in a manner totally unlike her own. She had been lying there for over an hour listening to the sounds of Chase and Stephanie’s laughter coming from the kitchen. And later, she had heard Mangus arriving, bringing what she presumed she was now looking at.

"Do you feel like going into the kitchen?"

"Not really."

"Well, this tray is pretty sturdy, and it will fit right across your lap." Chase’s tone was one of good-natured coaxing, as if to an ill-humored child, and it set Trinity’s teeth on edge. "Sit up, and we’ll try it."

"What is that stuff?" Trinity wrinkled her nose doubtfully, while arranging the pillows behind her.

Chase laughed. "This is Mangus’s idea of a high-protein, mildly spicy Mexican dinner."

"But what is it?" she repeated, indicating the large, indistinguishable blob on her plate.

"Cheese enchiladas. And believe me, it was prepared under great protest. He didn’t want to fix you Mexican food. It seems he has other ideas about what a pregnant lady should eat." Chase grinned. "Heaven only knows where he got his ideas, because he’s never been married. Nevertheless, he felt very strongly that you shouldn’t have anything too spicy—and I happen to agree with him."

"Oh, what do you know about it?" Trinity grumbled deprecatingly as she forked the first bite into her mouth.

"Not much, but I’m a fast learner." Chase leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. "I’m going to bathe Stephanie and put her down for the night. I’ll leave the door open in case you need anything."

Trinity decided not to voice her scathing comments on Chase’s abilities to bathe a slippery four-year-old child—mainly because, just as she got her mouth open, Chase walked out of the room. Instead she took another bite of the food. As bad as it looked, it was really pretty good. The cheese tasted very smooth, and there was just enough seasoning to make an impression on her deadened senses.

It could have used some more salt, but since she didn’t feel like getting up to retrieve the salt shaker, Trinity let it pass. She would blow up like a blimp soon enough, without retaining extra water.

Pausing, her fork in midair, Trinity considered how Chase would react to her burgeoning body. In a minute, however, the fork continued its journey. After all, what did it really matter? She was convinced he wouldn’t be around long enough to see her grow heavy and cumbersome with his child anyway.

She managed to eat about half of one enchilada and then pushed it away. She could tell by the sounds coming from the other room that Chase had taken Stephanie out of the bathtub and into her room. So Trinity made her way into the bathroom to get ready for bed. Brushing her teeth and washing her face, she reflected that she had already spent nearly half the day either sleeping or resting and she still felt tired. Maybe tomorrow would be better.

Keeping this thought in mind, she took her nightgown from the back of the bathroom door, where it had been hanging, and stripped out of her jeans. After putting the gown on, she surveyed herself in the mirror, suddenly remembering that it was the same nightgown she had worn on the night she and Chase had first met.

Trinity shrugged away the memory and made her way into the other bedroom, to find Chase propped up on the bed with Stephanie, reading a story. This wouldn’t last very long either, Trinity predicted cynically to herself. With Chase’s steel-trap mind, she couldn’t envision him with the patience that was required to read very many stories slowly enough for a small child to understand.

Leaning down over the other side of Stephanie’s bed, Trinity kissed her daughter good night, nodded a curt good night to Chase and then left.

As she snuggled down into bed. Trinity reflected that all in all it had been quite a day. At this time last night, she had had no idea that Chase would be living with her in less than twenty-four hours. But then again, Chase had only one mode of operation—fast.

Her eyes were closed but Trinity wasn’t yet asleep when she heard the bedside light being clicked on. Opening her eyes, she saw Chase in the process of undressing.

"What in the world do you think you’re doing?"

Chase didn’t answer her question. Instead he asked one of his own as he shrugged out of his shirt. "Can I get you anything before I get into bed?"

"Just whose bed are you thinking of getting into, Chase? I’ve only got two beds, and both of them are occupied."

He sat down on the side of the bed and bent to take his shoes off. "I’m sleeping in this one, my love."

Good heavens! Where was her mind? Why hadn’t it occurred to her before now that where Chase slept would pose a definite problem?

"Chase, you can’t sleep in here with me!"

"Why?" he asked as he got up to walk into the bathroom.

"Because!" Trinity found that she was shouting, so she stopped and drew a deep breath. She had to be careful. That enchilada wasn’t settled very comfortably in her stomach and would probably come up with the least excuse. She tried again, talking just loud enough to be heard over the running water. "Because, Chase, I don’t want you in my bed."

His disembodied voice reached her, carrying with it a hint of laughter. "I have no intention of sleeping either on the sofa or the floor."

"There’s always the bathtub," she pointed out, giving absolutely no thought to his comfort.

Chase came out of the bathroom and sat down beside her. Taking her hand in his, he ran his thumb back and forth across it gently, speaking soothingly. "Listen to me, Trinity. I know you don’t want me in your bed, but there really isn’t anyplace else for me to sleep. This is a double bed and plenty big enough for both of us, but if we’re not comfortable, I can always have the big bed in my apartment brought here." He smiled and released her hand to brush a brown curl off her face. "I seem to remember that, even when we slept in a king-sized bed, we didn’t use a lot of space."