Page 5 of His to Own

I nibble on my crackers, one after the other. Finally able to eat something without getting sick is a damn blessing. Then I go after my drink. The carbonation tastes so good. I take sip after sip, not stopping until it’s completely gone. I’m also well aware my drink isn’t watered down, which tells me Lawson more than likely stayed the night or came back early this morning to check on me. Either way, I’ve never been more grateful.

There’s no time like the present, especially since I’m feeling a little better, to wash the stink off my body. I slide off the bed, taking a cracker with me to munch on, and walk toward the bathroom. My nose must be playing tricks on me. I swear there’s a scent of lemon wafting through the air, and my candles are more of the coffee and cinnamon vibe. The only time I use a fresh smell is for cleaning. I flip the light switch in the bathroom. My eyes sweep the area. Everything is picked up. There aren’t any towels on the floor, and everything is back in its original place. I’m moving out of the room, through my bedroom, and toward the living room. The way my house is set up, I’m there in only a few short steps. The floorplan isn’t my favorite, but considering free room and board came with the job, I wasn’t complaining. When you walk in through the front door, you’re immediately in the living room, the kitchen is straight ahead, and off to the left-hand side is my bedroom with an ensuite bathroom. The right side of the house has a spare room, bathroom, and a laundry room with storage off to the side.

“Holy shit.” The air whooshes out of my lungs. I’m in a state of shock as my eyes scan each corner of the house. Everything is picked up. There isn’t a single thing out of place. The dishes are done, the counters are clean, my shoes are picked up and on the shoe rack. Even the blankets are picked up, draped over the corner of the couch. What shocks me the most is the folded piles of clothes in a laundry basket. Lawson did all of this? Why? I’m left with too many questions and not enough answers. I look for my phone, unsure of where I left it last. After promising Catherine I’d answer should she call or text, that’s the last I saw of it. I backtrack to my bedroom because I’m pretty sure it’s somewhere lost in the sheets, when a piece of paper catches my attention. There on the coffee table is a note. I pick it up and see it’s from Lawson. I’d recognize the capital block style with a slight slant to it anywhere.

Damn it, now I’m really going to cry. I bring the note to my chest, hugging it like it’s the big man himself. I’m a damn basket case, being sick last month with an infection and now this. I think this is a sign it’s time to take a vacation or at least quit working seven days. There’s nothing in my contract about the hours I choose to keep. It’s on me alone, and now I’m thinking about restructuring my hours. I walk back into my room, needing to find my phone. I’ve got a couple of people who I need to text. I've got a smile on my face, a pep in my step, and a semi-back-to-normal stomach.

I wonder where I should put Lawson’s letter, wanting to keep it safe. I could keep it in my nightstand drawer or in my panty drawer. Except I kind of want to show it off. A frame would work, but that’s a bit too much, and if I get sick again, I have a feeling he’d beat down my door like he did yesterday. I opt to place the letter in the mirror above my dresser, tucking the edge in the corner.

“Way to hold a grudge, Juniper Lynn.” One random act of kindness doesn’t negate all the other bullshit. My bed is a mess of blankets, the comforter, and sheets. Everything is tossed this way and that. I climb up my bed from the bottom, yanking and pulling at the mountains of fabric.

“There you are, you little stinker.” Figures it would be under a pillow. My hand meets the gold and white device, and I see the texts I’ve missed.

Catherine: Checking in. I hope Lawson didn’t pester you too much. Call me when you feel up to it.

Lawson: Stay home today. These damn fools can drive themselves into town to get stitched up.

Birdie: Hey, Catherine mentioned you were sick. Are you okay?

I smile as I see the second message from Birdie.

Birdie: Don’t answer my question. That was dumb. Of course you aren’t. Anyways, Tully and I are available if you need anything. Feel better <3

Laughter escapes me, and unfortunately in doing so, I realize I’m not nearly as better as I thought I’d be. And I may be stubborn, trying to do everything on my own, but I know for certain today’s the day I’ll be heading to the doctor. Hopefully, I can make it without taking a few pitstops. It also looks like Lawson is getting his wish. There’s no way I’ll make it into work today.

“Damn it.” I’m running to the bathroom once again. This really freaking sucks.

SIX

JUNIPER

“Well, I have some news for you,” Doctor Jimenez states as he walks in through the clinic door. True to my word, I called the doctor’s office once I was able to quit losing my crackers and Sprite. Twice in the last month I’ve been in his office. I may as well take up a permanent residence here. Dramatic, I know. Sue me.

“I’ve got the plague?” I ask. Sitting in a chair was impossible. Jimenez took one look at me and I scurried my tail to the table. Now I know how it feels when others come to get patched up and I make them sit up here. Though I can honestly say it’s because most of them are that much taller and it puts me on level playing ground.

“Not hardly. When was your last menstrual cycle?” I think back, trying to remember. Without my pill case here, there’s no way to calculate it either.

“I’m actually not sure. How pathetic is that?” Answering a question with a question. And why haven’t I been keeping up with my period tracker?

“It’s not. A lot of women don’t know. I went ahead and ran a urinalysis. The symptoms you presented aren’t that of a virus, especially after twenty-four hours. Now, here’s my next question.” Doctor Jimenez isn’t judging me. He’s kind, and his bedside manner is impeccable. He and his wife are amazing, and they even offered me a job here, except the Johnsons got to me first with an offer I couldn’t refuse.

“What’s that, Doc?” I’ve got a lot of nervous energy bottled up inside of me, which is horrible considering my stomach is being a pain in the ass. I put my hands under the backs of my thighs to keep from pulling at my fingers. Of course, my feet start swaying back and forth. Doctor Jimenez looks at my feet then at my face. Dang it. I still myself, barely.

“Here’s the thing, Juniper. Were you sexually active while taking your antibiotics?” My jaw drops and my eyes close. I’m so stupid. How could I be so fucking stupid? I’m a nurse, for god’s sake. I know better, learned these things in my rotation in labor and delivery.

“I’m pregnant, aren’t I? Which would make sense because I also forgot to take my pills one night and was on the tail end of my antibiotics.” There’s no way I’m telling him who I was with. While he’s taken an oath to keep certain things confidential, that doesn’t mean the other patients around can’t hear things, and when you mention anything Johnson-related, well, the snoops snoop even more.

“You are. How far along will be hard to calculate until you see an obstetrician. I’ll get you a referral, if you’d like it?” He’s not judging me but giving me options, and this is why I will always keep him as my doctor. I run through the idea of what I should do, but even if it means being a single mom, I’m not sure I could terminate my unborn child or give it up for adoption. Well, I’d be more worried about a child ending up with parents like mine.

“The referral, please.” I make the decision without hesitation.

“I’ll get that written up for you. Now, here’s the bad news and what most women are ready to run for the hills from. The nausea and vomiting.” My hand goes to my stomach, trying to suppress the need to do exactly that.

“Do I want to know?” Doctor Jimenez shakes his head. A tilt of his lips in a small smile is his way of saying probably not, but I’m going to tell you anyways.

“Highly unlikely. Your side effects of being pregnant should go away once you hit the twelve-week mark. Your obstetrician may have more tricks up his sleeve than I do since that’s what they do all day. I’d suggest getting into Doctor Rosales as soon as you can. For the time being, a few patients have told me ginger helps them. Bland foods like bananas, rice, applesauce may be an idea as well.”

“I’ll try the ginger. Sprite and crackers weren’t a match for this little peanut.” I’m going out on a limb and realize that between Lawson and me, our child is going to be one determined baby. A lot like the both of us are. Though, I’d like to say Lawson is more stubborn than determined.

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