Page 73 of Where Dreams Begin

Still, that the awful possibility might exist terrified her. She sat on the side of her bed and fanned herself briskly with the calendar. It had to have been a bad strawberry, she insisted to herself, but even a believable excuse failed to dispel a growing sense of dread.

Once she’d filled the prescription

for the pill, she’d ceased to worry about a condom’s effectiveness, but could she have gotten pregnant that first time they were together? she agonized.

It was simply too horrible a thought to entertain, and not because she didn’t want Luke’s child, but only because she didn’t want it as an accident. That would be like stealing something precious from him that he hadn’t freely given. How could she ever make it up to him? It made her head ache to consider what his reaction would be, but it couldn’t possibly be good.

Since she’d gone off the pill after Sam died, her period was often a day or two late, so it might be a week before she knew if she truly had a reason to worry. That it promised to be a very long and anxious week made her shudder.

She gritted her teeth. “It was a bad strawberry,” she swore darkly, “nothing more.” But she was still shaken. She would have to tell Luke the instant she was sure she was pregnant, but she already knew his eyes would darken with an indescribable pain. He was too fine a man to blame her, but things would never again be the same between them, and they had been so good that she couldn’t bear such a dismal future.

“Bad strawberry, bad strawberry, bad strawberry,” she repeated as she ran a bath, but as a mantra, the phrase didn’t hold nearly enough power to erase her mounting fears.

Catherine dressed in an old pair of shorts and faded T-shirt to work in her garden, but Joyce arrived before she’d pulled more than a half dozen weeds. “That was an excellent troupe of mariachis on your lawn last night. Did you invite them in?” she asked.

“I offered them refreshments,” Joyce explained, “but they were in an awful hurry to get home to Oxnard.” She was dressed in white cropped pants and a lavender sweater and again looked her best.

“I’ve never had a man make such an extravagant gesture to impress me, and I’m not just referring to the cost.” Joyce took her usual place at the patio table and waited for Catherine to take hers.

“That’s pitiful, isn’t it? Whenever I’ve gotten pissed at a guy and told him to go to hell, he’s disappeared with his tail between his legs, never to be seen again. Or he’s told me off, and I’ve been grateful to be rid of him. I’ve just never had a man apologize with a musical accompaniment. After Shane had gone to all that trouble, I couldn’t stay mad at him. Do you think I let him off too easy?”

“Don’t second guess yourself,” Catherine advised. “It sounds as though Shane’s apology was sincere, and you were right to accept it. It can’t hurt to have a forgiving nature.”

“It can if he takes advantage of it,” Joyce complained.

“I doubt that he’ll disappoint you again.”

Joyce swung her foot, bouncing her lavender sandal. “Well, he was very sweet last night, and we talked a long while, but we still didn’t make love. So in a way, he’s already disappointed me, but just in a different way.”

“You’ve complained so often of men who’ve rushed you into bed, I’d think Shane would be a refreshing change. Besides, it’s always wise to build a strong friendship before you go any further.”

“Is that a fact? And what were you and Luke doing last night?”

“I’ll not deny that passion was a part of the evening, but we’re also getting to know each other better. Barring unforeseen catastrophes, we should do all right.” Yet even as she spoke the upbeat prediction, Catherine feared the very worst sort of disaster might have already befallen them.

Joyce frowned slightly as she studied her friend’s faint smile. “If everything’s going so well, where’s that sappy grin you usually wear after a date with Luke?”

Catherine shrugged off the surprisingly insightful observation. “I had another great time with him, but I must have eaten a bad strawberry, because I threw up all morning. I’m just not up to full speed yet. That’s all.”

Joyce’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You were sick this morning? I’m the one who wants a family, and I swear if you’ve gotten pregnant without even trying, I’m going to leap off my roof!”

That Joyce had immediately zeroed in on such a dire possibility brought incriminating tears to Catherine’s eyes. She quickly blinked them away. “You live in a one-story house, so you’d probably just break your ankles. Let’s not jump to any other ridiculous conclusions, either.

“Luke is an incredible lover, athletic, graceful, and endlessly inventive in his approach. He simply wears me out, but I refuse to believe that I’m pregnant.”

Joyce sat forward. “Let’s go buy one of those home pregnancy test kits.”

“It’s much too soon for that,” Catherine insisted, too great a coward to chance learning the truth that day. “Now, when are you seeing Shane again?”

Joyce opened her mouth to argue, then apparently thought better of it and sat back. “He has a job in Burbank on Tuesday, and we’re meeting for lunch. I don’t ever want to go back to Oxnard, so it’s a good thing Shane’s down here fairly often.”

“Oxnard’s his home. You’ll have to go there eventually.”

Now it was Joyce’s turn to shift uncomfortably in her chair. “I suppose, but I’m going to put it off just as long as I possibly can.”

Catherine could easily understand that sentiment, but she thought Joyce could probably avoid going to Oxnard longer than she could withhold the truth from Luke.

Sunday night, Catherine was outside savoring the twilight when the telephone rang. Certain it was Luke, she dashed to answer before the machine caught the call.

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