Page 39 of Never Yours

My doctor gives Cass a look of warning, then softens her features as she tells me, “The only assistance I can provide is prenatal care and information about adoption options. Should you need other healthcare needs regarding the pregnancy, it might be best to go home and speak with your OBGYN there.”

I don’t miss the implication. If I wanted to terminate the pregnancy, I couldn’t do it here. While that might be an option for other women in my situation, I’m not considering it. Cass is right, it’s probably Caleb’s, but I have to be honest with him in case it isn’t.

Amanda said I can work remotely until filming. I do quick math in my head, and I’ll be almost eight months pregnant on set. That isn’t exactly something I can hide. Fuck, my water could break in the middle of a scene.

“You’re pale,” Cass notes, looking me over. “Need me to grab a water, a snack… What do you need?”

I try not to laugh, thinking about the last night with Caleb. Maybe attentiveness is hereditary. “I’m okay, I just need a minute.” I then tell the doctor, “I’ll need a full list of what I should be doing—vitamins, supplements, etcetera. As well as a list of things to avoid. I had a miscarriage when I was eighteen, I don’t want to experience that again.”

Cass gasps, whisper-shouting, “What?” while my doctor exhales a sigh of relief, likely because I’m avoiding the big conversations she has to have with some patients.

“You’ll want to set up regular check-ups with an OBGYN to monitor everything. Prenatal vitamins are important, but personally, I like to make sure my patients are eating a balanced diet that will keep their body and immune system in the best condition possible. If you workout regularly, you can usually keep the same routine for the next several months, but you won’t want to start anything new…” As she continues to list everything, I space out, overwhelmed by the information. She places her hand on mine, bringing me back to the present, unsure of how long I was dissociating. “It’s a lot. I’ll send you home with information, but if you’re going to be here for the next few weeks, I’d like to set up a follow-up appointment with you. If not with me, with the other OB on staff.”

“Thanks, Steph,” Cass tells her. Checking her phone, she sucks in a breath. “Oh, shit, I have to get to the bar and cover for Lo for an hour. Want to come by for a drink?” When I don’t answer, she laughs, “Oh, right, water it is!” Her eyes wide, she corrects, “Shit! No! Not water. That would bring a lot of weird questions at the bar. Um… ginger ale, I’ll pour you a ginger ale.”

I laugh at her gaff and agree to join her later; I need to get home and check on Smitten. Cass insists I bring her with me and stick to the patio. The weather has been working in our favor this week, so it should be a nice night to sit out back at the bar and watch the sunset.

So, that’s exactly what I do.

After several hours on the patio with Smitten, the sun is nearly behind the mountains, and the crisp lake air chills me. I tie Smitten to a pole for a minute to walk inside and tell Cass I’m headed home.

I only make it a few steps when I notice the bar is eerily quiet, everyone’s attention on the television. Moving closer, I see the headline: Mayday for Naval Ship in the Pacific.

Caleb.

“Cass, what’s going on?”

She turns, fear etched in her eyes. “I don’t know. They evacuated a ship. No casualties.”

I breathe a brief sigh of relief. “And Cay?”

“There’s no way of knowing if he was on it.” She rounds the bar and hugs me, whispering low enough that only I can hear. “Pop said he couldn’t confirm what the ship was doing but that Cay was on it.”

“Fuck,” I cry. “Is he okay?”

“We don’t know. Pop is waiting by the phone for answers. He can’t tell me anything, but it sounds like Caleb’s all right.” She releases me and adds, “Take Smitten home, and I’ll let you know if I hear anything. You need to rest. Do you want me to have Pop come by?”

“No, I’ll be okay. Please call me if you hear anything?”

“I promise.”

caleb

. . .

“The ship didn’t sink,” I mutter to the tenth person who has interviewed me today. I didn’t even bother to get his name, it doesn’t matter.

“Start at the beginning.”

I walk through it again, but at the end, as I expect them to be unsatisfied and leave, they ask, “Can you help us fix it?”

“What?” My eyes widen; he’s the first one to ask me about the ship’s condition.

“Can you help us fix it? In every other interview we’ve done, they claim it sank. It’s still standing, but the lower levels are flooded. You’re one of four people we know of who have the skills to do it. I can’t tell you how it happened, but we want to salvage an asset that costs a quarter of a billion dollars.”

“If I don’t know how it happened, how can I fix it?”

“The engineers are estimating six months to get it back home. If you join their team, we’ll renegotiate your contract to end after a year. Six months at sea, six months shore duty.”

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