Page 83 of Where Dreams Begin

She angled her hat to better shade her face as she studied the mural. The big bold patches of color were going up today, and each day the design would become more refined until it reached the perfection of Rafael’s drawing. She could hardly wait to see it.

Joyce urged Catherine to try a brownie. “I added some peanut butter. How do they taste?”

Catherine took a bite and responded with a contented sigh. “Heavenly. What are you doing, whipping up treats for Shane?”

Joyce responded with a sassy shrug.

“They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, and Shane’s coming here for dinner Saturday night. I don’t want to obsess over the menu, but a crisp roasted rosemary chicken followed by a damn good brownie ought to help my cause.”

“Do you have a frilly apron?”

“Battenberg lace, and I look adorable in it, if I do say so myself.” She refilled their iced tea glasses and then sat opposite Catherine.

“Now, it’s been days since we’ve talked, and I’m dying to hear your news. Did you buy the pregnancy test, or is there no longer any need for one?”

Catherine scrunched down in her chair. They were in Joyce’s breakfast room, and the late afternoon sun lent the pale gray walls a pearly luster. She took another bite of brownie rather than reply. “These really are extraordinarily good.”

“Catherine,” Joyce coaxed. “What’s up?”

“I’m only a couple days late. Give me another week.”

Joyce leaned back and fixed her friend with a decidedly skeptical gaze. “Rather than stall, you ought to make an appointment with your gynecologist. If it turns out you don’t need one, then cancel it, but if you do, you’ll have plenty of options. The French pill is supposed to be relatively painless.”

Catherine understood Joyce’s line of thinking, but still had to wash down her last bite of brownie with a long swallow of tea before she found her voice. “I really don’t want to think about this now.”

Joyce slapped her palm on the table. “You’re acting like some naïve teenager who believes if she refuses to think about babies, they’ll just go away. Well, if you’re pregnant, girl, you’ll have to deal with it like an adult, and you better get used to that idea right now.”

Catherine didn’t appreciate being lectured to, but she couldn’t deny Joyce had a valid point. “It’s just that I didn’t expect this to happen.”

“Didn’t your mother warn you it only takes once?”

“Oh yes, when we had the birds-and-bees talk, I believe she threw in every single warning her mother had given her, but knowing how sperm and egg meet doesn’t mean I expected to conceive the first time I slept with Luke.”

“Stand up guy that he is, he used condoms, didn’t he?”

“Yes, but you’re entirely too curious about this, Joyce.”

“I am not, but cut me some slack. Until I can get Shane into bed, I need a vicarious thrill from your romance. When do you plan to tell Luke he might become a father?”

“Oh lord.” Catherine sat forward to prop her elbows on the table and rest her head in her hands. “I’m not going to torture him with that possibility until I absolutely have to.”

“So, despite my suggestion, you never had that little abstract chat about marriage and children?”

“No, and I’m not going to, either.” She sat back and swept brownie crumbs onto her plate. “I’m not refusing to think about being pregnant, Joyce, in fact, I’ve thought of little else since waking up sick Sunday morning. Sam and I missed our chance to have children, and if I have a chance this time, I’m going to grab for it.”

“What if Luke says no? Men insist they have rights too, you know.”

“Which they do,” Catherine agreed, “but if Luke can’t face fatherhood again—”

“Again? You mean the guy has other children?”

Catherine licked her lips. She could hear Luke yelling about her lack of respect for his privacy, but when she was so closely involved, she thought she deserved some consideration too. Believing it was time Joyce learned the truth, she provided what few facts she knew about Marcy’s death.

“Oh my God! Why didn’t you tell me that sooner? That’s awful. No wonder you’re so reticent to confide in Luke, but you can’t wait to tell him the truth until it’s too late for him to have any input.”

Catherine knew that too. “That’s what you don’t understand. He doesn’t have any choice. If it turns out I really am pregnant, and I might not be, then he can either be thrilled and be a real father to our child, or walk. I can raise a baby alone, and I’ll tell anyone who’s rude enough to ask about the father that I used a sperm bank.”

“Well, if Luke walks, then that’s all he was.” Joyce shook her head sadly. “Now that you’ve told me his story, I feel just sick over this, so I can imagine how you must feel.”

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