Читать книгу: «The Husband Project»

CHAPTER ONE

EVERYWHERE she looked, there were babies.

In the supermarket, they cooed and grabbed at bright-colored packages. In the park she passed each day on her walk to work, they toddled through tall grass and dug in the sandboxes. In the office of one of her clients, a set of twins napped cherubically on a blanket behind the enormous walnut desk...

Despite what she was seeing, however, Alison Novak knew that the Windy City hadn’t actually had an abrupt population explosion. Human beings had a tendency to see what they looked for, and she was no exception. As soon as a person became acquainted with a new word, she was apt to see it everywhere from billboards to telephone books. Likewise, as soon as a woman realized how urgently she wanted a baby...

It was the first time she’d admitted that her longing for a child had gone beyond desire all the way to desperation, and the realization twisted Alison’s heart into a pretzel. As if in answer, the pain which had for weeks been coming and going in her abdomen flared sharply. This one was worse than usual; it shot clear through to her back and brought tiny beads of perspiration to her upper lip.

Abruptly, she changed her mind about going back to the office and turned into Flanagan’s instead. The small neighborhood bar was quiet and cool, and she could sit there for a few minutes till the pain calmed, as experience told her it would.

In any case, it was just half an hour till her partners would be joining her; the three owners of Tryad Public Relations met at Flanagan’s every Friday evening for brat-wurst and a wrap-up of the week’s work. With any luck, by the time Kit and Susannah arrived, this attack would have passed and Alison would be back to normal.

She sank into a booth not far from the front door and asked the waitress for a glass of seltzer water with a slice of lemon. As Alison waited for the drink to arrive, she leaned her head against the tall back of the booth and closed her eyes, focusing her attention inward. Though the pain was a little worse than it had been before, it was following the same basic pattern—starting off like the worst stitch in her side she’d ever felt, and gradually diminishing as she sat still. This time it seemed to be concentrated on the left.

She was so intent on analyzing the discomfort that she didn’t see the waitress bring her drink, and she didn’t realize her partners had arrived till she heard Susannah’s voice coming toward the booth. “It’s perfectly awful, that’s what it is.... Are you taking a nap, Ali?”

Alison opened her eyes and sat up a bit too suddenly; the dim little bar , seemed to revolve for a moment, and Susannah’s face, full of concern, swam before her eyes. “I’m fine. What’s so awful, Sue?”

Susannah flung herself into the seat beside Alison. “The single most valuable piece of art the Dearborn Museum owns was vandalized this afternoon.”

“The Evans Jackson painting?” Alison was startled. “How could anybody vandalize it?”

Across the table, Kit choked and started to laugh. “You sound almost like me, Ali. I wanted to know how anyone could tell it had been damaged. It was nothing but smears of red paint on a white canvas in the first place, so—”

“That was not what Ali asked,” Susannah said firmly, and turned to Alison. “Somebody sneaked a can of spray paint into the museum and made a few additions.”

“Maybe it’ll actually increase the value,” Kit murmured.

“You have no appreciation of modern art.”

“Neither do you, so don’t be a hypocrite, Sue.”

Susannah looked stem for only a few more seconds before she burst into giggles. “That’s true. And actually, I have to admit—only to you guys, of course—that it did look better. At least there’s some variety now. However, when anything that’s insured for half a million gets damaged, it’s.... Why aren’t we in our usual spot, Ali?”

“Fresh air.” Alison waved a hand toward the propped-open door. “Fall’s coming fast, so we’d better enjoy this while we can.” That wasn’t bad for thinking quickly, she told herself. She wasn’t about to admit that ten minutes ago she hadn’t felt like walking another step.

“It is warm in here,” Kit agreed. “Though you look a bit pale, Ali. You didn’t walk all the way back from downtown, did you?”

Alison shrugged. “It’s rush hour. If I’d tried to get a cab I wouldn’t be here yet.”

Susannah slid to the far end of the bench seat, turning to stare at Alison with her eyes narrowed. “If it was the walk, she’d be flushed instead of pale, Kit.”

Kit’s eyebrows rose. “You’re right. Then—”

Susannah picked up the glass of wine the waitress had set before her. “And it’s not just today, either. Ali’s been pale for a couple of weeks. I’ve always thought she looks sort of like an old-fashioned china doll, all shiny black hair and porcelain complexion—but there are limits.”

“And one of my limits is when you talk about me as if I’m not here,” Alison reminded. “Anyway, I’m fine. I’m just a little tired from a long week.”

She didn’t think she’d been terribly convincing, for Kit’s eyebrows remained elevated and Susannah’s blue-green eyes watchful. But to her relief neither of them pushed the question.

Kit drew circles on the table with the base of her soft drink glass and said, “Sue and I have some great ideas for getting the singles club up and running, Ali.”

Alison sighed. “Look, guys. I’m sorry, but you know very well I’ve been no more than lukewarm on the idea of the singles club since Sue first came up with it.”

“You’re the one who suggested getting a restaurant to sponsor it,” Susannah pointed out. “And that’s the key to—”

“One suggestion hardly makes me a fan. And I can’t do a good job on a project I think is ludicrous.”

“Oh, really?” Kit murmured. “What kind of public relations person are you, anyway? We’re always doing something ludicrous. If you think I want to brag about creating a bunch of dancing ducks to promote the new water. park—”

“But you believe in the water park,” Alison reminded.

- “Doesn’t matter. Besides, you can’t expect either Susannah or me to do it You’re the only one of us who can, Ali.”

Alison sighed. “Because I’m the only one of us who’s still single.”

“Exactly.” Kit murmured.

“That is completely illogical, you know. It’s like saying I can’t make a good video welcoming newcomers to Chicago unless I’m a newcomer, and that’s just—” There was no warning this time, and the pain which racked her was by far the worst she’d ever experienced. Alison clutched at her abdomen. She’d have doubled up, but there wasn’t room in the narrow booth.

Susannah’s gaze met Kit’s. “An ambulance, do you think?”

“No!” Alison struggled to sit upright. Almost automatically she said, “It’ll pass.”

“Sure of that, are you?” Kit sounded skeptical.

“It always has before.”

“Oh, that’s reassuring! How long have you been feeling this way, Ali?”

“Weeks,” Susannah said darkly. “Remember, Kit? Clear back when you started having morning sickness, Alison was—”

If she hadn’t been feeling so wretched, Alison would have burst into laughter at the sudden suspicion in Susannah’s eyes. “I’m not pregnant,” she managed. “It’s just...cramps or something. A little worse than usual, but—”

“I’m relieved to hear it, Ali,” Kit said crisply. “Excuse me for missing the occasion, but just when did you get your medical degree?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “We’re going to check this out right now. If you’ll go get your car, Susannah...”

Susannah didn’t move. “Are you sure I shouldn’t call the paramedics?”

“I’m not sure of anything,” Kit said. “But we can’t ride with her in the ambulance, so we’ll need the car anyway.” She dug her cell phone from the depths of her handbag.

Susannah nodded and hurried toward the door.

“Oh, for heaven’s...” Another wave of pain swamped Alison’s voice.

Kit Hipped madly through her address book. “I knew I should have put this number on auto-dial.”

“I don’t want an ambulance, Kit.”

“I’m calling a friend.”

Alison, taken aback, could only stare at her. A friend?

“A friend who also happens to be my obstetrician.”

“I told you, I’m not—”

“—Pregnant, I know. Well, obviously there’s something wrong, and the way you’re clutching your tummy makes it a good bet that you’ll end up consulting somebody in that field. Besides, Logan’s the only doctor I can think of who’s likely to still be in his office after six on a Friday night...” She turned her attention to the telephone. “Hello, is Dr. Kavanaugh in? I see. Will you page him and ask him to call Kit Webster? It’s an emergency.”

- The worst of the wave had passed, and Alison could get her breath again. “I’m too busy for this. I’ve got a video to finish...” She was startled by the high, tight pitch of her voice and the panic which clutched her throat.

Kit put the phone down. “Exactly. And if you’d stop to think about it, Ali, you’d realize that I’m only doing this because I’m darned if I want to get stuck finishing your video.” The words were tart, but her smile was warm and reassuring.

Alison’s panic eased a little, but the lump in her throat suddenly felt as big as the Sears Tower. “Yeah, right,” she said. “Kitty, I don’t deserve you and Sue.”

“Can we get that in writing?” Susannah said breathlessly. “I’m parked on the sidewalk, Kit, so it might be a good idea if we don’t hang around here much longer.”

Kit’s phone rang and she turned away to answer it.

“I can walk,” Alison said.

Susannah looked doubtful, but when Alison pushed herself to her feet. Susannah quickly offered her arm. Their progress was slow, hampered not only by Alison’s discomfort but by Flanagan’s other patrons, crowding around to offer advice.

They were almost to the car when Kit caught up. “Now that’s luck,” she said briskly. “Logan’s at the nearest hospital, just finishing a delivery—so he’ll meet us in the emergency room.”

Alison sank into the back seat. There was no comfortable position; what she wanted to do was draw her knees up to her chest and howl. In a feeble effort to distract herself, she said, “Was his delivery a boy or a girl?”

“I didn’t stop to chat,” Kit said dryly. “For all I know it could have been a Federal Express package.”

In the emergency room, Susannah went off to deal with the paperwork, and Kit waited outside the small treatment room while two staff members swarmed over Alison to do a preliminary examination. It was only after they had left and quiet descended on the room that she really realized where she was, and what was likely to happen.

Time to face the truth, she told herself. You were an idiot in the first place to try to pretend nothing was wrong. Now you can’t pretend anymore. And if your nightmares turn out to be fact after all—

Alison’s heart seemed to be skipping every other beat as fear pumped adrenaline through her veins. She tried to keep her eyes so tightly closed that the tears couldn’t seep out, but it was impossible.

Kit took her hand. “Another one?” she said gently. “Squeeze as hard as you need to, Ali.”

Alison shook her head. “No. I’m just...so stupid. Thinking that if I pretended it didn’t hurt, it would stop.”

Kit said slowly, “And if you didn’t see a doctor then nothing could really be wrong? That’s a first-class case of denial, Ali, and I could just—” She took a deep breath. “No, this isn’t the time for a scolding.”

Susannah appeared in the doorway. “Why not? Sounds to me like she deserves one.” She brushed a lock of Alison’s perspiration-dampened dark hair back from her temple. “It’ll be all right now.”

It might never be all right again, Alison thought.

Susannah’s grin was mischievous. “I can promise that because I just caught a glimpse of your doctor, and let me tell you, Ali, you’re one lucky girl.”

A rustle from the doorway made both Susannah and Kit move away from the side of the examining table. Restlessly, Alison turned her head.

Lying flat on her back, looking almost directly into the bright overhead lights, was hardly the best way to get a good view. Even so, Alison had no trouble figuring out what Susannah had been talking about. Her visual perception might be skewed and a good part of her attention focused on her pain; nevertheless, she realized with her first glance that her new doctor was one of the best-looking men she’d ever seen.

He was tall and broad-shouldered; the washed-out green scrub suit which would have been baggy on another man fitted him as easily if it had been tailored. His hair was an unruly dark brown thatch, just a little longer than it ought to have been. His face was angular, with a strong jaw and a mouth which hinted that he liked to smile.

She looked up into his eyes. They were green—a deep, true green that Alison had never seen before—surrounded with indecently long and curly lashes.

He was surveying her every bit as closely, but for different reasons; Alison could almost see the calculator in his brain checking off symptoms even before he offered a hand, large and capable and tanned. “Ms. Novak? I’m Logan Kavanaugh,” he said. “Tell me when you started to feel this pain.”

He listened with his head tilted just a little to one side, jotting notes from time to time on the clipboard he carried, those brilliant green eyes seeming never to leave her even when Kit interrupted now and then with more details. Then he laid the board on a nearby cabinet and said, “And it hurts... right here, is that right?”

Alison. was sure that under normal circumstances the pressure of his hand on her abdomen would have been no more than a firm touch. As it was, however, she felt as if a cannonball had hit her squarely where she hurt worst. She screamed, and her body instinctively folded up into a fetal position.

If she’d been lying on her side, there would have been no awkward consequences from simply pulling her knees up tight to her chest and bending her head protectively over her vulnerable midsection. Instead, she was on her back, with Logan Kavanaugh bending over her—and as she reared up off the table, her forehead collided with his jaw. Her vertebrae rattled with the impact.

He staggered back from the table, one hand pressed to his face. “I see I found the right spot.” His voice was level, but when he took his hand away from the comer of his mouth, his fingers were red. “Excuse me a moment.”

As he left the room, Alison lay back on the table. The pain in her abdomen was almost relentless, and now her head ached, too. Even breathing hurt.

“Now that was a full-speed retreat,” Susannah said admiringly. “You’re a wonder, Ali. I’d never have come up with such a novel way to get rid of a man.” She moved closer to the table and patted Alison’s hand.

Despite the pain, Alison couldn’t keep herself from laughing—though it sounded more like a sob.

In less than a minute Logan Kavanaugh was back, holding an ice cube wrapped in a piece of gauze against his lip. He stopped a full pace from the examining table. “What have you eaten today?”

Alison closed her eyes. “A light and early lunch. So if you think, Doctor, that this is nothing more than indigestion—”

“No, and I’m sure it’s not hunger pains, either. I think it’s the.hottest appendix I’ve seen in years. I’ve already called a surgeon, but we may as well get the basics out of the way while we wait. Are you allergic to any medications?”

Alison shook her head wearily.

Kit said, “But is it safe to wait, Logan? Couldn’t you—”

“What? You want me to voluntarily spend an hour in the same room with her and a scalpel? She’s dangerous enough with only her head as a weapon.” His voice was full of lazy humor, but Alison bristled anyway. “It won’t take long for the surgeon to get here,” he went on, more seriously. “By the time we’ve done the workup—”

“It’s not appendicitis,” Alison said.

A silence as clear and hard as crystal fell over the room.. From the hall came the sound of footsteps and lowered voices, but inside the examining room the only sound was the nagging hum of the clock above the door.

“I beg your pardon, Doctor,” Logan Kavanaugh said. His imitation of the ironic note in Alison’s voice was precise. “And just what is your diagnosis?”

Susannah said hastily, “She’s not herself. Really, Dr. Kavanaugh. She’s practically out of her mind with pain.”

“Ali.” Kit sounded tired. “You haven’t been reading medical books, have you?”

“What an incredibly idiotic question,” Susannah said. “The research queen of metropolitan Chicago? Of course she has—she probably keeps Gray’s Anatomy on her bedside table right next to her Dun and Bradstreet ”

The door opened, and a white-coated woman with short red hair and a sprinkling of freckles appeared, her hand already outstretched for the clipboard Logan Kavanaugh held. “Thanks a bunch, Kavanaugh,” she said absently as her gaze dropped to the chart. “You know I have a date tonight. At least, I used to have.”

Logan Kavanaugh shrugged. “You shouldn’t be hanging around with that guy anyway, Sara.”

She ignored him and smiled at Alison. “I’m Sara Williams, and I’m a staff surgeon here. If I can just take a look...”

Logan’s ice cube had melted and the piece of gauze had been thrown away, but his index finger went as if by instinct to the swollen bump on his lip. “You might want to be careful doing that,” he said under his breath.

“Go away, Logan,” Dr. Williams said briskly.

He didn’t, exactly; Alison was dimly aware that he stopped in the doorway to talk to Kit. But she wasn’t paying attention to the low-voiced conversation; a moment later one of the nurses returned to give her a shot, and within a couple of minutes her tongue wouldn’t work right and nothing seemed to matter anymore.

Alison remembered only snatches of the hours that followed. The pain wasn’t gone, but it was different—no longer knife-sharp, but a sort of dull burn that haunted her whenever she broke through to consciousness. She tried to hang on to wakefulness, because the physical ache was better than the anesthesia-induced dreams; she didn’t remember them exactly, only the feelings they left behind, and that was bad enough. But despite her efforts, she kept sinking back into the twilight like a swimmer caught in an undertow.

Finally, though, she opened her eyes to see dim lights, the standard equipment of a regular hospital room, and Susannah bending over her, talking soothing nonsense.

“What are you doing here?” Alison managed to say. “It has to be the middle of the night.”

“Just about.” Susannah sounded cheerful. “I am the night shift, standing guard.”

Alison closed her eyes, but this time she didn’t sink like a rock into unconsciousness. “Why?”

“Because Kit and I were afraid you’d try your hand at nursing—and if you’re as bad at that as you are at diagnosis, you’d be gangrenous by morning.”

“Then...” Alison swallowed hard. “It was appendicitis?”

“Of course it was. Why were you so sure it wasn’t?”

“The pain was in the wrong place. And there were a whole lot of other reasons, too.” The knot inside her stomach—the leaden lump which had settled there the day she’d first looked up her symptoms in her layman’s medical guide—slowty loosened, and once more she sank into the depths. But this time her sleep was more natural, and she wasn’t haunted by the dreams.

By morning the whole thing felt like a nightmare, except for the lingering effects of anesthesia and the fact that she could barely shuffle across the room, even if she held on to an aide with one hand and the stand which held her intravenous drip with the other. But Alison gritted her teeth and refused to quit.

At midafternoon, she paused to take a rest in the marginally-comfortable chair in her hospital room, her back propped with pillows so she could get up by herself when she was ready for her next walk down the hall. From her window she could see little but a dusty courtyard surrounded by plain brick walls, but Alison wasn’t interested in the view. She was retracing her state of mind over the last few weeks, remembering how each occurrence of pain had increased her fear and each release had allowed her to pretend it couldn’t happen again.

For an intelligent woman, she told herself, you certainly have been acting like a fool.

She didn’t even look around when she heard the knock on her half-open door, just called, “Come in.”

A moment later Logan Kavanaugh pulled a straight chair up beside her. Today the green scrubs had given way to easy-fitting charcoal trousers and a white shirt with faint gray pinstripes. “I just stopped in to see how you’re doing.”

“I’d rather be at the football game.”

He grinned, and his dark green eyes sparkled. “Wouldn’t we all?”

Alison looked at him a little more closely. Under the humor in his face, she could see the marks of tiredness; there were lines around his mouth and faint shadows under his eyes. And, she noted with a tinge of guilt, there was not only still a tiny bump on his lip, but she could see the half-inch-long red line of the cut. “I suppose you’ve been delivering a baby?”

“Now and then,” he said. “I think the count stands at seventeen since my last day off—but it’s possible I’ve forgotten a couple. It’s been a very long week.”

“You’re on duty all the time?”

“In theory, no. But—for instance—a few months from now, when Kit goes into labor, can you imagine what she’d say if she called to tell me and I said, ‘Good luck, I’m sure you’ll like the guy who’s on call, and I’ll stop in tomorrow to check on you’?”

“Point taken.”

He leaned forward, elbows on knees and hands tented together. “I also came in to apologize for my unprofessional behavior yesterday.”

Alison frowned. “I don’t quite—”

“For one thing, making that crack about not wanting to be alone in a room with you and a scalpel. Though I was only your doctor for about three minutes, and I’d technically turned you over to Sara by then, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You had reason to be provoked. I’m really sorry about your lip.” Alison took a deep breath. “Look, thanks for seeing me yesterday. You’re obviously very busy, and I know I wasn’t exactly an ideal patient.”

“You mean because you wanted to argue about the diagnosis? Just out of curiosity—what did you think it was?”

She looked out the window. “I’d eliminated everything except ovarian torsion.”

“Oh, that’s interesting. It’s not at all common for an ovary to twist, you know, and it’s just about as dangerous as an acute appendix.”

- “I know,” she said, and drew a deep breath so she could go on.

A hint of laughter crept into his voice. “That must be an extremely detailed medical guide you’ve got—or has the popular press made torsion the disease of the week?”

Alison was furious. “I am not a hypochondriac, Dr. Kavanaugh,” she said tightly. “I didn’t cast around for an interesting disease, I simply looked up my symptoms, and that’s what I found. I’m an - intelligent and informed woman—”

“—Who doesn’t know the difference between an appendix and an ovary, but thinks she’s an expert anyway.”

“What was it you were saying just now about unprofessional behavior?” Her voice dripped sweetness.

He ignored the interruption. “Do you have any idea how close you came to—” He shook his head, rubbed his hand across the back of his- neck, and stood up. “Never mind. I’ll let Sara jump on you about the risk you took by not seeing a doctor till it was almost too late. She’s getting paid to yell at you about taking proper care of yourself. I’m not. Goodbye.”

Forgetting her incision, Alison tried to leap up from her chair, and fell back, eyes wide, too startled even to swear. She sagged back against the pillows and tried deep breathing to ward off the stab of pain.

Logan had left the door standing wide open, so Kit didn’t knock. She burst in, dumped an overnight bag beside the bed, and leaned over Alison to give her a gentle hug. “Now this is more like it. You’ve even got some color back, I see. I met Logan in the hallway, but he seemed to be in a hurry. You didn’t slug him again, did you?”

“I didn’t slug him last time, either,” Alison pointed out. “It was an accident.” She eyed the overnight case—the last time she’d noticed, it had been on the top shelf of her bedroom closet—and raised an eyebrow at Kit.

“Your purse was still in Susannah’s car, so I stole your keys,” Kit said blithely. “I figured the cats needed feeding—”

Alison winced. “I can’t believe I forgot about my cats.”

“I not only fed them, I played with them—which is why I’m so late. And I picked up some clothes for when you’re ready to go home.” Kit perched on the edge of the bed. “I brought your medical guide, too. I thought you’d probably want to read it again, in light of the new developments. If you like, I could try to catch Logan so he can show you where you went wrong.”

Alison rolled her eyes. “No. thank you. That man is incredibly egotistical.”

A voice from the doorway corrected her. “That man is incredibly good.” Sara Williams strolled across the room, chart in hand. “Feeling better? The nurses tell me you’re doing quite well, so there’s no reason you can’t go home. There are a few restrictions, of course—the discharge nurse will give you a list. Do you live alone?”

Alison started to nod, but Kit intervened. “I’m taking her home with me for a few days.”

The doctor nodded approval, and hardly a moment later she was gone. Kit shook her head. “And I’ve always thought Susannah was a whirlwind,” she muttered.

“I can manage on my own, Kit. You don’t have to baby-sit.”

Kit had stooped to pick up the overnight bag. Very deliberately, she set it on the end of the bed and turned to Alison. “Sometimes, Alison, you don’t seem to need anybody at all.”

The somber note in Kit’s voice brought tears to Alison’s eyes. She tried to blink them away, furious at herself. Surely she wasn’t going to turn into a wet sponge, dripping all over the place at the least provocation! Quietly, she said, “Thanks, Kitty. I don’t want to go home alone.”

As they drove across Chicago to Kit’s lakeside high-rise, Alison wasn’t listening to her friend’s chatter. She was still hearing the unusual soberness in Kit’s voice as she said, Sometimes you don’t seem to need anybody.

But I do, Alison thought. I need somebody to love.

From the guest room of Kit’s condo, Alison stared down at the enormous expanse of Lake Michigan. The water was clear and blue under the morning sun; a light wind whipped up gentle frothy waves and bulged the bright sails of the armada of boats—at least a hundred of them. Alison could count so many not only because the condo was so high and the air so clear she could see almost all the way across the lake, but because the effort of taking a shower had worn her out so thoroughly that all she could do was drop into the armchair by the window and rest.