Beginning with Their Baby

Oh, he knew that she was an incredible artist. That she was fun and exciting and had a sense of humor that could cut like a scalpel. But as he sat, watching her fill out forms on her family and personal history, he realized he didn’t have a clue about any aspect of her personal life. He didn’t know anything about what had made Camille the crazy gypsy he’d fallen for—hook, line and sinker.

The knowledge grated. He didn’t have much time to brood over it, however, because his old friend chose that moment to pop his head out of the door between the inner and outer offices. “Hey, Matt, come on back. I’ve been waiting for you two.”

“How are you?” he asked Rick, as the doctor escorted them back to his office.

“I’m good. Busy, but good. Can’t complain.” He extended a hand to Camille. “It’s nice to meet you, Camille. Congratulations on your pregnancy.”

Camille’s full lips twisted wryly. “Thanks.”

“So, Matt didn’t give me all the details on the phone.” He gestured for them to sit, then walked around to the business side of the desk and did the same. “What was the date of your last period?”

“January 27.”

He grabbed a little spinny wheel out of his desk drawer and Matt watched, fascinated, as Rick shifted it around. “You’re gunning for a November baby, then. Cool. You’re due on November 4.” He held the wheel out so they both could see the date.

Sheer astonishment rocketed up Matt’s spine as he stared at the little arrow pointing toward the beginning of November. November 4. He would be a father on November 4. God, he could barely wrap his mind around it. Sure, he’d been planning for the baby from the second the shock wore off last night, but still, knowing Camille was pregnant wasn’t the same as having an actual date when the baby would be born.

November 4 his whole world would change—and he had no idea how he felt about it.

“So, does that sound good, Matt?”

Rick’s voice brought him back to the present with a resounding thud. Glancing at his friend, he realized he had no idea what the man had just asked him. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m going to take Camille into one of the exam rooms, check her out, and then you can meet us in the ultrasound room.”

“Uh, sure.” Then the words sunk in. “Ultrasound, already? But she’s barely three months along yet.”

“It’s standard procedure, Matt. We do it at every first visit, just to ensure that the pregnancy is viable.”

“Viable. What does that mean?”

Rick smiled indulgently. “Nothing, man. Don’t worry about it, okay? I’ll talk you through it.”

“Do you think something’s wrong?”

“Not at all.”

“But you said—”

“Matt, come on.” Camille stood and starting pulling him toward the door. “It’s normal. Rick’s just being organized, making sure everything is going the way it should. Everything’s fine.”

He wasn’t convinced. “Then why can’t I be in the room when he examines you? I have questions—”

“Because, I don’t really think you need to see me with my feet in stirrups and Rick between my legs with a speculum, okay?”

He froze, could feel his face draining of color even as he admired her candor. “Oh. You mean that kind of examination.”

Rick didn’t even bother to hide his laughter. “Yes, that kind.” He pointed him toward the waiting room. “I’ll have a nurse come get you before we do the sonogram.” Then he headed down the hall with an amused Camille.

Matt made his way awkwardly back down to the waiting room, not liking the sudden feeling of being superfluous. Sure, he had no desire to sit in on Camille’s pelvic exam, but still, it felt strange to be relegated to the sidelines. He glanced around the empty room, wondered if all fathers were sent out here, or just the ones who weren’t an active part of the life of their baby’s mother?

Were all fathers really so unnecessary? He sank down onto one of the cushy waiting-room chairs and tried to come to grips with the fact that for the next few months, he really didn’t have an important role in the whole drama that was about to unfold. He’d done his job, and now he just needed to sit back and wait for the baby to come out. Everything that went on now, went on inside Camille’s body. She was the one in the driver’s seat. The one in control.

For a man who had always prided himself on his ability to make order from chaos and control any situation, the realization didn’t sit well. Any more than did the idea that Camille could—and probably would—get restless feet sometime in the next six months.

Because the idea of her taking off with his baby still inside of her made him feel vaguely ill, he tried to find something else to concentrate on. But the magazines were all geared toward women and he really wasn’t interested in garnering the latest fashion tips.

Picking up a baby magazine, he flipped it open to an article discussing sudden infant death syndrome—and dropped it so quickly that he gave himself a paper cut. How many things was he supposed to worry about at one time, anyway? Wasn’t there enough to focus on during a pregnancy without borrowing trouble from after the birth?

He ended up tapping his feet nervously, counting down the seconds until he could get back to Camille. Rick had laughed at his concern that something was wrong with the baby, but he was the one who’d used the word viable. How was a guy supposed to relax with that hanging over his head? He’d finally wrapped his mind around the idea that Camille was pregnant, and now suddenly, Rick was telling him that it might not last?

What kind of doctor did that? What kind of friend spooked him like that, and then left him cooling his jets in the waiting room? The next time he had Rick on a baseball field, he was going to make the man—

“Mr. Jenkins?” A nurse called his name from the doorway, and he shot out of his chair like a puppet on a very short string. “You can come back now.”

Thank God. If he’d had to wait much longer, he might have stroked out right in the middle of his good friend’s waiting room.

CHAPTER FOUR

“DO YOU WANT TO GET SOME lunch?” Matt asked as they drove back toward her motel room.

“No, thanks. I’m not hungry.” Camille’s mind was going in circles, her head throbbing, and all she could think about was the image she had just seen on the sonogram screen. Tiny, so tiny that she’d had to squint to see it, but there all the same. A baby. A new life, snuggled into her uterus where it belonged, with its little heart beating up a storm. A completely viable pregnancy, Rick had announced with a wide grin. The baby looked perfect.

Her baby. Matt’s baby. She didn’t know what to think, how to feel. In twenty-eight weeks she was going to be a mother and she had no idea what that meant. It wasn’t as if she’d had a good example growing up—or any example really. Just— She slammed the door on the memories, refusing to bring them out right then, not when it was all she could do to just sit quietly in the car as Matt went over everything Rick had told them.

“You need to eat, Camille. You heard Rick—you’re healthy, but you need to gain a few pounds to help support the baby.”

“I heard him. But I had breakfast less than two hours ago—how much do you expect me to eat?”

“Well, at least let me pick you up something before I drop you back at the motel.” He glanced at the clock. “I have a meeting in a little over an hour, so I need to head back to work. But I’ve got your vitamin prescription—I’ll drop it off at the pharmacy on my way to the office and pick it up at the end of the day.”

“There’s no rush. Rick gave me enough samples to last for two months or so.”

“Still, it’s better to have them on hand for when you need them. Also, I thought maybe you’d like to go to an art store tonight or tomorrow? Maybe you could look around a little, find an alternative to the oil paints that won’t hurt the baby. Rick said—”

She gritted her teeth and tried not to scream, but it wasn’t easy—not when Matt seemed intent on taking over every aspect of her life. If she heard Rick said one more time, she was going to forget that she was a pacifist and take a swing at Matt. “It’s no big deal.”

“Of course it is. The fumes can—”

“It’s not like I’m planning on busting out the canvas today. The art supply store can wait a little while—as can lunch.”

“But, Camille, you need—”

“I know what I need! I’m a grown woman who’s been taking care of herself for most of her life. I have a rental car, I have a motel room. I have an ATM card and a relatively healthy checking account. When I’m hungry, I’ll eat. When I’m ready to paint, I’ll figure out what I want to use. And when I need more vitamins, I will go get them. So lay off, okay?”

Matt’s jaw snapped shut with an audible click and for a few minutes blessed silence reigned in the car. Laying her head back against the headrest, Camille closed her eyes and tried to drift off. She was so tired—she couldn’t remember ever being this tired. And Matt’s constant nagging about what she needed to do and eat and think was only making her more exhausted.

She knew he was a planner, knew he liked to map things out far in advance as opposed to flying by the seat of his pants, as she was wont to do. But this was too much, even for him. He was borrowing trouble where there wasn’t any, trying to fix something that wasn’t broken. And it was driving her insane.