“What?” I blinked. “But . . . I’ve had a death in my family. Daneen left me in charge of all this. She trusted me, Noah. What am I going to do, let her have a service with a bunch of people who didn’t even know her?”
“Alison, I get it, and I’m so sorry, but it doesn’t change the fact that you can’t fly to California before you have the baby.”
“I could . . . take a train, then. Or a bus. Or I could drive myself out there. I drove from Marin to Philadelphia when I took the residency there. I could do it again.”
“No, sugar, you can’t.” Noah’s voice was regretful but firm. “Let’s try to figure out what we can do to honor Daneen’s memory, and then later—”
“Later will be too late.” I was crying again, and dammit, I hated that. “Later will be after they’ve taken her body away, and I won’t ever see her again.”
“She’s not there anyway, Alison. It’s just the shell of who she was. The important thing is that you went to see her while she was still alive, and I believe she must have known that.”
“That doesn’t matter,” I sniffled. Tugging my hand away from Noah’s, I picked up my phone. “I’m calling Maggie. If she tells me that it’s all right, I’m going out there.” I glared at him as I hit the midwife’s speed dial. Noah sat at the table, his arms crossed over his massive chest, an expression of patient understanding on his face as he listened to my side of the brief conversation I held with my midwife.
Five minutes later, I hung up and pushed the phone away. Irrational anger was welling up inside me.
“Fine. So you and Maggie are the big-time pregnancy experts, huh? Just grand.”
Noah raised one eyebrow. “Well, Maggie, yes. Me—not so much. But enough that I know a pregnant woman can’t fuckingflyin her third trimester, when she’s, like, four weeks from giving birth.”
I stood up, squaring my shoulders. “Good for you. Aren’t you special that you knew that? I’m going to work.”
“Alison, you called your office not half an hour ago and told them you weren’t coming in today. Stay home. Rest. Take some time to grieve.”
“No, thank you,” I replied icily. “I was only staying home because I thought I had to make arrangements for us to fly to the West Coast. Now that I’ve found out I can’t go, I might as well work.”
“Want me to drive you over there?”
“No, thanks,” I repeated. “I’m not sick, Noah. I’m not an invalid. I’m just—just sad and fucking pregnant.”
With that, I turned around and stamped out the door.
* * *
I held onto my mad for most of the day. Since my office manager had already called Dr. Johanson, the retired doctor from whom I’d bought this practice and who filled in for me on occasion, I stayed in my office with the door shut, pretending that I was catching up on paperwork. In reality, I was sulking. And crying. But mostly sulking.
I wasn’t sure where to direct my anger, though. Noah was the handiest target, but I knew that he’d only objected to the trip west because he worried about me. I couldn’t be angry at the baby for keeping me grounded, or at Daneen for dying at this most inconvenient time.
When the office closed for the day, I listened to all of my employees leaving and locking up. I wondered if they’d forgotten I was in here, or if they assumed I was going to spend all night shut up in this room. None of them had bothered to ask, and the part of me that was still that same hurt, abandoned little girl, the one no one wanted, reminded me that this was the way it would always be. No matter what, I was always going to end up alone.
My stomach growled, and I needed to go to the bathroom. With a deep sigh, I stood up, stretched my back and walked across the room. I opened the office door, surprised—and a little annoyed—that the lights were still on. But as I stepped out into the hallway, I realized why.
Noah was sitting on the floor, his back braced against the wall opposite my office door. His bad knee was stretched out and his good knee was bent as he flipped through one of the old magazines from my waiting room.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded. “How long have you been sitting there?”
He shrugged. “Since just after lunch. When I figured you weren’t going to come home early, I thought I’d head over here and wait for you. In case you needed me.”
I stood in silence for a moment, staring down at him. All this time that I’d been moping in my office, telling myself that same old story—that I would always be on my own, by myself—Noah had been sitting out here, waiting for me to need him. Waiting for me to realize that he was there. He hadn’t pushed, he hadn’t tried to force me into doing something I didn’t want—he’d just been a silent, strong presence, ready to hold me up when I admitted I needed that.
I stepped over his extended leg, braced my back against the wall, and slid down to sit next to him on the floor, wondering if I’d ever be able to get up again. My shoulder brushed against Noah’s as my butt landed on the carpet.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” I whispered. “I’m so mad. Not at you, just at—everything. At the situation. I can’t believe that all these years, no one needed me. And now, the baby needs me to be responsible and keep it safe. And Daneen needs me to—to—” My chest heaved with a sob. “To make sure her final wishes are carried out.”
“If Daneen could talk to you now, what would she say?” Noah asked quietly.
“She’d tell me to stop being such a damn fool and take care of myself and the baby.”
“Hmmm.” Noah shifted, slipping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me closer to him. “She sounds like a wise woman.”
