Teresa Carpenter – Her Baby, His Proposal (страница 4)

Brock reached for her hand and squeezed. “You should start over, Doctor.”

“You’re going to have to take better care of yourself.” His chastising look included Brock before the doctor turned his attention back to Jesse.

“As well as being dehydrated, you have a kidney infection, and your blood is low in iron. From what you tell me, you’re just over two months along. Still in the first trimester, which is the most dangerous time for the fetus.”

He leveled a stern gaze on Jesse that made her feel no bigger than a gnat and smaller still when he again moved the same stare to Brock who was innocent of any wrongdoing.

“You don’t understand, Doctor—”

He held up a finger, stopping her explanation. “It’s not up to me to understand, young lady. If you want to keep this baby, you need to make some changes. My recommendation is at least twenty-four hours’ bed rest, followed by a month of light activity.”

“A month…” Jesse whispered, appalled at the thought of the time off work.

“Get lots of rest, eat regular meals. I’m prescribing prenatal vitamins and iron. Drink lots of water. Cranberry juice is also good for kidney infection.” He scribbled on a pad as he spoke, then handed her the paper. “I want you to finish the IV, and I suggest you see an obstetrician soon.”

He stood, tucked the pad and pen in his coat pocket. “Good luck, Ms. Manning.” He shook her hand, nodded at Brock and left the cubicle.

Jesse pleated the paper, running her fingers over the crease again and again until Brock reached over and took it from her and placed it in her purse.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She glanced up at him, aware she owed him an apology for the assumptions the doctor had made and the condemnation he’d shown Brock. He didn’t deserve to be cast as the bad guy when he’d done nothing but help her.

She reached for his hand. Without hesitation he wrapped his larger hand around hers and lowered himself into the chair the doctor had vacated. Her fingers felt very small in Brock’s grip, and it struck her again how strong and capable he was. She’d always be grateful to him for staying with her through this unreal night.

Forcing a smile for his benefit, she said, “Thank you so much for your help. Ever since I fainted everything has seemed surreal.” She met his direct gaze, fearing contempt but finding only sympathy. “Just having you here, seeing a familiar face helped to keep me grounded.”

“If having me here helped, I’m glad,” he said simply.

“You’ll never know how much.” Torturing her lip while uncertainty tortured her insides, she looked away. “I’m sorry the doctor blamed—”

“Stop right there.” He squeezed her fingers. “You are not responsible for what the doctor thinks.”

“But—”

“Jesse you can’t take on every misinformed person out there. Life is too short for that kind of burden. Let it go.”

“I’m still sorry. And I want you to know you don’t have to stay here with me any longer.”

He made no move to leave. “I’ll stay to see you home.”

Yes, please. She really didn’t want to be in this cold, sterile place alone. Where the people were impersonal and judgmental. But the saline solution in the IV dripped slower than molasses, and she couldn’t ask him to waste any more of his night on her. Especially when she saw the clock read 1:00 a.m.

“You’ve done enough. Besides I’m a big girl. I’ll find my own way home.”

He sat back in the chair, crossed his arms over his impressive chest and leveled a chief’s stare on her. “How? Taking the bus?”

“No.” She checked on the status of her drip, unable to look him in the eye as she lied. “A cab.”

A gentle finger under her chin turned her back to him. “Don’t start messing with me now, Jesse. No way are you paying for a cab when you’re already worried about how you’re going to take time off work for a month.”

Embarrassment heated her skin at being caught. But that didn’t mean he was obligated to stay.

A sweep of his thumb chased the red over her cheek, causing the heat to intensify. For a moment their gazes locked and held. Finally she lowered her eyes before she gave in to his persistence and begged him to stay.

“I’ll be fine,” she insisted.

He stood.

Instantly a flood of disappointment rushed through her. He was leaving. This time she couldn’t even fake a smile.

She swallowed back tears. “Bye.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Except the cafeteria. Would you like me to bring you something? You never got your burger.”

Jesse stared at him, horrified. “Oh my God. All night you’ve been with me. You haven’t eaten.”

He winked at her. “It’s not the first time. I’ll survive. Will you be all right if I leave for a few minutes?”

“Of course.”

“What would you like?”

Her stomach hadn’t settled enough to like the thought of food. “Maybe some crackers if you can find some. And cranberry juice.”

“Sure thing. Why don’t you close your eyes and rest while I’m gone.”

“I will.” She nodded, though she didn’t really want him to go.

She felt safe with him near, comforted by his concern. Without him the hospital was a cold, sterile place. But he would be out of her life soon enough; she needed to start getting used to the idea.

CHAPTER THREE

IT WAS nearly two when Brock helped Jesse to her door. He frowned as he surveyed the run-down condition of the apartment complex. Not surprising, considering the area.

More asleep than awake, Jesse stumbled. He moved his hand from her elbow to her waist to help her up the stairs to the second floor. The night had taken a toll on her, both emotionally and physically.

He felt the weight of fatigue himself after a twenty-hour day. And with his crew shipping out in a few days, he needed to be up and alert again in less than four hours.

Plus the sooner he delivered her into the safe haven of her home and got back to his life the better. She was a sweet kid—older than he’d originally thought but with twelve years between them, still a kid.

Music, loud in the early-morning stillness, beat behind the door Jesse stopped beside. A resigned look of disgust deepened the exhaustion on her face.

She blocked his path with a hand on his chest and tried for a smile no more successful than the pathetic attempts she’d made at the hospital. There wasn’t a whole lot of pretense about Jesse.

“Thanks for all your help tonight.” She hesitated as if wanting to say more, but she only opened the door and stepped inside. Behind her, smoke filled the room, thick and cloying. Three people, two men and a woman, sprawled across the mismatched furniture. Hip-hop came from a stereo on top of a plastic crate doing duty as a coffee table.

When the smoke hit Jesse, she went white then green.

With a bravery that told him of the effort it cost her, she lifted her chin and said goodbye.

“I won’t forget what you did for me. Have a nice life.”

Brock made it all the way back to the top of the stairs before his conscience got the better of him. Perhaps his memories of Sherry made him more sensitive tonight, but he couldn’t leave Jesse to deal with that crowd alone.

If he’d listened to his gut and his brother sixteen years ago, he wouldn’t have destroyed the most important things in his life. In one fell swoop he lost his fiancée, his future and his family’s respect.

The thought of spending the next six months haunted by Jesse’s courageous brown eyes turned Brock around. Determined strides carried him back to apartment 2B. He knocked, then stepped inside. The three in the living room looked at him with dazed disinterest.

“Hey, man.” A limp young man with greasy brown hair roused enough to notice Brock. “You bring any with you?”

Brock ignored him, convinced he’d done the right thing in coming back for Jesse. He headed for the hall and the bedrooms figuring she’d go straight to bed. A movement to the left drew his attention. She sat at the kitchen table, her head in her hands.

She looked up when he stopped beside her. The fire of anger burned through the tears pooled in her whiskey-bright eyes. “Someone’s in my bed.”

He hunkered down to her level and ran a soothing hand over her thick amber hair. “Which room is yours?”

“The one on the right.”

“Get your purse and jacket. I’ll be right back.” He pushed to his feet.

She grabbed his wrist. “Brock, it’s okay.”

He gently pried her fingers free and placed her hand on the table. “No, it’s not. You’d better get what you need from the bathroom, as well. I’m taking you to my place for the night. I have an extra room in my condo. You can stay there.”

In the hall, too grand a name for the four-foot-long space, he flipped open the door on the right and flicked on the lights. On the bed a man and woman sprang apart.

“Hey,” the man yelped in outrage. “Get out. This room is occupied.”