He brought her to climax and then he followed.

When Daisy’s breathing was almost normal she opened her eyes. Steve had shifted slightly to the side and was watching her. “I’m glad I didn’t jump,” she said. “Do you still love me?”

“I will love you forever and ever.”

She sighed in contentment and walked her fingers across his stomach until she found what she was looking for.

“Whoa,” he said, “what are you doing?”

“You’re not tired, are you?”

“I could use a few more minutes.”

She looked at the watch on her wrist. “I’ll give you ten, and then it’s my turn. This next time we’re going to see what kind of patience you have.”

Daisy slowly drove the black sports car the short distance between her town house and Steve’s colonial, pulled into his driveway, and parked beside his new Hummer. She dragged herself from the car and walked bone-weary to the door. By the time she got there she was sick, her stomach rolling with each step she took. She hammered on the door and almost collapsed with relief when he answered with his cup of morning coffee still in his hand. Her eyes were large and teary, her blond bangs dark with perspiration. She knocked him aside with a sweep of her arm. “Get out of my way,” she cried, staggering toward the powder room. “I’m going to be sick!”

He swore under his breath and ran to get a towel. He soaked it with cold water and pressed it against the back of her neck when she emerged from the bathroom. “This is the fifth day in a row we’ve gone through this,” he said gently. “When are you going to hear about that damn dissertation?”

“Today. My adviser is supposed to call today.”

“It’s just a dissertation,” he told her. “It’s not worth getting sick over. If the committee doesn’t accept it, the world will continue turning.”

She collapsed onto a kitchen chair. “I want it to be over.”

“You aren’t the only one. I’m lonely. I’m tired of sleeping with Bob. The only time I see you is when you have to stop here on the way to work to get sick.”

“The nerves get to me first thing in the morning. And then I get carsick when I first start out.”

He looked at the engagement ring on her finger and wondered how much longer she’d continue to wear it. “You finished your dissertation weeks ago, but you’re still avoiding me. Why?”

She slumped forward and rested her head on her arms. “Because I’m a mess. Look at me! I’m sick! I can’t even handle the pressure of a doctoral dissertation. It hasn’t been just five days that I’ve been sick. I’ve been sick for two weeks. I burst into tears for no reason at all. I’m always tired. I’m a psychologist. I know the signs. I’m nuts.”

“Is that the clinical term? Nuts?”

“It’s not funny. I thought everything would fall into place once my dissertation was done, but my life is a shambles.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“Because I hate being an emotional cripple; I hate you knowing I’m an emotional cripple, and I hate the idea of starting out a marriage as a mental case. I don’t know why you’re even attracted to me. Ever since we’ve known each other I’ve whined about my personal problems.”

“You’ve never whined. You might have babbled once or twice, but you’ve never whined.”

She pushed away from the table. “I’m feeling a little better,” she said. “I think I’ll be okay now.”

He supported her with his arm and walked her to the door. “Why don’t you take the day off?”

She shook her head. “It’s Friday. I’ll have the weekend, and then there’s only one week left until Menken returns.”

“How’s the new book coming along?”

“It’s not coming along at all. I can’t seem to find the energy to work on it. Maybe when this traffic job is done.”

“And the nursing home?”

A tear slid down her cheek. “I can’t bear to go to the nursing home anymore. Mrs. Nielson isn’t making any progress. She’s just slipping away. Mr. Bender has pneumonia.”

He cuddled her tight against his chest and wished he could help her. He stroked the hair back from her face and kissed her forehead. “I can’t make death and sickness go away, but I can be here at the end of the day when you need someone to talk to. It seems to me there’s a lot of latitude in geriatric counseling. Maybe you need a job that deals with the problems of younger seniors… people like Elsie.”

That brought a weak smile to her lips. “There’s not another person on the face of this earth like Elsie. What’s going to happen to her job when Menken returns?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet.” He kissed her again and held her at arm’s length. “Why don’t you come over after work, and I’ll throw some hamburgers on the old barbecue grill?”

“Last time you tried to cook hamburgers you set your chef’s apron on fire.”

“I think I’ve got the hang of it now.”

She loved him more than life itself, she thought. And deep down inside she wanted to believe things would work out. The natural optimist in her wanted to think she was suffering from extended PMS, or low blood sugar, or not enough fiber-and the proper diet would fix everything. A physical reason for her nervous stomach was much more acceptable to her than admitting she was an emotional basket case. “I’ve made a doctor’s appointment for after work today. He’s going to do some blood tests. Maybe I just need vitamins.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No,” she said dully. “I need to do this myself. I’ll stop by on my way home. It should be around seven. Please don’t start up the grill until I get here. I hate to think of you going up in flames and no one around to hose you down.”


***

Steve began pacing in his living room at eight. By nine o’clock he’d called the state police and three hospitals. Daisy wasn’t in her town house, she wasn’t with Elsie, and she definitely wasn’t with him. He sank into a club chair and absentmindedly fondled Bob’s head. Daisy had been so despondent when she’d left in the morning. He should have driven her in to work and insisted on going to the doctor with her, he thought. The damn woman was too independent for her own good. She was sick, and she needed help-his help. That’s what love and marriage were all about. Marriage wasn’t just the good times and the sexy nights; it was making chicken soup for your wife when she had a cold and sharing a box of Kleenex when Mrs. Nielson wasn’t making any progress.

Last month Daisy had been the picture of health. She was a woman in love, and she was ready to get married. Something had happened in the interim to change all that. One day she’d been laughing with him over a pizza, then the next morning she’d burst into tears when he’d told her Bob was going to have puppies. He looked down at the dog. It had never occurred to him to check the plumbing under all that shaggy fur.

“I made a mess of it,” he said to Bob. “Somewhere along the line we had a severe breakdown in communication. She just pulled away from me.”

He heard a car door slam, and he was on his feet. He had the door open before Daisy reached the porch. “Where have you been? It’s after nine. Are you okay?”

Her eyes were wide and filled with tears. “I don’t have PMS or low blood sugar or irregularity.”

He gripped her shoulders hard, not sure if he was supporting her or himself. “What is it?”

The tears spilled out and streaked down her face. “I’m… pregnant.” She sobbed. “We’re going to have a baby!”

He was speechless. Air refused to leave his lungs. Little black dots floated in front of his eyes. There was a loud roaring in his head. “Baby?” he said. Then he crashed to the floor in a dead faint.

He was soaking wet when he came around.

He blinked his eyes and sputtered. “I’m sorry, Mom,” he said. “I promise not to swim out so far next time.”

“I’m not your mom,” Daisy said. “I’m Daisy.”

“Oh yeah. Why am I all wet?”

“You fainted, and I poured water on you. That’s what they do in the movies.”

“Are we really going to have a baby?”

“Yup. That’s why I’ve been sick and tired and weepy. My hormones haven’t got their act together yet.”

“But you were crying over it. You were sobbing.”

“Because I was so happy. Pregnant women cry a lot.” She sat beside him and pulled a grocery sack onto her lap. “Look, I stopped at the store and got some sparkling cider so we can celebrate. And wait’ll you see what else I bought!” She removed a little jar and held it in the palm of her hand. “Baby applesauce,” she said, bursting into tears again. “Isn’t it the cutest little jar you’ve ever seen?”

He pulled her onto his lap and wiped the tears away with his thumb. A baby! He’d been excited about having puppies, and now he was going to have a baby, too! “You’re going to marry me, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“Not just because of the baby?”

“Because I love you.” She opened the applesauce and tasted it on the tip of her finger. Then she fed some to Steve for practice. “And I think I’m going to take a job at the nursing home. I might not stay there for the rest of my life, but I’m going to try it for a while. I’d lost perspective on life as part of a continuum. There’s nothing wrong with aging. It’s natural and inevitable… like the birth of a baby.”

Steve popped the cork on the cider and they drank straight from the bottle. “To us,” Steve said.

“To the baby.”

“To family life.”

“To strained peas.” She reached into her purse for a tissue because she felt emotional again. “One other thing,” she said. “If it’s all right with you, I’d really like to get rid of the black car. I’m tired of removing men’s underwear from the antenna.”

Steve took a deep breath. “While we’re on the subject of cars I have a confession to make. I was the one who stole your old klunker. I’ve been hiding it in my garage. That’s why I’ve had to keep the garage locked and the windows blacked out. I did it because I didn’t want you to get stuck on the road anymore.”

“Sneaky but noble,” she said. “While we’re confessing, I may as well tell you Elsie and I got curious and broke into your garage one day last month while you were at work. We took the car and sold it. I needed the money to pay school fees.”

He stared at her in shock for thirty seconds before his mouth curved into an appreciative smile. “Daisy Adams, you’re sneakier than I am!”

She grinned back at him. “Don’t you ever forget it.”

About the Author

Bestselling author JANET EVANOVICH is the winner of the New Jersey Romance Writers Golden Leaf Award and multiple Romantic Times awards, including Lifetime Achievement. She is also a long-standing member of RWA.